The stone-bow was small, light and well-made. It was no more than a forearm in length. Nevertheless, it had enough pulling force for a decent shot. The projectiles were not stones, but cleanly cast lead balls. I weighed it in my hand and looked into the little Och’s eyes. His shop was crammed with weapons and armor, everything was properly oiled and gave off that very special fragrance that belonged in any armory.
He wiped his middle left and upper right hand on his leather apron. Then he told me his price. I grimaced and offered half.
In the end we settled on three-quarters of the original price, and I paid for the little crossbow to our mutual satisfaction.
I wore a rust-brown shamlak with a narrow gap down the front and black embroidery, and trousers of the same color that reached to my ankles. These garments were brand new. The air smelled sweet, the slanting mingled rays of Zim and Genodras flooded the city, and I felt a new impetus. Events rushed on.
The cloak that Elten Naghan Vindo had lent me was long gone in the way of all things transitory. Its successor was a nondescript gray and had a deep hood with black trim. It hid my arms in a satisfactory manner.
The parting from Quensella was confoundedly difficult, more so than I could have dreamed. She sent her servants — Sinkie was no longer among them — from the small room, which was comfortably furnished with feminine taste. When the girls had gone, she rose. She wore a long, flowing robe of a mid-blue color. Silver slippers peeked from under the lace hem. Her black, tightly arranged hair had a blue shimmer in the light of the lamps. Her smooth, unadorned face was strikingly pale. She looked at me for a long time — at least it seemed so to me — silently. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why must you leave me, Drajak?”
“You now have a good bodyguard. Other — tasks — are waiting for me.”
“Are they more important than being close to me?”
That was unbearable. I moved the Pakzhan on my neck because I had nothing better to do. “It’s just... I cannot explain it, my lady. Believe me...”
“Not at all!” she roared. Her pale cheeks flushed. “There is a woman. But of course there is. Well, Drajak the ungrateful...?”
“That’s not true, my lady.”
She bit her lip. I had only one wish: to be able to get out of there as quickly as possible. An image of Makki Grodno haunted my thoughts briefly. She took a step toward me. We stood close together. I could feel her sweet breath on my cheek.
“If you have to leave me, then you must do so.” She raised her arms and let them fall helplessly. “All right. Go — I wish you all the best.” Then she shook me to my core. “One more thing before you go, Drajak — wherever that may be.”
“Yes, my lady?”
She took one final step. Our bodies touched. “Kiss me, Drajak, before you leave me forever.”
I knew pretty much what Delia would have said in this embarrassing situation. Kindness is second nature to Delia, but which was kinder here: to kiss Quensella and leave her with a turmoil of feelings that had taken an inevitable course, or not kiss her and put her feelings into another troubled state that could only cause pain? I did not know. She took the decision out of my hands.
Her lips were soft, warm and demanding. So I returned the kiss in an appropriate manner, stepped back and tried to smile. If she felt sorry for me in this moment, is that not understandable?
“Go!” she said hoarsely, and with tears in her eyes. “Go!”
I went, and felt an emptiness that I did not like.
Saying Remberee to the juruk that I had put together in so short a time created problems of a different nature. The changes to the duties and ranks was done in due form. So many people who have no idea have only ridicule and contempt for military protocol, and as it is written in the truths of old Kapt Nath the Lame, many ridiculous ceremonies, common among the uniformed dandies, are greeted with sneers and laughter. In the dark moments when a ball whistles past the head on Earth or blades aim for the heart on Kregen, oh yes, then discipline, camaraderie and immediate knowledge strengthen the fighting spirit and toughen the muscles. The bodyguard was composed of reliable fighters — and they knew that, by the Blade of Kurin!
The formal parade marched. The young Erwin wore the standard, a colorful representation of Quensella’s schturval. Flanko the Fish, a Fristle with a strange history to explain his nickname, blew the trumpet. We made the prescribed about-face, marched on and were dismissed.
Then the guards were assigned for the night, and the rest of us retired to our quarters where a huge celebration quickly turned into a boisterous shindig. In the temperate zones of Kregen the many different cultures use both barrels and amphorae to hold liquids. We did our best to empty all the vessels — and since all knew my attitude, no one got drunk. We were all happy. We sang from the gut, as befits a true Kregan.
We sang “The Maiden with the Single Veil” and “Slinky Sylvies of Comfort” and belted out heartily the refrain from the famous song that goes “No idea at all, at all, no idea at all” heartily. We brought the rafters to tremble, as they say in Clishdrin. Erwin sang a Vallian song, ‘The Daisies of Delphond,’ and I thought not to allow the fact that it made me upset or even maudlin.
