Bolutu was gone at last, but Hercol remained in the outer stateroom, reading; Fulbreech could hear the scratch of turning pages. The girl was right, sound carried; it would have been madness to pleasure himself on her until the Tholjassan retired. She had saved him from a grave mistake. A human mistake, as his master would have said with scorn.
But his hunger for this girl: that was human too. He saw no reason why he should not have her when the man departed. He could allow himself that much. So many months of waiting, performing, drawing her in but never seeming to, never arousing her suspicion. Even Ott would agree that the timing was right. And yet he’d held back, let her own hunger flourish, her curiosity. Let her worry in her girl’s foolishness about him “escaping her.” Yes, it was very well done. If she was ready to give her body she’d give anything. The Polylex, whenever he wished to take it. The truth about Pathkendle’s Gift, the whereabouts of Ramachni, the secrets of that lovely clock.
But how close he had come to ruin, merely through the weakness of the flesh! Ah, but you didn’t, Fulbreech: and hasn’t your whole life been a gamble for the highest of stakes? For that was what he was: a gambler, possessed of exceptional instincts, and addicted to the dare. Some gamblers played with caution, and hoarded what they feared to lose; others raised their bluffs without a backward glance.
Thasha Isiq, of course, was a trifle. His master might arrange for him to keep her, but if not-well, for a chancellor of a new world power, there would be as many women as nights to fill them. And for the moment, in any case, the girl was his. Fulbreech lay there, savoring the image of her fingers freeing buttons, her brief abandon, that foretaste of the meal to come.
Then Bolutu returned. The youth’s anger flared: did they plan to come and go all night? But the dlomu was now in a very different state of mind. His boots pounded across the floor, and quite audibly, he said, “It’s happening! They’re taking him! Tomorrow at dawn!”
Fulbreech held his breath.
“Tomorrow?” said Hercol, incredulous. “Are you certain?”
“Prince Olik himself will lead the team,” said Bolutu, “with sixty handpicked warriors at his side. His man just handed me a note over the gunwale. I went straight to Rose, of course, and the captain promised once again to cooperate. What else can we do, he said to me, with that sorcerer killing left and right?”
“Those may be the sanest words Rose ever uttered,” said Hercol.
“Haddismal was present as well, and he concurs: ‘Let them have it,’ he said, ‘the sooner the better.’ He was quite relieved, I think: the Nilstone is not an enemy he knows how to fight.”
“But they could kill the Shaggat trying to extract the Stone from his grip,” said Hercol. “Haddismal must not understand the risk.”
“He understands perfectly,” said Bolutu. “He’s simply come to see what we always hoped he would: that armed with the Nilstone, the sorcerer threatens Arqual itself. ‘My oath is to the Ametrine Throne,’ he said, ‘not any one order that comes down from it. His Supremacy didn’t know about the Nilstone when he sent us off to deliver the Shaggat. If he orders me to prune his garden and I see killers climbing over the wall, do I go on snipping roses? Is that how I prove I’m a loyal subject?’ ” Bolutu laughed. “For all his talk, though, I think he holds out hope that they will manage to take the Stone without destroying the Shaggat altogether. The prince, apparently, told Rose that they would spare no effort to do just that.”
Fulbreech lay petrified. Rose, Haddismal and these traitors, collaborating? The Shaggat and the Nilstone, removed? This was all wrong. His master had assured him nothing would happen for a week.
Hercol too sounded suspicious. “How did Olik convince the Issar to go along with this plan?” he demanded.
“I know nothing of that,” said Bolutu. “I am only glad that he succeeded. Think of it: six hours from now, that accursed Stone will be off the Chathrand.”
“And beyond the mage’s grasp,” said Hercol. “Belesar, can it really be true?”
“It is true, friend. Our oath will be fulfilled at last-for neither Arunis nor any other power will be able to wrest the Nilstone from that guardianship. With the sunrise, Erithusme’s long task will be over-and the worst part of ours as well.”
