When they left the palace, they were trailed by a eunuch, fortunately, and not a djinni or an efreeti. The man tried to be discreet, but Rodrick had been followed many times by men far more skilled, so he ducked down an alley, and then another alley, and then doubled back, and in no time he’d lost the man, without seeming to do so on purpose. Nagesh himself might be skilled at intrigue, but his operatives were not equipped to follow Rodrick.
Unless this was the obvious tail, to draw attention away from a more subtle one … Rodrick didn’t let his dismay show on his face. Of course, that was it. Nagesh assumed he was an idiot—or just counted on him to underestimate the Vudrani. But they were an ancient empire, with many servants skilled at stealth and spying, and Nagesh was highly placed in the thakur’s court. Rodrick wasn’t sure what the man’s job was, apart from “advisor”—for all he knew, Nagesh was the thakur’s spymaster. He’d surely have legions of skilled operatives, and magical ones at that. Thus, the purpose of the bumbler following them was to let Rodrick know he was being watched.
Why, a lesser man might have quailed at the idea.
They went to Kaleb’s house, pounding on the front door until the conjurer appeared to let them in. He was unshaven and red-eyed, but looked triumphant. “Come in, come in.”
Rodrick and Hrym trailed him up the narrow stairs, past the closed doors of other tenants—ones less inclined to explore the cause for frenzied knocking, apparently. The interior here was musty, and Rodrick commented on it.
“We don’t have legions of eunuchs or bound elementals to do our cleaning for us around here. The people in this house are scholars, students of the arcane come to Niswan to learn what we can—but we’re not wealthy, or supported by academies. Most of us spent everything we had to get passage to this island and secure a place with one of the masters who’s willing to teach. There’s not a lot left over for maid service.” He stopped at the top floor landing, unlocking a door and ushering them in.
The space beyond was surprisingly congenial, with lots of windows letting in light, and enough of those open to keep the room from smelling like the place where dust went to die. There was a good-sized fireplace, clearly made for a much bigger space, an indication that this top floor had been chopped into smaller apartments long ago, which was proven by the ugly plaster wall on one side, contrasting with the beautiful stone of the exterior walls. Flames danced in the fireplace with no apparent source of fuel, an obvious advantage of being a pyromancer.
Kaleb moved a pile of books off a rickety chair beside a table that doubled as a workspace and a dining area and gestured for Rodrick to sit. Rodrick complied, looking around at the shabby furnishings and bottles of powders and books, books, books.
Kaleb put a bare longsword on the table—plain, but not noticeably rusty or bent—along with various pouches and vials. “If you could put your sword beside this one? They should touch, if possible.”
Rodrick drew Hrym and rested him on the table, the edge of his crystalline pommel touching the burnished bronze of the other sword. Kaleb bent over to examine Hrym, his nose so close it nearly touched the blade, and Rodrick had a sudden imagining—so strong it nearly seemed a vision—of Hrym pulsing red and shooting out spikes of ice, tearing the conjurer’s head off.
But there was no flash, and Kaleb grunted, then straightened and opened a drawstring pouch. He reached inside, taking out a pinch of powder like gold-colored salt, and scattering it along Hrym’s length.
The crystalline blade changed color, turning to gleaming steel, the change creeping down Hrym’s length and altering as it went. The pommel and hilt changed, too, until they matched the workmanlike grip of the longsword beside it. The two weapons might have been twins.
“Are you all right?” Rodrick said.
“I suspect I’m uglier than I’d like, but I feel fine,” Hrym said.
“Good work, conjurer. And the other sword?”
Kaleb nodded, muttering to himself as he sifted a handful of bluish sand from another pouch onto the sword. Its steel turned to glittering ice, and its hilt and grip altered to resemble Hrym’s. The swords might well have just switched places. Rodrick reached out and touched the false Hrym’s blade, drawing his finger back quickly. The blade was cold, and felt like ice instead of steel. “Good, you got the tactile element right, too.”
Kaleb nodded, scowling. “Yes. The alterations will last forever, unless someone takes steps to reverse the spell.”
“It’s impressive work. You should be proud of yourself. Why so glum?”
