“These are the books?” Bertragh asked. Rik nodded.
“Please, allow me to inspect them.”
“Be my guest.”
Sardec strode into the main ballroom. The footman boomed out his name and title. He stood for a minute to make sure everyone got a good sighting of him and then strode down into the guests.
Asea wore the garb of a Cobalt Mountain Witch. Her robes were long and intricate and intermingled with long chains of plaited gold at the end of which were small tinkling bells. Her mask was a mere domino, held onto her face by either paste or magic. Long gauntlets ending in raking claws covered her hands. It was an effective and striking ensemble. He bowed in response to her curtsey of welcome.
“I am hoping I may inveigle you into dancing me, Lady of the Mountains,” he told Asea.
“I am sure you can, heroic warrior,” she responded. “Come ask my favour when the orchestra starts.”
Sardec felt more than a hint of satisfaction. He would get the first dance. “You do not know how happy you have made me, Lady,” he said, and with another small bow strode off to join his fellow officers in the main hall.
Jazeray watched him with something like a sneer, although Sardec could sense his envy and his pique. It seemed he, too, had set his sights high.
“You look a little distraught,” he said.
“It is nothing,” said Jazeray. “The merest bagatelle, the slightest of setbacks. It shall soon pass.”
As a group they headed into the swirling mass. The orchestra took its seats on the dais at the end of the hall.
The factor picked up the book, scanned it, and put it down after a few minutes of careful observation. He appeared to be checking for missing pages, removed leaves, damage of any sort. He repeated the process with all the books in turn, until after a full hour, he was apparently satisfied. Occasionally, the men outside made enquiries after his well-being, and he reassured them. At the end of the time, his eyes were lit by an even more feverish light than before.
“I am satisfied, gentleman. We have a bargain.”
Rik counted the coins. There were sixty of them in all.
“One question,” said Rik. Bertragh stiffened almost imperceptibly.
“Yes?”
“How did you know exactly how much money to bring?” The factor relaxed visibly, clearly he had been expecting either some objection or something far more difficult.
“The books are part of a set. I knew how many there would be if there was a full set.”
Rik shrugged. “Thank you.”
Bertragh reached forward with one hand. “We have a deal?”
Rik clasped it. It was cool and dry, skin like parchment. Briefly he considered squeezing the fingers very hard and attacking the man but that would have been madness. He let his grip loosen. “We have a deal.”
The merchant began to put the volumes into the leather satchel. They fitted almost exactly. Clearly, Rik thought, the man knew almost exactly what he was getting. It was an impressive display.
“You can go now,” said Rik. “We’ll keep your friends here for a little while and then let them go.”
The two bruisers began to object but quietened when they found loaded pistols pointed at them. Bertragh smiled at them reassuringly. “It’s all right, Leopole. The rest of the lads will take care of me, and I am sure our friends here mean you no harm. If I guess aright, it is their own safety they are concerned with.”
Rik nodded and opened the door. “Well, goodbye then, gentlemen,” said Bertragh. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”
A moment later, he was gone, leaving Rik with a curious feeling of anti-climax. That vanished when he saw the way Leopole and his partner looked at them. There was violence in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Weasel looked at Rik and the Barbarian and smiled. “That went better than I expected,” he said. Despite Rik’s misgivings they had let the bodyguards have their weapons back and depart ten minutes ago and nothing untoward had happened since. Rik was just starting to relax. Weasel and the Barbarian finished counting their share of the coins.
“There’s a bunch of very hard men out there who know we have a lot of money,” said Rik. “I would not be at all surprised if they came looking for it.”
“Me neither, Halfbreed” said Weasel. His smile was disingenuous. “There’s so much treachery in the world.”
“Sad, isn’t it?” said Rik.
“But we’re rich,” said the Barbarian.
“For the moment,” said Rik, but he could not help smiling too.
“Best get our costumes on and get out of here then.” They donned the costumes and in a few minutes three men in papier mache dragon masks and vast red cloaks left the room.
Rik made sure his special pack was beneath his robe.
The Governor himself led the dancing. Sardec swirled around in the great figure of the quadrille with Asea in his arms. Her scent was as intoxicating as her beauty and he guessed it contained some subtle narcotic. He felt like saying this but he restrained himself. He was wary of using cliches.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I understand that you wish to go into the mountains.”
“I see you have talked with Colonel Xeno.”
“So have you it appears.” She cocked her head to one side as she looked down on him. He felt she was judging him and he did not like that feeling.
“And to think I asked for you especially…” Was that mockery in her voice? He found that he disliked her intensely at that moment. She was too beautiful, too poised, too self-satisfied. The glitter in her eyes told him that she was reading him like a book.
“Why, Lady?”
“For the charm of your company, of course, and because you know where to find this mysterious mine.”
The intricate figure of the dance sent them spiralling into orbit around another couple. The male was Colonel Xeno. The female Sardec did not recognise at once, but she was tall with silvery hair and air of languid beauty behind her fox mask. She was garbed as a moon spirit, he realised.
“That is Midori of the Selari,” said Asea with just a hint of venom in her voice. “A distant cousin. She is our local beauty. A collector of rare books too.”
“I thought that was you.”
“I have no desire to be compared with her in any way.” She spoke softly but not so softly that her words were not audible over the music of the orchestra. Sardec wondered if she wanted Midori to hear her.
“Sheathe your claws,” he said, smiling as pleasantly as he could. “Why do you dislike her?”
“She is thoughtless, vain and cruel. She is the cousin of our dear Governor, and his mistress, and she wields a disproportionate influence because of it. She longs too much for the old days.”
“In short, she belongs to a different faction. Such is the way of things. I saw her yesterday I think. She was mounted on a great wyrm as she crossed the river, and accompanied by a screaming monkey. She seemed perhaps a little thoughtless in her chosen method of transport.”
“She is more than a little thoughtless. Doubtless you encountered her coming in from her estates. She was most likely dunning her factor Bertragh for more money.”
“Why?”
