“Blackmail?”
“Of course. In return for his silence he requests asylum in Vallia, a pension, a villa, immunity from Khon the Mak’s vengeance.”
“He will trust us to keep our word — once he’s home?”
“He knows the stories of Dray Prescot.”
“Um.”
This, as you may well imagine, had been a great worry to me. Kov Brannomar, who knew, could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. Khon the Mak would seize the opportunity for deviltry. With all the tensions in the city one more strain in connection with Vallia could tip everything into chaos. That was a very real possibility. Not everyone wanted the treaty between Tolindrin and Vallia that Kov Brannomar had so set his heart on. Khonstanton might realistically want the treaty; if he could use me and the treaty to foment disorder to his own advantage he would do so, do so at a run, by Vox!
The signing of the treaty had been postponed until after Tom’s coronation. He had made the necessary appearance as king at the Feast of Beng T’Tolin and preparations for the festivities of the coronation were well in hand. Khonstanton — and Prince Ortyg — would make use of anything to seize the crown. Tom wasn’t really interested but Brannomar had persuaded him that he was the old king’s choice and must therefore do his duty. Oh, yes, a secret regarding Dray Prescot would act like a fuse in this situation.
Nalgre ti Provender coughed and said: “If I may?” At our assent he wanted to know if, in our turn, we could trust Wocut. “He is able, is he not, to spy on us from a distance?”
Elten Larghos smiled. “The famous Wizards of Loh from Vallia have inspected the embassy and removed certain objects.”
Well, by Vox, I knew what that was about. Deb-Lu or Khe-Hi or Ling-Li made it their business to clean all our overseas buildings of signomants, the magical discs through which wizards may more easily observe at a distance. Also they placed detectors to warn if any wizard had gone into lupu to spy on us.
I told them it looked as though the chances were on our side. Once Wocut had committed himself he knew he would be in our power. I left the details of the transaction to the ambassador and scribbled a quick note to Drak, Emperor of Vallia, suggesting Khe-Hi check it out.
After another drink it was time to get back to the problems facing me here in Oxonium — the numim twins, and, interestingly, a rapscallion of an imp of Sicce called Dimpy.
On the way back to The Crystal Griffon we witnessed another street brawl. This time the skull beating erupted between the adherents of Tolaar, the major religion of these parts, and that other, darker and more mysterious cult of Dokerty. Being practical, cautious fellows, we stood aside and let them get on with it.
As I doffed the buff Vallian costume and resumed the blue shamlak of Tolindrin I reflected that I had omitted to congratulate Elten Larghos Invordun na Thothsturboin on his promotion from consul to full flown ambassador. That must have come as a result of his work respecting the succession and the treaty. My lad Drak, like me, was overfond of rewarding people. In that he showed a trait at variance with the generality of his personality, which was stern and upright. Yet, as Delia knew, he was a loving and loyal son. So the fact that the Emperor of Vallia had chosen to elevate his representative in Tolindrin to the heights of full ambassador must strike Kov Brannomar as a positive omen of good relations between the two countries. Alliance, he must assume, was just over the horizon.
I asked Nalgre to congratulate Larghos for me, and added: “I think I’ll keep the Vallian clothes — if that’s all right.”
“Of course. They may serve again.”
Having given Nalgre my thanks and bid him remberee I trotted off back to Nandisha’s palace. The cable cars still ran at night, at less frequent intervals. There were quite a lot of people about and everyone looked keyed up, tense. Trouble seemed to smoke on the air. The quicker the coronation took place and the treaty with Vallia signed, the quicker Oxonium could settle down.
Only a few lights burned in the palace as I answered the guard’s challenge and went in. I gave an almighty yawn. A left-over scrap of vosk pie and a swingeing draught of red wine tucked away, and into bed I crawled and thought my last thought of every day, closed my eyes and awoke to see Fweygo bending over me, saying: “Up, you lazy gyp! Up!”
Blinking and stretching I tumbled out. I’d missed the first breakfast. On the way down Fweygo said: “Tiri’s made up her mind. She’s off today.”
I grunted. Fweygo and I were employed by Ranaj on behalf of Nandisha. The lady Tirivenswatha was a guest, staying on here in the circumstances of our acquaintance with the princess. The dancing girl had responsibilities at the Temple of Cymbaro and San Paynor, the chief priest before Cymbaro at his shrine in Oxonium, required her return. She was already eating at the second breakfast when we went in, the youngster Dimpy, looking resentful, sitting at her side. She pouted just a trifle and her lower lip stuck out. She said: “I love my work in the shrine and San Paynor. But I do like living here. In the dormitory with the other girls... Well, it’s not like here.”
