Dominic was looking at her with concern. “You do not approve?”
“I think perhaps we should go to your publisher in person. Now,” she said slowly. “And visit the palace as well. I have the feeling we are still in ignorance of the true peril. As unpleasant as the essence extraction is, it did not give Denais limitless power. It did not take the massed magical armies of Aerope to defeat him in Baerlen. This must be something far more dangerous. I fear…I fear we do not have much time.”
Chapter 7
Everything was taking far too long. Denais gritted his teeth and forced all emotion away from his face. He had come too far to let impatience ruin his plans. It was necessary for the anban, the government official in charge of travel documents here, to think him just another Aeropan merchant. He could not simply kill the man, for another would eventually take his place—and besides, he wanted the anban’s active assistance. Using compulsion was too dangerous here. His sources indicated that the Cathan court magicians had a rudimentary method of detecting geasi, and higher government officials paid quarterly visits. He could not be sure a magician would not accompany them.
He wrinkled his nose as a mild breeze brought dust and the scent of human sweat. A little, wiry man grasped the shafts of the two–wheeled carriage and drew it as if he were a horse, but not as fast. There were no Aeropan–style carriages here, and even if there were, it would draw too much attention. No, this is how a merchant would travel, so he would do the same.
The man in a threadbare black cassock seated next to him in the carriage glanced at him now and then but said nothing. Denais had ordered him to be silent. He was there to translate and facilitate the business Denais needed to transact. Naturally, he required a geas to be at all trustworthy. In addition, he was the lone missionary in this district, evidently because he was in disfavor with his order. He would not be missed when it became necessary to dispose of him.
The anban’s compound was presumably more elegant than the rest of the town buildings, but Denais could perceive no difference save, perhaps, size. Everything was dusty, few green plants were in evidence, the servants in faded dark blue cotton. He got out of the carriage and walked up the steps to the main door, leaving the translator to pay the carriage man.
The cool interior was a welcome relief, and Denais noted some tolerable pieces of porcelain on display, but nothing truly splendid. Perhaps the anban had taste but lacked the income to indulge it. All the better for his plan.
A servant escorted him to a large room with a polished wood floor. Two cushions were placed before a low table, which was furnished with delicate eggshell teacups. Opposite the table was a dais, with a curious couch for the anban.
The servant spoke, and Denais turned to the translator.
“You may speak. Tell me what they say.”
The translator, Frere Ignatius, cringed, nodding. “He says to kneel and seek the wisdom of the representative of the Throne of Heaven.”
No. There were limits. “Tell him I am unable to kneel due to injury. Use whatever language is considered polite.”
This did not go over well with the anban, but two drum stools were brought to replace the cushions.
Denais brought out the small lacquered box from his coat pocket, laying it on the table before him. He lifted his chin at Ignatius, who began the usual obsequious blather that was expected when handing over a bribe. The translator had explained earlier how such matters were considered routine by government officials, especially out here on the border of the decaying empire. It was expected that they would supplement their income, not lavish and frequently not paid, with what was termed “squeeze.” Denais did not care what excuses were used; it was enough that the institutional venality offered him the opportunity to get what he wanted.
“The anban wishes to know the business the foreign visitor desires guidance on.” Ignatius winced at the expression in Denais’s eyes. “This is how it is phrased, your lordship. It means nothing.”
“Tell him I am planning trade routes to the Cathan Empire. Other Aeropans also wish to trade this way, but they are grasping thieves and will try to hide their trade and avoid the customs tax by using other cities, with tax officials not as wise as their superior. I have nothing to conceal, and so I will always bring my goods through this city, paying the full tax. I would be most appreciative to learn that the wise official will refuse travel documents to such lying foreigners, who may also conceal that they intend to trade. Word has spread that they may even use their own corrupting magic in this effort, which I know the wise official will detect and punish.”
The little lacquered box was removed while Ignatius translated, and shortly thereafter a servant whispered in the anban’s ear. The anban showed more interest in what was said then. Denais smiled inwardly. Yes, he had guessed correctly. The official was corrupt, and the bribe had been sufficient. It had been a delicate balance between just enough—and so much the official would become too interested and want a percentage of the business.
As it was, the hint of “taxes” was enough. With a few more exchanges, Denais and the anban had reached an understanding. Another “gift,” and exclusive tax right on the fictitious trade goods, and the anban would forbid all other foreign travel beyond the frontier. It was further hinted that the general posted to this region was favorably disposed to the anban and would enforce this edict strictly, even if the foreigners somehow evaded the border crossing. The anban gestured with a carved ivory rod, signaling the audience had ended.
It was not an ideal solution. The quickest route to Aerope was through Ynde, but the trade cities there were older and more law–abiding. The concessionary areas on the coast of the Cathan Empire were more accommodating, especially if you had money to convince the tongs to look the other way. Unfortunately, there were other unscrupulous Aeropans in these concessions that would notice, and try to take advantage of, any unusual traffic. By closing off the border, he could keep them from following and possibly discovering the valley.
