*
There didn't seem to be much more to say, and they each went to put on their best clothes for dinner. The clientele of the restaurant were, or believed themselves to be, the cream of Razimir's society and dressed accordingly. The girl had stylish robes provided by the Empress, while Berin found Razimiri jerkin and breeches laid out on his bed. They were joking together about their borrowed finery, when the Empress arrived, sweeping in in a magnificent dark red gown which seemed to glow in response to her lustrous hair. She complimented them both on their appearance, saying that they would turn many heads, even in the sophisticated environs of the Glasshouse. She was just beginning to become impatient about the tutor's absence, when a servant delivered a message to say that he was delayed and would join them at the table.
They went down a different staircase this time, emerging near the middle of the huge dining room. The Empress was clearly enjoying her role as hostess this evening and introduced the young couple briefly to a score of customers before they reached their table.
"How on earth do you remember everybody's name and position and everything?" Berin asked as they sat down at a circular table of smoky white glass at the exact centre of the restaurant.
"That's a professional secret," the Empress replied with a wink. "But I really don't have much choice. These people regard themselves as important and I have to feed that impression to make them feel comfortable here. That man at the next table is the Senior Aide to the Provincial Governor. The older man beyond owns the largest ship-building business in the Empire. The yellow-haired woman at the table behind Tariska is richer still; her family owned one of these hills above the bay before the little port of Razimir expanded to cover them. That's a long time ago, but the city's still growing and she's still getting richer. I can't afford to offend clients like this, or the place would empty. They're …."
The words died in her throat and the Empress' face turned pale as her eyes became riveted on something behind Tariska's shoulder.
"Oh, gods preserve us!" she whispered.
Tariska and Berin looked round wildly, instinctively expecting to witness something terrible behind them. At first they could see nothing unusual, and then the turning heads and the expanding circle of silence drew their eyes inexorably to the shabby figure staggering towards them through the tables. It was Idressin.
Tariska was on her feet at once. "He's hurt," she said, about to go to his aid.
"Sit down," hissed the Empress forcefully. "He's not hurt. The bastard's drunk."
Two waiters, who had obviously tried to intercept the tutor and failed, now followed hovering in his wake, as he wove an erratic course through the hushed room. With exquisite timing he lurched into the Governor's Aide just as the latter was raising a glass of red wine, which shot forward over the priceless white gown of the lady on his right. After an incoherent and frigidly received apology, the swaying figure tottered to their table and propped himself up on the back of the empty chair. Damp patches showed on his worn tunic and it was befouled with food. His hair stood out in greasy disarray and he exuded a powerful odour of sweat and drink.
The senior waiter immediately moved round to report to the Empress, causing the tutor to draw himself up to his full height, belch loudly, and say in a penetrating voice and with the over-careful enunciation of the inebriated, "Look here, my man. I spoke to you some time ago over there."
He turned unsteadily and waved a vague arm at a distant corner of the restaurant, then struggled visibly to refocus on the waiter's troubled face. "I am this lady's guess ... guest for dinner. Bring me a bottle of wine. Then piss off and leave me alone."
That the waiter departed immediately at the slightest of nods from the Empress, his face a mask of composure, was a tribute to the discipline with which she controlled her staff. The Aide was having his feathers smoothed down by the restaurant manager; there would of course, be no charge for dinner, and would the lady like to purchase a new dress and send the bill to the Glasshouse? Conversation was restarting in the room, as Razimir's society turned its back on the drunken tramp who had intruded into their sanctuary and got on with the pursuit of pleasure.
Things quickly reverted to normal and would have stayed that way, had Idressin not had other ideas. Berin who was appalled at witnessing the disintegration of an idol, poured him the glass of wine he blearily demanded, hoping that more alcohol might hasten his collapse. But the tutor tossed it off in one swift gulp and stood up again.