“We’ll come and visit you,” Fweygo told her.
“All these religions are fakes.” Dimpy spoke around a mouthful of breakfast. “All they want is your money.”
“Oh, Dimpy, you are dreadful!”
“Well, it’s true, by Dromang!”
They glared at each other, eyeball to eyeball, high of color and breathing too rapidly. Fweygo’s sly glance in my direction and my own reading of the situation curved my hard old lips a fraction. If Dimpy’s business had not been done for him by this curvaceous and lively lass then I hadn’t much idea of true romance. They were both of them quite clearly oblivious of anyone else in the refectory. Fweygo’s tail hand swept across the table and knocked over a jug. The clatter brought them out of that locked glance of future passion. I heaved up a sigh inside myself — Delia! Delia!
I wanted to know what Dimpy intended to do about the frame-up and as we finished breakfast he told us his story. He was worried over his mother and sisters. If Sleed the Slick harmed them, Dimpy did not wish to face the consequences of that horrific thought.
“And it’s not safe for you to return to the Hellraisers?” Tiri’s question was just too artless to pass muster.
All the same, Dimpy bit. “I know how much I owe you for your help. Believe me, I am very grateful. But I’ll hafta go back.”
“We’ll speak to Ranaj,” said Fweygo in a casual way. “He’ll find you a job in the palace. That’ll be better than thieving for a living.”
Dimpy flared up. “I’m not a thief! I told you, that was a stupid Hellraiser test. Anyway, anything we take up here’s been taken from us down there before!”
Tiri started up then and Fweygo and I realized when we weren’t wanted. Dimpy was in an awkward position. He had a splendid chance to get out of the warrens, one not easily come by in the normal course of events, yet the problem of his family remained. I fancied young Tirivenswatha would have a hand in sorting out what eventuated. They made a fine couple, at that. The idea was not too ridiculous. We joined a group where Fat Lardo, one of the cooks, was retailing the latest gossip from the streets.
Yet another beautiful young girl had been found dead. Her naked and bloody body had been discovered early this morning dumped in the gutter of Penitence Alley which ran alongside the Temple of Tolaar. She had been murdered in a most brutal fashion, badly cut up, and her heart had not been found.
“Who was she?” Fweygo wanted to know.
“Paline Lanto. She was a respectable shop girl.”
“A lover’s tiff?”
Oily Nath, the fry-up artist, burst out: “Blood and guts everywhere? Some lover! Some tiff!”
That appeared an appropriate comment and everyone solemnly nodded heads. Poor little Paline Lanto was only the last in a horrific line of murder victims. All had been nauseatingly mutilated. Affairs of this nature are best left to the proper authorities. The City Guard ought to be investigating. So far they had told us nothing regarding Byrom’s kidnapping and I doubted if they’d have any greater success over these murders.
A waft of cold air breezed over us and Fweygo looked around sharply, one of his fists going to the hilt of his sword.
Directly opposite me a blue mist irradiated by an inner glow formed. I did not change expression; but I felt my heart give an almighty thump.
Slowly the blue mist thickened and took on the form of a man in a long robe. The familiar kindly features of San Deb-Lu beamed out at me. No one took any notice. Our comrade Wizard of Loh had powers, by Zair, powers! He beckoned. I stood up, excusing myself, and followed the apparition out and along the passage to a storeroom.
“Lahal, Jak.”
“Lahal, San.”
“This fellow Wocut — calls himself a sorcerer. Odd Type.” By the inflexion in his voice I could tell Deb-Lu was using capital letters to express deeper meanings to his words. “I’ve already checked him out. In his desire to emigrate to Vallia I Believe Him To Be Sincere.” Deb-Lu went on to say that Drak had given his assent and that in Vondium Wocut would have a very close eye kept on him by Khe-Hi and Ling-Li. So, naturally, I wanted to know all the news from home, and the sorcerer retailed many fascinating details.
He finished by saying in his doubtful voice: “I cannot pretend to understand why you remain here in Balintol, Dray. I do know there is a reason. Vallia muchly wants this treaty for the airboats and riding animals Tolindrin can provide. If I—”
I dared to interrupt the Wizard of Loh.
“The old king here did not approve of most sorcery. It is mostly religion and its mysteries. And I believe there are many.”