And it would not do for anyone to learn of it. Especially not anyone who might mention it in the hearing of those familiar with the Mage Guardians. Denais clenched his hand about the handle of his walking stick. No, he would not make that mistake again. First he would gather power—and with access to the peculiar resources of the valley, he could do that. Then he would return to Aerope and finish the war on his own terms. This time, he would destroy all the Mage Guardians before they knew he was even in their midst.
He would leave nothing to chance. “One more thing.” Ignatius gave him a look of pure fear, and the anban actually frowned. “I wish to warn of a certain very dangerous foreigner who may assist these thieves. A woman of demonic appearance, who is rumored to be a witch. Her evil is such it has turned her hair as red as burning coals.”
The anban snapped a reply, which Ignatius translated as a contemptuous dismissal of the possible danger presented by a woman, and a foreigner to boot.
“Send to the official in charge of allowing entry passes and ask, and he will say the same,” Denais replied, confident that his agents had already made the necessary arrangements with the government. “If you should see the red–haired foreign woman here, imprison her in iron immediately. And it would be best—for everyone—if she were never allowed to leave.”
Early morning light filled Dominic’s new workroom, now comfortably cluttered with tools and sketches for new contraptions. He had risen early after a troubled sleep and decided to spend a few moments with his latest device, which, if it worked as intended, would capture an image and make a small illusion of it. Seeing Schulyer Colfax’s laboratory had given him many ideas, but this was one he thought he could actually make work.
Dominic placed the metal piece against the scale drawing he had made, checked the dimensions, and sighed. Everything looked correct, but the mechanism still wasn’t sliding properly. One of the edges was rather sharp from being cut—perhaps it was catching somewhere. He rumm
aged for a file on the workbench to make adjustments.
Hermes, who had been sleeping in a tightly curled ball in a nearby armchair, raised his head and looked at the door. Moments later a knock sounded.
“Come in.” He had been hoping for Sonam, but instead Markus entered.
“Ah, there you are. I will not keep you if you are busy…” Markus spared a puzzled glance at Hector the mouse, in his usual home in a hanging birdcage. “I only wish to inquire if the Lady Magus at all wishes me to ascertain how matters stand in Anatoli, but it appears she has not yet risen? Of course, if you knew her mind, and she does so desire, I will leave immediately.”
“We did stay up quite late discussing matters,” Dominic observed mildly. “The telegram has been sent. Until we learn what Her Majesty’s government decides, there is not much action we can take. And they did not know our suspicions of Denais’s current location until just now.” Markus turned away, picking up and studying the devices from Colfax’s lab, ranged on an empty bookshelf. He glanced out the window before resuming his restless wandering through the room. Dominic watched him a moment before continuing. “Besides, it is much more likely that your government will send you with the expedition to Asea.”
“But that’s—” Markus broke off with a sharp gesture.
“By the by, didn’t you say you had Colfax’s notebook? I’d like to take a look at it. Those devices came from his laboratory.”
“Of course.” Markus left, returning with both a large folio notebook and a pasteboard box. “You may also be interested in these. They were found together, and some were illustrated in the notebook.”
Dominic took the box. The devices inside were small, intricately made, and bright with magic. He could hardly see the individual fields to distinguish them. He shook his head, sighing. “I wish I could have met the man. He was an artist. I wonder, though, why Denais’s people took these and not the others. How were they found, anyway?”
“Fräulein von Kitren found them,” Markus said. “In the process of tracking the spy watching the old hideout.”
Something in his voice drew Dominic’s attention away from the fascinating pages of the notebook. It was as if he were speaking each word carefully. When Dominic looked up, Markus was staring out the window again, his face somber. Something was seriously wrong—and Dominic recalled that Markus had not been his usual self the previous day.
And then Dominic remembered something Ardhuin had said to him, in Baerlen, when he was uncertain of her affections—and, he had to admit, somewhat resentful of her friendship with Markus. I think his interest lies elsewhere, she had said, with a faint smile. In his relief at realizing Markus was not a rival he had forgotten the full implication of her words.
Ardhuin had never met Markus Asgaya before coming to Baerlen. How would she know whom he was interested in, unless it was someone she had met there? And who else had they met?
Gutrune von Kitren, now somewhere in Anatoli. Where Markus was quite evidently desperate to go.
Markus turned to face him, apparently feeling the weight of Dominic’s gaze. His expression was devoid of amusement, and fatigue deepened the lines at the corners of his eyes. It would seem he had not slept any better than Dominic had, and for much the same reason. What would he feel, if Ardhuin were the one in danger in a remote place? Gutrune was more experienced at intrigue, but that only meant she was more likely to seek it out. Markus was being remarkably calm, given the circumstances.
The twinge of sympathy for Markus surprised and startled him. “Reflect, if you will, that if it is decided to send anyone to Sonam’s valley, it would be easier to have Fräulein von Kitren meet them en route rather than track her from her last known location. I have the impression she is also impatient to take action.”
