A Path to Coldness of Heart tlcotde-3

by Glen Cook

  Babeltausque said, “It was a fake.”

  “It wasn’t when Fiana was queen.”

  “Then Bragi was a crook.”

  Wolf said, “Someone was.”

  Inger snapped, “Drain the pond, Nathan. Muck it out. Find the rest of the treasure.” She had a feeling that this would not turn out wel . Feet wet and freezing, the rest of her damp, Inger clambered back into the coach. Josiah asked,

  “Bad news?”

  “So it seems.” She explained. “The jewels were junk.

  They’d partly melted. And now I’m remembering that only two men, one very old, carried the treasure away. How much could they lug, real or fake?”

  “I hoped they’d taken mostly gold.”

  “I’m expecting fool’s gold now.”

  Varthlokkur had warned her that she would be disappointed.

  ...

  Members of the castle garrison tagged along wherever Varthlokkur went. He shook them off when so inclined. They expected that and did not resent it.

  Why had he come out in this cold rain? Whatever he did was sure to come a disappointment.

  He let his tails see him enter Arnulf Black’s butcher shop.

  That pathetic vil ain had been questioned by Babeltausque, who declared him a bleak pervert whose need was to humiliate the weak and build himself up by tormenting the helpless. He abused his girls but did not murder them. Even the weakest eventual y ran away.

  In that impoverished quarter Black had no trouble finding replacements.

  Varthlokkur left the shop. His shadows did not see him go.

  They had other things on their minds.

  He headed for a nearby apothecary shop.

  Arnulf Black said his girls usual y ran to the druggist, whoever the druggist was.

  The shop had been there forever but had changed hands a year ago. The new druggist was the son, grandson, or nephew of the man who had retired.

  The wizard expected it to be closed and those associated with it to be gone. Chames Marks had to know he was being watched. But the door opened when Varthlokkur tried it. The overhead bel jingled.

  A girl came through the curtains fil ing the doorway to the rear. Varthlokkur guessed her to be eleven or twelve. She was drying her hands on an old grey rag. She started to make an apology.

  She looked straight at him.

  She blanched. Her mouth worked but nothing came out.

  She had trouble breathing.

  What was this? The child ought to have no idea who he was.

  He made a quick gesture with his left hand. Her gaze fol owed. He said, “Stay where you are.” She froze. Varthlokkur considered his surroundings. This was a serious apothecary shop, whatever else it might be — assuming the contents of those containers matched their labels.

  Here was a fortune in medicine.

  “What is your name?”

  “Seline, sir. Seline Shalot.”

  “Where is your master?”

  “Making a delivery in Eatherton Close. Bel adonna. Dr.

  Jaspars uses it. He should be back soon.”

  “Why didn’t you make the delivery?”

  “Chames thought it might not be safe. What’s been happening to girls around here has him worried.” Varthlokkur put her under deeper so she would not resist more personal questions.

  Chames had not touched her. It was al right if he wanted to.

  He was good to her. He might have been intimate with Haida. Haida had bragged that he was. It was no big thing.

  Someone came in the back way. Varthlokkur heard a clunk and clatter and muttering, then the tread of shod feet headed their way. “Seline, I need you to pul jars while I formulate. We have a big wholesale order…” Varthlokkur grinned wickedly. “Wel ! Hel o. This puts a new spin onto everything.”

  ...

  “I fooled myself,” Babeltausque complained to Nathan Wolf. It was dark. A fire, shielded from wind and rain by a tent under the constant assault of the elements, did not yield enough light to continue work.

  Wolf agreed. “You should’ve thought about the weather before you told her. You knew she’d go nuts.” There were bits of ice in the rain. They stung.

  The pond was empty. The dam side had been broken.

  Rainwater was flushing the muck. Babeltausque, Wolf, and several miserable soldiers took turns keeping the outflow burdened.

  They had recovered six coins. Two were silver. None were gold.

  “You’re right. But that’s not what I mean. Nobody wil know if we just get in and hunker down by the fire.”

