Swords: 06 - The Third Book of Lost Swords - Stonecutter's Story (14 page)

      
At last his guide did turn. Stopping at a doorway, the urchin indicated with a brief gesture that Kasimir was to enter it. Then he darted away to vanish in the crowded street.

      
Kasimir looked the place over; at first glance it appeared quite innocuous, a cheap tearoom three-quarters full of customers. He went in. Seeing no one he could recognize, he took a chair at one of the empty tables and waited for what would happen next.

      
A waiter came and he ordered tea. Then somehow, before he had any clue that she was near, Natalia was standing at his table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

      
She was dressed approximately as he had seen her at their last scheduled meeting, and today she looked tired but still energetic. When their eyes met, Kasimir did his best to look as innocent as he must have been when they first encountered each other.

      
Natalia’s expression was one of calm alertness, which told him nothing. There was a moment of silence, which threatened to stretch out to an awkward length.

      
“So,” Kasimir began at last, clearing his throat. “You have ceased to be a model?”

      
“I posed this morning. But in another day or two I am going to quit.” She paused. Her remarkable eyes flickered, and her husky voice changed. “Kasimir—when did you last see me?”

      
“At the same moment that you saw me last.” His tea had arrived, and he took a deliberate sip, his eyes not leaving hers. “Would you like to order something?”

      
Natalia’s total control of her expression lapsed. “All right. I am very sorry that I almost killed you last night. The moment I realized it was you, I gave up trying to kill you and ran away instead.”

      
“For which I am grateful,” Kasimir said. “We both survived last night, and I am glad of it. Where is the Sword now?”

      
“First I would like some tea.” She put out a hand to detain a passing servant, and placed her order. Then she turned back to Kasimir and spoke in a low voice. “I came here today, taking a considerable risk, to talk to you about that.”

      
He said briskly: “It seems we are both accustomed to taking some risks in the course of our jobs. How much do your people want for Stonecutter?”

      
Natalia shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t be in such a hurry. It’s not that easy.”

      
“Why not? This is your business, isn’t it? Stealing things and selling them for the best price you can get? Or it’s a good part of your business anyway, I should think.”

      
“The idea seems to make you angry, Kasimir.”

      
“Well, I suppose it does. I’m angry that you made a fool of me. But that’s beside the point, isn’t it?”

      
“I suppose it is. Well, as for selling you the Sword, I can’t quite do that yet.”

      
“What does that mean? We haven’t even started haggling about the price.”

      
She turned her head to right and left, as if trying to make sure that they were not being overheard. It seemed highly unlikely that anyone could eavesdrop in the noisy room. Then she said: “It means that the organization I work for has concluded an agreement with the Red Temple. According to the agreement, de Borron must be allowed to use the Sword to finish his work there—he has until the first day of the Festival to complete it. Then the Sword comes back to us, and we are free to make some other disposition of it.”

      
“The Red Temple doesn’t mind it being known that they’re using stolen property.”

      
“You won’t be able to prove it, or do anything about it.”

      
“The Festival begins day after tomorrow.”

      
“Exactly. So you won’t have long to wait.”

      
“So in my view right now shouldn’t be too soon for us to begin our bargaining.”

      
“It is a little too soon.” Her voice was firm.

      
“I see. Perhaps you’ll be able to get in a quick robbery or two, at the Blue Temple, say, before you’ll accept our ransom.”

      
Natalia’s face was becoming totally unreadable again. “I won’t insist on anything like that.”

      
“And when do you want to discuss price? I assume there will be others bidding against us.”

      
“I will tell you when the time has come to discuss price. And now you had better go.”

      
“Just answer me one question first—”

      
“Now you had better go.”

      
This, he thought, was Natalia’s territory. He pushed back his chair and went.
 

Chapter Twelve

      
It was a tribute to his sense of direction, Kasimir thought, that he was able to reorient himself, and make his way out of the quarter of extra-narrow streets near the White Temple after making no more than one false start. In a few moments he was in half-familiar thoroughfares again, and heading back in the direction of the Inn of the Refreshed Travelers. He was angry, and thinking furiously as he walked.

      
When he tried to examine the reasons for his anger he understood that it had several causes. Part of it, he supposed, was a delayed reaction to his being nearly killed, probably by the very weapon he was supposed to be recovering, in the hands of a young woman who had made a fool of him. It did not help a bit to realize that he still found her attractive. And part of his anger was a result of his still being manipulated, largely by the same person—made to attend upon her, until it should be convenient for her to talk business. He was not really in control of anything.

      
Immersed in gloomy meditations of this kind, he was still at some distance from the inn when he heard his name called, jarring his attention back into focus on the world around him. Looking up he saw one of the Firozpur troopers of Komi’s squad, who was standing lounging in front of a tavern as if he had been stationed there simply to watch the street. When Kasimir approached, the man informed him that he was wanted inside the tavern.