“Making a lasting illusion of this complexity is … a bit outside my level of expertise. I had to purchase scrolls—don’t worry, I bought them from someone discreet—and it took a goodly portion of the jewel you gave me. I should have asked you to pay my expenses, too.”
“You certainly could have asked,” Rodrick said pleasantly. “How about Hrym? Is his disguise likewise perfect and permanent?”
Kaleb shrugged. “I doubt I could suppress his cold if I wanted to, but I also doubt anyone will grab your sword’s blade and notice. It—he’ll—look like an ordinary longsword until you choose to change him back.” The conjurer passed over a small vial of bluish sand. “Pour this on his blade, and it will remove the illusion.”
Rodrick prodded the fake ice sword. “Does it talk?”
“Try it,” Kaleb said.
“Ah … hello, Hrym.” Rodrick felt like an idiot talking to an ordinary longsword, even if it did look like his friend.
“What? Can’t you tell I’m trying to rest? Leave me be.” The new sword perfectly matched Hrym’s gruff and curmudgeonly tone.
“I don’t sound anything like that,” the real Hrym complained.
“It has a couple of other phrases,” Kaleb said. “But along similar lines, things to discourage further attempts at conversation. Now, about the rest of my payment.” The fire in the hearth grew brighter … and then stepped out of the fireplace, taking on the form of a small wolf.
“There’s no need for that.” Rodrick reached into a pocket and drew out a diamond, even larger than the ruby had been, and tossed it to Kaleb, who caught it deftly. “Don’t suppose that longsword came with a scabbard?”
The conjurer held the diamond up to the light, peering at it, then nodded to himself. The wolf climbed back into the hearth, curled up, and became just a fire again. “Hmm? Oh. Yes. I don’t have any use for it.” He gestured to a scabbard and sword belt of sturdy leather dangling from the back of a chair.
Rodrick strapped the plain scabbard onto his back and sheathed Hrym there. “All right, old friend. You’re living a secret life now. Keep conversation to a minimum.” He took the fake Hrym and slid it into the jeweled scabbard on his hip. It would be good not to get the two weapons confused.
“Stop moving me around so much,” the fake sword complained. “Where’s my bed of gold?”
“He’s captured you to perfection, Hrym.”
“Your mother was a butter knife,” Hrym said.
Kaleb snorted.
“Sentient sword insults,” Rodrick said. “There’s really nothing else like them.” He started for the door, then paused. “Remember, this transaction never occurred. If anyone asks why we spoke, we were just reminiscing together about Absalom and complaining about Vudrani food, and you were kind enough to help me find a new sword. Right?”
“For what you paid, if you wanted me to say we were lovers, I wouldn’t refuse.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, but the enthusiasm is appreciated.” He went downstairs, out onto the street, and the eunuch was there, pretending to carefully study a tile mosaic beside a fountain. Rodrick walked directly up to him and said, “Hello there, haven’t I seen you in the palace?”
The man seemed torn between running away and lying, and so just stood there, saying nothing.
Rodrick patted the weapon at his hip. “I’m giving up my old sword soon, so I made arrangements to buy a new one. I just don’t feel complete without a blade on my hip. Will you be following me to my next stop? I’ve got a powerful thirst, and I’ve only found one place in Niswan that serves the kind of ale I like.”
“I—ah—regret that my duties—ah—”
“Of course.” Rodrick patted him on the shoulder. “Pleasure running into you. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” The eunuch hurried away, but Rodrick doubted he’d go far. He was more concerned about spies he couldn’t see.
* * *
Next he went to the nameless subterranean bar. Rodrick doubted they were being watched there. A place like that could hardly function if it didn’t have measures in place to prevent invisible spies from crowding in.
His friend with the oiled beard was waiting at the darkest corner table with a middle-aged Vudrani woman who showed not very many teeth when she smiled. “I’m captain you-don’t-need-my-name, of the good ship none-of-your-business,” she said. “I understand you might want to book a trip off this island.”
He slipped their mutual friend a few coins and thanked him. “Before you go, remember the value of discretion,” he said.
“He won’t tell anyone about our business,” the captain said. “He knows my work thrives in secret.” The man nodded, gave them both wide smiles, and slipped away.
