Stonecutter's Story

by Fred Saberhagen

  Again Kasimir could only try to throw himself out of a weapon’s path. He might not have succeeded, except that when the blade came swinging at him there was a hesitation, a hitch in the swing that allowed Kasimir to survive.

  The enemy rushed past him, and a moment later a heavy door had slammed behind the fleeing figure.

  Kasimir allowed himself to remain dazed only for a moment. Then, just as he was scrambling to his feet, a shout in the Magistrate’s voice sounded from somewhere behind him.

  Let Natalia go—he could not be certain that her weapon was the Sword. In a few moments Kasimir had scrambled halfway across the cellar to join Wen Chang and Captain Almagro, who with some of their men were holding a torchlight meeting in front of a closed and very substantial-looking door.

  The Captain appeared to have relaxed a little.

  “We’ve got him, and the Sword too! That’s a blind wall on that side of the building. There’s no other way out of that room.”

  But Wen Chang was already stepping back, shaking his head even as he sheathed his rapier. His eye met Kasimir’s.

  “Come, quickly!” the Magistrate rapped out, and in a moment was running for a stairs that led up to the level of the street.

  Kasimir ran after him immediately, ignoring the Captain’s startled, querulous call behind them. Already Kasimir thought he understood Wen Chang’s haste.

  Wen Chang in the lead, with Kasimir continually a step behind him and unable to catch up, the two of them negotiated the tortuous passages of the main floor, and burst out at last into the night. Wen Chang as he ran was able to gather with him a half-comprehending reinforcement of Watch and Firozpur warriors, a group whose footsteps pounded after Kasimir. The moment they were outside, Wen Chang looked back over his shoulder, beckoning to Kasimir.

  “The wall of that basement room must give on this alley to our right—quick!”

  Kasimir and the Magistrate, a small mob of followers just behind them, thundered around a corner of the building into an alley. There was a heavy thudding sound from somewhere ahead, as if someone, Kasimir thought, were still battering on a door and trying to break it down.

  But before they had run halfway down the alley, Kasimir realized that they were already too late. A moment later they had come to the smoothly carved hole in the lower stone portion of the wall. The cut-out pieces of heavy stone were still lying where they had fallen from the touch of the hurrying Sword.

  Now someone was coming through the hole. Kasimir stepped back and raised his cudgel. But in a moment the light from the torch he still held in his hand was falling upon the furious, bearded features of Captain Almagro Understanding had come to the Captain too late, and rage had come with it. He now had a better understanding of Stonecutter’s true nature.

  But the Sword had now vanished in the night, along with the mysterious person who now possessed it.

  Chapter Eleven

  The fighting in the old warehouse was over, the last sullen spasms of physical resistance crushed. Now Kasimir the physician was called upon to tend the wounded.

  There were not so many of these as he had begun to fear there would be; he estimated now that there must have been about fifteen people in all in the building when the raid began, and more than one had probably escaped, but the great majority had given up without a fight as soon as they became aware of the strength of the attacking force.

  Two of the small handful of occupants who had elected to fight, both of them men, were beyond the help of any surgeon, while another had suffered a badly gashed arm. This last man could be expected to live, and even to use his arm again, once Kasimir had stopped the bleeding and administered some stitches. On the other side, one of the Watch had been run through with a long blade and was dying; another had sustained a knife cut on the hand. Casualties among the Firozpur troopers were limited to one, who had hurt his leg, not too badly, falling through a trapdoor between floors in the darkness.

  Before Kasimir had finished doing what he could for these people, the swift runners sent out by Captain Almagro in pursuit of the unknown person carrying the Sword had returned to the scene of the raid, reporting that they had failed even to catch sight of their quarry. No one was surprised at their failure. There had been no real hope of overtaking the fugitive in darkness, particularly not in the warren of streets and alleys making up this neighborhood, in which the forces of law and order were at best unwelcome.

  The Captain cursed his luck, and went on to the next thing. As part of his preparations for the raid, Almagro had arranged to have a couple of heavy wagons, cages on wheels, brought up to the building at the appropriate time. These had now arrived on the scene, and all of the prisoners were bundled into them. Wen Chang gave the catch of captives a cursory looking over, but, having done so, showed no particular interest in any of them.

  Kasimir had not yet mentioned to anyone the fact that he had recognized Natalia. But he made the identification now, as soon as he had the chance to pull the Magistrate aside, and make sure that the information reached his ears alone.

  Wen Chang stared at him intently in the dim light obtaining in the street. “You are sure?”

  “Yes. I am certain it was Natalia.”

  “The light inside the building was very bad. You say you cannot be sure that the weapon she was holding was Stonecutter.”

  “True. Nevertheless, I am sure that it was she who held it.” Again the moonlight came and went around them, with the passage of a cloud.

  “All right.” Wen Chang sighed. “Let me call Almagro over here and we will tell him alone before we separate. But say nothing about this identification to anyone else just yet.”

  “I won’t.”

  In a moment Almagro had joined them. The Captain, not surprised that the Magistrate had chosen to be suspicious of his subordinates, went through the same routine of questioning the certainty of Kasimir’s identification. Kasimir went through the same routine of giving reassurances.

