Azak burned in silence in the background.
“I am Inosolan of Krasnegar, and this must be Lady Eigaze.”
In the coach, the dumpy lady lowered her eyebrows skeptically. “My name is hardly a secret.”
“Kade has told me much about you.”
“For example?”
“You spent a summer at Kinvale, and won the heart of a young hussar by the name of . . . Ionfer, I think.”
“My husband is Praetor Ionfeu. You will have to do better than that.”
“Well, she also mentioned a certain spinet recital where the spinet would not stay in tune, possibly because of a hedgehog crawling around its insides. And a covered soup tureen, which, when the footman lifted the lid in front of Ekka—”
“Inosolan!” the woman shrilled. “Whatever happened to your face, child!” She came stumbling down the steps in the rain and threw her arms around Inos.
“May the Gods be with you next time, Tribune,” the brash young hussar remarked in a pleased voice.
3
Kade habitually made pretense of being scatterbrained. Her former protege, Lady Eigaze, carried imitation to the point of parody; she maundered and sniggered and prattled. But she was a senator’s daughter and had a will of her own when she chose to show it. One glimpse of the battered and bleeding Char was enough to slide the velvet hand into the iron glove. Her flabby form seemed to stiffen into muscle, and she glanced up meaningfully at her bold escort.
“Tiffy, darling?” she murmured dangerously. “Do something?”
He beamed at the tribune. “Sir,” he said . . .
Then the full weight of the Imperial establishment came crashing down on that unfortunate officer. He found himself requisitioning a coach and rushing off in person with his victim to the finest military hospital in Hub, with Varrun along as a witness, and under strict orders to report in person to the Lady Eigaze before the sun set, lest his career be permanently blighted.
The lady was tough. When Inos presented a gigantic barbarian as her husband, Sultan Azak of Arakkaran, Eigaze smiled without a blink and offered her fingers to be kissed. Azak excused himself on the grounds that he was too travel-soiled to touch her.
And when Inos protested that she also was unfit even to enter the senator’s grand coach with its fine poplin upholstery, Eigaze again snapped her fingers to bring forth a miracle. The Number One Post Inn produced hot tubs and soft towels and clean raiment. Inos felt her head swim at the sudden release of tension. The ensuing meal was the finest she had eaten in weeks, and yet all she could register was the unending stream of babbling nonsense proceeding from her distant cousin, and the expression of astonishment and reluctant respect on Azak’s shiny-clean, fresh-shaven features.
But when those formalities where over, when Inos and Azak had been installed on the green poplin up holstery and space found on the back for Jarkim between the footmen—then Lady Eigaze settled down to some ladylike chatter that concealed more serious purpose. The Praetorian Hussars cleared a path through the traffic, the carriage rumbled smoothly along, and Inos made a desperate effort to pull her soaring wits back to earth. She was euphoric with a newfound sense of freedom and escape; Azak must be feeling even more trapped than before. She could tell that he was reviving all his dark suspicions of her motives. Now, even more, it was Inos who held the cards, and he did not trust her not to betray him.
“It is, obviously, a very long and unlikely story, my lady—”
“Eigaze, dear.”
“Eigaze. It might be easier if you just told me how much you know first, and then I can add the rest.”
“Inos, dear, now I think I know almost nothing. The first thing we heard was that there was trouble in northwest Julgistro last spring, with goblins raiding. Father came back from the Senate one night absolutely livid! And then we heard that your father had died. That much is true?”
“Yes,” Inos agreed, that much was true.
Eigaze muttered condolences. “And that you and Kade had gone off back to Krasnegar with a military escort. Then the escort was ambushed on its return, and there were terrible stories of atrocities. The Senate . . . You can imagine! Goblins! Worse than gnomes, even! The Impire has never, ever, had trouble with goblins before. Of course Father and I were concerned, and we wrote to Ekka. And then came word that you and your aunt were dead!”
“Who,” Inos asked. intently, “said so?”
