Akesinos sprang to his feet, eluded the grasp of the nearest Kur, and fled down the hall. One of Desmond’s Kur guards started after him, but men crowded together, as though preparing to follow Desmond and his guards, and the Kur must thrust them from his path, following which he stopped and wildly looked about, nostrils flaring. Then he returned to his post, with his fellow, by Desmond of Harfax.
The Kur who had remained with Desmond of Harfax turned on his translator.
“To the Audience Chamber of Agamemnon,” he said, “Theocrat of the World, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One.”
Desmond of Harfax, shaken, his tunic torn, bruised, then continued on his way, followed by the two guards.
No longer did he seem so insouciant and jaunty.
Had the hands of Akesinos found their mark would he not have perished within the Ehn?
The Kur who had the Lady Bina under his supervision indicated that we should follow the two guards and Desmond of Harfax, which we did, he following. Master Desmond was subjected to no further attacks before we reached the double doors, large, suitable for the passage of Kurii, which led into the audience chamber.
By the time we reached the entrance, I was very much afraid, and not, as before, for those whom a miscreant might betray, but for another, one who had in mind the assassination of Agamemnon, said to be Theocrat of the World, and the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One.
In the scuffle with Akesinos the sound had been slight, but unmistakable, and, within a rent tunic, hastily clutched closed, I had caught a glimpse of gray steel.
Desmond of Harfax was carrying a weapon into the audience chamber.
Chapter Forty-Eight
It was a distraught Desmond of Harfax who was led before the dais, for on the dais, on three tables, were three containers.
Timarchos and Lysymachos stood beside the central container.
“Tal, noble Desmond,” came a voice from the central container.
“Tal, noble Desmond,” came a voice from the container to the left.
“Tal, noble Desmond,” came a voice from the container on the right.
In my account of what followed, it should be understood that the words attributed to Agamemnon might come, and did come, variously, from one or another of the three containers. Sometimes the left-hand container seemed to speak, sometimes that in the center, and sometimes that on the right.
It seemed reasonably clear that there could be but one Agamemnon, and so but one housing for that dangerous and mighty mind, but it was not clear in which housing, if any, that mind reposed.
One would suppose it would be in the central container, not so much for its location, as for the fact that Timarchos and Lysymachos were in attendance on that container. To be sure, their positioning might be intended to divert attention from another container, that truly housing Agamemnon, but, if so, which one might it be? Too, might one not think that a more subtle ruse might be projected? If A seemed most likely, and then one might be led to suppose B or C crucial, but which, but then, if either B or C might seem crucial, might that not be a way of diverting attention from A, which, after all, might be the crucial container, and so on. Might there not be indefinite subtleties, one lurking behind the other, in this kaissa of choice?
“Tal, Noble Agamemnon, Theocrat of the World, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“It is our understanding,” said Agamemnon, “that you have discovered, and have come forward to reveal, a most heinous plot, disrespectful of our majesty, threatening to our person, and inimical to the welfare of worlds.”
“Yes,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“Our penchant for mercy is well known on more than one world,” said Agamemnon. “Did we not allow all conspirators twenty Ahn in which to surrender themselves?”
“The generosity of your offer was beyond question, Lord Agamemnon,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“But, unfortunately,” said Agamemnon, “none availed themselves of our gracious offer.”
“It seems so,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“And thus is demonstrated their guilt, the villainy of their ways, and the depth of their depravity.”
“True,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“And thus, by their own fault, they have placed themselves beyond the pale of my mercy.”
“It is tragic,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“One sorrows,” said Agamemnon.
“How can it be helped?” asked Desmond of Harfax.
“True,” said Agamemnon. “But now, reveal, clearly, and without exception, the names of all traitors, whether human or Kur.”
Several of the Kurii in the room stirred, uneasily. It had not occurred to them that Kurii might be enumerated. In such denunciations, of course, it is recognized that some temptation might exist to enlarge a list somewhat, particularly by happening to include in it personal enemies, individuals of whom one disapproves, individuals whom it is recognized that certain important individuals might like to have denounced, and so on.
“But first, great lord,” said Desmond of Harfax, “may I approach you more closely?”
“No,” said Agamemnon.
“I would like to speak more intimately,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“Remain where you are,” said Agamemnon.
The bodies of both Timarchos and Lysymachos tensed.
“Certainly,” said Desmond of Harfax. “It is only that I thought we might speak of something more privately.”
“Of what?” asked Agamemnon.
“It is clearly understood, of course,” said Desmond of Harfax, “that I bring the matter of egregious treachery to your attention simply, and only, to frustrate treason, and protect the person and plans of your lordship.”
“Of course,” said Agamemnon.
“Such is my duty, and privilege,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“Agreed,” said Agamemnon.
“But, too,” said Desmond of Harfax, “might one not expect some token of gratitude from your lordship, however negligible, no matter how undeserved it might be?”
“The generosity of the Theocrat of the World, the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” said Agamemnon, “may be depended upon, and is well known.”
“Would a thousand pieces of gold, tarn disks of double weight, be appropriate?” asked Desmond of Harfax.
“Would your life be appropriate?” asked Agamemnon.
“What of yours?” cried Desmond of Harfax leaping to the dais, thrusting the central container to the floor, and falling upon it with his knife. He struck it twice before Timarchos seized him, lifted him, and threw him, knife in hand, a dozen feet from the dais. Immediately Desmond of Harfax was disarmed and seized by Kurii. The container he had attacked lay open, on its side, on the dais, its lid on the floor beside it. The container was empty except for some wires, what appeared to be small boxes, and a small disk-like object with screening upon it.
Desmond of Harfax had chosen incorrectly.
He had gambled and lost.
“Do not kill him!” came from one of the two remaining containers, that on the left.
I was afraid Desmond of Harfax might have had his arms torn from his body. Such might be done by an enraged Kur.
“Let him rather contemplate what might be done to him,” came from the container on the right. “He will be supplied with several possibilities, and assured that his fate will exceed them all.”
“Perhaps it will take him a year to die,” said the container on the left.
