Zeman considered it his holy duty to put a stop to it. He'd plotted long and hard to find the rock that would crush them both. The letter, combined with Nerisa's robbery of the stallmaster, had given him that opportunity. When he'd finally delivered the letter he'd added a report linking the two together as conspirators against Walaria.
Now his plan was about to bear fruit. Other evidence had been found against Timura. At least that's what he surmised when the urgent message came that he was to watch Safar carefully tonight and report back all that he'd found. Zeman sensed a crisis cominga crisis for Safar and Nerisa, at least. When it arrived the only thing that would make Zeman's world even more perfect would be if he could rid himself of his grandfather as well. He didn't know how he could accomplish that feat just yet. But he was confident if he were especially watchful the idea would come.
A voice broke into his thoughts: What's the matter with you, Zeman? Got dirt stuffed in your ears?'
He looked up and saw the sarcastic amusement in a young customer's face. I've told you twice, now, the student said, that you've given me too much change.'
Zeman glanced at the rental book in the student's hand and the coins on the desk. He'd been so lost in thought that he'd forgotten his original intentwhich was to shortchange the student. He made a quick count of coins and saw that instead he'd returned too much.
'I don't mind cheating you, the student said. The gods know you've robbed me often enough. But that was for your own pocket. This is for old man Katal.'
'No one's forcing you to come here, Zeman snarled as he pulled in the excess change. If you don't like I how do business, go someplace else. You won't be missed by me.'
Instead of getting angry the student laughed at him. No one cares what you think, Zeman, he said. You don't own this place. Your grandfather does. We only put up with you because of old man Katal.'
He grabbed his change and walked into the patio, laughing and telling the others about the encounter. Zeman was about to shout an insult when he saw Timura coming down the alley. Quickly he put out a coin basket and little sign telling the other bookstore patrons to wait on themselves. It was an honor system Katal had instituted long ago for the busiest hours. Zeman disliked the practice and had argued against it many times. He planned to end it soon as Katal gave up his stubborn hold on life and died. But just now it served his purpose.
As he headed for the patio and the crowded tables of wine drinkers someone tried to stop him and hand him money for a book.
'What are youblind? Zeman retorted, pointing at the basket. Put your money there. I've got other things to do.'
He rushed out, not hearing the response. His grandfather was at the well, drawing up buckets of cold wine jugs and stacking them on trays. Zeman saw Timura head for a large table in the far corner where Olari was holding court. Zeman was thrilledthe intelligence he'd received about the predicted meeting was evidently correct.
He snatched a tray from Katal's hands. Here, let me help you with that, grandfather, he said to the startled old man.
Zeman ignored the pleased expression on his grandfather's face. He balanced the tray above his head and moved slowly through the crowd. People shouted for service as he passed, but he paid them no mind, concentrating instead on Safar and Olari. Timura's arrival was met with shouted welcomes and Olari rose to greet him, slapping him on the back and then leaning close to whisper something in his ear. Safar laughed as if he'd just been told a grand joke, but Zeman saw Olari pass him a small object, which he tucked into his robe.
Instead of going directly to Olari's table Zeman delivered his tray to the one closest to it. Moving at a snail's pace, he put a jug in front of each person; his focus was entirely on the discussion swirling around Timura.
He could pick up only snatches of the excited babble:…history in the making… teach them a lesson they'll never forget… Umurhan will just shit… it's gonna be the best Founder's Day ever!'
When the tray was empty he stepped over to Olari's table; as usual, no one paid him the slightest attention, other than to order a drink or to berate him for being lazy and slow. Zeman smiled blandly at the insults, gradually working his way toward Timura. He was just at Olari's elbow, bending his head close as he could to hear the whispered conversation between the two, when Safar suddenly looked up and saw him. His eyes were wide as if someone had just said something surprising. Then they narrowed in what seemed to be sudden understanding.
Zeman couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from Safar's stare.
He knows, Zeman thought. Timura knows I'm an informer. But that's not possible! How could he?
Then Timura broke his gaze and touched Olari's hand in warning. The young noble snipped off whatever it was he was saying and leaned closer so Timura could whisper something in his ear. Zeman saw him jolt and start to turn to look in his direction, but another warning touch from Timura stopped him.
Zeman calmed himself. His imagination was running wild, he thought. There was no way Timura could know he was a spy. Safar's behavior was the result of guilt, not knowledge. He and Olari were obviously planning something and Timura was smart enough to make sure that not even someone he held in such contempt as Zeman would overhear. But he still felt uncomfortable, so he hurried away from the table on the pretense of fetching the orders for wine.
Safar watched Zeman dodge through the crowd, the empty tray clutched tightly to his side.
'How do you know he's an informer? Olari asked. He's so stupid and lazy, it's hard to believe Kalasariz would ever want him.'
'Trust me, Safar said. Or at least, humor me. My information comes from an impeccable source.'
Gundara's hissed warning had come just as Olari was discussing the disturbances he intended to stage after Safar's spellcast disrupted the Founder's Day ceremony. Safar had been nearly bowled over when he realized the little Favorite had fingered Zeman. After his initial surprise he had felt pity for poor Katal. His next thought was the realization that it was none other than Zeman who had put Kalasariz on his trail with trumped up charges. Anger boiled over in his belly, rising to sear the back of his throat. It was Zeman's fault that his life and Nerisa's were in danger. Under the circumstances anger was futile, as were any thoughts of revenge that would delay his flight from Walaria.
'You probably think I've suddenly gone mad, Safar said. Insane or not, you can't be harmed by following my advice and being careful around him.'
'I don't think you're mad, Olari said. But I do wonder how you got your information.'
'I can't say, Safar said.
'Anyone else we should be wary of? Olari asked.
Safar knew if mentioned Ersen, Olari really would think he'd gone crazy. So he said, Look at it this wayif someone like Zeman can be a spy, then who can you trust? The most unlikely person could be a direct pipeline into Kalasariz. Why, even Ersenjester that he iscould be with the enemy.'
'Ersen? Olari said. What brought his name into this?'
Safar shook his head. Please, just be careful. Question everything. Everyone.'
'Actually, Olari said, Ersen makes more sense than Zeman. His father ran into some trouble with Kalasariz a few years ago. He seemed doomed for awhile, but then suddenly everything was fine again. And he's done nothing but rise in the ranks of the Walarian Council since Ersen started at the University.'
Safar didn't respond and after a bit Olari realized he wasn't going to say anything more.
'For a man who doesn't like politics, Olari said, you sure have a talent for wading into it up to your neck.'
An hour later Safar lit the oil lamps in his rooms above the old city wall and got out his chest of magical implements. He had an idea for the spellcast he'd promised Olari and he thought he'd work on it while waiting for Nerisa.
The spell links came to him quickly and he jotted them down for reference and then got out a clean casting scroll and his brushes and magical paints. Gundara was busy devouring the sweet rolls he'd been promised and was quiet for a time. As he nibbled on the last of his treats, the little Favorite noticed what Safar was doing and
