Emperor and Clown

by Dave Duncan

  Inos was entranced. The Uphadly girls she had met at Kinvale had been part elvish, but they had seemed no more than imps with permanent jaundice. These merry golden children were magically different from imps, and a most welcome change from the sullen djinns and rancorous jotnar who had been her only companions for so long. She decided she might enjoy her visit to Ilrane, and she wondered about clothing. At the moment she was enveloped in a chaddar, swathed and veiled so that only her eyes showed. It was a comfortable enough garb for the dry glare of the desert; in this salty, muggy maritime air, she felt half boiled.

  "Zana?"

  "My lady?"

  "If I were to strip down to about what those girls there are wearing and then jump overboard — what would Azak say?"

  Zana's ruby eyes widened amid a million tiny wrinkles. "I doubt if he would ever allow you back on the ship."

  Inos sighed — true! And there was the matter of her mutilated face. She would have to become reconciled to wearing a veil, or else learn not to mind people staring at her.

  The deck bustled with elves and jotnar, plus the djinn passengers who persisted in getting in the way. Azak had just finished a long conversation with an elf, who had accepted a coin and gone ashore by the most direct route, his arms flashing like bird's wings as he swam. He was moving very fast, almost leaving a wake, so he at least must be as young as he had seemed. Azak was watching, leaning on the rail by himself. Now was the time!

  Inos strode over and waved her letter under his nose, "Dear?"

  It did not feel so strange now. She would work her way up to more passionate terms later, and maybe the use of the words would begin to feel natural. Sincerity by self-hypnosis . . .

  "My love?" He smiled approvingly — he knew what she was doing and seemed to appreciate the effort.

  "I should like this to go to Kade, please? With your letter to Kar?"

  "Of course." Azak took the letter in his big swordsman's hand. "You have sealed it? I must read it."

  And now . . .

  Or had he really just said what she thought she'd heard?

  Yes, he had. "You do not trust me, husband?"

  He smiled down at her blandly. "It will take me time to learn to trust you, my darling. Men of my country do not give trust easily."

  When you tell me you love me, I will tell you I trust you.

  Inos took a couple of deep breaths and then said in the sweetest tones of which she was capable, "Then read it by all means."

  Azak broke the seal. He turned around to lean his back against the rail and proceeded to read the letter. Suddenly he looked up, his face dark as an arctic storm. "You spoke with a sailor?"

  "Zana was there!" Inos said hastily.

  "Ah! Your pardon!" He went back to reading, while Inos wondered how much it would take to bribe Zana — even if she had any money, which she hadn't.

  Azak finished, nodded, folded it, and slipped it inside his robe. "It will be sent. You were discreet. You do realize that the chances of it reaching Arakkaran safely are slim?"

  "We can but try."

  He nodded. "And don't bother pleading for your boy lover. The matter is closed."

  Another, even deeper breath. She laid her hands on the rail, stared at the green hillside, and forced her voice to stay soft and level. "You are being very unfair, husband. He was never my lover. I have had no lovers in the past and I have sworn to be true to you in the future. I resent your choice of words."

  "We shall not discuss it further."

  Inos turned on her heel and walked away before she said anything that would make matters even worse.

  She sulked for quite a while in her reeking cabin. Why would Azak not listen to reason? Why could he not see that royalty should always reward loyalty? . . . that Rap had been a puppet . . . that locking him up was grossly unfair . . . that he could easily be dumped on the first handy ship and dispatched out of her life forever?

  Insanely jealous! It was the only explanation. Where she was concerned, obviously, Azak was not his normal rational self. She must learn to watch her step very carefully.

  Meanwhile she could listen to the racket while elvish stevedores unloaded whatever cargo the ship had brought, and loaded food and water and whatever goods Ilrane exported. Pulleys squealed over elvish laughter. The whole affair seemed very inefficient, out here in the river — why not use quays like any normal port? Were the elves truly so terrified of spies, or did they just enjoy making things difficult?

  Eventually she heard Azak's voice raised and decided to go back on deck. She found Zana watching the argument. Indeed half the crew, all the passengers, and most of the elves were watching the argument. Only the elves seemed to be finding it funny, for Azak was trying to browbeat a girl about half his size and much younger than he, and he was making no progress at all.

