The path to the front entrance of the palace was a series of long wide steps. In the falling rain the marble shone and gleamed with all the colors of the rainbow in the light from the lamps, even though many of the lamps had been blown out by the wind. It was a stormy evening. I pulled my cloak tightly around me, climbed the steps and considered the interesting problem of which name to use.
Prince Ortyg would certainly remember Drajak the Sudden. In spite of the large number of names that I had used on Kregen, and from which I had gained a lot of pleasure, my own name had become much too familiar. Naghan the Arm? Kadar the Hammer? Jak the Sturr? Nath the Shot? Nath Deline? Or one of the many others?
The guards looked out from the protection of their guardhouse as the water dripped off the edge of the roof. They led me along a colonnade at the side away from the majestic hinged door which blocked the main entrance. The Deldar was a Rapa with green and yellow plumage, who was not at all pleased that he had been called. He looked at me impatiently over his beak. “And? This is not a night to be outside.”
“I must see the lady Quensella.”
“You’re in luck. They are still in their meeting. What is it about?”
“It’s private, Del.”
He lifted his sharply defined head. “Deldar to you, tikshim.”
I adjusted the neck of my cloak. In the light of a lantern the gold pakzhan flashed. The symbol of a hyrpaktun served its purpose.
“I understand. Well, you’ll have to wait.”
He wore the pakmort fastened with silver chains to his harness, and the silver mortilhead was clearly visible. These symbols that distinguish the most illustrious among paktuns are not easy to achieve. His pakai was not very old, so he had not fought many battles, and there was only one gold ring taken from a dead opponent. He made an effort to speak in a much more moderate tone of voice.
“The mercenary craft is a hard life, dom. I’ll try to get a message to her. Your name?”
I shook my head. “That is unknown to the lady. Tell her that she saved me from a nasty fall from a lifter. Then she’ll know who I am.”
He looked somewhat taken aback, but nodded.
We went to the mess room where I was offered a cup of poor wine. I took off the cloak and discovered to my surprise that the red shamlak remained fairly dry. Then I took a place at the table. My plan was to gain access to the palace. Once in the maze of corridors and chambers that was found in almost every palace on Kregen, I could disappear into the shadows, find the secret passages and spy in peace. I had perfected this aspect of my more nefarious skills through frequent use. I knew that I was very good in matters of espionage. This is no superficial boast but a simple fact that over time has prevented my head and my shoulders from becoming separated from one another.
In the guardroom there was the usual mix of races, and the conversation turned to subjects that have fascinated soldiers for centuries. These were men of the palace guard who were paid by King Yando and who were apparently devoted to him, although they received their orders directly from the regent. The followers of the other participants in the noble meeting were housed deep in the palace. Many members of the old council, who had advised the late king, were dead. Chermina had called this new council into being to hear Prince Ortyg’s proposals.
“Up until now she has ruled everything and everyone,” said a scarred Rapa, who leaned on the table with a jug in his hand. He wore the insignia of a Delnik, a subordinate rank, similar to the Matoc of Hamal, and plainly had no hope of being raised to the rank of Deldar any time soon. “Why did she convene this council? Why?”
One or two crude responses were given in good spirits. I supposed that the rigorous Chermina was protecting her back. If the venture failed with Ortyg, she would not carry the blame herself, but the Council would. No wonder that Quensella — if the woman I had met and the sister of the regent were one and the same — had been in such a confounded hurry.
A young lad wearing a striking bronze chavonth-head at his throat — a sign that his comrades thought him worthy to be Chavpaktun — and was polishing his sword with water and brick dust, looked up from the work and stared at my pakzhan. I would have given a penny for his thoughts.
The dominant odors in the guardroom would certainly have offended the nose of a high-born young lady, but for an experienced mercenary they called up memories. Oiled steel and leather, sweat, the brick dust that the chavpaktun used still hanging in the air, food smells, the pungent perfume of a watchman, who was vainer than his comrades — all merged into a fragrance that evoked memories.
The boy, apim like me, smiled and pointed to the gold at my neck. “Sorry. Would you tell me how...?”
The Rapa Delnik’s plumage bristled. “That’s enough, Landi!” He wore a silver pakmort with a respectable pakai. “Show those who are above you more respect. See that you do not let your pakchav go to your head.”
A Polsim laughed. “Otherwise you could lose it, by Smitoll!”
None of the men assumed that the Polsim referred to Landi’s bronze chavonth head.
It was all quite nice, but I was becoming annoyed at being stuck here.
The guards continued their horseplay; these were rough fellows who enjoyed themselves whenever the opportunity arose. I heard from across the mess a few disparaging remarks about Quensella’s guard.
One of the guard captains had not paid his men, but made off with the money chest. Another was so often drunk that he could not fulfill his duties properly. As for the new cadade that Quensella now had in her employ, “If you look at him wrong, you get warts!” And they all roared.
I asked a few questions, their significance immediately clear, shuffled my feet, looked around and then stood with a typical mercenary curse.
“To the left, then first on the right, dom.”
I had to leave the cloak; it was hanging on a rack to dry.
In the rough comradeship of paktuns there are a few bad eggs. Many soldiers are just not nice people, but the reasons for being a mercenary on Kregen are quite different than on Earth. Most are honest and sincere and true to their oath. Many kill in the performance of their contract. It is not dishonorable to sell your military talents in the service of good men. At the end of the day — for example at the end of a battle when your own side has lost and it is pointless to keep fighting — you can agree on new terms in order to avoid bloodshed.
I was now fully accepted as a zhanpaktun for the time being. I had achieved my goal. I was able to sneak through the palace and find the secret passages. Good! Now for Prince Ortyg.
I nodded to the guard at the end of the passage and pushed open the door. Beyond it was an abandoned rain-soaked yard, and on the opposite archway a torch flickered. I went over.