“Very likely.” Markus sighed. “But there is no certain information, and so much could go wrong…”
“Well, you aren’t going be much use to her riding off in all directions,” snapped Dominic. “Think about what will help her, whenever you get there. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”
Markus dropped into an armchair, fortunately the one without Hermes, and sank his head into his hands. “It has become difficult to think rationally about this.” He looked up. “And I am astonished you would be willing to give advice on…such a topic, given the sometimes hostile tenor of your opinion of me. Perhaps deserved.” He held up one hand as if to forestall objection.
“Regardless of my opinion of you, Fräulein von Kitren is a dear friend of my wife’s—and so naturally I share your concern about her safety and will do what I can to help in that matter. Moreover, if my guess as to the root cause of your concern is correct, and…the interest is mutual, any worries of your possible future intrigues would be greatly diminished,” Dominic said dryly.
Markus managed a brief grin. “How true. Or in any event, short–lived. However, you anticipate more than I can at present. I am not entirely certain how to proceed, should the opportunity be provided.”
Dominic raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “You cannot be serious. With your address and charm?”
“The lady in question, I am sure you will agree, is not the sort to be persuaded by flattery and frequent bouquets,” Markus said. “What you are kind enough to refer to as my address and charm may even be a handicap.”
“She does indeed seem to be a lady of good sense and considerable intelligence,” Dominic agreed blandly. “This will make your task more difficult, will it not? I would also advise a handsome pistol in lieu of flowers.”
The expression in Markus’s eyes grew speculative. “Would you? Advise me? You admit the task is somewhat daunting, given her…unconventional interests. You would have a much better insight into successful tactics to employ.”
Dominic shook his head. “You cannot expect me to betray any confidences, even assuming she would—”
“No, no, of course not!” Markus waved a hand. “I merely meant that having spent time in her company, and of course from what your wife may have mentioned in idle conversation, you would have a better understanding of her mind. And while my happiness is of little interest to you, my…call it, close supervision, surely is?”
“Indeed. Although I remain to be convinced that the lady’s happiness would be a result, I would not presume to contradict her. If you can convince her, my conscience will be clear.”
“Your support, though tepid, is appreciated,” Markus murmured. “Now, what service can I offer you in turn? We all know Denais has to be dealt with, and naturally I will do everything possible to aid Fräulein von Kitren, but…” he cocked his head, glancing at Dominic. “You spoke with some heat about other Mage Guardians. I doubt there is much I can do to influence such decisions, but perhaps I should ask why it troubles you so greatly. While Denais is a threat, and a serious one, he is the only one to appear in many years. Once he is dealt with, it is unlikely her services will be in such high demand.”
Dominic cast about desperately for an acceptable excuse to convince him. “All this sudden travel is quite uncomfortable. It never ends. We are assuming Denais and MacCrimmon’s threat are the same, but what if they are not? All that effort for nothing.”
One dark eyebrow was raised, radiating skepticism. “This, from an enthusiast of expeditions? If I had to guess, I would say the two of you enjoy travel very much.”
“Well, it’s one thing to read about expeditions but quite another to constantly embark on them personally. I also enjoy quiet home life, and you are familiar with my wife’s aversion to crowds. And…and my writing suffers from the distractions.”
Markus’s gaze sharpened. “Your writing. I’ve read it, you know. I don’t recall many long scenes of tranquil domestic bliss, but quite a bit of adventure. Imagination can only do so much—you need to temper it with facts now and then. But I noticed your expression changed when you mentioned your home life. Are you still concerned? From my observations your wife is completely devoted to
you, and you must admit I have some knowledge of these matters. Or is there something else amiss?”
“No!”
Hermes, awake and annoyed, jumped down from his armchair and stalked off with an irritated snap of his tail.
“You perhaps dislike your wife’s involvement with the Mage Guardians, at any level? We do need her help, rather desperately at the moment. Only consider how difficult it would be to replace her, when we have not yet reached the full complement even now.”
“It is an obligation she feels most strongly. I would not ask her to relinquish it. It is just…” This is a highly improper conversation, but he is a rather improper person…and perhaps the only help I can find. Dominic turned back to the workbench and stared down at his tools. “I would like to be assured…that others would be available and could respond to an immediate need. So that…should the occasion arise where…my wife might not be able to…for a period of some months, perhaps…” He closed his eyes, hoping the heat in his face would quickly fade.
“Gott, do you mean to say you have not yet…” Markus’s tone of utter horror made him quickly turn his head. “Well, no wonder you are so irritable!”
“Oh, don’t be an idiot! That is, the only thing my marriage lacks at present is the expectation of setting up a nursery. You will excuse me from going into detail, but magic is involved.” A very, very improper conversation. What had he gotten himself into?
“Ah.” Markus’s eyes brightened with curiosity, then with a visible effort he cut short what he was about to say. “Very well. We both have extremely commendable goals of considerable delicacy and great importance. Shall we be allies, then?” He extended his hand.
Dominic glared at him, then reluctantly grasped the hand just long enough to shake it. “We are allies.” If he didn’t end up pushing Markus over a cliff, that is.
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