  "Who is that?" Inos demanded.

  The girl was strikingly beautiful, even for an elf. She was shining wet, as if she had swum out from the shore, and yet her blaze of golden curls flared out around her head in a glory. She wore nothing but a very scanty pair of blue shorts, like a boy, but she was emphatically not a boy. She stood aggressively with hands on shapely hips, and her bare breasts, small but firm, were graced with aureoles and nipples of fiery copper red that held every male eye on the ship. Even from a distance, the flashing brightness of her big jewel eyes was obvious, and she was smiling up at Azak's fury with defiant amusement. In his present emotional state, the sultan was hopelessly incapable of dealing with that.

  "Some local official," Zana muttered, glowering over her yashmak. "She forbids us to disembark."

  The ship was bound back to Qoble, Inos knew. She did not want to spend another minute on the horrible thing, and she certainly did not want to return to Qoble and an Imperial jail.

  "What story is he telling?"

  "Too many stories," Zana said angrily. "First he said he was just a tourist. Then, when she refused him admittance, he said he wanted to consult a sorcerer. So she accuses him of lying. He is not doing this very well, my lady!" From Zana, that was a surprising concession.

  But the discussion seemed to be over. The elf girl shrugged — with remarkable results — and started to turn away. Azak almost grabbed her shoulder, and restrained himself at the last moment. His clean-shaven face was brilliant red with frustration.

  He shouted, "Wait!"

  Inos hauled off her headcloth and veil, swiftly unpinned her hair, and strode forward.

  The elf turned back and stared at her, her mother-of-pearl eyes flickering gold and rose and then pale blue.

  "Go away!" Azak roared.

  Inos ignored him. "I am Inosolan, Queen of Krasnegar."

  The copper-red lips pouted in surprise. The multihued eyes were noting the green of Inos's eyes, the golden hair, the scars. "I am Amiel'stor, Surrogate Syndic of Elmas, and Deputy Selectman of the Stor Gens."

  Whatever . . .

  "I have been deprived of my realm by sorcery. I wish to appeal to the Four, in Hub."

  Amiel'stor glanced at Azak, and then back to Inos. "You are with him?"

  "He is my husband. Forgive his prevarication. He merely wished to keep my troubles secret."

  Azak growled and was ignored.

  "Another story?" the girl asked skeptically.

  "I will swear by any God you wish," Inos said.

  The elf was disconcerted — she could not keep her eyes off those burns. "Your face?" she whispered.

  "Sorcery. A curse."

  Amiel' looked back at Azak. "You agree with this now?"

  Cheeks burning like flame, Azak nodded.

  "That is different!" She hesitated, frowning at Inos's scars. "Beauty always . . . The ship will not sail until the morning tide. Tonight the two of you shall dine with me. I will refer the matter to higher authority — my son is Port Warden for Elmas."

  Her son? She looked about fifteen.

  "You are most kind," Inos said sweetly. She began to loop her hair up again, preparing to cover it.
<
br />   Amiel' nodded, then turned and vaulted nimbly up on the rail. She raised her arms, leaped out in a dive as graceful as a seabird. She was gone, and there had been no sound of a splash.

  Inos looked up to meet Azak's fury. "I think I saved the day?"

  "You are a meddlesome slut!"

  "But it paid off." She would not let him cow her.

  His fists were balls of murderous bone and the curse he bore made them especially dangerous to a woman. He was shaking with the effort of self-restraint.

  "Don't be childish, dear," Inos said, barely keeping the tremor out of her voice. "It takes a woman to deal with a woman. It worked!"

  "But only because it was a woman! Cover your face! Zana tells me she never heard you ask a sailor for a pen! If you ever again dare to speak to a man when I am not present, I will have you flogged!"

  Inos had jotunn blood in her, and she could only stand so much. Remembering the onlookers, she managed to keep her words low, for him alone. "You arrogant bastard! Had I not intervened, we would be on our way back to Qoble right now! A marriage is a partnership, and the sooner you learn it the better, Azak ak'Azakar!"

  "Not where I come from!"