      
When Kasimir demanded an explanation, the trooper only shrugged. Leaving the man in the street, Kasimir entered the tavern, pausing for a moment just past the threshold to allow his eyes to accustom themselves to the relative dimness.

      
The general layout of this place reminded him strongly of the teahouse he had just left, except that here the windows were somewhat smaller and the room as a result notably darker.

      
Presently Kasimir caught sight of the Captain and the Magistrate, who were established at a table toward the rear of the large room, from which vantage point they were able to observe almost everything that went on inside the tavern, and something of the street outside. The two older men both waved to Kasimir. When he reached their table and pulled out a chair, they both expressed their pleasure that he was still alive.

      
“You sound surprised to see that I am,” he said grimly as he sat down.

      
Wen Chang shook his head. “Not really that. Come, sit down and tell us of your meeting with the fair Natalia.”

      
“We already know,” put in Almagro, “that she arranged for you to be escorted out of the White Temple and through the bazaar. It was there that my people lost sight of you.”

      
“Perhaps,” said Kasimir, “it was just as well that they did.” He ordered a mug of beer from a passing barmaid, and began to tell his mentors as concisely as possible the details of his meeting with the woman in the teahouse.

      
The Captain, listening intently, scowled and squinted and tugged at his beard. “So, the lady implies she’s willing to make a deal with us—but not just yet, if I understand her. And she’s some kind of leader in her gang, or wants to be.”

      
“That was certainly my impression,” said Kasimir.

      
“I’d say she must be fairly new in town, or I’d have run into her somewhere before.”

      
“A most reasonable deduction,” agreed Wen Chang. “Though most likely she has associates who are very familiar with the city.”

      
The Captain scowled at him thoughtfully, then faced back to the young physician. “So then, neither of you got down to the real business? I mean, mentioning any specific sums of money?”

      
“She refused to do so. And I couldn’t very well open the bidding, not knowing how much Prince al-Farabi might be prepared to pay to get back his Sword. Also I am generally unfamiliar with this business of paying ransoms.”

      
Wen Chang nodded. “It had seemed to me that the time was ripe for negotiation. But perhaps not. I wonder … is it possible that the young lady does not have the Sword in her possession at all?”

      
“If one of the gang carried it away from the warehouse—”

      
“One of ‘the’ gang, you say. But what if there is more than one gang involved?”

      
The Captain had been listening silently to this last exchange, but it was plain from the expression on his face that the more he thought about the situation, the less he felt he understood it.

      
“Don’t know how much of her story we ought to believe, about an agreement with the Red Temple and all that. It would seem to contradict this talk of a move being planned against the Blue Temple by the people who have the Sword.”

      
Wen Chang took a sturdy draught from his mug, then delicately stroked foam from his black mustache. “The contradiction does not necessarily arise. The more times these enterprising criminals can profit from their loot, the happier they should be. First they rent the Sword to the Red Temple for a high fee; a few days later they use it to break into the Blue Temple; and then lastly they sell it back to its rightful owner for a high price.”

      
“You really think they intend doing all that, Magistrate?” The Captain squinted as if the thought pained him.

      
“It is certainly a possibility. But what I think most strongly now is that we must contrive somehow to find out whether the Sword is really being used in the Red Temple as the lady said. Is Stonecutter actually there, and under what circumstances? Is it on loan from some gang of criminals? Is it in the hands of Robert de Borron, and is he actually using it in his work?” Wen Chang paused. “If so, what are the chances of our taking it away from him?”

      
Here the Magistrate broke off to order another round of drinks. As soon as it arrived the two experienced investigators began planning their next move.

      
Almagro was not optimistic. “If it comes down to our getting into the Red Temple, maybe being able to take the Sword right out of there with us—well.” The Captain shook his head and began to spell out some of the difficulties as he perceived them. “If we were just to try to push our way in there, like we did at the old warehouse—well, this is a very different situation. To begin with, there’s not much chance that we’d ever get a look at the Sword before it was spirited away somewhere. It’d take an army to search that place—the Red Temple—properly, and I can’t order up an army without letting my superiors know what I’m about.

      
“For another thing, they have their own security force there in the temple—such as it is.” Here he paused, and the three men exchanged faint smiles, as at a joke familiar to all. It was received wisdom that Red Temple security people could be counted on for very little, and were more likely than not to show up for duty drunk, or stoned on other drugs than alcohol.

      
Almagro’s smile faded quickly again as he continued. “One thing they do have that works is plenty of political influence. It would probably be more than my badge of office is worth to go barging in there on my own.”

      
Kasimir asked: “Even if you were sure of recovering the Sword of Siege by doing so?”

      
Almagro rubbed his forehead doubtfully. “Well. That’d certainly make a difference. But I can’t be sure of anything like that, can I?”

      
Wen Chang thought a little, and sighed, and shook his head reluctantly. “No, my friend. Whatever plan we concoct, no one can assure you of its success.”