“Then let’s discuss that business,” Rodrick said.
“I won’t transport people who are unwilling, and that includes unconscious or stuffed in a trunk,” she said. “Mostly I deal in bringing imports from the Inner Sea region, a bit cheaper than average because I have an arrangement with the authorities who handle the import tax. I do send ships that way, though, and occasionally they carry freight in that direction as well. You can be that freight, but not if you bring trouble down on me.”
“I don’t expect any trouble,” he said. “I’d just rather travel without anyone knowing what ship I’m on, and with someone who won’t remember me after the voyage, if anyone comes around asking.”
“So you mean to cause trouble, but to be clear of it before anyone notices. Well, I don’t object, as long as none of your trouble splashes on me. When do you want to leave?”
Rodrick figured he’d be handing over the sword tonight, and would then be closely watched by Nagesh’s people—he was the hostage guaranteeing Hrym’s cooperation, after all—so he’d have to escape that surveillance, get out of the palace, make his way to the docks …
They agreed on a time in the deep dark middle of the night, and decided the smuggler would wait for him until just before dawn—Rodrick figured if he hadn’t made it by then, he wouldn’t make it at all.
“I’ll need a deposit now,” she said, “and the balance to be paid the moment you appear before me on the docks. No getting halfway out to sea and having you say, ‘Oh no, I’ve misplaced my purse,’ understand? You don’t set foot on my deck until the coins are in my hand.”
“I’m offended by your insinuations,” Rodrick said. “Don’t I have a trustworthy face?”
“Be as offended as you like, as long as you pay.”
Once those arrangements were concluded, Rodrick got back on the street. The eunuch was there again, this time half-hiding behind a small tree. Rodrick waved merrily, and the man ducked down farther.
Rodrick glanced upward, looking for a disturbance in the air to indicate a genie’s presence, but he saw nothing. Which didn’t mean there was nothing. Djinni could become invisible. They could be anywhere. The idea of being watched constantly was unpleasant, but it just meant he needed good cover stories, and he came up with those as a matter of course.
“Last errand of the day,” Rodrick said, walking along with Hrym swinging on his hip. He darted through a few doorways, down a few alleys, up a few streets, and soon contented himself that he’d left the trailing eunuch hopelessly confused and far behind. Ditching him might be pointless, but doing so was a matter of pride. He hurried to the small courtyard where he’d confronted Grimschaw yesterday, and sat on a bench, humming to himself and running mental scenarios, considering possible complications and the consequences and his own potential reactions. He thought they’d get away with everything, barring unforeseen catastrophe—maybe not as rich as he’d wished, but alive, and better off than they’d been when they arrived in Jalmeray.
Grimschaw appeared, sidling up in her skulking manner, which was far more suspicious than just walking up to them directly. She sat on the bench beside him, without looking at him at all, and said, “Do you have it?”
Rodrick reached into the leather bag on his shoulder and drew out the black scroll case, the wax carefully melted to make it look as if it had never been unsealed. “Is this the one?”
Grimschaw stared at the case like a lecherous man at a serving girl’s bosom. “Yes. Give it here.”
He slid it back into the bag. “Gold first, please.”
She reached into a pocket and drew out a leather purse, passing it to him. He opened it up, peered at the glint inside, shook it around a bit to make sure it wasn’t rocks or lumps of lead under a layer of coins, then weighed the bag in his hand. It seemed right for what they’d agreed on. He handed her the scroll case and rose. “Nice doing business with you.”
“Yes. Most satisfactory.” She stared at the case as if she wanted to crack it open then and there. Rodrick did not wish to be in her presence when she did so.
“You might want to put that away,” Rodrick said. “Speaking as a thief, if I saw anyone staring at something as intently as you’re staring at that, I’d assume it was something worth taking, and try my luck.”
She nodded quickly and tucked the scroll away. Without another word, she rose and scurried off toward the steps.
It was always possible she’d duck into the first alley and crack open the case and discover the contents were less than she’d hoped, so Rodrick hurried in the other direction, back toward the palace.
