This question threw the two high authorities into a state of considerable confusion, impossible to conceal. As an open argument began between them, Wen Chang and Kasimir were conducted away by an underling.
They were deposited in a comfortable anteroom and left alone with the door closed. They glanced at each other, but neither had anything to say. It was obvious to both of them that any conversation they held would almost certainly be overheard.
The duration of their wait dragged on, to a length that Kasimir, at least, had not expected. Wen Chang waited with newly imperturbable patience, hands clasped in his lap, his weathered face impassive as a mask. But Kasimir was bothered by mounting apprehension. Had they somehow unwittingly precipitated a real crisis in the local Blue Temple leadership? Had they-but such speculations were pointless.
Eventually a silent attendant brought them refreshment on a tray, tea and cakes in portions of hardly more than symbolic size. Both courteously declined. Following that they were again left alone for almost an hour, when a group of temple officials, including the High Priest and the Director of Security, suddenly entered the anteroom. They brought with them a newcomer, an outsider to the temple, a man attired in the uniform of an officer of the city Watch, in the Hetman’s colors of gray and blue. This was a large grizzled veteran of about forty.
As soon as this man’s eyes fell on Wen Chang, he stepped forward and opened his arms in greeting.
“Magistrate!” His voice was a bass roar. “They told me there was someone here I might recognize, but they never gave me a hint that it was you. It’s years since we have worked together-how are you?”
Wen Chang, smiling, had arisen to return the greeting heartily. “I am healthy and busy as you see. And how are you, my friend Almagro? It is indeed too long a time since we have seen each other, but you do not appear to have changed much.”
After Kasimir had been duly introduced to Captain Almagro, the two veterans spent a few moments more in private conversation, most of it reminiscing about a particularly filthy gang of bandits they had once succeeded in luring into an annihilating ambush. In this exchange of memories they must have removed from the minds of their priestly hearers any lingering doubts of the Magistrate’s true identity.
The discussion turned away from the bandit gang. Almagro mentioned how, after several unlikely sounding adventures, he had come to be now in the employ of the Hetman.
“And a good thing I am here, too, for now I may be able to return the great favor that you, Magistrate, once did for me.”
Wen Chang made a dismissive gesture and objected mildly. “It was a matter of no consequence.”
“On the contrary, I consider my life to be a rather significant component of the universe. So tell me, what brings you and your friend to Eylau, Magistrate? A job of thief taking?”
“I thank you for your generous offer of help, Captain, and it may be indeed that my associate and I will want to call upon you in the near future. As to the exact nature of our mission in Eylau, I must tell you that I am bound by an oath of secrecy. Just at the moment, however, our problem concerns the Orb of Maecenas. What can you tell us about its current safety?”
At this point in the conversation the Director of Security appeared to be trying to say something urgent, while at the same time wanting to avoid the disclosure of any information at all. He was rescued from this self-strangled state by the Captain of the Watch, who shook his head at him ruefully.
“I’m afraid the presence of the gem here in the temple is no longer a secret,” Captain Almagro told the official almost apologetically. “One hears about it these days in the streets.”
The Chief Priest, a vein outstanding in his forehead, was fixing a baleful glance upon his Director of Security.
“I am going,” Theodore said, “directly from this room to the lapidary’s workshop, there to see for myself whether the Orb is still in our hands or not at this moment.” His eyes swept fiercely around the little group. “I want all of you to come with me!”
A moment later, with Chief Priest Theodore in the lead, the whole party was tramping through a series of elegant corridors, traversing one after another a series of doorways, each doubly guarded by warriors cloaked in blue and gold, the Blue Temple’s own security force. At every door- way the guards saluted and stood aside at a gesture from the Chief Priest’s chubby hand.
The party with Theodore at its head had not far to go before it reached its goal, a set of unmarked heavy doors. Here too guards stood aside. Then the doors were opened a crack from inside in response to an impatient tapping with the Chief Priest’s heavy golden ring, and then they were thrown wide as soon as he was recognized.
The party of visitors filed into the room. It was a workshop, much smaller and cleaner, Kasimir noted, than the studio of Robert de Borron across town. This place was also much quieter than de Borron’s studio, and it had not been at all crowded until their group arrived. Here, instead of noise and confusion, was a sense that great logic and precision ruled.
There were three people in the room already when Theodore entered with his entourage. The person in charge here was a short, intense, black-skinned woman of about thirty years of age, who was soon introduced to all who did not know her as Mistress Hedmark, the famed lapidary. It was one of those fields like forensic medicine, Kasimir supposed, in which one could be famous and at the same time almost totally unknown to the world at large.
The other two people already present were the famous woman’s assistants. The Mistress, despite her lack of size, looked to Kasimir quite as hard and tough as the sculptor at the other temple. The physician got the impression that she would be quite capable of murder and robbery to get something that she really wanted.
Under a broad, heavily barred window, where the best light in the room obtained, an elaborate workbench had been set up. In response to a question from Wen Chang, Mistress Hedmark explained that she and her helpers had been busy practicing the techniques that they would use when the time came for the actual cutting of the priceless gem.
The surface of the workbench was largely covered with a framework of jigs and supports. Kasimir saw that there was a fine revolving grindstone along with other tools, some doubtless more magical than technological.
Having given a concise explanation of her work, the Mistress had a query of her own. “And now, gentlemen, I must insist on knowing what you want here. I don’t like all these people in my workroom.”
“Nor would I, ordinarily.” Chief Priest Theodore shook his head. “But I want to see the Orb for myself, to make sure that it is still safe. And if it is I want to show it to them.”
“Of course it is quite safe,” said Mistress Hedmark automatically. Then she looked at Theodore for a moment, and then at his chief of security. Then she shrugged and drew a cord from around her neck and inside her clothing. It was a leather cord with a small key hanging at the end of it.
The Director of Security produced a similar key from somewhere. Meanwhile others in the party were making sure that the outer doors of the room were closed. Then Mistress Hedmark, together with the Director, went to a great metal box in one corner of the room. Kasimir had enough sense of magic to sense the immaterial barricades surrounding it, forces that subsided only when the Director whispered a secret word.
It was necessary for the custodians to use their two keys simultaneously. Then they were able to open the box and swing back the heavy lid.
Mistress Hedmark reached inside. The Orb of Maecenas was brought out and held up in her fingers for everyone to look at.
It was only the size of a small, faceted egg; somehow this came as a faint disappointment to Kasimir, who had unconsciously been expecting something the size of his fist. But then he had never found wealth in any of its manifestations overwhelmingly interesting.
“Are you satisfied, then?” Mistress Hedmark demanded of the delegation that had burst in on her.
“Yes, for the moment.” Much of the tension was gone from Theodore’s voice. His gaze had softened, resting on the gem, and he allowed himself a little sigh.
The lapidary asked in her sharp tones: “Has there actually been a plot to steal the Orb?”
The Magistrate spoke soothingly. “We have had an alarm. So far as I know there has been no more than that as yet. Has anything untoward happened here? Or to you or any of your assistants?”