  "But where you are now. And since I have just done you a considerable favor, there is something you owe me . . ."

  "If you are referring to that lover of yours . . ."

  "He is no lover —" Their voices were rising.

  "He is dead!"

  "What?" She reeled back. Looking at Azak's face, she did not doubt.

  "Dead!"

  "You promised no bloodshed!"

  He stepped forward to loom over her, his mouth working with rage, bloodred eyes almost starting out of his head. "There are ways to kill a man without shedding blood! The family men understood me, even if you did not. Do you want me to list all the things they did to him? They —"

  "No!" She put her hands over her ears.

  "As you will. He took a surprisingly long time to die, but he is most certainly dead now."

  Sudden wrenching nausea wiped away her anger. She should have guessed why Azak would not talk about Rap.

  He nodded in gruesome satisfaction at her dismay. "And be warned, sultana! For you to as much as smile at any man is to sign his death warrant! Do you understand now?"

  7

  Shandie giggled softly. When he moved his head — like this — the whole room moved — like that! Funny! He did it again. And even in between times it was going up and down and sometimes round and round, and everything was all very nicely woozy,

  He was lying on his bed, legs dangling over the edge, nothing on but his tunic. Silly tunic. Mookie had been trying to put Shandie's toga on him, and Shandie had kept dropping it, or falling over, and now the toga was a rumpled mess and Mookie had given up. Much better. Poor Mookie.

  Woozy woozy woozy!

  Mookie had been weeping. Valets were not supposed to weep! Mookie had gone away, and now here he came back again, with Moms. Oh, dear! Moms would not think it funny, maybe.

  Moms was shaking him . . . the room going wild, all ways at once! Very funny — now he was trying to explain about the room, but his tongue was tying itself around his teeth, tangling itself up like his toga, and he had started to giggle again and couldn't stop. Maybe the wardens would think it was funny. He would tell them. Going to see the wardens, going to see the wardens . . .

  Mustn't move when the wardens come.

  And here was Ythbane, nasty butt-beating Ythbane. Beat all you want today, Ythbane. Can't feel a thing.

  "What's the matter with him?" asked Ythbane.

  Moms: "He's been at his medicine again."

  "Gods! Can't you keep him away from it for a single morning?"

  "He's sneaky! He hides it and then says it's run out, asks for more . . ."

  "Well, he's got to be there! Try some black coffee or something. Brainless brat!"

  "You! Leave us!" That was Moms speaking-to-the-servants voice. Oh, dear, was Mookie in trouble? Poor Mookie.

  "Now you listen to me, Yth!"

  Yth? Surely Moms never spoke to Ythbane like that? In her speaking-to-the-servants voice?

  ". . . is all your doing! Gods forgive me, why did I listen to you? That foul stuff was your idea — what is it anyway, laudanum? — and you've turned my son into a —"

  "Of course it isn't laudanum! Laudanum? Don't be crazy, woman! It's a gentle elvish nostrum. And you know how much our future is going to depend on . . . a suitable attitude?"

  Words words words . . .

  "But you're making him into a —"

  "Never mind now. Gods, the investiture'll be starting in —"

  "Even if it isn't laudanum — I don't care what it is — we've got to stop him taking it —"

  No, not the medicine! Not take away the medicine! Then the scratchy-twitchy feeling would come, and he'd feel sick, and his head would throb . . .

  Hear himself making a funny noises, trying to sit up. Trying to talk. Can't talk to say not to take away the medicine, please not take away the medicine . . .

  "Looks like he's coming round a bit. Get him dressed up, and we'll put him on a chair over at the side and maybe nobody will notice."

  "But it's not just today! He's like this half the time now, whether there's a ceremony on or not, and —"

  "Maya! Beloved!"

  "Er . . . yes?"

  Oh, good. Ythbane using his sweetie-pie voice. Calm Moms down. Wonder if they'll do it on this bed? Awful small for three.

  "I've been neglecting you, my darling. But you do understand how busy I've been, don't you? And from now on I'm regent, and things will be a lot easier — and a lot better between us two. You'll be wife of the regent, and first lady again, and you and I can have a lot more time to ourselves again. In fact, I'll promise you — right after the state dinner, you and I will slip away . . ."