Clumsily he levered himself onto the table in a kneeling position and then with infinite care rose to his feet. The crash of dislodged glassware passed unnoticed in the enormous busy room, but the spreading silence was contagious and soon the centre table and the scarecrow who stood swaying upon it were the focus of all eyes. Once again the waiters descending on the scene were dispersed by a look and a gesture from the Empress.
"What are you staring at?" Idressin roared suddenly. "You, all of you, maggots." He chuckled, as he mumbled the words over to himself a few times "Maggots, maggots, maggots". Then in a shout, "Maggots on the car . . . car . . . carcass of this putrifying kingdom." Again he had found a word that pleased him, and 'putrifying' was given several repetitions. Despite his obvious struggle to express himself, his speech was distinct and carrying.
"This place. Glasshouse. This place is made to catch maggots. Didn't know that, did you? I know. I know. This restaurant." He nodded round confidingly at his transfixed audience. "This restaurant. The kitchen's underneath." He pointed down at the opaque glass floor. "Know what's down there? Batengis. The cooks are Batengis. That's right, dirty Batengis who wipe their arses on their tunics and spit in your soup."
A slight shudder passed through the genteel assembly; the Batengi people from the deep south of the Empire were part of Razimir's folklore for their reportedly revolting personal habits. Any found in the city were immediately deported as if diseased.
"And d'you know why they like working down there. They don't get paid …This floor's a trick. They can see right through from below and look up your women's skirts."
A little rustle of movement and a buzz of comment showed that this shot had gone home too. Berin, who didn't understand a word of Maleforins, was watching the Empress, who had closed her eyes in apparent despair after the last sally. She did not move, as the tutor resumed.
"Food's cheap too. Not for you. Not for you. ‘S cheap for the Glasshouse. What you're getting is all the stuff that was condemned yesterday by the City Health Inspectors. And the second floor. All those gaming tables. Gambling. Luck. Might win lots of money, eh? No chance." He shook his head sagely at his listeners. "S’all fixed. I know. Fixed some of the whee…wheels myself. Cards. Dice. They're all fixed. You can't win, not the luckiest person in the world. And the third floor. Hah! All know about that, don't we? Lots of fun up there. All secret. Nobody knows who's who. Well, think again maggots. Someone's watching, someone's listening. It's all in the files. They'll take your money from you down here. Up there they've got you nailed for ever ‘n’ ever ‘n’ ever."
The tutor leaned down precariously and snatched up an open bottle of wine. Rivulets ran down his neck into his shirt as he took a long careless swig. Whispered conversations had started on all sides; but he still had the fascinated attention of most of the room, and when he started to speak again, there was complete silence. The Empress' eyes were open again, wide with shock in her waxen face, as she watched Idressin destroy her life's work.
"D’you want to know who's cheating you and spying on you? Then let me introduce you. Who arranges all of it? Your charming hostess, the Empress," He turned falteringly and waved his bottle at the seated woman. "Who takes the profit from robbing you? Your rich hostess, the Empress. And who sells your secrets to the highest bidder? Your roof …. ruthless hostesh, the Empresh."
The tutor took another long pull from the bottle and all but staggered off the table in doing so. Regaining his balance at the last moment, he resumed loudly, "And d'you want to know
why? Do you? Well, I'll tell you. Cosh she hatesh you." His speech was at last starting to slur. "Whole shtinking lot of you. Found her. I found her living on rubbish dump on Shecond Hill. Ab ...aban ... bandoned by her mother, whore on Shore Road. Sh'ushed to eat maggotsh." He nodded solemnly, as he repeated, "Eat maggotsh." Then he flung his arms wide and said in resounding tones, "Sh'hatesh maggots now. Hatesh whole shtinking wriggling mash of you."
That the Empress had contained herself for so long was due less to her legendary iron self-control than to the irresolvable conflict of emotions tearing her apart within. Her loyalty to Idressin, despite her recent dallying with the Emperor's envoys, was founded deep on gratitude and respect and, at the very core, love itself. These feelings were being tested sorely, as she moved from perplexity to outrage to despair and finally to bitter personal hurt. She had sat still and watched him tear her whole world apart. It mattered not a whit to her by this stage that everyone should know her origins, but that he should tell them and in such a way took her over the brink.