      
“Well, then.” The Captain drank, and ran his fingers through his hair, and drank again, and thought. The impression he gave was that the more he thought about his situation the worse it looked to him. “I wonder if I ought to go to the Hetman himself and tell him at least that the Sword of Siege is here in the city somewhere, and that we’re looking for it.”

      
“You know him better than I—”

      
“Aye, that’s why I’m wondering.”

      
“—but it occurs to me that it might be best to tell him only if—or when—Stonecutter has actually been recovered.”

      
“There is something in what you say.”

      
The two older men lifted their mugs simultaneously, as if they were toasting each other, or perhaps harking back to old times, sharing some private joke or ritual.

      
Then Wen Chang was abruptly serious again. He took the merest sip from his mug, leaned back in his chair again, and said, “Yes, I think we must get someone into the Red Temple to take a look around for us, and do it as soon as possible. Tonight, if we can.”

      
“Tonight?”

      
“If the sculptor is as desperate to complete his work as everything indicates, then he will be working late, with or without the help of the Sword we are looking for.”

      
“Sculpting after dark?”

      
“I have no doubt that the Red Temple can provide him with some kind of effective light. I suppose you, the Watch, have no regular agents in place within the temple upon whom you can rely?”

      
“Hah. The Watch has no agents at all in there that I know of. I wish we did. More likely than not it’s working the other way around. Red Temple has a lot more money to spend on bribes than I do.”

      
“Well, then. Do you have anyone available to be sent in? Preferably someone who knows his or her way around inside the temple?”

      
“Hah! I’d say that most of my men know the public parts of that building only too well. But as for the rest of the place, no, I don’t think so. And now that the temple’s being remodeled, the layout will be changed anyway. Especially in the parts we most want to see, upstairs where the statues are being carved. No, I can’t say that I have anyone I’d want to try sending in there.”

      
Both of the older men turned their heads to gaze at Kasimir. He had been expecting this development for some time now. He drank from his mug and quietly set it down.

      
“Then I suppose it is up to me to go in again,” he said. “If I can. Well, I’m willing.”

      
Wen Chang studied him through narrow appraising eyes.

      
Almagro looked relieved. “As to simply getting into the place,” he offered, “I can be of some help there. I can get the names of some of their security people who are more than ordinarily amenable to bribes, and probably I can find out when and where some of those people are likely to be on duty. I’m afraid, though, that if I were to try to send one of my own people in there the Red priests would know about it before he ever arrived.”

* * *

      
Returning to the inn ahead of the others, Kasimir tried to get some rest, and made what other preparations he and Wen Chang thought necessary. Near sunset he held a final conference with the Magistrate, and with Captain Almagro who had come to give him some final directions. Then Kasimir was on his way.

      
The sun had set before Kasimir arrived in the square in front of the Red Temple, whose facade was aglow with the red of firelight from its numerous torches and iron fire baskets. As usual, nightfall meant an increase in business at the Houses of Pleasure, and as he approached the building he fell in with an almost steady stream of customers, the great majority of them men.

      
He was within a few meters of the entrance when his eye was caught by a stray gleam of light, coming from above, somewhere within the building, that proceeded from no ordinary fire. When the realization struck him that the source of the peculiar light must be in or very near the artists’ studio on the fifth or sixth floor, Kasimir stepped aside from the stream of customers to stand for a moment near the entrance with his head craned back.

      
He had to find the precisely correct position before he could see the light again. But at last there was the tiny gleam: very steady and bright, pale as daylight. Extraordinary. Even, he thought, unearthly looking. Perhaps, Kasimir thought, the illumination was being produced by some kind of magic. Whatever its ultimate source, the light must be leaking out of the studio through a crevice between some of the draped canvases and drop cloths that shrouded the walls of the sculptor’s temporary workshop. And whatever the source, it certainly looked bright enough to allow Robert de Borron and his crew to continue working after dark. Suddenly it occurred to Kasimir that this light had a strong resemblance to the Old World votive lamp on Ardneh’s altar in the White Temple.

      
The intermittent stream of men around Kasimir, intent on thoughts of what they were going to do once they got inside the temple, were ignoring him and the strange light alike. Now more than ever determined to make this mission a success, he rejoined the stream of customers.

      
Shuffling through the line of impatient customers at the entrance, Kasimir paid his small coin there like everyone else, and as a member of an anonymous throng entered the interior of the temple. At night the public lobbies, lighted by fire, were even redder than during the day. The fires made this part of the building somewhat too warm. Cheerful music throbbed here, played in a rapid tempo by concealed musicians.

      
On Kasimir’s previous visit he had not penetrated this deeply into the public areas. But nothing here was very much different from any other Red Temple that he had ever visited. Signs, well lighted and elaborately designed, relying heavily on iconography as a courtesy to clients who had trouble with their letters, indicated the way to the various Houses contained within the establishment.