A long, shimmering blue pillar of light appeared out of nowhere. Behind it the outlines of the wall could still be seen, but it thickened quickly, and the familiar facial features of Deb-Lu-Quienyin appeared. He did not smile. I instantly felt a renewed confidence.
“Jak! I do not have much time.”
“Deb-Lu! I am honestly pleased to see you...”
“No time, no time. Listen.”
His next words produced in me a feeling as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me. “Ling Li has mentioned to you about the Wizards of Balintol. Their true power is unknown to us, but we know that their kharrna is very strong. Exceptionally strong. They will have noticed by now that I am here in lupu. They will investigate. This means that our visits will have to be very brief.” The ghostly apparition flickered. “We do not want them to discover...”
Deb-Lu’s words were cut off and the blue radiance disappeared abruptly. I was left alone in the corridor. I took a deep breath. This was a serious matter. How serious could be judged by the fact that Deb-Lu had not spoken using Capital Letters.
There was more to it. If these Wizards of Balintol were indeed so powerful, they would, inevitably, be drawn into the terrible conflicts that threatened to set fire to the whole subcontinent — if I didn’t manage to put an end to them.
Outside, the rain came down increasingly heavily. A flash of lightning tore through the darkness, and the rumbling thunder made the palace tremble.
By the black belly and putrescent eyes of Makki Grodno! Yes, it was bad news, deuced bad. I could not let them stop me from doing what I had to do. I was now standing at the end of a row of side chambers that were connected to the main part of the palace. The Deldar’s runner would soon arrive back in the guardhouse. Maybe he had managed to give my message to Quensella. Maybe not. In any case, the Deldar would want to know where I was. I had to make myself invisible immediately.
Looking for the telltale signs of secret passages — they do not stand out, by Krun! — I wandered on through the corridors.
There were a few people going about their business; as in all the great palaces on Kregen, someone is always on the go. The architecture was immense, as was fitting. I came into a vast chamber with a pond in the center. In the water cavorted voryachin, which resemble the voryasen of previous bad experiences; they are an ugly fish, consisting only of jaws and teeth that can separate a person into two halves. Why those in power in this country would want such creatures in their homes, I have no idea.
The walls were covered with awe inspiring dark green curtains and the lighting was subdued. Voices and the patter of feet on the marble floor told me that it was not slaves who were coming closer. My presence would cause interest, if not arouse suspicion. I did not belong to the palace guard and was not a servant, so what in a Herrelldrin Hell was a blintz like me doing here?
I quickly pressed myself into the shadows of the green curtains.
The people who walked by gesticulating and furiously debating included some of those powerful people of whom I had just been thinking, together with their guards and henchmen. Servants went about their duties with bowed heads and serious faces. All were dressed in the latest, foppish, Caneldrin fashions. So these were the members of the council that the regent Chermina had convened.
I felt like a fly on a polished table, with the fly swatter hovering menacingly overhead.
They passed by discussing excitingly the topics that occupied them. Some of them were certainly smart enough to realize why Chermina had summoned them so suddenly.
Behind them a cheerful young lady wrapped in lace and silk followed, a young lady who was protected by a hard-nosed Chulik guard.
“I think the good Chermina is quite right,” she announced in a breathless voice to her companion, a woman dressed all in blue with gaunt features. “And this terrible Quensella — well, a lady cannot say what should be done with her!”
A woman with a sharp-edged face answered something to appease her, and then they had passed the pond with the deadly fish and left the chamber. Relieved that everyone had passed by, I was emerging from my hiding place when someone else approached, and I had to quickly jump back again.
The twilight of the chamber emphasized her appearance. Tall and with her head held high, still in the grey-green dress, she strode by purposefully. Her hair — as black as a raven’s wing — was cropped short and fitted here head like a helmet. Her cadade, an apim, walked at her side. He wore gold-plated armor and a pair of swords. His dark face showed no emotion as she spoke in her high, imperious voice.
“My servants, Nath. Where are those vulgar, lazy things?”
He paused before giving an answer. His thin mouth was crowned with a black mustache. “I’ll go and find out, my lady.”
“Good. And hurry up.”
They stopped at the edge of the pond. She turned away from her cadade, clearly impatient at being without her. The captain of her guard, this Nath, took a step back to look for the missing servants. But only a single step!
I rushed out from the shadow of the curtains.
“Quensella!”
Nath moved towards her with arms outstretched. His hands were nearly at Quensella’s back. He was going to push her into the pond of voryachins.
We three collided. I wanted to grab the fellow, but he evaded me and tried again to push Quensella into the water. She had wisely turned at my call, and that had saved her. Now we three wrestled together at the edge of the pond.
We gasped, swayed, slipped and found footing again, three people in a life and death struggle at the edge of eternity.
She did not scream. She called out with her controlled, hard voice: “Guards! Guards! Murderer!”
In the fray, she tried to hit me and struck me beneath the eye. I ducked and tried to separate her from the cadade. He wanted to draw his sword. I gave him a blow on his forearm, he yelped, and the sword landed with a clatter on the marble floor and bounced splashing into the water. We struggled on.
The marble of the pond edge was slippery. If we fell into the pond...
Nath tried to thrust his knee into my groin, but I blocked him, pushed Quensella to the side, and put an elbow in his face. He yelped again. Quensella was coughing and gasping for air, so I pulled at the arm which he had around her neck. We staggered and stumbled. Feet slipped on the wet marble. The strangling hands were pulled away. Nath cried out. He stumbled around with wildly flailing arms. He tried to find something to grab onto and caught Quensella’s dress, while his other hand grasped nothing. I held on to Quensella to pull her from him. We were connected, a trinity of destruction.
And together we plunged into the water.