one's vote proportional to the tokens he has on account, even for the ruling council. In a few days we will determine who is to lead us for the next three years. And hence everyone strives to increase his assay by whatever means he can. Why, even information brings a fee; the divulgents scramble to accumulate wealth the same as anyone else. And for those already owning treasures, there are the gambles of the exchange by which they trade back and forth their riches.'
'I need to find a trader who has come to Pluton,' Jemidon said. 'How much will it cost?'
'If you must know immediately, prepare to pay a full token,' Augusta said. 'All divulgents will profess already to know, but they must spend large sums to ferret out the facts.'
'A full token,' Jemidon repeated. 'Why, I know that even a slave girl can be purchased for fifteen. My purse is not flat, but after I paid for my passage from Morgana, neither does it bulge. It would take me quite a while writing scholarly scrolls to amass the value equivalent to a full token.'
'That is the rate, nonetheless,' Augusta said. 'They are skilled in their trade and will learn far quicker than you would yourself. But without a purse that gleams, then from the divulgents you will gain little.'
'A full token.' Jemidon repeated once more. 'And that fee might be the first of many. Perhaps it would be quicker to take a chance with the exchanges.'
Augusta paused in thought. She looked at Jemidon and slowly ran her tongue over her lips. Tilting her head to one side, she smiled and casually motioned him to sit again.
'No, Jemidon, not the exchanges or the slow drudgery of the scholar,' she said softly. 'I can better help you with your needs. The vault will offer you a token in exchange for-for a week's indenture to my service.'
Jemidon frowned at the sudden change in her tone. 'What tasks would I be called on to perform?'
'You would be an aide, a messenger, whatever I decide needs to be done,' Augusta said. 'For example, I wish an offer taken to Rosimar's guild. I know that he is close to perfecting a new ritual but does not have the resources to investigate the final steps. He will give a generous share to an investor who provides the wherewithal to see it finished.'
'But why a token for a week's labor?' Jemidon asked. 'The rate seems far too sweet.'
'It is better than you will find anywhere else,' Augusta agreed. 'And as to why-' She shrugged and laughed again. 'I spoke earlier of opportunity. It is an opportunity for us both. I now can afford to indulge in dreamers.'
'I do not like the idea of the indenture. I have seen enough already of what the consequences could be.'
'In one week you will have the means to locate this trader, and I will have ample chance to convince you perhaps to stay for another. If what you seek is so important, you must risk what you have, in any event. Do you not think it better with me than with some other?'
Jemidon scowled at the rush of ideas. His instincts told him to proceed slowly. His quest was to find Drandor, rescue Delia, and restore sorcery to what it was before. The robe of the master was what he sought-the riches and the power. But as he looked at Augusta's smile, he felt the confusion of his old longings. Her offer was attractive. On his own, could he proceed as quickly? And was not his striving because of her as well? Was it not to see the respect in her eyes, finally to be regarded as more than a comfortable dreamer with nimble fingers, and to savor her words when she apologized for the hurt? Jemidon puffed his cheeks and let out a sigh.
'Prepare the papers,' he said at last. 'And instruct me to the guild which is to receive this offer of your assets.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Vault in the Grotto
JEMIDON returned to the drab building at the foot of the Street of Vaults. He was satisfied with what he had done. Augusta's offer had been readily accepted by the magician's guild, just as she had said. He was even invited back in four days to monitor the next steps in the experimental ritual. If eventually the whole sequence worked, then tokens could be produced at a fifth the traditional effort. Augusta's investment would be returned twofold. She could expect an additional ten tokens every month thereafter.
'On this evening's tide. Another day I will not wait,' a heavy voice boomed from the back room. 'And if you do not comply, I will tell the others that you cannot because they are gone.'
'I only point out that the hour is already late and the level is rising,' Augusta shouted back. 'You speak of risk, but choose to ignore true threat for the insignificant.'
Jemidon passed through the doorway and saw Augusta scowling at the heavy-set man slumped in the chair. His sagging jowls gave him a bulldog look that the fine tailoring of his cape and collars could not hide. With watery, pale eyes he returned Augusta's stare.
'Tonight,' he repeated. 'You can have an oarsman light the way. After all, I would have no such trouble with any other vault along the street.'
'Any other along the street would charge three times the fee to hold your tokens secure,' Augusta said. 'Their precious magic boxes do not come cheap.' She stopped and looked in Jemidon's direction. 'My newly indentured servant,' she said. 'And this is Trocolar, elected leader of the tradesmen.'
'After the next polling, leader of the council as well,' Trocolar said. He ran his eyes up and down Jemidon's frame. 'Stocky enough, but I doubt he would last more than a day at the oars. No, tokens are my concern, Augusta, not flesh of questionable value. My tokens are what I want, and I want them now.'
Jemidon bristled at Trocolar's rude manner, but he said nothing. Instead, he watched Augusta for the key to how he should behave.
Augusta worked her lips for something more to say, but no words came. After a moment, she sighed and slapped her hands to her sides. 'Then let us get to the skiff at once. Because of the hour, you will have to pay my rowers double as it is. And you should accompany us, Jemidon. One more will make the loading proceed quicker.'
Trocolar stood with majestic slowness, his face drawn in a slight smile. With a perfunctory nod as she passed, he followed Augusta through the front room and out onto the street. Jemidon came last. In a silent single file, they made their way down the hillside to the harbor's edge.
Soon they were gliding across the water in a narrow boat. Oarsmen front and back propelled them toward the smaller of the two islands in the center off the bay, the one of gnarled rock that was seemingly devoid of life.
Jemidon watched the weather-beaten rock loom larger and larger with each stroke. The sun, low in the west, hid most of one side in soft shadow; but even so, he could distinguish the deeper blacks that marked the entrances to the caves. The boat headed unerringly for one opening larger than the rest. Like the mouth of a large serpent, it opened directly on the water, sucking in each lapping wave and expelling it with the next breath.
The oarsmen maneuvered the boat into the entrance and paddled into the dark tunnel. The oars were secured. In an eerie quietness, the skiff coasted forward on the still water.
A long moment passed, and then they halted with a gentle bump. Jemidon heard a fumbling in the bow, the scrape of flint on steel, and finally a gentle whoosh as an oil cresset chiseled into the rock sprang to life. He saw their way barred by a heavy iron grating that protruded from the ceiling above and disappeared into the dark water. Augusta placed her palm on a small box next to the burning light; after it opened, she extracted a large brass key.
'You see, there is magic protecting the vault that resides in the grotto,' she said as she worked the lock on the grating. 'But only what is necessary to complete the security. For the large containers, we never had to pay.'
'Holgon, my magician, would not be impressed by such items,' Trocolar said. 'And guarding a single entrance does not guarantee that others do not exist.'
'Yet you have seen fit to leave a considerable treasure here,' Augusta said. She motioned to the oarsmen. The one in front grabbed the protruding handle of a bolt and pulled it free. The other tugged at a circular chain draped nearby. With a rusty creaking, the grating slowly began to rise.
'A considerable treasure,' she continued. 'And none of your reasons for withdrawal carry much persuasion.'
Trocolar grunted, but did not answer. Instead, he pointed to the red horizontal line painted on the wall.
