“I have many friends here, although most of them I have not seen in years. Senator Epoxague, for example, is a third cousin of mine and a person of some standing in the court! But Doctor Sagorn feels that we should go to his house, and . . . ah . . . lay low for a few days.” She paused, and added wistfully, “I dislike being furtive, I suppose.”
Rap could see that she was just impatient to find Inos. He pondered for a moment. He dared not call on his foresight for aid—that terrible white agony would be upon him instantly. Instead, he weighed premonitions, and neither course felt any less ominous than the other. He discovered that he was curious to see Sagorn’s dwelling. Andor’s, also, of course. How did the five manage to keep their great secret when they stayed a long time in one place, where they might become known?
But his occult talents were of little help, and that meant he must use his native wits. He did not think they were likely to be of great assistance.
“I am inclined to trust the old man’s judgment, ma’am,” he said uncomfortably. “After all, you can reveal your presence at any time, but you can’t vanish again once you have done so.”
Failing to find an ally, the princess bit her lip. “I suppose that’s true.” She nodded a gracious surrender to Andor and headed for the carriage step, where Gathmor was waiting to hand her in. She paused and looked him over with approval. “You are a very skilled footman, Captain! I hardly ever notice you now, and that is the mark of quality service.”
Gathmor stood stiffly at attention, a seemingly model retainer in shiny livery. “Sailors can turn their hand to anything, ma’am,” he said, ”even if they hate it!”
Princess Kadolan recoiled, then disappeared into her new carriage without another word.
“Well, that’s settled, I suppose,” Andor said, a gleam of amusement on his too-handsome face. His raiment would have cost a factor’s clerk in Krasnegar about three lifetimes’ wages.
Rap gave Foggy a final pat while he looked the rig over once more with farsight.
Andor paused at the carriage step. “The driving will be tricky, my man. I’d best give you directions.” Rap’s nerves were too taut for jesting. ”Just say right or left when you want me to turn. You needn’t shout, either.”
Andor flinched. “You can hear what we say inside?”
“When I want to., Right or left out the gate?” Rap hauled himself up on the perch without waiting for the answer.
“Left!” Andor whispered crossly, and went to join the princess.
Hub was huge. Andor had told him so, long ago, but Rap had never envisioned so many leagues of busy streets and ostentatious architecture, and it all grew grander and grander and busier and busier as he drove steadily into the heart of the capital. Row after row of tenements for the poor gave way gradually to respectable homes, and then to the great houses of the nobles beside parks, to monuments and grandiose public buildings and temples . . . above all, temples. Dozens of temples.
Even in the gloomy drizzle, Hub was overpowering. He could not imagine how glorious it would be in sunshine.
Inside the carriage, Kade was as excited as a child, and Andor smugly acted as tour guide: pointing out, naming, explaining. “The temples are why this is called the City of the Gods, ma’am. Every single God has a temple of Their own. ‘Tis said the Imperial secretariat just keeps building them, so that whenever a new God is added to the list, there is a temple ready waiting to be dedicated.”
“Fancy! Well, I must visit some. And since it must have been the God of Love who appeared to Inos, I should perhaps start with Theirs.”
“Er . . . I advise against it! A lot of dubious characters hang out around that one.”
Rap had little time to eavesdrop on the passengers or admire the city or brood about his future. Despite himself, he was being forced to exercise some of his powers, and he had no idea how mundane drivers could survive unscathed in such tumultuous traffic. Carriages wheeled everywhere, all driven by maniacs, while the rest of the population seemed to be holding footraces and watersports on the same streets in fruitless efforts to stay dry. He thought he would much rather drive over the causeway to Krasnegar at high tide in a gale. He survived only because he had absolute control over his horses, and over all the other horses, as well—his passing provoked much well-phrased cursing.
It was a danger, of course. Some sorcerer might detect him, some warden’s votary out hunting for recruits, but he thought that very unlikely. He had learned how to use his talents now without shaking the ambience much, and he had just become aware of another safeguard, here in Hub—there was a background shimmer of sorcery and magic going on all the time. To track down a whisper of animal mastery amid all that occult hubbub would be almost impossible.
He caught a fleeting view of the golden turrets of East’s palace, and a much briefer glimpse of the Opal Palace beyond, and then Andor’s instructions led him south, away from the center.
Dark was falling by the time he heard the welcome news that the hostelry ahead was his destination. He pulled into the yard and stopped, and for a moment just sat limply in the sudden peace, wiping his eyes and feeling as if he’d been wrestling white bears underwater. Whatever dread fate his foresight had seen in Hub . . . could it be any worse than the traffic?
A groom was holding cheekstraps, Andor counting out gold, Gathmor yelling instructions at the boys swarming over the baggage, and a quartet of trolls was shambling forward.
Rap jumped down and went to thank Smoky and Foggy. Normally he would have insisted on rubbing them down himself, but a quick scan of the stables showed him they would be well boarded—and Andor was sending him glances.
“We’ve only a bowshot to go,” he was saying. “We don’t need porters, do we?” The travelers had amassed an amazing amount of baggage, and that morning he had insisted that it all be crammed into just two trunks.
So Rap exchanged shrugs with Gathmor and said he thought they could manage. Then he beat the sailor to the larger box and hoisted it onto his shoulder with no help from the scowling trolls.
Wielding the princess’s umbrella for her with his usual aplomb, Andor led the way out of the yard, across the street, into a lane too narrow for a carriage, down a short flight of stairs, turned left at an intersection, and into a shadowy court.
Then up some stairs. Across another courtyard . . . The steady downpour was showing no signs of waning, and a spiteful wind hustled it along these constricted passageways. The trunk on Rap’s shoulder grew heavier by the minute. Water was running into his sleeve and down his collar. Ankle-deep floods swirled garbage along gutters and paving alike, and periodically managed to soak his feet.
The next alley was a gap so narrow that pedestrians must walk in single file, and the two human camels had to watch their elbows and knuckles. Nothing was straight for more than a few paces, no angles were right; the buildings were a labyrinth, their height squeezing the darkening sky to narrow slits. More steps . . .
“Some bowshot!” Gathmor grumbled, puffing. “Arrows fly straight.” Rap just wished that the old lady would walk faster.
“Good spot for an ambush.”
“Don’t see anything lurking.” Rap had not been neglecting his farsight, but so far it was confirming what his eyes said—that this was an area of blighted trades and decaying residences, but relatively harmless. The buildings were obviously very old, but that must be normal in Hub.
Gathmor paused to shift his load to his other shoulder. “Easy for you!” he grumbled.
“Yep!” Rap said. “Want me to take both?” But he was using honest muscle, not power, and he was both surprised and pleased to have outlasted the sailor. He shifted his load over, also, though, and they carried on—across a rubbly empty lot, through the gloom of a covered wynd, stopping at last before an inconspicuous door set almost flush with the wall. It was cobbled together from rough planks; it had no distinguishing marks at all.
“And here we are!” Andor said cheerfully. “Not exactly a fashionable address, but certainly not a slum, either. Discreet—”
“Open that door, or I drop this on your toes!” Gathmor snarled.
“Well, if you insist. Magic time!”
Andor placed his lips close to a knothole in the door and whispered something to it. Rap felt a shimmer as it swung open.
“Goodness!” the princess said.