He sniffed. “Well, I must go. It is good to see you again, Dray. Leave your friend Wocut to us. Now I bid you remberee.”
“Remberee, Deb-Lu.”
Without a plop of displaced air, phut, he was gone.
Because of that meeting, so eerie to someone who does not do much business with wizards, I went to tell Fweygo I would go with Tiri to the shrine of Cymbaro. He nodded emphatically. “Yes. The greater danger lies with the lion children, and so I should be here.”
Well, by Krun, and what else would you expect?
My words to Deb-Lu about religion here barely scratched the surface. There were temples to many goddesses and gods and minor godlings on all the hills and a motley bunch to form any sort of pantheon they were, too. Unlike our Ancient Greeks they didn’t have a temple to the unknown god. Any cult could run up a shrine, always provided they paid their taxes to the king, promptly and in full. The thought occurred to me to wonder if wriggling out of paying taxes was the reason why the red-robed priests of Dokerty met secretly, at night and in remote ruins.
Tiri had more luggage now than when we’d arrived and Ranaj appointed a porter to carry it for her to the temple. Standing by the doorway with her baggage at her feet, she looked a little forlorn. The porter, a powerful Brukaj, hovered, waiting.
As I approached, Dimpy appeared from the opposite direction and walked sturdily towards us, head up, color high. I could guess what he intended to do.
At that moment the blue wavering radiance formed before me and the phantom shape of Deb-Lu appeared, still smiling. He raised a hand. Striding on, Dimpy marched clean through that ghostly apparition. He shivered, suddenly, and looked about with wary eyes, as though expecting an ambush.
“By Dromang! What was that?” He lost some of his color.
Tiri’s imperious little head twitched up and she frowned. In her clear acid voice, she said: “Unbelievers believe many foolish things, fambly.”
Dimpy bristled at that. Deb-Lu said: “What you suspected is perfectly correct, Dray. The young prince is being held prisoner by this charming fellow Prince Ortyg at one of his hideouts down below.”
“Thank you, Deb-Lu. Directions?”
Since the death of the Fristle, Fonnell the Fractious, his gang had split up. Some of the olive-green clad rogues had formed a smaller gang, some had joined up with other groupings of the ruffians down in the warrens and Ranaj — and King Tom — had made it their business to keep tabs on them. I had an idea of some of the spies they used; not all. Ortyg, who had employed Fonnell, must be continuing to use some members of the old olive-green gang.
The Wizard of Loh told me the way to the particular warren. He finished: “By the Seven Arcades, Drak! They’re a mighty unhealthy bunch there.”
“Oh, aye.”
“You Watch Out. This whippersnapper Prince Ortyg is what people in these parts, I believe, call a right blintz.”
“They do. All the same, as ever, I wonder if he really—”
“Like your doubts about Phu-Si-Yantong?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
Tiri and Dimpy were eyeing each other, not hearing a word we said. The porter stared vacantly about, rubbing his head. Oh, yes, by Vox. Wizards of Loh have powers!
By those same powers my sorcerous comrade cloaked my own words. I asked him if Byrom stood in immediate danger and was reassured by the reply. What the kidnappers’ plans were we did not know. The fact that there was no ransom demand was certainly worrying; Deb-Lu considered they wanted something more than merely money, or putting Nandisha’s son out of the running for the crown. When the princess was distracted past her wits’ end, Deb-Lu suggested, then the weasel-faced Prince Ortyg would strike.
Deb-Lu-Quienyin just put up his hand in time to prevent his bulbous turban from toppling over an ear. I enjoyed the sight, by Krun! After a few more words we said the remberees and Deb-Lu vanished.
With Fweygo to guard the numims I had two options. Tiri or Byrom. Ranaj was happy to provide an escort for the temple dancer and Dimpy stoutly declared his intention of going along. I excused myself, without explanation, and made the necessary preparations.
Within the bur I was kitted up and off into the devil’s kitchens of the stews between the hills.
An arrow chinked off the wall a handbreadth from my head. I slid into the shadow of an ale barrel like a ferret down a rabbit hole.
Across the intersection of roads running at right angles through two valleys a crude barricade had been thrown up. Tables, wardrobes, barrels, upended carts, all jumbled together to make an obstacle to Nagzalla’s Nasty Neemus. They shot at the defenders of the dismal street at my back and tried a charge which carried some of the barricade. The Raging Volcanoes fell back, slashing axes about in desperation.