What were they doing, embracing? Yes, by the sound of it they were hugging each other and laughing. “Over,” said Hercol, as though savoring the word. “The horror, the decades of treachery, the slow strangulation of two Empires.”
“Three,” said Bolutu. “You cannot forget what Arunis did to these lands of mine.”
“I will never forget his crimes,” said the swordsman, “and his ultimate punishment I will deliver with this sword, Rin willing. But first things first. Ah, Belesar! Tomorrow will be a bright day for Alifros-for the world as a whole, not these splintered tribes we call nations, which greed and villainy have made mad. Come, let us go to Oggosk at once.”
Oggosk! Fulbreech’s amazement boiled over into a twitch. He froze: Thasha mumbled in her sleep, pressing closer to his side.
“The duchess awaits us even now,” Bolutu was saying. “But where are Pazel and Neeps? For that matter, where are the young ladies?”
“All abed,” said Hercol. “Come, snuff that lamp for me; we shall go at once. I’ll wake Thasha and the tarboys when I return. They will want to be up and watching when this nightmare comes to an end.”
Moments later the outer door closed behind them. Fulbreech found that he was drenched in sweat. His master had been deceived! The youth was outraged, and very frightened. The wondrous future that had opened before him was about to be snatched away.
But his training under Sandor Ott had never failed him, and it did not fail him now. Terror manifests in a sphere of inaction; make your choice and it falls away, mud from the runner’s feet. Calm returned. Dawn was still hours off. With consummate patience, Fulbreech slid from Thasha’s embrace, untangling one limb and then another, soothing her with kisses when she stirred, for to this girl his presence was safety and his kisses a drug; and because he would never have her now (uncoerced, at any rate) he bent to graze her breast with the lips that had lied to her since Treaty Day, and then he was out of her bed and easing open the cabin door.
The dogs watched him emerge. They had never taken to him, never licked his hand; indeed their eyes chilled him slightly, as though the brutes knew better than their mistress what he was about. Still, he had Thasha’s protection, and he passed unhindered between their hulking shapes. Like a mother hen, Suzyt crouched atop what could only have been Felthrup, precocious little dreamer, another whose death could not come soon enough.^ 9
He pressed his ear to the stateroom door. Not a sound from the corridor. He smiled, turned the handle and stepped out into the hall. No light in the passage: better still. He moved down it, soundless, congratulating himself already. Even after this night she might trust him, he realized suddenly. Why not? They came and went for hours, darling; surely it was best that I stole away?
But what was he thinking? After tonight there would be no more games with Thasha Isiq. His master would have other tasks for his clever, his irreplaceable aide.
Seconds later Fulbreech passed through the magic wall. He felt nothing, but Thasha did. Her eyes snapped open. She pressed a hand against her mouth. She rose and groped beneath the bed for the wide bowl she’d placed there for such a moment.
Somewhere in Etherhorde the Mother Prohibitor was smiling: So you were paying attention after all, child? Never forget who taught you, who made you what you are. Thasha’s stomach heaved. The food they’d shared burst out of her, an acrid pulp. It was the first good feeling in days.
Of course she’d not slept an instant-but feigning sleep had been, by far, the easiest part of the act. She buttoned her shirt. It was her father’s but all the same she would burn it. She ran to the washroom and plunged her face into a bucket of salt water. Don’t blame us, Thasha Isiq. You hated us, spat on our tutelage, pretended you’d never need such skills. We gave them to you anyway. Are you still too proud to thank us?
A growl, murderous, bestial, wanted to tear itself from her throat.
No time for that. Back in the stateroom she donned her sword, knife, gauntlets. She called her dogs: they rose like dark lions, eager to hunt. Out through the stateroom door they went, then down the passage, through the magic wall and the Money Gate.
“They’re waiting for you, Thasha,” came a voice from the wall.
“Thank you,” she said. “And remember, Ensyl-you promised.”
“When we give our word, Thasha, we do not forget. Listen for me; I will come.”
