reservation. This time Augusta will not whine and complain about the love she left behind, about how slowly I advanced in the hierarchy of the guild, and about how few were the gowns of silk that I could afford. When I snatch her away from Trocolar's certain torture, there will be no excuse to cast me aside and strike out on her own.'
Rosimar's knuckles whitened. His hand shook as he continued. 'And this time I will make sure that the credit is properly placed. In the end, it will all be mine, not shared with a would-be neophyte who cannot work the simplest ritual-one who curries favor by resurrecting the past, rather than with solid works expertly done.'
Jemidon blinked at the sudden rush of passion. He returned Rosimar's stare, looking for a spark of reason behind the emotion. In addition to everything else, he did not need petty bickering. He pushed the confused tangle that defined his own feelings toward Augusta away and focused on why he was in the divulgent's cubicle. 'There is no time for that now, Rosimar,' he said. 'Three working together will serve Augusta better than each laboring apart.'
'If I will not share with one, then neither will I with two,' Rosimar rushed on. 'And certainly I see no advantage in a timid divulgent who does not know even the value of pebbles I can fetch from an ore dump.'
'Did you not see the exchange board as you passed?' Benedict asked. 'It is empty, wiped clean in the past hour. No longer is value measured in tokens. Each commodity is individually bartered, and no standards prevail. And I know what will happen as a consequence. There is information from the past and other places that foreshadows the events here. Already I have learned of the effects on the shoreline. Ships have missed the tide because the fee for the crew's provisions could not be settled. Goods will remain to rot in storage because no one is sure of their true worth. Commerce will halt. Many stomachs will be empty before a new order is established.'
The divulgent's eyes took on a faraway look as he stroked the lid of the box in his lap. 'But scentstones are different. They possess a spicy essence that men will fight for; they produce a thirst that cannot be slacked. And more importantly, there are not enough to satisfy the demand. Already a large one has been traded for a barrel of the purest oil. There is a rumor that my rival Cumbrist will offer the use of his cubicle for the next year for three handfuls.
'I desire them as the rest do, but I can see also a second purpose they serve as well. The price has doubled in the last hour. In the next, it probably will double again. With only two more days to the election, who knows what one's fortune might turn out to be?'
'I saw you in line to buy some of the first,' Jemidon said. 'Worthless pebbles with allure for minutes at most.'
Benedict's eyes glazed over, and he did not acknowledge Jemidon's words. Looking past Rosimar's shoulder, he stared vacantly at the curtain behind.
Jemidon stamped his foot and then clapped his hands, but Benedict did not move. With little spasms, the divulgent's fingers twitched on the lid of his strongbox.
'The scentstones,' Jemidon said. 'Benedict, pay attention. Do you have them here?'
'My dagger.' Benedict shook out of his reverie and fumbled with a blade at his belt. 'It will be my answer if you press too close.'
'Yet before today, did you care at all about such pebbles?' Jemidon continued. 'Does it not strike you as odd? Yes, think of something else besides the stones. Break the connection as I did on the street. What of the threat to what you have in your arms in addition to the chips of rock? Jerk your attention away.'
Benedict huddled in the corner and raised his dagger threateningly. Slowly Jemidon slid from the stool and advanced. 'All of your information,' he said. 'Is it worth sacrificing that to save what rattles between the scrolls?'
Benedict's face froze in a mask of tension. He tentatively jabbed the blade forward as he watched Jemidon approach- He started to speak again, but then paused, squinting his eyes.
'Now the stones themselves,' Jemidon said, coming another step closer. 'What allure can they really have? Look at them quickly. Make sure that they are worth the risk.'
Benedict shook his head in denial. But as Jemidon moved forward again, the divulgent quickly thrust his hand inside his box to withdraw one of the stones. He looked at the rock hurriedly and cast it aside. Throwing back the lid, he reached to the bottom and extracted a handful of pebbles, the smaller ones slipping between his fingers to bounce on the floor.
'Cinnamon,' the divulgent said, puzzled, 'Only cinnamon! By the looks, the magician is right as well. Murky stones with inclusions and flaws.'
Benedict looked back at Jemidon. 'But how can that be? It is as I have said. Some purchased after mine have traded hands many times, and each exchange has fetched a more princely sum.'
'I know who is responsible for the mysteries,' Jemidon said, returning to his stool. 'And I hope that you know how to gain entry into his keep by some stealth. If we exchange what we know, then perhaps in addition to who and where, we will be able to learn how.'
Benedict looked at the pile of rocks as they dribbled out of his hand. Slowly he inverted his palm to let the last few drop away. 'Penniless,' he mumbled. 'Everything I traded for worthless rock. And more I borrowed from others, besides.'
Finally he looked up at Jemidon. 'You may have information of some value,' he said. 'And as things stand, I have few options, other than to hear what you have to say. Perhaps the fee for the chairs can be waved.'
Jemidon smiled and motioned Rosimar to the other stool. But before the magician moved, one of the pages thrust his head through the curtain leading to the court.
'The men-at-arms,' the boy said. 'They are searching each cubicle, one by one. It is to impound the assets. All property belonging to the vaultholders is to be seized against payment of their debts.'
'Another exit,' Jemidon said. 'We cannot exchange information if I am bound.'
'The debts of the vaultholders are no concern of mine.' Benedict retreated back to the far wall. 'From the mercenaries I have nothing to hide.'
'And neither will you learn about the stones,' Jemidon said, 'nor of what has happened to the tokens and sorcery. Without information, how can you hope to repay your newly acquired debts?'
Benedict bit his lip. His eyes darted around the small room. He looked from Jemidon to Rosimar and then at the pebbies at his feet. 'Why did I care?' He shook his head. 'The allure was so real. And no doubt Cumbrist pursues them still. The divulgent who first understands it all will have knowledge of great value, to be sure.'
He paused and looked at Jemidon a final time. 'Quickly.' He motioned to a hinged panel in the rear wall. 'We will strike the bargain, once we are away from the exchange.'
Benedict ducked through the opening. Jemidon rounded the high table to follow. He turned to look at Rosimar, who was slowly descending from his stool. 'The two of us will proceed without you if we must,' he called back, 'but a master's knowledge of magic may be useful as well.'
Rosimar hesitated a moment and then frowned as he heard the clink of mail. 'Until you are to be cast aside.' He shrugged. 'Until then, I will permit myself to follow.'
CHAPTER NINE
The Shadow in the Keep
IN the moonlight filtering through the trees, Jemidon shifted position to get a better view. He looked down to the shoreline where their small skiff could be seen bobbing on the gentle waves. Farther back across the water were the lights of Pluton, some mere pinpoints, but others the flickering brightness of fires out of control.
Jemidon looked back at the rising slope of the island. The trees blanketed the hillside toward the crest, except on the right, where they had been cleared away for the garishly decorated structure of stone and iron. Behind the crest and out of sight was the other island in the bay, the one that contained Augusta's vault. Jemidon had not guessed that the larger of the two islands in the bay was owned by Trocolar. The leader of the tradesmen had indicated nothing when Augusta ferried him to her vault three days before.
But Benedict had been insistent. The island and the estate were indeed Trocolar's. The divulgent had said