  Sweetie-pie sweetie-pie sweetie-pie . . .

  Going to see the wardens . . .

  Maybe formal ceremonies weren't quite so terrible, Shandie thought, if you could sit down for them. And Moms had said he could move if he wanted to, as long as he didn't fidget too much. She was sitting beside him, on a gold bench thing, and she would nudge him if he fidgeted too much. He was still woozy, but a very nice woozy.

  He kept wanting to yawn. Mustn't yawn. He was hardly trembling at all today. Must be the medicine, or else the sitting down.

  Nobody was paying much attention to him, over here near the east door. Today was a north day. He could see all of the Rotunda instead of just half of it. Important day! All of the Senate seemed to be here, filling up the whole north half. Some of them were right behind him, even — noisy old men, coughing and wheezing all the time over his head. The south half was all junior nobles and important people and a few assemblymen. For weeks and weeks the court had talked of nothing except who'd got tickets and who hadn't.

  Important day. Going to see the wardens! Getting quieter. There was a very loud senator just behind Shandie. He kept saying things in a voice like a hoarse trumpet, and whoever was with him was trying to hush him.

  ". . . real Evilish disgrace, that's what it is! Everyone knows he's a mongrel. Merman blood in . . . Mm? Well, it's common knowledge. Mongrel sitting on Emine's throne? Mm! Can't think what Emshandar was thinking of when he made him a consul. Told him so myself. Well, hinted anyway. What? Speak up, man!"

  Shandie squirmed just a little and tried to swallow a yawn.

  It was a nuisance being down on floor level, instead of one step up. But he could see the back of the Gold Throne and the Opal Throne beyond that, in the middle, and all of the others when people didn't get in front of them. Lots of people were fussing around, getting ready. Grandfather hadn't been brought in yet.

  All the seats were full, 'cause this was a very-special-important formal ceremony. Today the wardens would come! He shivered a little, and glanced at the White Throne on his right and the Blue Throne on the far side, but they were still empty. He was almost in back of the Gold
Throne, near the aisle. People were still coming in and squeezing into their seats. Ever so many people, though; he'd never seen the Rotunda so packed.

  And lots of people coming and going on the floor, ministers and secretaries. There was Marshal Ithy with his gold uniform and the red crest on his helmet. Lots and lots of lords.

  This would be a bad seat if the sun came out. The Rotunda got very hot in summer, but today was rainy. Trouble was, all these people were making it stuffy. Mustn't yawn!

  "Think the wardens'll go for it?" The old senator was still mumbling. "Wouldn't be surprised if they didn't show up. That'd show him! Show us, too! Sneaky business. Never saw so much grease. Mm? What?" There was a mumbling sound, and then he spoke more quietly. "Resolution, indeed! Should have been a formal Bill, three readings and recorded vote." Mumble, mumble. "Yes, but it's from two dynasties back. Emshandar always talked of updating it; never got around to it. Anyway, it says next of kin, not some upstart halfbreed flunky!" There were more hushing sounds.

  The floor was clearing, notables hurrying out so they could make a formal reappearance. Shandie's attention wandered to the big table before the Opal Throne. Those things lying on it must be Emine's sword and buckler! He'd never seen those, and he couldn't see very well now, and he tried to make himself a little taller, and Moms flashed a frown at him and he subsided quickly. See them later . . .

  "Sneaking it through in the middle of the order paper?" the old man said, snorting. "All over before half the Senate knew what was going on! Oh, I think the wardens may argue. They'll want Orosea, you wait."

  A fanfare drowned him out, and the crowd stilled. Then everyone stood up, so Shandie did, 'cept in his case it was more standing down and he could see even less. The Council was coming in through the south door, dividing at the Blue Throne to pass around either wall, passing on the outside of the thrones; he'd never seen this properly, 'cause he was usually part of it. The hall was very still, except for a shuffle of footsteps. Half the parade went right by in front of him, but he didn't look up to see their faces. He knew when the marshal came along, though, in his shiny uniform and a smell of new leather. He liked Marshal Ithy. He told Shandie war stories.