  Wen Chang suggested in a low voice: “A matter that calls for thorough questioning of all your prisoners, old friend. To find out which of them might know her.”

  “Indeed, they shall be questioned. Though most of them may have to wait until tomorrow—I am going to need some sleep.”

  “And so are we. Good thought is impossible in a condition of great fatigue.”

  Having seen Almagro off with his pair of cage-topped wagons and their unhappy cargo, Wen Chang, Kasimir, and their mounted Firozpur escort returned to their inn, where they found that the landlord had successfully guarded their quarters in their absence.

  As they were mounting the narrow stairs to their third-floor rooms, the Magistrate suddenly turned to his younger companion and demanded: “Did she say anything to you?”

  “Natalia? No. Nor I to her.”

  When they had entered their suite and closed the door, Wen Chang asked in a low voice: “Do you think she knows that you were able to recognize her?”

  Kasimir considered the question very carefully. “I’m not sure,” he said at last. “But I don’t think so. But I believe that she knew me.”

  “Why so?”

  “Because she might have been able to kill me. But she didn’t really try.”

  “Ah. I see. And you still have, or thought you had, another meeting with her scheduled for today.” The time was now so far past midnight as to be obviously morning.

  Kasimir sighed wearily. “That is correct.”

  Wen Chang yawned, and shook his head as if he were now too tired to think effectively.

  “What am I to do about the meeting?” Kasimir asked.

  “I expect you should try to keep it. But not until you have had some sleep.”

  * * *

  Kasimir did not awake, stiff and tired, until well past midmorning. At some time while he slept a screen had been put up in front of his couch, and from beyond this ineffective shield he could hear the energetic voice of the Magistrate. Wen Chang sounded like a man who had been up and about for qui
te some time as he gave orders to the hotel servants who were just delivering breakfast.

  Sitting opposite Kasimir at the breakfast table a few minutes later, Wen Chang reported that more news had just come in from Almagro, who had apparently spent a sleepless night after all. Some of the prisoners who had been taken last night had been persuaded to provide some information about the person who had fled the old warehouse with the Sword.

  “Good!”

  “I am not so sure it is. There is considerable disagreement among their stories. One prisoner confirms that the person he last saw with the Sword was a woman, another insists he saw a man getting away. But both agree on one thing: that certain criminal elements within the city are developing a plan to rob the Blue Temple. Captain Almagro says he has already sent this information on to the Director of Security there.”

  “Well,” said Kasimir, “that at least ought to confirm your status as a prophet in the eyes of the Blue Temple. But I wonder if the prisoners are just telling the Captain what they think he wants to hear.”

  “It is quite possible. But there is more. The final element in the Captain’s latest communication to us has nothing to do with the interrogation of last night’s prisoners, but still I find it the most interesting. It concerns instead prisoner nine-nine-six-seven-seven, the man who was freed from the road gang by the original Sword-thief. Almagro informs me that nine-nine-six-seven-seven was a rural agitator, convicted of minor political offenses—nothing as egregious as those of Benjamin of the Steppe, we may suppose, or he would have been hanged, drawn, and quartered too.”

  Kasimir waited, but there seemed to be no more. He asked: “And what does that tell us?”

  “Do you not find it interesting too? And the squad that is to arrest Umar goes out this morning. By the way, I suppose you are still intending to keep your appointment with the Lady Natalia today?”

  “I think I must try to do so, though after last night I have the most serious doubts that she will be there. I suppose you are intending to have the White Temple surrounded, and arrest her if she does show up?”

  “On the contrary. If we did that we would have her, but we would not have the Sword. Nor, I think, would we be any closer to getting our hands on it. No, I am willing to gamble on finding a better way.”

  “Well then, if she appears I will try to open negotiations to get back the Sword, assuming she got away with it last night.”

  “Do so. And let your behavior be guided by this fact: She will not risk coming to the meeting unless she hopes to gain something of great importance from you.”

  “What could that be, Wen Chang? In the beginning she must have recognized me as an investigator, and made an agreement with me simply to be able to keep an eye on the course of our investigation. What a fool I was!”

  Wen Chang did not dispute the assessment. “Perhaps you should have been a trifle more suspicious of her all along.”

  “But now what can she and her people hope to gain of great importance? From us?”

  “We can hope that she—and the people who are in this with her, as you say—would like to make a deal. An arrangement, whereby we would come into possession of Stonecutter—for a suitable price, of course—after it has filled its purpose in their hands.”

  “What purpose are they likely to have for it, except to sell it? And why should she not sell it to the highest bidder?”

  “With the backing of Prince al-Farabi, we can make our bid sufficiently high.”

  At this point the conference was interrupted by a tap at the door, followed by the appearance of Lieutenant Komi at the head of the stairs. The officer announced that the Blue Temple’s head of security had just arrived at the inn, and was insisting that his business could not wait for even a few minutes. The Director was demanding to see the Magistrate and his associate.