Idressin reeled sideways again and fell off the table. As he struggled upright, the Empress took a quick stride and slapped him with all her force. It knocked him to the ground. Painfully he climbed to his feet again and quick as a cat she darted in and spat in his face, then whirled about and stormed out of the back of the room. The tutor stood for a moment in befuddled silence, then staggered off out of the main entrance hall, trailed by his two young companions. Once inside one of the hidden staircases, Tariska caught his arm to demand an explanation, then stopped transfixed. The eyes which regarded her were calm and clear. There was no trace of the shambling drunk who had stepped through the doorway ahead of her.
"It was necessary," was all she got, before Idressin led them off up the stairs at a swift pace.
Once they were on the third floor, Tariska started with the practical things. She acquired a sweet-smelling incense lantern from Vitzi and asked for dinner for four to be brought up to their apartment. On reentering the main room, she was greeted with the sight of Berin sitting bewildered, as he listened to the sound of the Empress' racking sobs from the bedroom.
"Where's Idressin?" she whispered.
"In there. With her," came the equally quiet reply.
"That's alright then."
"What d'you mean, it's alright? It doesn't sound it to me. How could he hurt her so much? And he did it deliberately. I just don't understand."
"Nor do I, Berin. But I'm not going to worry about it. I thought Idressin was crazily drunk downstairs, which wasn't a pretty sight, but it does happen to people. Now I know he did it on purpose, I feel it's all going to be alright, even for the Empress. You know, looking back on it, it was quite funny what he did in the restaurant."
She giggled, which seemed to deepen the frown on Berin's face.
"Funny? Tikka, he's made her life here impossible."
Tariska eyed him mischievously. "You know, you're really quite a prude, aren't you, Berin? You cringed when Idressin appeared at our table looking like a tramp."
"I did not. It's . . . well, it was so embarrassing for the Empress."
"Oh, fiddlesticks. I think you'd fit in quite well to their maggoty society. All airs and graces."
She was poking fun at him now so openly, that Berin's stiff indignation melted away. They grinned at each other. Moments later they were pleased to hear a low murmur of conversation from the bedroom, and by the time the food arrived they were in good enough spirits to fall to straight away. A quick call produced Idressin from the bedroom, with the news that the Empress would sleep for a while.
An uncontrollable fit of giggles blew some of Tariska's crumbs across the table, causing the tutor to glare at her reprovingly and give her a little lecture about manners. The words from someone, still dressed like a scarecrow, who had just offended half of Razimir society, reduced her to hoots of laughter, in which Berin and eventually Idressin joined her.
The tutor made it clear that he was not going to explain himself that night, and it was only at breakfast the next day that they gleaned more from his conversation with the Empress.
"Believe me, Henba, there was no other way. From what you tell me, I'm already attracting attention from the Emperor's agents and it's probably going to get worse. They know I'm staying here, so the best way to keep you completely free of suspicion was to have a very public row. In their view turning up drunk and insulting you in front of all your clients was the most unforgivable thing I could do to you. And you, you were magnificent. How could they not be convinced? You couldn't have done it half so well if I'd asked you to pretend, could you?"
"I know, I know, A'Delzir," she sighed. "It's such a relief to know you were acting, that I feel as if I don't care about the Glasshouse right now. But I will tomorrow. Did you mean to destroy the whole place at the same time?"
"Come on, Henba. You don't really believe this will do any harm to the business, do you?"
She looked at him in astonishment. "What do you mean? Of course it will. Those people will have been leaving by the hundred last night and they'll never come back. Nor will their friends. All that stuff about Batengis and transparent floors and listening in on the bedrooms and so on. It's patent rubbish, but start rumours like that and the Glasshouse will never live them down."