  “She can’t fire us. What were you talking about, then?”

  “Those men who attacked me. I marked them with tracer spel s.”

  “So you could see where they ran. So?”

  “So I lost them. They left town. I should’ve grabbed them.” Wolf grunted, disinterested. He was busy quitting work. He kept his back to Babeltausque so the wizard could not read his expression. “This wil at least clean the pond out.” Babeltausque glanced that direction, was content to let the darkness have the pool. “I hope we have enough firewood.”

  ...

  Ozora Mundwil er told Kristen, “Inger found the missing treasury.” Kristen slumped.

  “Take heart. They didn’t find much. Not enough for Inger to clear her debts. She won’t be hiring any troops.”

  “That’s good news, then.”

  “The wizard may have gone home, too. He hasn’t been seen lately.”

  “More good news.”

  “To old news. Did you try to kil Inger’s sorcerer?”

  “No.” Kristen had heard about that but had given it no thought.

  “Nor did I. Who, then? The sorcerer said they were Wessons.”

  “Which would rule out the Marena Dimura. But they aren’t heard from much anymore, anyway.”

  “So who, then?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “In the sense that it may affect us, of course it does. The enemy of our enemy isn’t necessarily our friend.”

  “The eastern empress could have hired them.” But that was sil y. Mist would be more direct. “No. Of course not.

  Maybe some Nordmen.” “But the Estates, nominal y, support Inger and Fulk.”

  “How about Aral Dantice?”

  “Or Michael Trebilcock? Is he stil alive?” Kristen said, “I think so. How about you, Dahl?”

  “Word would have gotten around if he real y died.” Kristen said, “Maybe if we knew why he was attacked?” Haas said, “I’l go try to find out.”

  “Or you could stay here and keep me happy.”

  “I could do that, too.” Haas chose that course. But he did poke around in the shadows of Sedlmayr when he could get out of the Mundwil er complex unnoticed. He did not learn anything useful.

  ...

  “I see three possibilities,” Babeltausque told the usual gathering. “What we found is a red herring. The King took the treasury with him and Shinsan has it now, which is what I think happened. Or, what we dredged up real y is the whole treasure and Kavelin was broke before we took over.”

  Inger scowled at the “we” but let it slide. “Or somebody got to it before we did.”

  Gales asked, “Somebody who could keep from bragging or spending a farthing?”

  Wolf agreed. “Nobody could keep that secret. Even if they took the money out of the kingdom. We would’ve heard.” Babeltausque nodded agreement.

  So. They al thought she had been chasing a fantasy, making wishful thinking over into policy. “Then we have to rely on ourselves after al . How much goodwil have we gained by rooting out those abusers?”

  Wolf remarked, “The perverts aren’t happy.” He glanced at the sorcerer. Babeltausque scowled back.

  Vigilante justice had caught up with several bad men. An especial y vile bordel o had burned. The mob responsible also laid into several known thieves, a moneylender, and his col ectors.

  Inger said, “We should clamp down. How do we do that if we can’t pay o
ur soldiers?”

  Gales suggested, “There’s always the old-fashioned way.

  Steal from them who do have money.”

  Inger growled, “Cynicism noted. That would require soldiers, too.”

  Gales observed, “Nothing should happen before the world sees what happens with the old king.”

  Inger asked, “Has anyone seen Varthlokkur?” Headshakes. Wolf said, “I’ve heard that he went back to the mountains. I don’t believe it. He’d want to know what Shinsan is up to here, first.”

  Inger suggested, “Maybe he hasn’t been seen because he doesn’t want to be seen.”

  “That sounds right to me.”

  “So what might he be up to while he’s keeping his head down?”

  “Maybe trying to find the portals Shinsan has here,” Babeltausque said. “That’s what I’d be doing if I wasn’t trying to find treasury money that probably doesn’t exist.

  Those portals might be a lot more important than the money.”

