A magic ring?
Certainly. But what kind of magic ring? It came without instructions. Maybe he was not supposed to notice.
Its ultimate source must be Divino Bruglioni. But why so obscure a means of delivery?
Perhaps Principatй Divino was worried that someone inappropriate would notice if the ring changed hands another way. Though Else was pretty sure that he was not supposed to notice the engraving. Maybe nobody who lacked a special wrist amulet would. Or maybe the ring was just another lump of gold and the engraving had to do with plighted troth five hundred years ago.
'What's so fascinating about that ring, sir?'
'I'm not sure. It's relaxing, fiddling with it.'
'Oh. Clemency III used one of those big purple freshwater pearls. And my father had a smooth round stone from the Holy Lands. So maybe it makes sense.'
'It's well worn. I'm not the first to play with it' He started to drop it into a pocket. And got the distinct impression that it did not want that.
He slid it onto the ring finger of his left hand, which seemed to satisfy it.
The Chiaro Palace was vast, a small city in itself. Else's new suite was a dozen times the size of what he had enjoyed in the Bruglioni citadel.
'These rooms are huge, Polo! Nomad tribes could camp in here.' It was too big. It made him uncomfortable.
He did like being so close to the wellspring of western power, just a stone's throw from the mad Patriarch.
He was where Gordimer and er-Rashal could have hoped he would be only in their wildest imaginings.
He wandered the apartment in search of obvious wrongness.
He found nothing. But he had expected to find nothing. These people would be subtle.
'Polo, see about stocking our larder. I'm going to lie down till I have to go show the Patriarch how to conquer the world.'
Polo suggested, 'We could have your woman friend come in to cook. She could live in.'
'I don't think so.'
'There're baths. If you want to use them.' Polo leered.
The Chiaro Palace baths were legendary.
'Really?' Else suspected that, like most things ordinary people never saw, the Chiaro baths were much less wicked than imagined. 'You'll have to show me later.'
'I'm only saying. I don't know my way around. I've only been here once, when Principatй Bruglioni had me come see the apartment.'
Else prowled the suite again, paying special attention to the room Polo had designated his work area. He wanted Polo out of the way. 'Get busy with the food and supplies situation.'
How often would he get to see Anna, now? Success brought its own complications.
Else made himself comfortable in his new workspace. He studied the ring from Paludan's purse. The gift made him nervous. If gift it was. Might Paludan have been unaware of its presence?
Magic rings lurked large in folklore and legend alike. They served no one well.
Rings of power figured in the myths of the pre-Chaldarean cults of the north and of the cold swamps whence Piper Hecht supposedly sprang. Else learned what he could about that far culture whenever he had a chance. Someone asked him about his homeland almost daily, mostly out of curiosity. He dared not be wrong. Someone would notice.
He glared at the gold band. 'Are you Grinling, the ring that was forged for the All-Father by the Aelen Kofer?' The Trickster stole that ring and hid it in the belly of the king of the ice bears. The hero Gedanke challenged the king of the ice bears to a battle with the king bear's liver at stake because a soothsayer told Gedanke that only a taste of the liver of the king of the ice bears would save the children of Amberscheldt from a deadly plague. Gedanke found Grinling when he went after the ice bear's liver.
Grinling bore a curse because the All-Father failed to give the Aelen Kofer everything they demanded in payment. The ring always betrayed anyone who wore it. Including Gedanke himself when the All-Father sent the Choosers of the Slain to reclaim Grinling. Arlensul fell in love with Gedanke, bore him a son, and, thus, sealed all their dooms. 'If you are Grinling, ring, I don't want you near me.'
Grinling's full tale was dark and cruel. It included rape, murder, incest, and a deadly squabble between the Old Gods and the even older gods who came before. Gods so grim they terrified the current Instrumentalities of the Night.
Character by character Else deciphered each word etched into the ring. Careful angle shifts betrayed additional characters etched in almost the same places as others already revealed. Then he discovered more inscriptions on the inside. He recorded everything painstakingly. And sighed with relief after his fabulation of the Grinling myth.
None of the inscriptions were in the northern heathen stick characters.
He did not understand what he transcribed. The writing on the outside could be preclassical Brothen. The interior inscription was in a different language and alphabet, in characters so tiny Else could not imagine them having been etched by hand. Many were too worn to record accurately.
He wished he could escape to the Deve quarter. Gledius Stewpo would know somebody who could tell him what the ring was all about.
The Chiaro baths resembled something from the fantasies of wicked eastern potentates. Wine and females were plentiful — though the girls were not there for sport, apparently. Else did not see any of that. He did see wrinkled old Principatйs being slithered over by litters of hairless, well-oiled youngsters.
A naked youth approached, 'I'm Gleu, sir.' Gleu had a strong accent 'I'll help with your clothing.'
'This is my first visit, Gleu. How does it work?'
'There aren't many rules, sir. You go to the hot baths — or to the cold, if that's your preference — and choose the girls you want to bathe you. Or the boys, if that's your preference. You don't touch. Unless you're invited. If you do you'll be fined. Second time, they'll fine you again and bar you for two weeks. After the third time you'll be banned forever. Your behavior can even bring you under the lash. So says the Holy Father.'
'So there was a time when other rules existed.'
'Yes, sir.'
Service in the baths was a form of social welfare for orphans and abandoned children. Attractive children, of course. They received food and shelter. Their service needed be no more demeaning than they desired. Clearly, though, if their standards were relaxed their tips would be larger.
“Them that save carefully can be well off when they leave.' Those who did not earn good tips or take care often graduated to service in the lowest class of brothel. 'You will want girls, won't you?'
'Yes.'
Gleu took Else to a room where several score girls, from seven to eighteen, of varied race, waited to help the princes of the Church and their associates bathe and relax. Else hesitated.
Gleu whispered, 'Would you rather have boys help you?'
'No.'
'Then pick two. Which two doesn't matter.'
Else indulged. He indicated two older girls, neither a type he recognized. One was a tall, muscular blonde with large, sharply pointed breasts and eyes of ice a thousand years old. The second, also tall, was a flawless mahogany. She had breasts that reminded him of gourds. The blonde's hair was long but braided. The second girl's curly black hair was barely an inch in length. She seemed pleased to have been chosen. Each girl took an arm and led him to the heated main pool. They sat him down and let him do nothing but absorb the warmth. 'Don't talk. Close your eyes. Relax.'
The girls snuggled up, one to each side.
He let the warmth in, as they said. And as it filled up, his mind emptied of cares.
