poisoned arrows raining down at the two armies locked in their own desperate combat. The invaders reeled in confusion.
“To me, soldiers!” Ambius cried. He drew his sword. “We must sally!”
Again, Vespanus was surprised at the martial vigor of Ambius. His orders were prompt, vigorous, and effective — and they were obeyed. The gates of the castle were flung open, and the Protostrator led out the greater part of his garrison. This attack, being unexpected, drove away the forces of both Pex and Calabrande, and left the Projectors abandoned on the field. Ambius did his best to organize his forces to drag at least one of the Projectors into the fortress, but both Calabrande and Pex constantly counterattacked, and the fighting waxed and waned beneath the walls. Vespanus, lacking any skills that would be of use, watched from the battlements, and heard at last a cry of dismay from the defenders of Abrizonde.
Back through the gate came the garrison, much reduced, bearing the body of Ambius, the Protostrator, who had been severely wounded. Now Vespanus, in the absence of any other authority, began to call out orders. Soldiers on the walls poured down a fire that kept the plain clear.
Gradually the fighting died away. The morning revealed the five Projectors abandoned beneath the walls of the castle, some toppled from their cradles, the others with their muzzles pointed in random directions. It was clear that the castle’s defenders could prevent either army from claiming these prizes.
As the morning wore on, Vespanus from the Onyx Tower observed the two armies, now at enmity, begin their mutual, miserable retreat to their homelands.
At noon, one of the soldiers reported to him.
“The Protostrator is dead,” he said.
“On the contrary,” said Vespanus. “The Protostrator is alive, for I am he.”
The soldier — one of those, Vespanus recalled, chosen for his lack of ambition and general subservience — merely bowed, and then withdrew.
Vespanus gazed over the battlements for a moment, considering his next action, and then descended to the courtyard on his way to the quarters of the Protostrator. Word of his elevation had preceded him, and Vespanus was gratified that the soldiers he passed saluted him as their commander. Once at Ambius’s door, Vespanus tried to disengage the traps that Ambius had left behind — and managed to dodge a bolt of orange fire at only the last second. Having finally got the door open at the cost of a singed sleeve, he advanced to the Protostrator’s study and approached the Protostrate in her crystal bottle. He took a chair to a place near the shelf and sat. For a moment, he and Amay contemplated each other through the gleaming crystal. At length, he began to speak.
“You will rejoice with me, I’m sure, in the defeat of the enemy and the safety of the castle,” he said, “as you will mourn with me the death of your husband.”
She bowed her head, then raised her chin and said, “While hysterical laughter and bitter tears are both reasonable options in the current situation, I believe I shall decline both.”
“As you think best,” Vespanus said gravely.
“I wonder if I may beg of you a favor,” said Amay. “Could you take one of those bronze nymphs from the shelf yonder and give this bowl a sharp rap?”
“To what end?”
“Is it not obvious? I desire to be liberated.”
“I find that possibility problematical.” Carefully he regarded her. “Were you at liberty, you would attempt to install yourself as the ruler of Abrizonde, and as I have just declared myself the new Protostrator, we would find ourselves in immediate conflict.”
Amay received this news with surprise. Her miniature face contorted as she considered her response.
“On the contrary,” she said. “I would be your help, support, and guide. You will need my aid to find your feet as the new lord of the Cleft.”
“I propose to err on the side of caution,” Vespanus said, and as Amay took in a breath to begin reviling him in the same terms with which she had abused her husband, Vespanus held up a hand.
“The late lord Ambius spoke to me of his isolation here, of the absence of polite society and the arts. One might conclude he regretted his decision to make himself the lord.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Amay said. “His ambition was great.”
“And my ambition is not,” said Vespanus. “While I desire material comfort, I have no inclination to hold an isolated fortress in an empty country for all the years of my youth, nor to battle the armies of entire nations.”
“In that case,” said Amay, “you should liberate me to become the new ruler, and trust me to reward you amply for your service.”
“I have a somewhat different plan,” Vespanus said. “I shall remain the lord but for a single season, and skim the profits of the bargemen and merchants of the Dimwer. After which, I shall become a mere student once more, and carry myself and my gains away on a hired barge. Once I have gone a safe distance, you will be liberated by one of the soldiers acting on my orders, and immediately take your place as the greatest lady in the history of Abrizonde.”
Amay, blinking, contemplated this for a moment.
“I believe that is fair,” she judged, “much though I mislike remaining in this bottle for any length of time whatever.”
Vespanus bowed at her politely. “What is unfair,” he said, “is that I must pay the soldiers, and hire the summer force, without the means to do so. Therefore I must have access to the late lord’s strong rooms — and as in the course of our acquaintance I noted the Protostrator’s suspicious mind, and his cunning facility with traps that has just cost me the sleeve of my robe, I assume that the strong rooms are protected. I apply to you, therefore, for any knowledge you may have concerning these traps, and how to disarm them.”
Amay’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Surely you may pay the soldiers with money extracted from tolls.”
“The late war may cause a bad season for commerce on the Dimwer, and, in that event, I would be left with nothing. And in any case, I wish to offer the current garrison a bonus for their brave defense.”
“The money in those rooms should be mine!” Amay said. “I have earned it, with six long years as a puppet in this little globe!”
“Consider the many years you will remain here in Abrizonde,” said Vespanus. “The endless flow of money and commerce up and down the Dimwer, and the great fortune that you can build for yourself. Whereas I will have to live for the rest of my life only on such money as I can carry away.”
“You shall
“Ah well,” said Vespanus. “Perhaps it will not be necessary to liberate you after all.”
He took from the shelf the vial that he had seen Ambius employ, and opened the stopper to pour a single drop into the neck of the crystal bottle. Spluttering a few last curses, Amay immediately fell into profound slumber.
When she awoke, she found herself reclining on a coverlet of pale samite, and cradled in a bed of carved ebony. The room was small but exquisitely appointed, with many mirrors, furniture inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and carpets of intricate design and brilliant hue.
She gave a start of surprise, and sat up. Facing her, languid on a settee, was the figure of Vespanus of Roe.
“This is my room!” said Amay.
“Your late husband preserved it much as you left it,” said her interlocutor. “If you like, you may consider it evidence of some lingering fondness on his part.”
“Or lack of imagination!” said Amay. She glanced over the room. “I seem to have been set at liberty.”
The figure of Vespanus bowed gravely. “I reconsidered my earlier position. The garrison, drunk with victory, is ill-inclined to obey my orders, twk-men bring news that the army of the Exarch seems prepared to renew the contest, and under the circumstances I begin to find the watery meads of Pex strangely attractive.” He rose.
“I have taken passage on the first barge of the season,” he said, “and I have also taken the liberty of placing upon it exactly half the contents of the late Protostrator’s strong rooms, which I hope you will agree is fair. I tarry but for any messages you may wish me to carry, and for any sums that you may wish to entrust to me for the purpose of hiring soldiers to augment your garrison.”
Amay swung her legs from the bed and rose, a little carefully, to her feet.
