The Captain scowled at him thoughtfully, then faced back to the young physician. “So then, neither of you got down to the real business? I mean, mentioning any specific sums of money?”
“She refused to do so. And I couldn’t very well open the bidding, not knowing how much Prince al-Farabi might be prepared to pay to get back his Sword. Also I am generally unfamiliar with this business of paying ransoms.”
Wen Chang nodded. “It had seemed to me that the time was ripe for negotiation. But perhaps not. I wonder … is it possible that the young lady does not have the Sword in her possession at all?”
“If one of the gang carried it away from the warehouse-”
“One of ‘the’ gang, you say. But what if there is more than one gang involved?”
The Captain had been listening silently to this last exchange, but it was plain from the expression on his face that the more he thought about the situation, the less he felt he understood it.
“Don’t know how much of her story we ought to believe, about an agreement with the Red Temple and all that. It would seem to contradict this talk of a move being planned against the Blue Temple by the people who have the Sword.”
Wen Chang took a sturdy draught from his mug, then delicately stroked foam from his black mustache. “The contradiction does not necessarily arise. The more times these enterprising criminals can profit from their loot, the happier they should be. First they rent the Sword to the Red Temple for a high fee; a few days later they use it to break into the Blue Temple; and then lastly they sell it back to its rightful owner for a high price.”
“You really think they intend doing all that, Magistrate?” The Captain squinted as if the thought pained him.
“It is certainly a possibility. But what I think most strongly now is that we must contrive somehow to find out whether the Sword is really being used in the Red Temple as the lady said. Is Stonecutter actually there, and under what circumstances? Is it on loan from some gang of criminals? Is it in the hands of Robert de Borron, and is he actually using it in his work?” Wen Chang paused. “If so, what are the chances of our taking it away from him?”
Here the Magistrate broke off to order another round of drinks. As soon as it arrived the two experienced investigators began planning their next move.
Almagro was not optimistic. “If it comes down to our getting into the Red Temple, maybe being able to take the Sword right out of there with us-well.” The Captain shook his head and began to spell out some of the difficulties as he perceived them. “If we were just to try to push our way in there, like we did at the old warehouse-well, this is a very different situation. To begin with, there’s not much chance that we’d ever get a look at the Sword before it was spirited away somewhere. It’d take an army to search that place-the Red Temple-properly, and I can’t order up an army without letting my superiors know what I’m about.
“For another thing, they have their own security force there in the temple-such as it is.” Here he paused, and the three men exchanged faint smiles, as at a joke familiar to all. It was received wisdom that Red Temple security people could be counted on for very little, and were more likely than not to show up for duty drunk, or stoned on other drugs than alcohol.
Almagro’s smile faded quickly again as he continued. “One thing they do have that works is plenty of political influence. It would probably be more than my badge of office is worth to go barging in there on my own.”
Kasimir asked: “Even if you were sure of recovering the Sword of Siege by doing so?”
Almagro rubbed his forehead doubtfully. “Well. That’d certainly make a difference. But I can’t be sure of anything like that, can I?”
Wen Chang thought a little, and sighed, and shook his head reluctantly. “No, my friend. Whatever plan we concoct, no one can assure you of its success.”
“Well, then.” The Captain drank, and ran his fingers through his hair, and drank again, and thought. The impression he gave was that the more he thought about his situation the worse it looked to him. “I wonder if I ought to go to the Hetman himself and tell him at least that the Sword of Siege is here in the city somewhere, and that we’re looking for it.”
“You know him better than I-”
“Aye, that’s why I’m wondering.”
“-but it occurs to me that it might be best to tell him only if-or when-Stonecutter has actually been recovered.”
“There is something in what you say.”
The two older men lifted their mugs simultaneously, as if they were toasting each other, or perhaps harking back to old times, sharing some private joke or ritual.
Then Wen Chang was abruptly serious again. He took the merest sip from his mug, leaned back in his chair again, and said, “Yes, I think we must get someone into the Red Temple to take a look around for us, and do it as soon as possible. Tonight, if we can.”
“Tonight?”
“If the sculptor is as desperate to complete his work as everything indicates, then he will be working late, with or without the help of the Sword we are looking for.”
“Sculpting after dark?”
“I have no doubt that the Red Temple can provide him with some kind of effective light. I suppose you, the Watch, have no regular agents in place within the temple upon whom you can rely?”
“Hah. The Watch has no agents at all in there that I know of. I wish we did. More likely than not it’s working the other way around. Red Temple has a lot more money to spend on bribes than I do.”
“Well, then. Do you have anyone available to be sent in? Preferably someone who knows his or her way around inside the temple?”
“Hah! I’d say that most of my men know the public parts of that building only too well. But as for the rest of the place, no, I don’t think so. And now that the temple’s being remodeled, the layout will be changed anyway. Especially in the parts we most want to see, upstairs where the statues are being carved. No, I can’t say that I have anyone I’d want to try sending in there.”
Both of the older men turned their heads to gaze at Kasimir. He had been expecting this development for some time now. He drank from his mug and quietly set it down.
“Then I suppose it is up to me to go in again,” he said. “If I can. Well, I’m willing.”
Wen Chang studied him through narrow appraising eyes.
Almagro looked relieved. “As to simply getting into the place,” he offered, “I can be of some help there. I can get the names of some of their security people who are more than ordinarily amenable to bribes, and probably I can find out when and where some of those people are likely to be on duty. I’m afraid, though, that if I were to try to send one of my own people in there the Red priests would know about it before he ever arrived.”
* * *
Returning to the inn ahead of the others, Kasimir tried to get some rest, and made what other preparations he and Wen Chang thought necessary. Near sunset he held a final conference with the Magistrate, and with Captain Almagro who had come to give him some final directions. Then Kasimir was on his way.
The sun had set before Kasimir arrived in the square in front of the Red Temple, whose facade was aglow with the red of firelight from its numerous torches and iron fire baskets. As usual, nightfall meant an increase in business at the Houses of Pleasure, and as he approached the building he fell in with an almost steady stream of customers, the great majority of them men.
He was within a few meters of the entrance when his eye was caught by a stray gleam of light, coming from above, somewhere within the building, that proceeded from no ordinary fire. When the realization struck him that the source of the peculiar light must be in or very near the artists’ studio on the fifth or sixth floor, Kasimir stepped aside from the stream of customers to stand for a moment near the entrance with his head craned back.
He had to find the precisely correct position before he could see the light again. But at last there was the tiny gleam: very steady and bright, pale as daylight. Extraordinary. Even, he thought, unearthly looking. Perhaps, Kasimir thought, the illumination was being produced by some kind of magic. Whatever its ultimate source, the light must be leaking out of the studio through a crevice between some of the draped canvases and drop cloths that shrouded the walls of the sculptor’s temporary workshop. And whatever the source, it certainly looked bright enough to allow Robert de Borron and his crew to continue working after dark. Suddenly it occurred to Kasimir that this light had a strong resemblance to the Old World votive lamp on Ardneh’s altar in the White Temple.