  “He’ll wait, though, if you tell me that’s what you want,” Komi added hopefully. No one outside the ranks of its outright worshippers liked the Blue Temple. And even within those ranks, Kasimir had observed, feelings about the upper hierarchy tended to be mixed.

  “Keeping the gentleman waiting will serve no purpose.” Wen Chang sighed. “Let us hear what he has to say.”

  Komi saluted and retreated to the room below. The Director’s heavy-footed tread could soon be heard climbing the stairs, and in another moment he was in the upper suite. He entered talking loudly, insisting in a domineering voice that something more had to be done to guard the Blue Temple’s few remaining assets. He hinted that the Eylau branch at least now tottered upon the brink of bankruptcy; and if such an institution were to be forced into financial failure, the damage done the whole community would be incalculable.

  Kasimir noted that here, in a more or less public place, the Director made no direct reference at all to the Orb of Maecenas.

  Wen Chang, for the moment all diplomacy, adopted a soothing manner. He suggested the posting of extra guards around the perimeter of the Blue Temple, and also in any of the rooms that were at or below ground level, where thieves armed with the Sword of Siege should be most likely to effect their entrance.

  The Director was not soothed, nor reassured. He protested that such measures were easy enough to suggest, but they cost money, a great deal of money. He demanded to know who the Magistrate thought was going to pay for them.

  The Magistrate at last allowed some of his disgust to show. “Considering what miserable pay you give the enlisted ranks of your security forces, the men and women who would actually stand guard, such measures would certainly cost you much less than the fee I would charge you, were I willing to act as your consultant.”

  Kasimir considered that this was a good moment to apply some diplomacy himself. He interrupted to announce his departure, and Wen Chang came partway down the stairs with him to offer a final word of friendly caution.

  Today Kasimir had not been sitting for long in Ardneh’s chapel before a ragged street urchin approached, tugged at his sleeve, and asked if he were Kasimir the physician. As soon as he had admitted his identity, the boy handed him a folded note.

  The physician unfolded the grimy scrap of paper and read its message while the boy stood waiting.

  Kasimir—I am not going to model any longer at the Red Temple. Yet I would like to see you once more. If you would like to see me again, follow the bearer of this message. Believe me, I will be sorry if we can never meet again.

  In friendship,

  Natalia

  Kasimir read the note through twice, then folded it and put it in his pocket. It seemed to him that the wording of the message gave no indication as to whether Natalia knew that he had recognized her last night—or even whether or not she had been able to recognize him.

  He asked the urchin: “Who gave you this?”

  The child returned no answer, but turned away silently and walked out of the chapel. Kasimir got to his feet and followed, staying close behind his guide.

  They descended from the chapel and walked straight out of the White Temple complex. Without ever looking back the urchin entered the bazaar nearby, and moved through it on a zigzag path. Still following, Kasimir suddenly wondered if someone, Wen Chang or an agent of the Watch, might now be following him in turn. If so, it would be easy for anyone loitering in the bazaar to see them and call off the scheduled meeting. Of course if it was Wen Chang himself on Kasimir’s tail, he was said to have the capability of making himself invisible…

  After a few more unhurried and apparently random turns through the marketplace, the ragged child turned suddenly down a side street, one even narrower than most, where he continued to move unhurriedly along. Still the boy did not look back, and Kasimir remained five or six paces behind him.

  At last his guide did turn. Stopping at a doorway, the urchin indicated with a brief gesture that Kasimir was to enter it. Then he darted away to vanish in the crowded street.

  Kasimir looked the place over; at first glance it appeared quite innocuous, a cheap tearoom three-quarters full of cust
omers. He went in. Seeing no one he could recognize, he took a chair at one of the empty tables and waited for what would happen next.

  A waiter came and he ordered tea. Then somehow, before he had any clue that she was near, Natalia was standing at his table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  She was dressed approximately as he had seen her at their last scheduled meeting, and today she looked tired but still energetic. When their eyes met, Kasimir did his best to look as innocent as he must have been when they first encountered each other.

  Natalia’s expression was one of calm alertness, which told him nothing. There was a moment of silence, which threatened to stretch out to an awkward length.

  “So,” Kasimir began at last, clearing his throat. “You have ceased to be a model?”

  “I posed this morning. But in another day or two I am going to quit.” She paused. Her remarkable eyes flickered, and her husky voice changed. “Kasimir—when did you last see me?”

  “At the same moment that you saw me last.” His tea had arrived, and he took a deliberate sip, his eyes not leaving hers. “Would you like to order something?”

  Natalia’s total control of her expression lapsed. “All right. I am very sorry that I almost killed you last night. The moment I realized it was you, I gave up trying to kill you and ran away instead.”

  “For which I am grateful,” Kasimir said. “We both survived last night, and I am glad of it. Where is the Sword now?”

  “First I would like some tea.” She put out a hand to detain a passing servant, and placed her order. Then she turned back to Kasimir and spoke in a low voice. “I came here today, taking a considerable risk, to talk to you about that.”

  He said briskly: “It seems we are both accustomed to taking some risks in the course of our jobs. How much do your people want for Stonecutter?”