The price of victory- - Thieves World 13 (93 page)

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these? You come out with me and I'll be generous too!"

The girl gave him a calculating glance. Ottar wasn't bad-looking, re ally. He pressed a wet kiss into the palm of her hand and she felt a warm glow.

"Tonight, then?"

She nodded, laughing, and dropping the silver ball into the pocket of her apron, skipped away. She had scarcely turned the comer before her swain was forgotten. The silver glittered so charmingly. She could hardly keep from pulling it out to fondle, even when she was working.

That night she dreamed of riding in a gilded litter borne by matched slaves, while a whole troop of barbarian warriors who looked like Ottar marched behind. But the litter turned into a darkened alley. She screamed as it was set down roughly, but no one heard. And then hard hands were pulling her out into the street, tearing at her clothing. Hard bodies thrust against hers.

The next morning, she was clumsy as she served breakfast for her Beysib lady, who was on duty with her mistress that day. As she started to pass a basket of oranges, she tripped, and the silver ball fell out of her apron and rolled across the floor.

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"How lovely!" said the Beysa, and held out her hand.

496 STEALERS' SKY

Lalo laid in the undercoat of color for the background with long, smooth strokes of his brush. He knew that Molin Torchholder was watching him, but he continued to paint tranquilly. It was mindless la bor, but the durability of the final product might depend on the care he took now. At least there was no way the priest could quarrel with him about this part of the job. The air was beginning to heat as the day wore onward, but it was still reasonably comfortable beneath the awning's dappled shade. He painted quickly.

"You're not stupid, and I know you don't lack imagination," said Molin Torchholder suddenly. "I don't understand how you remain so calm."

The brush splattered paint across white space, and Lalo reached for a rag. He finished wiping the color away, then turned to stare at his patron, his own self-mockery deepening as he realized that Torchholder had not even noticed his clumsiness.

"Other people wear me out with their pleas for place and position, or their accusations against those to whom I've given them. Other people wear themselves out suspecting each other of exotic forms of treason. But not you, Lalo . . - why?"

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Lalo washed out his paintbrush, considering the question. "Perhaps because I want different things?"

"Ah—" The priest nodded. He did not look as if he had slept well.

"And what are your ambitions. Master Limner?"

"To feed my family ... to paint the truth ... to stay alive . . ." Lalo said slowly. "That's seemed ambition enough, these past few years."

Molin Torchholder answered with a snort of laughter,

"I envy you. The palace was a madhouse this morning ... a mad house. Two people came to tell me that someone had bribed the work men to leave weaknesses in my walls. One thought it was agents of the old Emperor. The other was sure that it was the new one, setting things up so that he can attack Sanctuary. Vashanka's rod! If Theron showed up right now I'd hand him the keys!"

Lalo suppressed a smile. In the Aphrodisia House they had demon lovers. In the palace it stood to reason that they would have nightmares about intrigue,

"Somebody else said that the prince had been poisoned, and just as I was escaping from him, one of the astrologers came running up with
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some tale that a piece of the Nisibisi Power Globe had been found! No truth to it, of course. I checked. But that one had me remembering when staying alive was almost ambition enough for me!"

Lalo dropped his brush.

497

I'm calm. he told himself. I'm calm. Torchholder just said so. But the priest's words reminded him uncomfortably of what Gilla had said. He straightened slowly and found that the priest was staring at him.

"Now why, I wonder, should that news trouble you?"

"No one wants those days to come again." Lalo dipped his brush in the paint and carefully stroked along a borderline. "Some of the girls at the Aphrodisia House were having bad dreams too. I drew pictures of them, changed the pictures a little, and the trouble seems to be going away. I'm sure there's no connection, though."

"Of course not." Molin Torchholder rose to his feet and stood looking over Lalo's shoulder. "But you didn't do badly, Master Limner. You learned a lot in those days. You want to paint the truth, you say. But we both know that you already can. I keep wondering when you're going to do something with that power."

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And with that parting shot he moved onward, leaving Lalo staring unseeing at the wall.

The dead man gets to his feet grinning, his skin still-the color of a fish's belly from the beynit venom in his veins.

"You betrayed me!" The Seysa takes a step backward, aware of the muscular grip of her serpent around her upper arm as its head darts forward defensively. "/ killed you!"

"Yes . . . yes." The creature grins. "And how many more? You killed your own people, Beysaf Their blood cries out for revenge!"

"But it was my duty!" Dimly she remembers that this has happened to her before. She must deny it, but it has never been so real! "And for you above all to betray me ... / let you love me, Tovek—you were a Burek man!"

"The killing went on too long . . ."He comes towards her with out stretched hands and the beynit hisses angrily.

"I stopped it," she cries. "House Burek fled the Empire. Why are you haunting me? We live now in another land!"

"Beysa, you will bring destruction to all who love you. You cannot escape
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the past!"

Tovek's hands close on her shoulders, cold, slippery with blood, but she cannot get away. The beynit strikes at him and he laughs. And now his face is changing; alien features writhe beneath the pallid skin. She sees fair hair and light, astonished eyes that harden as they focus on her. Then the serpent strikes again . . .

"Ki-thus! Kadakithis! No!" Her shriek tears the heart from her breast. Hissing—the beynit's hissing roared in her ears. Her fingers tightened on muscular coils that constricted beneath smooth skin.

498

"Shupansea! My lady, be still now—it was a dream . . ."

"The prince—" she whispered.

"He is here."