Naghan the Flabby, an Och that I had taken on as a water carrier, offered “The Cup Song of the Och Kings”. When he had come to the end he allowed himself, as prescribed in ritual and tradition, to pitch headlong, flat on his face.
It was a rollicking good time. Shortly after the hour of dim I got up, told the assembled gloomy squad Remberee, and left. A few burs sleep, and I would be as good as new again.
Then the important part of the nocturnal activities could begin — which was damn dangerous, by Vox!
Everyone had wanted to try out the new stone-bow. They had shot at anything that would skip into the air when hit. I must confess that the fun ended when an empty amphora unfortunately ended up lying on the ground in a heap of shards. When I set off on my mission the cloak hid the crossbow, and in addition to all my usual gear a bag of lead shot hung from my belt.
It was no problem to leave the outer corridors of the palace behind. As always, the urgent steps of those who maintained the operation of the fortress-like palace echoed through the corridors even at this late hour. I waited until no one was in sight, and slipped through the secret door. Dust and cobwebs greeted me. Then I slipped noiselessly along the way I had gone before. I was confident that the maze of hidden passages between the walls of the conference room would take me to the chambers of the Regent located near the river.
This time the dusty passage was not blocked by any guard, so the path before me was clear. I peered through a peephole, saw the conference room was empty, and went on.
It was only a matter of time. Bread, cheese and a canteen full of water would quench my hunger until I found the right spy hole.
There were many wondrous things to see in the lavishly equipped chambers.
Finally, as was to be expected, a soldier stood at his lonely post in front of an observation slit. The crossbow was loaded. I took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The lead ball hit the target with great force. The noise of the guard as he fell was much too loud for my taste, and I hurried out of cover to see what he had been guarding.
The chamber on the other side of the wall was empty. It was permeated with luxurious decadence: the upholstered furniture, the statues, tables overloaded with wine and fruit, the soft carpet and the melodramatic images on the tapestries were all testimony to a carefree life. Lamps were everywhere. The chamber was silent, waiting for residents who were used to a life of abundance.
The guard was breathing shallowly. He was a hard-nosed, tanned apim, no ordinary hired mercenary but a mortpaktun with silver at his neck. It did not take long to drag him down the passage a little way and to tie him up and gag him. I returned to the spyhole at the same moment that the door of the chamber opened.
An impressive entourage entered, composed of guards, slaves and servants, including a half-dozen beautiful dancers clothed in transparent garments and bangles who were of all kinds of diff races. The center of all the attention then strutted in, spinning a longsword over his head. He was young, arrogant and had a rosy face. His smooth features reminded me strongly of his aunt, Lady Quensella. He was wearing only a red loincloth.
A dark-bearded man with a low forehead and piercing eyes who ensured he always remained beyond the reach of the sword — obviously a silver-painted wooden rudis — drew my attention. He wore a pale white evening gown, with a silver belt holding a sword. His dark hair was combed back on his head. A great aura of power came from him that was almost tangible.
“How did you like my performance tonight Granumin?” chirped the young king Yando.
It was good that the actor king, unlike me, could not see Granumin’s face when he replied. Contempt froze the dark face into a grimace of bitter mockery. “Excellent, Majister. A tribute to your genius. The applause...”
“Well” — a casual whirl of the sword — “they clap just so that I will be generous towards them. Only your opinion is really important Granumin.”
“You honor me, Majister.” He coughed. “Your aunt, the Regent, has asked me to invite you today to her rooms.”
“So?”
He strutted around for a while, no doubt in the belief that the importance of his person rose the longer he kept his aunt waiting. He put on a scarlet cloak and threw the rudis onto a sofa. After a time with his retinue buzzing around him according to protocol, he was escorted out of the room with his bodyguard, leaving Granumin and the dancers behind.
What place this Granumin occupied in the intrigues that are woven into this palace, I could not say. Quensella had once casually mentioned him as an adviser to her sister. At that time, I heard that she did not treat the fellow with much affection. But it had yet to be confirmed.
I realized that I eavesdropped the wrong room, and decided to move. The secret passage was lit by the light invading from the room beyond it. I carried on further, and I had the tiresome task of searching high and low for my target.
There was no secret door to the royal chambers, at least none that was easy to find. I was about to finally move away when a side door swung open. What I saw enter the chamber kept me rooted to the spot.
Schrepims!
There were two of them, their lizard-like bodies driven by an exuberant strength, and they rushed silently and with brutal reptilian speed on the scattered standing guards.