  Inger glared. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning we’re here and in charge because the Empress Mist hasn’t yet developed a taste for Kavelin.” Inger’s glare intensified. She was severely displeased. But Babeltausque had not said an untrue word. Kavelin could no more defend itself than could a naked virgin in a coma.

  She admitted, “Facts are facts. We’re dead meat if that’s what Shinsan wants.”

  Josiah said, “The Nordmen and Wessons would resist.” Nathan Wolf nodded. “But not on our behalf. And, probably, not very effectively.”

  Inger shuddered. “Al right. It’s true. We’re in the stew. There are no obvious or easy ways out. Basical y, we spent a year getting ourselves into a place where we either have to run away or throw ourselves on the mercies of our subjects.” Wolf said, “That could end up ruining the monarchy.” He did not need to explain. Exactly that had happened in Ruderin only two years ago. The crown there never recovered from the Great Eastern Wars. The nobility so weakened the central authority that King Byar became nothing but a national symbol. Ruderin was in worse chaos than Kavelin. As in Kavelin, a bountiful harvest had contributed heavily to a root level economic resurgence.

  That, in turn, had enfeebled the normal human inclination toward bad behavior.

  One poor harvest and both kingdoms would descend into banditry, plagued by petty warlords.

  Inger saw that future plainly. Anyone with half a brain could see it. But no one would yield anything of their own to prevent it.

  “Cal a parliament,” Inger blurted.

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Send out word, Josiah. I’m cal ing the Thing, made up the same as last time.” She raised a hand to forestal comment. “I know. Some of them are dead. People know who the heirs should be. Just get the word out. We have to pul everyone together.”

  Wolf said, “That’s begging for trouble. Begging for it.”

  “And I’l give it back if they ask for it.” Pure bluster, that. “A Thingmeet should be good for Vorgreberg. Al those people wil be here spending money.”

  The men eyed her curiously, wondering whence that notion had sprung.

  It had begun as a fantasy about gathering al the troublemakers in one place so she could massacre them.

  Her thoughts had trickled on to possibilities less bloodthirsty.

  She said, “Babeltausque, you can drop the treasure search. Find Mist’s transfer portals instead. And any other evidence that Shinsan is stil interested in Kavelin.

  Assuming Varthlokkur hasn’t found the stuff already.”

  “Your Majesty?” Then, “Of course. As you wil .” He got it.

  Inger had found an enemy everyone could hate.

  A Thingmeet must, inevitably, devolve into incessant squabbling. Meantime, though, everyone would forget about fighting one another. Every grownup remembered the occupation by Shinsan…

  And everyone attending the Thingmeet would have to spend money. So Vorgreberg would fal in love with Inger al over again for the first time.

  For the first time in months hope surfaced. Too much, real y. But… Hope!

  Inger said, “Once the summons goes out we issue new regulations for innkeepers, taverners, merchants, and so on. They wil al ow no credit. They wil demand cash in advance, of which a tithe wil be ours. They won’t do business with who already owes them, either. A Thing member who dodged his obligations before wil make good beforehand or not be seated. And we wil take a tithe.”

  Her mind raced. Ideas came faster than she could articulate them. “Debtors won’t even be al owed through the gates while their obligations remain unpaid. How does that sound?”

  “Populist,” Gales said. “The kind of man who welcomes dishonor by ignoring his debts isn’t likely to care enough about his seat to settle them.”

  “Possibly. But if we make this sound like we’re real y putting the design of the future on the table… I think they’l al want to have their say.”

  Babeltausque said, “There wil be a great deal of animosity from our enemies, Your Majesty.”

  “How so?”

  “They’l assume that you mean to chunk them into the dungeon with Dane if they actual y show up.” Inger nodded. She had not considered that. Her natural inclination was to say, “So what?” and declare anyone dim enough to disagree with her to be outside the equation. But that would only worsen the strains amongst the factions. If a Thingmeet was to happen there had to be a potent sense that it was real.

  Josiah said, “You’d be taking a huge risk, Majesty. If you cal a Thingmeet to decide the future you’d better be ready to live in a future that you’l find less than condign. Whatever happens, we won’t be able to impose your wil .”