“The imperor, dear. It was in his report to the Senate. Of course he’d told Father earlier, being a relative of sorts—usual courtesy. He told him he got it from Warlock Olybino.”
“Aha!” Inos said, and exchanged glances with Azak. Suddenly things began to seem much clearer. Olybino had failed to purchase Inos from Rasha—or steal her, perhaps, if he had tried that also. So he had just made the problem disappear by reporting that she had died. Who would question the word of a warlock? So then, when Inos had turned up in Ullacarn, she could no longer be of any use to him, and he had just sent her back to Rasha. Aha indeed!
“And what did the imperor decide to do about Krasnegar?” Inos asked, before her hostess could fire another round of questions. The carriage was racing along a wide avenue lined with glorious buildings, and Inos knew vaguely that she wanted to gape at them like a tourist, but she also knew that this was not the time to indulge in sight-seeing.
Eigaze frowned. “I think that was after his Majesty’s health began to fail. Consul Ythbane . . . he’s regent now, of course . . . he proposed that since the direct line had died out—for Kadolan would have been next in line to you, of course—Angilki had the best claim. But Krasnegar didn’t seem worth a war with Nordland, and the Zark campaign was already scheduled, and the dwarves were starting to get difficult, not to mention goblins. By that time we had received a reply from Ekka, and Father was able to report that the duke would have no interest in becoming a real ruler. So the compromise was that Angilki would have the nominal title, and rule though a viceroy chosen by the thanes. The Nordland ambassador agreed, and a memorandum was initialed.”
Lady Eigaze’s wits were no dimmer than Kade’s, obviously.
“Very convenient!” Inos muttered. “Except for the citizens of Krasnegar.”
“They’re not the imperor’s responsibility, dear, unless you wish to declare that you hold the kingdom in fief from him?”
“Certainly not!” Inos said hurriedly. “Well, obviously the warlock was lying.”
Lady Eigaze seemed to pale slightly, and coughed. “Even warlocks may make mistakes, dear, sometimes, I suppose. And Kade, you say, is safe and sound, back in . . . er. . .”
“Arakkaran,” said Azak.
“Thank you.” She eyed this inexplicable savage with obvious bewilderment and then chose a safer subject. “This is all quite extraordinary! Angilki knew nothing of this at all !”
Inos felt a quiver of premonition. “Angilki?”
“Oh . . . of course you won’t know! He’s here in Hub, dear! He showed up two nights ago in a terrible state.”
“Angilki? The duke is here?”
“Why, yes, dear. The regent summoned him when—but you can’t know that, either, I suppose.” Lady Eigaze was starting to look worried. She reached in a locker and produced a box of chocolates. “He has a broken ankle. Angilki, I mean. He had a dreadful journey, poor man. And he’s not a duke, now, he’s King of . . . Oh, dear!”
“What else don’t I know?” Inos demanded.
“Have a chocolate? No? Your Majesty?”
Azak declined. “Please just call me Azak,” he added, “as we are all family now.”
“Gods bless my soul!” Eigaze muttered, and ate three chocolates in quick succession without taking her eyes off him. Djinn relatives would not be welcome news in Hub at the moment.
“Why did the regent summon Angilki?” Inos asked determinedly.
“Because of Kalkor, dear. He’s a Nordland thane—”
“I know of Kalkor. He is another distant relation, extremely distant.” Inos remembered the vision in the magic casement and grimaced. ”In fact, I saw him once. The more distant the better with that one! What of Kalkor?”
“He is—Oh, Holy Balance!” Eigaze took another chocolate, and her eyes grew very wide. “Darling, I may have made a serious error!”
“What error?” Only years of dealing with Kade kept Inos from grabbing the woman by her fat throat and shaking her.
“Well, your letter arrived this morning, after Father had left for the palace. I didn’t really believe that it was genuine, of course, so I didn’t send word to him. I nearly didn’t come at all. I had to cancel a dress fitting. Oh, dear!”
Azak was scowling. Inos could feel her heart pounding.