"No one left early last night. Hold on, hold on," the tutor raised his hands to quieten the flurry of questions directed at him from all sides. "Give me a chance to tell you. Foxin and the floor manager took over as soon as we had gone. Made a little speech about a drunken uncle of the Empress, a nobleman from Karkor who had fallen on hard times and was trying to restore his fortunes by writing romantic plays; the Glasshouse would make sure the incident was not repeated and would offer free wine for the evening in recognition of their forebearance and good manners; anyone who cared to inspect the kitchens or the gambling equipment would be escorted there immediately by the staff."
"And they accepted that?"
"Oh, Foxin said they were laughing by the end, that bit about inspection. Feed them a mixture of snobbishness and servility and they'll accept anything."
"I still think things like that transparent floor and the spies in the bedrooms will make customers uneasy and keep them away."
Idressin eyed her with curiosity. "I'm surprised at you, Henba. All these years dealing with these people and you still don't fully understand them. Most of the women in that room will be more titillated than offended by the idea of being viewed from below, and most of the men and women who frequent the third floor are excited by the thought of being discovered." He shook his head sadly. "And I thought I had brought you up to be a true student of human nature. Even though patently untrue, as you said, the rumours will give the Glasshouse a whole new lease of life."
"Don't get carried away," the Empress laughed. "I'll have to go on lying about my drunken uncle for months as well as paying Foxin and my floor manager a bonus for covering up so well. What … No, I won't ask. That's quite enough questions for breakfast. How about me pretending to be ill, and all four of us spending a day or two around the city? I know you're leaving soon, and heaven knows how long it will be before I see you again."
"It would be wonderful." The tutor sounded distinctly wistful. "But you'll have to go without me. The whole point of last night's little drama was to show the enmity between us. I may need you to do something for me, so let's keep everyone believing how much we hate each other. Take these two and enjoy yourselves, and just remember to scowl when you see me."
There was no mistaking Hennis's disappointment, but she hid it well and gave her two young guests a wonderful whirling two days. Islands, hill-top restaurants, an aquarium of rare sea creatures, open-air dancing, hidden markets selling the wares of half the world: under a sparkling blue sky they tried them all. The Empress led them with bubbling enthusiasm and frequent laughter, to all appearances like a child released from school, obviously doing her best to take their thoughts off their missing friends. Berin was enchante
d; but Tariska could sense the sadness and foreboding hidden within this gaiety. When the interlude ended and the time finally came to leave for Karkor, her heart went out to the lonely figure on the causeway watching them walk away.
They were in no hurry, yet the journey seemed so quick and easy now that they were free of the caravan. Once they had cleared the range of coastal hills, southern Malefor consisted of an endless procession of fruit trees, which appeared to stretch to the horizon on both sides of the road: oranges, dimminies, apples and huge pendulous jejules, whose incredibly tough outer skin hid a pulp so sweet that the young travellers could recall nothing like it. Fruit and traffic, plenty of both. This was the Graxi-Tarkus highway all over again, though taken at a more sedate pace. It was six hundred miles yet to Karkor, but the broad valley of the river Smenke which they were following carried almost all the trade between Malefor and Belugor.
After a week of riding without a hint of trouble they approached the border in carefree mood. There was a barrier in the road, more for show than as a serious obstruction: any attempt to stop the teeming traffic would have caused complete chaos. Everyone entering Belugor was forced to slow down and negotiate a narrow passage under the watchful eye of a group of border officials. One or two people up ahead appeared to have been diverted for questioning, so it was with surprise, but no real concern that they found themselves being waved to one side.
The officials were polite and by their tone it sounded as though the questions addressed to the tutor were routine. It was clear that they were bored by the whole procedure. The trio remounted and were rejoining the main flow of travellers, when a shout close behind made Berin look round. Two border guards were striding directly towards him: behind them was Pak, an expression of triumph on his handsome face.
The Tears of Sisme Page 54