“They were looking for us. Were those some of your men?’
‘No,’ Tel replied. ‘I came alone.’
“I sort of thought you might have. These fellows were talking about shooting me full of arrows. Would Stragen be involved in that sort of thing in any way?’
‘Out of the question, Sparhawk,’ Tel said quite firmly.
‘You and your friends have thieves’ sanctuary. Stragen would never violate that. I’ll talk to Stragen about it.
He’ll see to it that these itinerant bowmen stay out of your hair.’ Tel laughed a chilling little laugh. ‘He’ll probably be more upset with them because they’ve gone into business for themselves than because they threaten you, though. Nobody cuts a throat or steals a penny in Emsat without Stragen’s permission. He’s very keen about that.’ The blond brigand led them to a boarded-up warehouse at the far end of the street. They rode around to the back, dismounted and were admitted by a pair of burly cut-throats standing guard at the door.
The interior of the warehouse belied the shabby exterior.
It appeared only slightly less opulent than a palace.
There were crimson drapes covering the boarded-up windows, deep blue carpets on the creaky floors and tapestries concealing the rough plank walls. A semicircular staircase of polished wood curved up to a second floor, and a crystal chandelier threw soft, glowing cand’lelight over the entryway.
“Excuse me for a minute,’ Tel said. He went into a side-chamber and emerged a bit later wearing a cream-coloured doublet and blue hose. He also had a slim rapier at his side.
‘Elegant,’ Sparhawk observed.
“Another one of Stragen’s foolish ideas,’ Tel snorted.
“I’m a working man, not a clothes-rack. Let’s go up, and I’ll introduce you to Milord.’
The upper floor was, if anything, even more extravagantly furnished than the one below. It was expensively floored with intricate parquet, and the walls were panelled with highly polished wood. Broad corridors led off towards the back of the house, and chandeliers and standing candelabra filled the spacious hall with golden light.
It appeared that some kind of ball was in progress.
A quartet of indifferently talented musicians sawed at their instruments in one corner, and gaily-dressed thieves and whores circled the floor in the mincing steps of the latest dance. Although their clothing was elegant, the men were unshaven, and the women had tangled hair and smudged faces. The contrast gave the entire scene an almost nightmarish quality heightened by voices and laughter which were coarse and raucous.
The focus of the entire room was a thin man with elaborate curls cascading over his ruffed collar. He was dressed in white satin and the chair upon which he sat near the far end of the room was not quite a throne but very nearly. His expression was sardonic, and his deep-sunk eyes had about them a look of obscure pain.
Tel stopped at the head of the staircase and talked for a moment with an ancient cutpurse holding a long staff and wearing elegant scarlet livery. The white-haired knave turned, rapped the butt of his staff on the floor and spoke in a booming voice. “Milord,’ he declaimed, ‘the Marquis Tel begs leave to present Sir Sparhawk, Knight of the church and champion of the Queen of Elenia.’
The thin man rose and clapped his hands together sharply. The musicians broke off their sawing. ‘We have important guests, dear friends,’ he said to the dancers.
His voice was very deep and quite consciously well modulated. “Let us pay our proper respects to the invincible Sir Sparhawk, who, with the might of his hands, defends our holy mother Church. I pray you, Sir Sparhawk, approach
that we may greet you and make you
welcome.’
‘A pretty speech,’ Sephrenia murmured.
‘it should be,’ Tel muttered back sourly. ‘He probably spent the last hour composing it.’ The flaxen-haired brigand led them through the throng of dancers, who all bowed or curtsied jerkily to them as they passed.
When they reached the man in white satin, Tel bowed.
‘Milord,’ he said, “I have the honour to present Sir Sparhawk the Pandion. Sir Sparhawk, Milord Stragen.’
“The thief,’ Stragen added sardonically. Then he bowed elegantly. ‘You honour my inadequate house, Sir Knight,’
he said.
Sparhawk bowed in reply. ‘it is I who am honoured, Milord.’ He rigorously avoided smiling at the airs of this apparently puffed-up popinjay.
“And so we meet at last, Sir Knight,’ Stragen said. ‘Your young friend Talen has given us a glowing account of your exploits.’
‘Talen sometimes tends to exaggerate things, Milord.’
“And the lady is -?’
