The attention of the group focused on each of the aides in turn: No, none of them had anything like that to report. Kasimir found the denials credible.
Mistress Hedmark discoursed briefly to the others on the art of the diamond cutter, and the problems inherent in trying to cut so very hard a stone, the hardest substance known. The discussion sounded quite open and innocent to Kasimir.
He could see or hear nothing to indicate that this woman might already have the Sword of Siege in hand to help her with her work, or that it had ever entered her mind to try to get it.
CHAPTER 8
BOTH the Chief Priest of the temple and his Director of Security were considerably relieved when they were able to verify with their own eyes that the almost priceless Orb was still in their possession. They were both ready now to consider what Wen Chang wanted to tell them.
The Magistrate, after a quick consultation with Captain Almagro, had several recommendations to make. The first was that arrangements should be made to station officers of the city Watch-not the Captain himself, he could not be spared-here in the lapidary’s workshop as long as the gem was present. The Watch people would serve in shifts, so that at least one should be on duty around the clock.
The second recommendation made by Wen Chang was that an entire new squad of Blue Temple security people be brought in, to replace all those who were currently engaged in protecting the stone.
“I emphasize,” Wen Chang continued, “that I have no reason to think any of the old crew are implicated in the plot to steal the diamond; no, I make this suggestion purely as a precaution.”
Chief Priest Theodore exchanged glances with his chief subordinate in security matters. Then the chubby man shrugged. “Very well. A sensible precaution, I think. It shall be done as you say.”
Mistress Hedmark was not happy, though. She complained that these changes would entail further disruption of the routine of technical practice and ritual in which she was engaged with her assistants. Peace and tranquility were necessary for her work.
The Chief Priest heard her out, then overruled her. “Now that the whole world knows the gem is here, we can take no chances.”
Wen Chang tried to soothe the lapidary too. Then he said: “Now, Doctor Kasimir and myself must be on our way. Captain Almagro, if you could withdraw with us? There is much we have to discuss with you in the matter of how potential jewel thieves should best be taken. And these gentlemen of the temple, and Mistress Hedmark, will also have much to discuss among themselves.”
As the three of them were escorted out of the temple, Kasimir marveled to himself at the smoothness with which Wen Chang had been able to accomplish several objectives during their brief visit. First, they had determined with a fair degree of certainty that the Sword was not in the Blue Temple now. Next, to have an officer of the city Watch continuously present in the diamond-cutters’ workshop ought to make it practically impossible for Mistress Hedmark and her crew to use the Sword secretly in their work, assuming they might have the chance to do so-and any efforts to get the Watch out of the way would signal that they were up to something clandestine. Finally, the priests of the Blue Temple were now convinced that Wen Chang was trying to help them.
There was little conversation among the three men as long as they were still inside the temple. When they had passed out through the front entrance, and were halfway across the fronting square, Captain Almagro muttered something that Kasimir did not entirely catch, but that made the physician think the Watch officer did not really care for the place they had just left.
Wen Chang’s reply at least was clear: “Hot work in there, old friend, trying to get the moneybags to believe us. I think it might be time for us to ease our throats with a mug of something cool.”
The Captain brightened immediately. “My idea exactly, Magistrate. And I know just the place, not far away.”
“Lead on.”
After making their way through several blocks of the activity that occupied the streets of the metropolis at midday, the three men were soon seated in the cool recesses of a tavern, a large, old building of half-timbered construction. The main room was filled with the delicious smells of cooking food, and occupied by a good number of appreciative customers.
One of the barmaids, who was evidently an old acquaintance of the Captain, served them swiftly. Wiping his mustache after his first gulp of ale, Almagro expressed his doubt that there was any real plot to steal the Orb at all- though he referred to the matter only indirectly. He bewailed the increasing tawdriness of crime in these newly degenerate days. Not only the times and the crimes, but the modern criminals themselves, suffered from degeneracy. By and large they were far from being the bold brave rascals that their predecessors of a decade or so ago had used to be.
“Hey, Magistrate? Am I right?”
“You are almost invariably right, old friend. And there is much truth in what you say now.” Wen Chang groomed his own slim mustache with one finger.
“Damned right, very much truth. Want an example? Look at those people who’re demonstrating in front of the Hetman’s palace now, pounding their stupid heads on the pavement. If they choose to damage their own thick skulls, so what? What kind of a crime is that? And yet we’ve orders now to make them stop it.”
The Magistrate made a gesture indicating resignation. “The subject of their protest-this Benjamin of the Steppe as he is called-he would not seem to me to be a very great offender either. To ask for a few local councils, voting on local matters, deciding such things for themselves. And yet it seems that he must pay with his life for his offense.”
“Ah, that’s politics. There’s always that, and when it comes to politics the police must just do what they’re told. If we had a different ruler, politics would go on just the same, only with different faces in the dungeons. Different feet climbing up the scaffold.”
“I fear you are right.”
“Damned right I’m right.” The Captain belched, and drank again.
Wen Chang murmured something properly sympathetic, and Kasimir, taking his lead from his chief, did likewise.
“Not like the old days,” Almagro summed up, and drank deep from his mug. “No, not at all.”
“I wonder if you could do me a favor?” Wen Chang inquired.
“Glad to,” was the automatic response. But then the Captain blinked in hesitation. “What is it?”
“I know the prisoner’s number of a man who was sentenced, probably several months ago, to the road-building gang that is now working between here and the Abohar Oasis. “I would like to discover as much as possible about the man himself-his name, his crime, whatever else you can find out.”
“Is that all?” The Captain was relieved. “Sure, I can look that up. What’s the number?”
“Nine-nine-six-seven-seven.”
Almagro pulled out a scrap of paper and laboriously made a note to himself. “Nothing to it.”
“But I suppose,” said Wen Chang after a moment’s silence, “that in this huge city, despite the degeneracy of these modern would-be criminals, and the futile protesters, there remain a small number of real thieves, and also some genuinely dangerous individuals.”
“Ah yes, of course. If you say so, it’s possible you’re really onto something about a plot-to swipe the Orb.” The Captain looked around him cautiously before uttering those last words. And now conversation was briefly suspended while the barmaid placed in front of each of them a bowl of steaming stew.
“Only place on the street where I’d order stew,” Almagro muttered, taking up his spoon with energy. “But here it’s good.”
“Indeed, not bad,” said Wen Chang, tasting appreciatively. Kasimir, who would have declined if he had been asked whether he wanted stew or not, tried the stuff in his own bowl and had to agree.
Half a bowl later, Wen Chang prodded the Captain: “You were saying, about the present elite of real criminals-?”
“Yes, of course. Well, in this city there are naturally lawbreakers beyond counting. But very few of this modern bunch would have the nerve, talent, or resources even to think of undertaking any job like the one you suspect is being planned at the Blue Temple.”
“And I suppose that once such a gem was stolen, it would be difficult even in Eylau to arrange to sell it, or dispose of it in trade for lesser gems.”
The Captain smacked his lips over the stew, and tore off a chunk of bread from the fresh loaf the barmaid had deposited in the middle of the table. “Difficult, yes. But in Eylau nothing is totally impossible. No matter how rare and unique an object of value may be, there’ll be someone in this city who can buy it-paying only a small fraction of the real worth, maybe, but-“