“And I don’t intend to. How many unsearched suites are there between us?”
“Three, sir.”
“Then I’ve still got a little time.” Silk studied the azoth. “When I made my sword, I left a nail sticking out, and bent it. That was my demon. When I twisted it toward me, the blade wasn’t there any more. When I twisted it away from me, I had one.”
“I doubt, sir—”
“Don’t be too sure, my son. That may have been based on something supposedly true that I’d heard. Or I may have been imitating some other boy who’d gotten hold of a useful fact. I mean a fact that would be useful to me now.”
The roughened stem of the
The bent-nail demon of his toy sword had been one of those that had held the crosspiece; he felt certain of that. There was an unfacetted crimson gem (he vaguely remembered having heard a similar gem called a bloodstone) in the grip, just behind one of the smooth, tapering arms of the guard. It was too flat and much too highly polished to turn. He gripped the azoth as he had his wooden sword and pressed the crimson gem with his thumb.
Reality separated. Something else appeared between the halves, as a current divides a quiet pool. Plaster from the wall across the room fell smoking onto the carpet, revealing laths that themselves exploded in a shower of splinters with the next movement of his arm.
Involuntarily, he released the demon, and the azoth’s blade vanished.
“Please be more careful with that, sir.”
“I will.” Silk pushed the azoth into the coiled rope about his waist.
“If it should be activated by chance, sir, the result might well be disastrous for you as well as others.”
“You have to press the demon below the level of the grip, I think,” Silk said. “It should be difficult for that to happen accidentally.”
“I profoundly hope so, sir.”
“You don’t know where your mistress got such a weapon?”
“I did not even know she possessed it, sir.”
“It must be worth as much as this whole villa. More, perhaps. I doubt that there are ten of them in the city.” Silk turned toward the wardrobe and selected a blue winter gown of soft wool.
“They have left the suite they were searching earlier, sir. They are proceeding to the next.”
“Thank you. Will you leave when I tell you to go?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“I ought to destroy your glass.” For a second, Silk stared at the monitor. “I’m tempted to do it. But if a god really visited it when I arrived…” He shrugged. “So I’m going to tell you to go instead, and cover your glass with a gown. Perhaps they won’t notice it. Did they question the glasses in the other suites?”
“Yes, sir. Our steward summoned me to each glass. He is directing the searchers in person, sir.”
“While you were here talking to me? I didn’t know you could do that.”
“I can, sir. One strives to best utilize lulls in the conversation, pauses, and the like. It is largely a matter of allocation, sir.”
“But you didn’t tell them where I was. You can’t have. Why not?”
“He did not inquire, sir. As they entered each suite, he asked whether there was a stranger present.”
“And you told them there wasn’t?”
“No, sir. I was forced to explain that I could not be certain, since I am not perpetually present.”
“Blood’s steward—is that the young man called Musk?”
“Yes, sir. His instructions take precedence over all others, except my master’s own.”
“I see. Musk doesn’t understand you much better than I do, apparently.”
“Less well, perhaps, sir.”
Silk nodded to himself. “I may remain in this suite after you’ve gone. On the other hand, I may leave, too, as soon as you’re no longer here to watch what I’m doing. Do you understand what I’ve just told you?”
“Yes, sir,” the monitor said. “Your future whereabouts will be problematical.”
“Good. Now vanish at once. Go wherever it is that you go.” Silk draped the glass, covering it completely in a way that he hoped would seem merely careless, and opened the door to his right.
For the space of a heartbeat, he thought the spacious, twilit bedchamber unoccupied; a faint moan from the enormous bed at its center revealed his mistake.
The woman in the bed writhed and keened aloud from the depths of her need. As he bent over her, something within him reached out to her; and though he had not touched her, he felt the thrill of touch. Her hair was as black as the night chough’s wings, and as glossy. Her features, as well as he could judge in the uncertain glow, exquisite. She groaned softly, as though she knew he was looking down on her, and rolling her head upon her pillow, kissed it without waking.