  “That’s true. Al true. Hang on.” After a moment, she asked,

  “How about safe-conducts for al Thing members? Whoever they are, say, beginning three days before the first meeting date through three days after adjournment.”

  “That would stun the kingdom, Majesty,” Nathan Wolf said.

  “It stuns me. I like it. If nothing else, it wil buy us time.”

  “Thank you, Nathan. You and Josiah get it rol ing.

  Babeltausque, I need evidence that Shinsan is lurking behind our hedges.”

  The sorcerer nodded. Here was a chance to show off.

  Carrie would be impressed by his royal connection.

  Inger would give Kavelin a common foe. The gimmick was older than prostitution. It remained in play because it worked.

  He had to produce evidence that was not obviously manufactured.

  He should start where he had run into the woman, being a little more careful to avoid an ambush. A visit to the cemetery would be in order, too. He would do that first, and try to find those squatters. They should make useful witnesses.

  Mist’s people had her mansion cleaned out already, he imagined.

  This might be too big a task. He was a bit player, not the Empire Destroyer. He could not do much more than keep water from boiling.

  How to get Varthlokkur involved?

  He was involved, just not political y. Would he appear as a witness?

  He explained it al to Carrie before taking a nap, after which he meant to change into clothing suitable for knocking around the countryside. She listened, interested. Carrie was a changed girl now that she lived in the castle. She took her role as his companion seriously. She mentioned that her grandmother had been married at her age. She no longer whined about everything.

  Her family thought she had scored a coup by connecting with a palace wizard. Her age was not an issue.

  He figured Carrie would move on if she had a chance to move up.

  That was good enough.

  Carrie was mercenary but she gave good value. These days she laid into her work with nurturing enthusiasm and was a good resource for understanding what ordinary Vorgrebergers thought.

  Carrie said, “You shouldn’t fuss about the wizard. Just acknowledge what you know.”

  Wow. This was a far cry from const
ant whining for new shoes and clothes.

  She was more confident now, maybe because he treated her like a real, thinking companion when not using her to satisfy the consuming need that had driven him to find her.

  “Hmm?”

  “You probably shouldn’t waste time taking a nap. That wizard has more resources than you do.”

  “Time with you is never wasted.” He meant that so sincerely that it did not sound corny.

  “You are a devil man.” She began to shed her clothing.

  Babeltausque became uncomfortable when she did that in the light, which too plainly revealed how much she had ripened.

  She would be ful y a woman soon.

  He was useless with grown-up women.

  Chapter Twenty-One:

  Winter, Year 1017 AFE:

  An Era Ended

  Seasons were not extreme at Sebil el Selib. Winters were cooler but seldom real y cold. Most years it was damper but not remarkably so. Those who grew up there and did not travel could not conceive of the fury of a thunderstorm.

  Some knew sandstorms but even those had to be experienced elsewhere.

  On rare occasions the wind did shift enough to bring a taste of alkali off the salt pans.

  Rains, even in this year’s notably wet seasons, seldom amounted to more than sustained heavy drizzles.

  Haroun eased his head through a slit in the exterior wal of El Murid’s tent. Rain was stil fal ing in what locals considered torrents. It was cold. The wadi boiled with raging brown water. He muttered, “Twenty years of this and the ancient seas wil be back.”

  Megelin Radetic, Haroun’s boyhood teacher, had insisted that salt pans were the bones of ancient seas. In the heyday of Ilkazar today’s pans had been vast lakes. The scars of old shorelines remained visible on the flanks of mountains.

  The swift drying of those lakes had been part of the vengeance of the Empire Destroyer.

  Al Hammad al Nakir had been more lush in those times. But this was now. This was remarkable. This could become dangerous.

  Rushing waters tore away tons of hard soil. The wadi bank had crept five yards nearer the Disciple’s tent.

  Suppose a truly violent downpour came along?

  Bin Yousif pul ed back inside. He settled to think.