in the sea off Thule. He glanced at the mailed man, who writhed and moaned and bubbled blood. “Let’s go ... before somebody ... comes.” He discarded the telltale sword.
“To the inn?”
“No.” Cadoc trotted away. His wind returned to him, his pulse slowed. “They knew me. Therefore they knew where to wait and must know where I’m staying. Whoever sent them will want to try again.”
“I guessed it might be a good idea to tail after and keep an eye on you. That be a pile o’ treasure you left with that Phanariot son of a pig.”
“I shouldn’t pride myself on my wits,” said Cadoc bleakly. “You showed a banelful more than I did.”
“Haw, you be in love. Worse’n drunk. Where should we go? I s’pose the main streets be safe. Maybe we can wake ‘em at another inn. I’ve still got money on me, if you don’t.”
Cadoc shook his head. They had emerged on a thoroughfare, bare and dim under the moon. “No. We’ll slink about till sunrise, then mingle with people bound out of the city. Those can’t have been common footpads, or even killers for hire. Armor, sword—at least one of them was an Imperial soldier.”
5
Vsevolod the Fat, who stood high among the Rus merchants, owned a house in St. Mamo. It was small, since he only used it when he was at Constantinople, but furnished with barbaric opulence and, during his stays, a wanton or two. The servants were young kinsmen of his, whose loyalty could be relied on, and upstairs was a room whose existence was not obvious.
He entered it near the close of day. Gray-shot, his beard fell to the paunch that swelled his embroidered robe. A fist clutched a jug. “I brought wine,” he greeted. “Cheap stuff, but plenty. You will want plenty, and not care how fine it is. Here.” He shoved it toward Cadoc.
The latter rose, paying it no heed. Rufus took it instead and upended it over his mouth. He had snored for hours, while Cadoc prowled to and fro between the barren walls or stared out a window at the Golden Horn and the many-domed city beyond.
“What have you found, Vsevolod Izyaslavev?” Cadoc asked tonelessly, in the same Russian.
The merchant plumped his bottom down on the bed, which creaked. “Bad news,” he rumbled. “I went to the shop of Petros Simonides and met guards posted. It cost me to get an honest answer out of them, and they don’t know anything anyhow. But he is arrested for interrogation, they said.” A sigh like a steppe wind. “If that is true, if they don’t let him off, there goes the best smuggling outlet I ever had. Ah, merciful saints, help a poor old man earn the bread for his little wife and darling children!”
“What about me?”
“You understand, Cadoc Rhysev? I dared not push too hard. I am not young like you. Courage has leaked out with’ youth and strength. Remember now the Lord, in these high days of your life, before age and woe come on you too. But I did talk with a captain in the city guard that I know. Yes, it is as you feared, they want you. He does not know just why, but spoke of a brawl near your rooming place and a man killed. Which I knew already, from you.”
“I thought as much,” said Cadoc. “Thank you.”
Rufus lowered the jug. “What do we do?” he grated.
“Best you stay here, where you have sought refuge,”
Vsevolod replied. “Before long I go home to Chernigov, you know. You can ride with me. The Greeks shall not know you in my ship. Maybe I disguise you as a beautiful Circassian slave girl, Rufus, ha?” He guffawed.
“We don’t have the cost of our passage,” Cadoc said.
“No matter. You are my friend, my brother in Christ. I trust you to pay me back later. Thirty percent interest, agreed? And you tell me more about how you got into this trouble. That might forewarn me.”
Cadoc nodded. “Once we’re outbound, I will.”
“Good.” Vsevolod’s eyes flickered between his guests. “I thought we would have a jolly time tonight, get drunk, but you are not in the mood. Yes, a terrible sorrow, all that money gone. I will have your supper sent up. We shall meet tomorrow. God cheer your sleep.” He rose and lumbered out. The panel slid shut behind him.
Constantinople was a blue shadow above golden-shining water, against golden-red sunset. Dusk filled the room in St. Mamo like smoke. Cadoc raised the wine jug, swallowed, set it down again.
“You really going to tell him?” wondered Rufus.
“Oh, no. Not the truth.” Now they spoke Latin. “I’ll invent a story that he’ll believe and that will do him no harm. Something about an official who decided to get rid of me and seize my gold rather than wait for his share of the profit.”
“The swine could’ve been jealous o’ you, too,” Rufus suggested. “Vsevolod might know you was seeing that Athenais.”
“I have to make up a story in any case.” Cadoc’s voice cracked. “I can’t understand what happened, myself.”
“Hunh? Why, plain’s a wart on your thumper. The bitch put one o’ her customers onto it. Shut your mouth for aye— they’d’ve gone after me next—and diwy your money. Maybe she’s got a hold on a fellow high in the gover’ment, like something she knows about him. Or maybe he was just glad to oblige her and take his share. We was lucky and lived, but she’s won. The hunt is out for us. If we want to stay alive, we won’t come back for twenty-thirty years.” Rufus took the wine and glugged. “Forget her.”
Cadoc’s fist struck the wall. Plaster cracked and fell. “How could she? How?”
“Ah, ‘twas easy. You wove the snare for her.” Rufus patted Cadoc’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. You’ll swindle yourself another chest o’ gold inside a ge-ne-ration.”
“Why?” Cadoc leaned against the wall, face buried in arm.
Rufus shrugged. “A whore be a whore.”
“No, but she—immortal—I offered her—“ Cadoc could not go on.
Rufus’ mouth drew tight, invisibly in the gloom. “You ought to could see. You can think better’n me when you put your mind to it. How long’s she been what she be? Four hundred years, you said? Well, now, that be a lot o’ men. A thousand a year? Maybe less these days, but likely more than that earlier.”
“She told me she, she takes as ... much freedom from the life ... as she can.”
“Shows you how fond she be of it. You know the sort o’ things a lot o’ fellows want from a whore. And all the times a girl gets roughed up, or robbed, or kicked out, or knocked up and left to handle that however she can—leave it on a trash heap, maybe? Four hundred years, Lugo. How d’you s’pose she feels about men? And she’d never’ve got to watch you growing old.”
VIII. Lady in Waiting
Rain fell throughout the day. It was very light, soundless, and lost itself in the mists that smoked over the ground; but it closed off the world like sleep. From the verandah Okura looked across a garden whose stones and dwarf cypresses had gone dim. Water dripped off the shingles above her and filmed the whitewash of the enclosure wall. There sight ended. Though the broad south gate stood open, she barely glimpsed the avenue outside, a puddle, a leafless cherry tree. Fog had taken away the minor palace beyond. All Heian-kyo might never have been.
She shivered and .turned back toward her quarters. The two or three servants whom she passed by were bulky in wadded garments. Her overlapping kimonos kept some warmth of their own and the carefully matched winter colors preserved a forlorn elegance. Breath drifted ghostly. When she entered the mansion, twilight enfolded her. It was as if cold did also. Shutters and blinds could hold off wind, but dankness seeped through and braziers availed little.
Yet comfort of a sort awaited her. Masamichi had been kind enough to allot her a sleeping platform to herself
