A black rat scurried across the room and the guard jumped, then kicked at it, missing wildly. The creature vanished into a hole by the far corner of the wall. ‘Bastard rats!’ hissed the guard, embarrassed that he had allowed himself to be startled in front of the prisoner. ‘You obviously like ’em. Good! You’ll be living with them soon enough. Have ’em running all over you then, biting your skin, leaving their little fleas to suck your blood in the dark.’
Chorin-Tsu ignored him.
Garen-Tsen’s arrival was sudden, the door whispering open. In the lantern light the Minister’s face glowed with a sickly yellow sheen, and his eyes seemed unnaturally bright. Chorin-Tsu offered no greeting. Nor, as should have been Chiatze custom in the presence of a Minister, did he rise and bow. Instead he sat, his expression calm and impassive.
Dismissing the guard, the Minister sat down opposite the little Chiatze embalmer. ‘My apologies for the inhospitable surroundings,’ said Garen-Tsen, speaking in Chiatze. ‘It was necessary for your safety. You did wonderfully well with the Queen. Her beauty has never been so radiant.’
‘I thank you, Garen-Tsen,’ answered Chorin-Tsu coolly. ‘But why am I here? You promised I would be freed.’
‘As indeed you will be, countryman. But first let us talk. Tell me of your interest in Nadir legends.’
Chorin-Tsu stared at the slender Minister, holding his gaze. It was all a game now, with only one ending. I am to die, he thought. He’re, in this cold, miserable place. He wanted to scream his hatred at the monster before him, to rage and show defiance. The strength of feeling surprised him, going against all Chiatze teaching, but not a trace of his inner turmoil showed upon his face as he sat very still, his expression serene. ‘All legends have a basis in fact, Garen-Tsen. I am a student of history and it pleases me to study.’
‘Of course. But your studies have been focused in recent years, have they not? You have spent hundreds of hours in the Great Library, studying scrolls concerning Oshikai Demon-bane and the Legend of the Stone Wolf. Why is that?’
‘I am indeed gratified by your interest – though puzzled as to why a man of your status and responsibilities should concern himself with what is, after all, no more than a hobby?’ countered Chorin-Tsu.
‘The movements and interests of all foreign nationals are scrutinized. But my interest goes beyond such mundane matters. You are a scholar, and your work deserves a wider audience. I would be honoured to hear your views on the Stone Wolf. But since time is pressing, perhaps it would be best if you merely outlined your findings concerning the Eyes of Alchazzar.’
Chorin-Tsu gave an almost imperceptible bow of his head. ‘Perhaps it would be better to postpone this conversation until we are both sitting in more comfortable apartments.’
The Minister leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his long chin. When he spoke his voice was cold. ‘Spiriting you away will be both costly and dangerous, countryman. How much is your life worth?’
Chorin-Tsu was surprised. The question was vulgar, and considerably beneath any high-born Chiatze. ‘Far less than you would think, but far more than I can afford,’ he replied.
‘I think you will find that the price is well within your reach, Master Embalmer. Two jewels, to be precise,’ said Garen-Tsen. ‘The Eyes of Alchazzar. It is my belief that you have located their hiding-place. Am I wrong?’
Chorin-Tsu remained silent. He had known for many years that death would be his only reward, and had believed himself prepared for it. But now, in this cold, damp place his heart began to beat in panic. He wanted to live! Looking up, he met the reptilian gaze of his countryman. Keeping his voice steady, he said, ‘Let us, for the sake of argument, assume that you are correct. In what way would sharing this information prove of benefit to this humble embalmer?’
‘Benefit? You will be free. You have the sacred word of a Chiatze nobleman – is that not enough?’
Chorin-Tsu took a deep breath and summoned the last of his courage. ‘The word of a Chiatze nobleman is indeed sacred. And in the presence of such a man I would not hesitate to surrender my knowledge. Perhaps you should send for him, so that we may conclude our conversation.’
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