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While this was going on, my brain was worrying at different matters.
There was that ship I had bought at the cost of Charpon’s good health, the Hyacinth Vineyard, lying at dock in the harbor. I had a notion that some of Kochus’ ruffians might still be aboard, if Basnurmon’s raiders had not gone there, too, and though the ship did not seem as important to me as before now that my course was changed, I had a mind to seek out a man there from among the Hessek crew. Having no wish to return to Bit-Hesse in person, I stood in need of a messenger.
I talked it through with Sorem, presently. My face was too readily known in the city; had I not seen to it that it should be? It appeared I must effect a disguise, not quite for the first time in my life.
Bailgar was brought in on this jaunt and four of his Shield jerdiers. Beyond the commanders, it was officially unrecognized in the Citadel that the jerds were no longer the Emperor’s property but Sorem’s, to command wherever he chose. However, it seemed to me that several guessed what was afoot. There was a general feel of conspiracy, the promise of action. Unrest must have been on the bubble here for months or years, Sorem’s popularity and the Emperor’s stupidity unfailing tinder, requiring only the final spark. Everywhere I looked, men overpolished their gear, meticulously shod their horses, acted out crack drills, or else laughed and indulged in the sort of horseplay that springs from waiting and nerves.
Even the six priests, who appeared like a spell in their midst and passed out through the Fox Gate an hour before the noon bell, excited no particular comment, only quick grins or the solemn blank masks of sentries very much in the know.
The six priests were of the order of Fire-Eaters, an obscure sect that had a small temple or two in Bar-Ibithni. An offshot of the worship of Masrimas, they claimed to receive the blessing of the god by swallowing live flame. This was considered blasphemous by the bulk of fire-venerating Masrians, who consequently, as a rule, avoided the orange robes of the order.
The priests rode on mules, for, like many another of their calling, they were a slothful lot. Trotting down the wide avenues of the Palm Quarter and through Winged Horse Gate on to Amber Road, they received no attention, but in the
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more commercial area an occasional blessing or curse was flung at them, while a small girl selling figs in the Market of the World stole up politely and offered her wares as a gift. This, a priest (Bailgar) refused graciously, pressing some copper cash in her hand. Despite her Masrian piety, she was part Hessek. I had been thankful to see only Masrian servants in the Citadel, but since I was actually seeking Hesseks now, I must recover my judgment. I was plagued by a recurring image, though not Lellih or the cat-headed demon, not even the tiger-man I had sacrificed for them … it was the child who sank his teeth in me when I meant to heal him, and drank my blood, and would not let go of me. He had become for me the symbol of that place of tombs.
The smell of the Fish Market recalled for me my arrival in Bar-Ibithni, the simplicity of my planning then, the clear-cut issues, the lonely sense of godhead and invincibility. The two fish glinted on their pillar against a lapis lazuli sky as they had glinted on that morning. No change, yet change everywhere, unseen.
The Vineyard lay calmly in the dock. Her sails were stripped,, and her blue and weathered gold refurbished at the erstwhile order of the glamour-conscious Kochus. The hired guards were gone, however, not caring to be about now that I was Basnurmon’s target, and the deck was alive with filthy, ragged children, fighting and swarming the ropes like black monkeys. There had been other visitors in the dark, for I could see at a glance where various fitments were missing. Even the enamel wings of the watch-god’s mount in the forecastle were gone, and the whale-tooth tiller had been wrenched apart and carried off by night.
Bailgar pulled a wry face in his hood.
“You’d better work some magic, Vazkor,” he said, bluffly enough. “Whisk your property back out of the thieves’ paws. That’d make them jolly.” I said nothing, for he meant no harm, and next told two of his men to seek the harbor-master, and tell him to reinstall a guard on the sorcerer’s ship. “If he argues,” added Bailgar, “say Prince Basnurmon has an interest in it and doesn’t want it spoiled. That should bring the bastard to his wits again.”
The two remaining Shields, Bailgar, and I went up the ladder-left in position by some idiot-and got aboard. The children, mixes and dock brats, fled in all directions, some even jumping in the green water and swimming for distant
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wharfs. In about ten seconds the deck, save for ourselves and accumulated garbage, was bare.
“A shortage of Hesseks,” I said to Bailgar. “I must scour the port after all.”
We searched around, nevertheless, even below in the rowers’ station, now vacant. The oar-slaves had taken their chance and run, at which I could scarcely be outraged. Charpon’s deck-house had been despoiled of its cushions, silks, and pelts, and also of the gilded bronze Masrimas statue. Male lovers had used the couch and left tokens, and decomposing fruit had enticed out rats, cockroaches, and similar guests. And this was but one or two nights’ work. A miserable sight.
Outside, one of the Shields called. I went to see and found him with another miserable sight squirming on the deck, which squirmed harder and tried to bury its head in the planking when I came near. It was none other than my faithful and devoted Lyo.
“I found him in the hold, sir,” the Shield told me. “Thought I was Basnurmon’s scum and kicked up a rumpus. Frightened of the dark, too, for all he was down in it. And scared out of his pants of you, sir.”
I told Lyo to get up, which eventually he did. He choked up some tale of fleeing my apartments when the wasp guard broke in the doors, and seeking refuge on the Vineyard as being the only other place he knew in the city. He was half out of his mind with fear of this, that, and the other, and mainly of me, recalling how he had made off twice on the night I went to Bit-Hessee.
I observed him without pity. I saw only something I could use, if it would leave off whimpering. He owed me his life, did he not? Let him earn it.
I took him to the rail, and set him there and looked at him.
To use my Power, after what had gone before, unnerved me, but this seemed a small piece of it. I mesmerized Lyo swiftly. His whimperings stopped and I felt his brain flicker out under the force of mine. I spoke low to him.
I was aware of Bailgar and the Shields standing about, staring, not sure what I was at, concluding that it was some sorcerer’s method, and keeping very silent.
Finally, Lyo walked off the ship and away through the port, going west. I was convinced there would be watchers, in the dock and at the opening of the marsh. They would guide
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him over, finding he came from me. I did not even think they would kill him, for he was a Seemase, not a Masrian, part kindred of Hessek. Besides, he would inform them that their messiah, having struggled with himself, had bowed to the will of his destiny, and would lead them. Shaythun-Kem, God’ Made-Visible.
Bailgar’s tough red-tan face had altered toward me, no longer so bluff. Until then he had only heard reports of what I managed.
“It’s done, then? Well, you know what you’re at. How will they get word to you when they’re ready?”
“Lyo will tell them I lodge at the Citadel. He is to say I trade on my friendship with Sorem for my own protection, also to lull the Masrians and to discover the strength and weakness of your armies. The Hesseks know I saved Sorem’s life, and the rest follows naturally. If I’m easy of access to Hessek, even in the Citadel, I shall have word.”
Bailgar glanced at his soldiers and back at me.
“I’m glad, Vazkor, that you’ve no desire to be the messiah of Bit-Hessee. I suppose you haven’t? Just so I can sleep at night.”
“Of all the things I have ever wanted,” I said to him, “this I do not want.”
I surmise my expression and my tone carried some conviction, for he believed me.
Part III
The Crimson Palace