The Beysa's eyes flew open. His hair was still tousled with sleep, his eyes alarmed, just as in her dream. For a moment she thought she saw that other figure too, shadowy, already fading away. As the prince started towards her, Lady Kurrekai stepped between them. The Beysib
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woman's arm already bore the twin puncture marks where the beynit had struck her. Her own snake coiled around her neck protectively, tongue flickering as it tested the air; the bite of the Beysa's would do her no harm beyond a little dizziness, but Kadakithis had no such immunity!

"Kurrekai, keep him away from me!" He looked hurt. She choked

back a sob.

"Wait a few moments longer, my lord," Lady Kurrekai said quietly.

"When she is fully awake the serpent will calm itself. Then you may

come to her."

Shupansea lay back, breathing deeply. It had been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. Tovek's bones were dust in the earth of the Glorious Home, and she was safe in Sanctuary.

"And this was not the first nightmare?" the prince was saying now.

"There was only one yesterday," said Kurrekai, "but this is the third tonight, and it is not yet dawn. She will not let me try to drug her, but she must sleep. Perhaps she will listen to you."

The Beysa pushed herself upright against her cushions with a sigh.
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"Shu-sea, love, what were you dreaming of?" The prince settled him self carefully on the foot of her bed and took her outstretched hand.

"A man who betrayed me before I ever laid eyes on you!"

"The traitor Tovek . . ." said Kurrekai bitterly.

"Holy Mother Bey," whispered the Beysa, "did you see him too?" Aroused by her emotion, the beynit lifted its head, then settled between her full breasts again.

"And before that it was two of those Stepsons," said the lady-in-wait ing implacably, "marching bold as brass down the hall! The guard saw them too, but he thought it was his own nightmare!"

"Lock the snake up and sleep with me!" cried the prince. Both women stared at him. "I know you don't like to leave it, but you have to rest'"

"Kadakithis, I could kill you . . ." Shupansea said slowly. "Even without the beynit. My blood is poison, Ki-thus! Oh! If you were Beysib you would understand!" They gazed at each other across a chasm of race and culture that mocked their clasped hands.

"I understand that I love you," he said finally. "And I am still prince

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499

in Sanctuary. If you cannot rest, then no man of learning in this town is going to sleep either until you are free!"

"Another week and I should be able to get rooms of my own," said Cappen Varra, handing his empty plate to Gilla for a second helping of pie. "Playing during the intermissions at Feltheryn's theater may not be exactly what I would have chosen, but the work is regular'"

"You're welcome to stay on here," said Gilla.

"Well, I need more privacy to practice, you know—I don't like to think I'm disturbing you!" Cappen's glance caught Lab's in warning, then flicked away again.

"But who could mind listening to your music?" Gilla exclaimed.

Lalo suppressed a smile. He suspected that it was not the practice of music that the minstrel had in mind. Feltheryn had hired a new actress for their latest production, and Cappen was already courting her.

Replete, they were all pushing their plates aside when there was a
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knock on the door.

"Open up! Lord Torchholder's orders—open up in rhere!"

Latilla, too young to remember the times when a knock on the door was a signal to hide, was already scampering to obey. Lalo opened his mouth to call her back, then shut it again. If they were Torchholder's men he had nothing to fear. Did he? He fought back memories of the night when Coricidius the Vizier had sent the Hell-Hounds to pluck Lalo from his bed. Surely the priest who had been the closest thing he ever had to a patron could mean no harm to him.

"What does Lord Torchholder want with me at this hour?" he asked as the guardsmen pushed into the room.

"Didn't say. You're to come with us, bring your drawing things."

"He can't be wanting Lalo to draw a picture for him at this hour!" exclaimed Gilla. The man shrugged.

"Got my orders. That's all I know."

It had to be more than artwork, thought Lalo, gathering up his things. Suddenly he remembered his conversation with the priest the previous morning. Darios was watching him, a little pale, biting his lip as if he wanted to speak but was not sure—

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"I want to bring my apprentice with me too—" Lalo turned, satchel in hand, and Darios stood up eagerly.

"Got no orders—" the guard began.

"Oh, what does it matter!" exclaimed one of the other men. "He said to get the limner quickly. Can't hurt to take two!"

500 STEALERS' SKY

They moved quickly through the streets of the city. Even in the Maze folk got out of the way of a well-armed troop who seemed to know their business. Lalo had never gone across town so fast. But it was only as the guards conducted him up the broad staircase towards the royal suites instead of downward to the Hall of Justice lockup that he realized how great his fear had been.

The air in the upper corridor was heavy with the scent of incense and expensive perfume. Embroidered hangings glowed on the walls and Lalo blinked, seeing with doubled vision the flicker of lamplight on figured tapestries and the glimmering afterimages of richly robed courtiers and armored men.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, opened them abruptly as he
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heard a low laugh and saw before him the agile form, the sardonic grin, and the gleaming knife of the assassin Zanderei.

"Watch out!" He stopped short and the guard behind him bumped into him, swearing. "He's got a knife!"

"Who? Where?" Swords flared from their sheaths and Lalo was thrust hard against the wall. "You fools, jumping at shadows! There's nobody here!"

Lalo blinked. There was no one now, but he had seen something, or why should he suddenly think of a man who had been dead for years?

"They're all jumping at shadows here, if you ask me," muttered one of the men as they started forward again.

Darios pressed close to him, twitching like a nervous horse. "I thought I saw my old master," he whispered. "But maybe it's the incense—Lalo, somebody has been doing exorcisms here!"