‘Sephrenia, my tutor in the secrets.’
‘Dear sister,’ Stragen said in a flawless Styric, ‘will you permit me to greet you?’
If Sephrenia were startled by this strange man’s knowledge of her language, she gave no indication of it. She extended her hands, and Stragen kissed her palms. “It is surprising, Milord, to meet a civilized man in the midst of a world filled with all these Elene savages,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘isn’t it amusing, Sparhawk, to discover that even our unblemished Styrics have their little prejudices?’
The blond pseudo-aristocrat looked around the hall. ‘But we’re interupting the grand ball. My associates do so enjoy these frivolities. Let’s withdraw so that their joy may be unconfined.’ He raised his resonant voice slightly, speaking to the throng of elegant criminals.
‘Dear friends,’ he said to them, “pray excuse us. We will go apart for our discussions. We would not for all the world interupt your enjoyment of this evening.’ He paused, then looked rather pointedly at one ravishing dark-haired girl. “I trust that you’ll recall our discussion following the last ball, Countess,’ he said firmly. “Although I stand in awe of your ferocious business instincts, the culmination of certain negotiations should take place in private rather than in the centre of the dance-floor. It was very entertaining – even educational – but it did somewhat disrupt the dance.’
‘it’s just a different way of dancing, Stragen,’ she replied in a coarse, nasal voice that sounded much like the squeal of a pig.
‘Ah yes, Countess, but vertical dancing is in vogue just now. The horizontal form hasn’t yet caught on in the more fashionable circles, and we do want to be stylish, don’t we?’ He turned to Tel. ‘Your services this evening have been stupendous, my dear Marquis,’ he said to the blond man. ‘I doubt that I shall ever be able to adequately repay you.’ He languidly lifted a perfumed handkerchief to his nostrils.
“That I have been able to serve is payment enough, Milord,’ Tel replied with a low bow.
‘Very good, Tel,’ Stragen approved. “I may yet bestow an earldom upon you.’ He turned and led Sparhawk and Sephrenia from the ballroom. Once they were in the corridor outside, his manner changed abruptly. The veneer of affectedly bored gentility dropped away, and his eyes became alert, hard. They were the eyes of a very dangerous man. “Does our little charade puzzle you, Sparhawk?’ he asked. “Maybe you feel that those in our profession should be housed in places like Platime’s cellar in Cimmura or Meland’s loft in Acie?’
“It’s more commonplace, Milord,’ Sparhawk replied cautiously.
“We can drop the ‘“Milord”, Sparhawk. It’s an affectation –
at least partially. All of this has a moore serious purpose than satisfying some obscure personal quirk of mine, though. The gentry has access to far more wealth than the commons, so I train my associates to prey upon the rich and idle rather than the poor and industrious. It’s more profitable in the long run. This current group has a long way to go, though, I’m afraid. Tel’s coming along rather well, but I despair of ever making a lady of the countess. She has the soul of a whore, and that voice -,’
he shuddered.
‘Anyway, I train my people to assume spurious titles and to mouth little civilities to each other in preparation for more serious business. We’re all still thieves, whores and cut-throats, of course, but we deal with a better class of customers. ‘
They entered a large, well-lit room to find Kurik and Talen sitting together on a large divan. “Did you have a pleasant journey, My Lord?’ Talen asked Sparhawk in a voice that had just a slight edge of resentment to it.
The boy was dressed in a formal doublet and hose, and for the first time since Sparhawk had met him, his hair was combed. He rose and bowed gracefully to Sephrenia.
“Little mother,’ he greeted her.
‘I see you’ve been tampering with our wayward boy, Stragen,’ she observed.
‘His Grace had a few rough edges when he first came to us, dear lady,’ the elegant ruffian told her. “I took the liberty of polishing him a bit.’
‘His Grace?’ Sparhawk asked curiously.
‘I have certain advantages, Sparhawk,’ Stragen laughed.
‘When nature – or blind chance – bestows a title , she has no way to consider the character of the recipient and to match the eminence to the man. I, on the other hand, can observe the true nature of the person involved and can select the proper adornment of rank. I saw at once that young Talen here is an extraordinary youth , so I bestowed a duchy upon him. Give me three more months, and I could present him at a court.’ He sat down in a large, comfortable chair.