country they would miraculously inherit a better life, with free food and rivers of wine and not a day’s work in a sennight. If this is pitching the stories they believed too high, think only of the slaves that would come onto the market after a successful invasion and conquest. Hamalian gold was in this.
Rathon clinched that for me when he said to Jaezila when she walked in, smiling, “I fear, my lady, you will buy no vollers now.”
She frowned, quickly, losing that smile on the instant, whereat I surmised her mission to buy vollers for Hamal was a secret one. Thyllis had been prodigal with her treasure and had given patents of nobility for gold. She had lost many fliers. Clearly, she was desirous of purchasing what she could not make.
“Why so, Horter Rathon?”
“You were seen when — these two Hamalese — It were best you left the city, my lady. It is hard enough work as it is.”
He might smile and jingle his keys; but he was a man for Hamal, and if the common folk welcomed invasion, the better-off did not. That was obvious. They had hired bands of mercenaries, and because paktuns were hard to come by had had to hire men who were not of the top quality, or even of the second or third quality. I did not think the paktuns who had chased us were as low as masichieri; but I was told that masichieri, mere bandits masquerading as mercenaries when it suited them, were in the city in large numbers to keep order.
This, as you will readily perceive, placed me in a quandary.
I was opposed to Hamal, although pretending to be Hamalese. The poor folk were deluded. But those who were opposed to Hamal employed means I did not much relish. I would not strike a blow willingly against folk who stood up in opposition to mad Empress Thyllis. So, as I listened to the others debating what best to do, I felt myself to be shoved nose-first into a dilemma.
“My work must be completed,” Jaezila was saying, and her composure remained. There was the hint, the merest hint, of her true feelings boiling away.
“How, my lady?” Rathon spread his hands. “You will be taken up by the watch. These mercenaries the nobles have hired, they are little better than drikingers, bandits who will slit your throat for a copper ob.”
“And, my lady,” put in Kaldu, “the voller manufacturers here are all rich.” His brown beard tufted.
“Well, that follows, by Krun, does it not? They will not welcome you.”
“And it was all arranged!” said Jaezila. Her face — what a wonderful face she had! Broad-browed, subtle, perfect of curve of cheek and lip, illuminated by a passionate desire to esteem well of life — I felt myself drawn to her. As for Tyfar, he was goggling away. “Everything was going splendidly,” she said. Some lesser girl would have been crying by now. “And then these people against Hamal seized the power, and the vaunted neutrality of Khorundur — where is it now?”
“I and my associates will get the common folk out into the streets,” said Rathon. “But that is going to take time. And there will be a great deal of blood spilled.” He lifted his keys and then let them jingle against his gut. “Well, they are common folk and so ’tis of no matter.”
I turned away from him, and took my ugly, hating old beakhead of a face off out of the way. By Vox!
But wasn’t that the way of your maniacal, empire-puggled Hamalese bastard?
Tyfar followed me.
“What ails you, Jak? Your face — you look as though you have fallen among stampeding calsanys.”
“No matter,” I said. Control returned to me, and with it common sense. “I think it would be a good plan to take a few vollers for ourselves.” I did not add that I would fly mine to South Pandahem and then Vallia.
“Capital!” Tyfar brisked up. “Let us make a plan.”
Rathon began at once to put all manner of obstacles in the way — the sentries were alert, we had no chance of reaching a landing platform, didn’t we have gold to buy a voller, it was madness. Jaezila looked fierce. “The plan is good!”
I was not so sure. This lady, if she was not Hamalese, at least worked for my enemies. I felt drawn to her and she was, in truth, splendid. But she was an enemy. Well, poof to that. Were not Chido and Rees enemies, and were they not good friends, Bladesmen, comrades? In this, at least, we could work together.
I noticed that this Jaezila had an odd little habit of suddenly turning her head, and looking slightly to her side and rear, as though expecting to find someone there.
Now, in this enterprise going forward I had to think most carefully. We were a bunch of desperadoes, yes. But we purposed taking a voller from folk who were aligned against us in the political arena, and folk who were fighting against my enemies. It was a puzzle. In the end I did the only thing I could do, and went along and placed the outcome in the hands of Zair.
Barkindrar the Bullet would have to be figured into the calculations. Eventually we persuaded Nath Rathon to apprise us of the best location for picking up vollers, and he said that the bright sparks flew in from the outlying districts and parked on the roof of The Rokveil’s Head.
“They’ll be inspecting the undersides of tables with Beng Dikkane[3]long before the hour of midnight.”
And he laughed.
I forced myself to be polite to him.
“Then, good Nath Rathon, you will show us this place a few burs before that.”
“Me? Oh, no, dom. I will send Ornol-”
Jaezila and Tyfar looked questioningly at me.
“Oh, no, dom,” I said, “you will show us.”
He spluttered indignant protests. What my face looked like I do not know; but I do know I fought for control. I made myself relax. Just why I acted as I did, Zair forgive me, you may more readily perceive — now — than I did — then.
“I wish that you, Nath Rathon, should show us The Rokveil’s Head. I do not think you will argue.”
He blinked. His keys jangled. He opened his mouth, looked at me, closed his mouth. His face, fat and plump and merry, on a sudden looked amazingly long. He shut that glistening mouth. Then, weakly, he said, “As you wish. I shall lead you.”
“Good,” I said. And I smiled most genially.
Our preparations made, we ventured out when She of the Veils cast her rosy golden light over the nighted city. The way was not far. We walked as a party of roisterers, out for a good time, and we made no bones about singing a few ditties. There was no problem as to who was to fly the vollers. Retainers of nobles and adventurers as we were, flying air-boats was a mere matter of normal occupation. The Rokveil’s Head turned out to be an imposing place, lit up with many lanterns, pillared and porticoed, and doing a humming business. Tyfar and I, allowing our expensive cloaks to conceal our armor, had no difficulty in entering. That mark of the notor we now realized had brought us with the ease that had puzzled us into the city. The lords ran this city. And the common folk looked to Hamal for relief. Truly, that was a colossal and vile joke on innocent people, to be sure!
Nath Rathon had dressed himself in popinjay fashion, which we assumed to be normal for him. Jaezila had borrowed a demure but still devastating evening gown, all sheer peach-colored sensil. Rathon had taken it from one of the women of his establishment, and with the gown a display of gems. They were all fakes. And Kaldu wore a sober evening lounging robe of dark green. We all wore weapons — except Jaezila, outside our clothes — and this was a mere natural part of evening attire. The flunkeys wanted to bustle about and take our wraps and cloaks; but Rathon assured them that this was not necessary as he had just happened to meet this party and they were desirous of patronizing the best establishment in the city and so he had just gone out of his way to bring them here. No, they were not friends of his and he did not know them, and now he must take himself home to his house and family in the eastern suburbs.
The majordomo thanked Rathon for bringing him the custom; but Rathon, whose hand hovered now continually at his mouth, smiled and bobbed and went off very quickly. We did not know if his deception would pass muster.
As we went up the wide balustraded stairway with the carved statues of sylvies flanking the treads, Tyfar said, “I am not sure that was a clever move, Jak. It seems to be you may have placed Rathon in some jeopardy if he is recognized.”
“Oh,” I said, airily, “he will get away with it.”
Privately, I would have no sorrow if Rathon were discovered and thrown out of Khorundur. That would be one agent of Hamal the less. So we went on up. The halls were palatial. There were many slaves, all stupidly dressed in feathers and bangles and little else. Much wine was in evidence. The sounds of laughter and horseplay reached us
