Now there came an interruption. Robert de Borron, refusing to be kept silent by the Red Temple people with him, struggled out of his chair despite his injuries, and came pushing his way forward, leaning on the central table, demanding to be heard.
The burden of his impassioned plea was that a greater matter than treasure or even human lives was here at stake-and that was Art. Now that he had held the Sword in his hands and had begun to discover how much it could do, what marvels a sculptor like himself would be able to accomplish with such an instrument-well, all this talk about property rights and money value was really beside the point.
The sculptor looked across the table at the Blue Temple people almost as if he really expected them to agree with him. They gazed back. In the face of such heresy their countenances were set like stone beyond the power of any blade to carve.
Meanwhile the Hetman-perhaps from shrewdness, perhaps from chronic indecision-listened to the artist’s outburst tolerantly. De Borron grew angry at being tolerated. He had tried to speak respectfully, he said, but perhaps that had been a mistake. Nothing, certainly nothing and no one here in this room, should take second place to Art.
He was silenced at last only by a serious threat from the Hetman to have him removed from the conference chamber and, if even that failed to keep him quiet, locked in a cell.
Next someone in the Blue Temple camp brought up the suggestion that de Borron himself might have arranged to have the Sword stolen and spirited away.
Once more a minor outbreak of noise had to be put down.
“Captain Almagro.” The ruler’s voice was no louder nor bolder than before, but still the Captain blanched. “You are a senior officer in the city Watch. I want you now to tell me in plain words just what did happen inside the Red Temple last night; include everything that your investigations have discovered since the event.”
Almagro, who had perhaps been expecting to hear worse from his master, spoke up confidently enough. To begin with, there was no doubt at all that the Sword had been there in the temple, and that it was now missing. But in the Captain’s official opinion, there was also no reason to doubt any of the information that had just been provided by the famous Magistrate.
The Hetman nodded, as if he had known that all along. “My own magicians inform me that it is common knowledge, among those in a position to know, that the Prince of Tasavalta has had Stonecutter in his arsenal for some years.”
This time the interruption came from the Red Temple representatives. After a hasty consultation among themselves, they put forward a spokesman who protested that, with all due respect to His Excellency’s wizards, it was also common knowledge that the Swords, like other pieces of property, changed hands from time to time.
“We maintain, sir, that we were acting in good faith when we, as we thought, recently acquired certain rights to the Sword of Siege.”
Wen Chang broke in sharply. “Exactly what rights were those, and from whom did you think you were obtaining them?”
The Red Temple people were still considering what their answer to this ought to be when the meeting was interrupted from outside by the entrance of one of the Hetman’s aides. This was a middle-aged woman, who went straight to the ruler’s side and imparted some information to him in a very soft whisper.
The Hetman heard the message with no change of expression. Then he nodded, dismissed the messenger with a few quiet words, and turned back to face the assembly at the table.
“Prince al-Farabi himself is now here in the palace,” he announced, looking sharply round to gauge his audience’s reactions. “And he is coming at once to join our meeting.”
A stir ran through the gathering, but Kasimir saw nothing he considered helpful in anyone’s reaction. Only Wen Chang, as usual, remained imperturbable.
Within two minutes, amid a flourish of formal announcement at the door, al-Farabi indeed entered the audience chamber. The Prince was wearing what looked like the desert riding costume in which Kasimir had seen him last, and Kasimir noted that his clothing was actually still dusty with traces of the desert.
The two rulers, using one of the short forms of ceremony, exchanged the proper formalities of greeting. As Kasimir watched he was thinking that according to strict protocol the Prince would somewhat outrank or would at least take precedence over the Hetman, though both were heads of state. It seemed unlikely, though, that exact rank was going to be of any practical importance.
After his official welcome by the Hetman, the Prince exchanged brief greetings with all the members of the meeting, taking them generally in order of rank as prescribed by protocol. When he came to Wen Chang, who was well down on the list, Kasimir thought that Prince and Magistrate exchanged significant looks, though he could not tell what the expressions were meant to convey.
As soon as the formal salutations had all been completed, al-Farabi resumed at some length his lamentations for his lost Sword.
Eventually mastering his feelings with an evident effort, he faced the Magistrate again. “I understand that Stonecutter was seen here in the city last night, but that it was impossible to recover it then?”
“That is true, sir.”
“Ah, woe is me! My burden of sorrow is great indeed!”
Standing informally now with the two investigators as if they were old friends, the Prince related how, for the past several days, he and several dozen of his tribesmen had been out in the desert, trying in vain to pick up the trail of the villain or villains who had stolen Stonecutter from his camp. But, al-Farabi lamented, he and his trackers had had no success at all-which he supposed was scarcely to be wondered at, considering the nature of the ground and the ferocity of the windstorms that had lashed the area over the past several days.
Wen Chang broke in here to ask if any of the winged messengers dispatched by Lieutenant Komi had managed to reach the Prince.
“Regrettably none of them did.” Al-Farabi looked freshly worried. “Is there news I ought to know? On entering the city today I came directly to the palace, feeling that I must consult with my brother the Hetman, and so I have not seen Komi. I have heard nothing.”
“There is no news, sir, that is of vital importance for you to learn at this moment-only a few matters relating to the personal affairs of your troops.”
With that settled, the Hetman called upon Kasimir to relate his version of events on the night the Sword was stolen from the tent. The ruler listened to the relation with a look of intense concentration. Then he wanted to know Kasimir’s version of the events in the Red Temple during the night just passed.
Again Kasimir obliged. From the expression on al-Farabi’s face as the Prince listened, Kasimir could tell that he had been expecting to hear nothing like this. As to what he had been expecting to hear, Kasimir could only wonder.
Called upon for comment again when Kasimir had finished, the Magistrate took three or four sentences to say in effect that the situation was indeed most interesting.
The Hetman snorted. “I rejoice to hear that you find it interesting! But is that all that you can find to tell us? We were hoping for something of more substance from the great Wen Chang.”
The Magistrate bowed lightly. “I might of course add that the situation is very serious. But I believe it is far from hopeless.”
“I am glad to hear that you think so.” The ruler looked round at others in the room as if to sample their reactions. “You see, then, some prospect of eventually being able to recover the Sword?”
Before answering, Wen Chang turned to face the people from the Red Temple. He said: “I must return to an earlier question, one that was never answered. You say you thought you had honestly bought certain rights to Stonecutter, or to its use-with whom did you bargain? Whom did you pay?”
The Red Temple spokesman looked at him haughtily. “As it seems now that we were bargaining in error, I don’t see how knowing that is going to help.”
“It may be of considerable help in recovering the Sword. Come, who was it? Certain disreputable people of the city, was it not?”
“I fail to understand why-”
“Did you not in fact know that you were dealing with a well-organized criminal gang?”
“Well, and if we were? We had hopes of being able to return the Sword, which we assumed might have been stolen somewhere, to a legitimate use in society.”
Robert de Borron was unable to keep himself from bursting forth again, once more putting forth his claim that the demands of Art could justify any such dealings.