In the High-Holy District he saw the eunuch walking ahead, disconsolate, head down, and patted the man on the shoulder again, making him jump. “It’s all right, I was just meeting a woman, and didn’t want you lurking around. I’d hoped she might be good for a bit of—well, the sort of fun I gather you’re not equipped for anymore. Barbaric practice, I’ve always thought, no matter how lovely it makes your singing voice. I hope you can forgive me? I know you were just doing your job. Listen, if you don’t mention to anyone that I gave you the slip, I won’t mention to anyone that I noticed you following me. All right?”
“Yes,” the man said, voice nearly a squeak. “Yes, that might be best.”
They parted ways at the outer garden, the servant rushing off to make his report, no doubt. Rodrick made a point of strolling through the garden, pausing to chat with various beautiful youths, complimenting them on the majesty of their country and the wisdom of their leaders and offering other such empty fripperies. He walked through the hallways of the palace, whistling to himself, and returned to his rooms.
Nagesh was there, standing in a corner, arms folded, glaring as they came through the door. “Have you been there long?” Rodrick said. “I hope you at least brought something to read. Waiting menacingly in a corner can be very tiring.”
The advisor stalked forward. “I’ve come to remind you of your duties, and of the consequences of refusing—”
“Yes, yes, fine. This posturing really isn’t necessary. I’m prepared to hand Hrym over, and he’ll do as you’ve asked. But if we’re going to commit this assassination for you, we’re going to need payment in advance, and in rather larger quantity.”
Nagesh sneered. “You expect me to trust you with coin, now?”
Rodrick sighed. “You had me followed all over the city. I wouldn’t be surprised if you put me under guard tonight.”
“You remember my fire elemental?” Nagesh chuckled. “It will indeed watch over you while you sleep. Or while you lie awake in terror.”
“Just so. Do you think I’ll be more likely to escape if I’m carrying a chest full of gold? In my experience, that kind of weight limits opportunities for stealthy departures. We don’t need to be adversarial, Nagesh. Surely you have some sense of the kind of people Hrym and I are. We’re not defenders of light and righteousness—we’re pragmatic opportunists out for personal gain. What I mean is, we’re professionals. Treat us as such, and let us get on with the job.”
Nagesh smiled, grin like a sickle blade. “No. You get nothing from me until the work is done. Do not think you can make demands of me.” Nagesh spat at Rodrick’s feet. “You’re just tools. Don’t forget that.”
Oh well. It was worth a try.
“I will come to collect you soon,” Nagesh said. “I can tell you’re trying to plot escape—don’t bother. It’s impossible.” He stalked off.
Rodrick considered taking a nap, but he was too keyed up. He wanted to go over the plan again, but Hrym told him he was being an idiot. It wasn’t complicated, after all, and it was a trick they’d played countless times before. There were confidence men who specialized in the goldbrick scam, selling golden bars that were really lumps of lead with a thin layer of gilt, and this was a simple variation on that venerable ruse. What could go wrong? Escaping Nagesh’s elemental guard later tonight would be the only real problem, and Hrym could trap the creature in a shell of magical ice with ease, since it wouldn’t expect Rodrick’s battered old longsword to have such powers.
Rodrick settled for standing on the balcony, looking at the gardens, thinking about escape routes. The key would be to neutralize the fire elemental, then stroll out of the palace as if he had every right to do so, as he’d done for the past days. From there, a brisk walk to the docks, and away.
A servant brought him an evening meal, and Rodrick ate just enough to keep his strength up. After eating, Rodrick strapped on the jeweled scabbard—which glittered just as impressively as before, though a few more of its jewels had been removed and replaced with glass by a jeweler who seemed to understand the need to raise funds while keeping up appearances—and sheathed his “new” sword, actually Hrym in disguise, in it. The fake Hrym went into the plain scabbard on his back. He sat and waited, running contingencies through his mind, until Nagesh opened the door. “Come,” he said.
Rodrick joined him in the hallway, where Nagesh put a hand on his chest. “Wait. May I take a look at Hrym?”
With a shrug, Rodrick drew the false sword from its place on his back.
Nagesh drew a slim ivory wand from his robe and touched it to the sword, which shimmered, and returned to its original form, revealing itself as an ordinary longsword.
