traitor.'
'Let's not mention this to anyone just yet, Kalasariz cautioned. I want to see where this leads us.'
'That's good advice, Didima said. Why seize one troublemaker when we might have a chance to sweep them all in. He absently combed his beard with thick, blunt fingers. These are dangerous times, gentlemen, as I've said many times before. Two years of poor harvests. Plague outbreaks among our cattle and sheep. More bandits stalking the caravans than we've seen in years. Which has done nothing to help trade. And this increasing reluctance, which I lay to poor upbringing, of our citizens to pay the increased taxes we require just to keep the kingdom whole and on the right course.
'Now this upstart, Iraj Protarus, comes along with his army of barbarians invading the realms of innocent, peace-loving kings. Why just last month my old friend, King Leeman of Shareed, had his head cut off by this Protarus fellow. After he'd sacked the city, of course, and burned it to the ground.'
Didima touched his throat and shivered. It isn't right, he said, cutting off royal heads. It injures the dignity of thrones everywhere.'
'I couldn't agree more, Majesty, Umurhan said. And I think we made a wise decision to ally ourselves with Protarus enemies, Koralia Kan and Lord Fulain.'
'We'll have to raise taxes again, Didima warned, to pay for the mercenaries and arms we promised our new friends.'
'It will be worth every copper, Umurhan said, if it stops Protarus once and for all. Someday our citizens will thank for saving them from that madman.'
'Thank us, or curse us, Kalasariz said, they'll pay just the same. But that's old business and as much I'd like to talk politics with you two all night I want to set a proper course concerning Safar Timura. How shall we proceed?'
Umurhan indicated the intercepted letter. How did this fall into your hands?'
'I have an informant at the Foolsmire, Kalasariz said, which as you all know is a favorite meeting spot for the students. Safar is a close friend of the owner and has all his messages and post directed there.'
'I know of this place, Umurhan said. The owner is a cranky but harmless old fellow who distrusts authority. Katal, I think his name is. I can't imagine him having a sudden change of heart and turning informer for the crown.'
Kalasariz smiled thinly, making him look even more like a skeleton. It's the owner's grandson who is in my pay, he said. Zeman's his name. He's as dim-witted as he is ambitious. Full of cunning and all of it low. Zeman is anxious to inherit, but unfortunately for him his grandfather gives every sign of living on for many years. My emissaries have led young Zeman to believe that if he helps us we might hasten his grandfather's journey to the grave.'
'Excellent, excellent, King Didima said. The blacker the soul the more willing the flesh.'
Kalasariz chuckled. The sound was like a broken bone grating against itself. That's certainly true in Zeman's case, he said. He seems to particularly hate Safar Timura. I don't know whyto my knowledge Timura has never done anything against him. I think he's jealous because his grandfather holds Timura in such high affection. There's also a child at the Foolsmire, a thief named Nerisa, whom he appears to hate nearly as much as Timura. Once again, I can't say why. Nor do I care. Suffice it to say Zeman has been looking on his own for evidence against Timura for some time. We had no reason to suspect him, the gods know. And then this letter came along and Zeman contacted us immediately.'
Kalasariz made another death mask smile. He managed to construct the accusations so they involved the child as well.'
'My, my, Didima said. Two enemies at one blow. Zeman must be a very happy fellow.'
'Not as happy as he's going to be if this works out right, Kalasariz said. I believe in keeping my best informants rich enough to dream large, but poor enough to keep those dreams just beyond their reach.'
'What did Timura say when you confronted him with the letter? Didima asked.
'I didn't mention it, Kalasariz said. I let him lie. He claimed he'd heard nothing from Protarus since they were boys. He also said he doubted his old friend even remembered him.'
Umurhan snorted. A likely story, he said. That letter is clearly one of several urging Timura to join Protarus in his evil adventure. And look here… he jabbed his finger at one phrase in the letter… Protarus says he's deposited funds for Timura at the Merchants Guild.'
Kalasariz snorted. I've seized them, of course, he said. One hundred gold coins.'
Umurhan's bat-winged brows flared up in surprise. So much? he said. Then, That's more proof, as if we needed it. No one would give away such an amount casually.'
Didima leaned forward. Why do you think Timura has resisted Protarus pleas?'
'That's simple enough, Majesty, Kalasariz said. He's holding out for a greater share of the spoils.'
Umurhan looked thoughtful. Then he said, I'm sure that's part of his game. However, I'm also certain he wants to steal my most important magical secrets to take along with him. I caught him in my private library the other day. That is why I nearly dismissed him. The books and scrolls there are forbidden to anyone but a few of my most trusted priests and scholars.'
A long silence greeted this revelation. Then, from Didima, What of this battle Protarus refers to? The bit about the fiends? What do you make of that?'
'Some boyhood adventure, I suspect, Kalasariz answered. Exaggerated, of course.'
Didima nodded. Yes, yes. What else could it be?'
He thought a moment, then asked, What shall we do about Acolyte Timura?'
'Nothing just now, Kalasariz said. Let him have his head. At the right time we'll make certain he pays a very public visit to our executioner to have it removed. He slipped a scroll from his sleeve and rolled out it out on Didima's desk, saying, And to that end, Majesty, I'll need your signature authorizing his execution and the execution of his fellow conspirators when the time comes to sweep them up. We don't want any messy trials or other delays that might give their supporters time to whip up public support.'
The king chuckled, picking up his quill pen and charging it with ink. I see you have only Timura's name listed now, he said.
'Oh, there'll be more, Majesty, Kalasariz said. You'll notice I left a great deal of room on the page.'
The king nodded approvingly. Tulaz is anxious to improve his record, he said. We'll make a day of it, eh? A public holiday. Free food and drink. A bit of carnival to mark the moment. He scratched his name on the document, saying, There's nothing like a mass execution to calm the citizenry.'
Kalasariz smiled thinly, blew on the wet signature and passed the document to Umurhan. I'll need you to witness this, he said. Just a formality.'
Without hesitation, Umurhan signed. It's a pity, he said, I had such hopes for the lad.'
Some hours later Kalasariz made himself ready for sleep. While his pretty maids drew the blankets and plumped up the bed he drank his favorite hot sweet potion, laced with brandy and mild sleeping powders.
He was a not a man who slept well. It wasn't all the blood he'd spilled that disturbed his dark hours, but the constant worry that he'd overlooked something. His tricks and betrayals were legion and he had so many enemies he didn't dare let down his guard. He was a master of the great lie and was therefor continually occupied with keeping track of his untruths and half-truths. During the day he never had a weak moment, but at night his dreams were bedeviled with plans that went awry because of a stupid mistake or oversight. Without his nightly ritual he'd awaken so exhausted from nightmares that he'd be stricken with doubts. And so, despite the lateness of the hour, he let his maids pleasure him after he'd had his potion. Then they'd bathed him and dressed him in a nightshirt of black silk.
He dismissed them, reaching for the black silk mask he wore to shut out any stray light. Just before he put it on he remembered the document of execution, still sitting on his dressing table. Despite the sleeping potion and the attention of his maids he knew he wouldn't sleep well as long as it sat there unattended. Never mind that no one would dare creep into the home of Walaria's spymaster, much less rob his sleeping chamber. His unguarded mind was so active that as he tossed and turned through the night he would come up with countless scenarios in which such an unlikely deed would suddenly become real.
Close as he was to sleep, he got up to attend to it. He'd taken much care to collect the signatures of his