The advisor clucked his tongue. “A nice try, Rodrick. I’m sure such little deceptions work well on oafish country lords out in the provinces, but you must have realized such a switch couldn’t work here.”
“Of course not.” Rodrick fought to keep his voice level. “I was just … testing you.”
“We will call it a childish prank,” Nagesh said. “Just your funny Inner Sea sense of humor.”
“What?” Hrym said. “I can’t see, what’s happening?”
“Nagesh noticed our little joke,” Rodrick said levelly. “He turned the sword we disguised to look like you back into an ordinary length of steel.”
“Oh,” Hrym said. “Well. We can’t help being hilarious.”
“I’m glad you didn’t try it in front of the rajah. He might not have found it amusing. May I?” Nagesh held out his hand, and when Rodrick tried to give him the plain sword in his hand, the advisor tsked. “Not that. We must restore Hrym to his proper glory.”
Rodrick drew his friend from the jeweled scabbard, and Nagesh touched him with the ivory rod, too, dispelling the magic and breaking the spell. “Might as well switch scabbards,” Nagesh said, helpfully holding the longsword while Rodrick sheathed Hrym on his back, then handing the other sword back so Rodrick could place it in the scabbard on his hip.
“How did you know?” Rodrick asked. “Really?”
“My boy,” Nagesh said, “You’re a terrible liar. I could see it in your face. I know about your little theft in the library, too, but don’t worry, I don’t care if you want to sell some useless old scroll to a collector. The librarian assures me there was nothing of value in the area you explored.”
I’m a terrible liar, am I? Rodrick thought. The hell I am. Either there’s been an invisible djinni hovering above my shoulder since I got to Jalmeray, or this bastard can read minds.
He concentrated. Nagesh was sired by goats, he stinks worse than Chelish cheeses, and his beard looks like a rat curled up on his face and died.
Nagesh turned his head, scowling, and looked as if he wanted to speak, but didn’t.
Boo! Rodrick thought, and the man sniffed and looked away.
Mind-reading. Marvelous.
They walked in silence through the palace, Rodrick thinking furiously. They had two weeks to work something out before Hrym would be expected to murder this rajah. Rodrick could ask to spend time with his old friend the sword, and they could come up with … with something … He stopped himself before those thoughts went too far. Nagesh wore a faint smile. How did you plot against someone who could read your mind?
You couldn’t. You had to act impulsively. Rodrick was good at improvising, but was he that good?
Eventually they reached the same inner courtyard where they’d met with the thakur before. The old man was there, writing poetry again beneath a glowing ball of magical light. He lifted his head when they appeared and smiled. “Gentlemen. So pleased to see you. Have you considered my offer?”
Rodrick bowed formally. “We have.”
“I see you have a new sword on your hip,” the thakur said. “May I assume this means you’ve decided to let Hrym go?”
Rodrick nodded. “Hrym and I have been together for a long time, and he was reluctant to leave me, but I convinced him this was the best course. We each want the other to be happy, after all, and I believe he’ll be better off as a treasured companion for your friend the rajah than he would be traipsing around the world with me, earning a living by our wits and our strength of arms. Isn’t that right, Hrym?”
Hrym said, “Oh, yes. Can’t wait.”
The thakur rose and approached, reaching out to clasp Rodrick’s hand. “I appreciate this greatly, Rodrick, and recognize what a sacrifice it is for you. Gold and jewels are no replacement for friendship, I know, but I hope the riches I give you will at least ease the pain of your separation.”
“I’m sure it will,” Rodrick said.
“Nagesh? See that Rodrick is compensated as we discussed. Rodrick, you are welcome to stay in the palace for as long as you wish, or Nagesh can arrange passage for you to any port in the Inner Sea.”
Ha. As if Nagesh would let him go, even if he had pulled off the deception. “I will be delighted to accept your hospitality a bit longer. Opportunities to visit Jalmeray are rare and precious.”
“Quite so,” the thakur said. “Hrym, are you ready to go with me?”
No choice but to go along with it for now. Rodrick reached back and put his hand on his old friend’s hilt.
Then Hrym giggled, a long, demented trill of laughter that began low but gradually intensified in volume until it echoed throughout the courtyard, an unmistakable outburst of madness.