Demon King (16 page)

“True,” I said.

“The group I represent believe it might be time to offer their services to the emperor, in the hopes he might see his way clear to letting them advise him. There is the old cliché about the more minds the better on a problem.”

“There’s also the one about the ship with too many captains,” I retorted.

“I don’t think that would be the problem in our case,” Trochu said.

“What good would I be to such a group of great thinkers?” I allowed a bit of irony to creep in.

“Frankly,” Trochu said, “most of us are not well known, and have spent little time in the public eye. We all know that, ultimately, the masses must have their idols — men to respect, men to follow. That is where you would be of service to Numantia.”

I kept my expression bland, mildly interested. “Let me pose another question,” I said. “Let us say your group decides a certain policy would be beneficial to the country, and then let us say the emperor violently disagrees. What then?”

“I would hope we would have the same courage you have, and stand up for what we know to be right for Numantia. There is the advantage to our group. You were but one man, so when you did what you did, the emperor could brush you aside easily. But if there were ten, a dozen, a hundred or more of the Empire’s best standing firm …”

I was on my feet. Anger boiled within me, but I tried to hold it back as best I could, which was not very much. “Domina, you had better hold your tongue. I’ll remind you once more of your oath. What you’ve just suggested is ignoble. You, I, all of us, exist to serve the emperor. Not to ‘advise’ him, not to override him if he happens to have his own plans. Your words smack of treason, and your own behavior is dishonorable. I must ask you to leave this house immediately and never appear in my presence again.

“Perhaps I should notify the proper authorities of you and your little group. Perhaps I shall not, for I mightily despise a tale-teller. I don’t think the empire or emperor is in jeopardy from a pack of fools such as you, however. You remind me all too much of those yammering do-nothings I was proud to help the emperor overthrow.

“Now, get out of here, or I’ll have you tossed into the street by my servants!”

Strangely, Trochu showed no sign of anger. He rose, bowed, and left unhurriedly. I fumed for a time, then, when I thought I’d calmed myself, I sought Marán and told her what had happened. She exploded, and I had to calm her, feeling my own anger return through her.

“That little rat bastard! We ought to call Kutulu’s warders and report this pissheaded domina and his shitheels! The emperor’s got enough troubles without having dungeaters like them plotting.”

My wife was noble, but could swear as well as the hardest drill master. I repeated what I’d said to Trochu about not being, or liking, a tell-tale.

Marán’s lips pursed. “I know,” she said. “I don’t, either. But this is different. This is the emperor!” She broke off and looked at me strangely. “Damastes, a thought just came. A very odd thought. I’ll ask it slowly, so you don’t get angry. Right now, the emperor is mad at you, correct? Maybe even wondering how loyal you are?” She waited, probably expecting me to snarl something.

“Go ahead” was all I said.

“Maybe you’re wondering just as I am. If I were the emperor, and I had someone who’s known as the Serpent Who Never Sleeps at my beck, someone who’s supposedly got an agent in every tavern, eating place, and public spot in Numantia, and another agent to watch the first, would I maybe have my serpent send to see if my disgraced tribune could be tempted into foolishness?”

“Such as joining a conspiracy that really doesn’t exist?” I said.

“Or maybe it does, but only to keep track of possible betrayers?”

Marán said.

I shook my head, not in denial, but in perplexity. “I don’t know, Marán. I just don’t know.”

“Nor I. But Laish Tenedos and Kutulu are more than subtle enough to come up with such a scheme.”

“So what do we do about it? Even if he is a double agent, I still don’t like the idea of informing.”

“We’ll have to think about it,” she said.

But we didn’t have to. The next morning Kutulu came calling.

• • •

He was even shyer than usual and clutched a paper-wrapped parcel as he perched on the edge of a leather couch. Marán greeted him, then said she’d join us later in the green study. That was a code between us — that particular room had a secret alcove with a spyhole, entered from the neighboring linen closet, and Marán and I used it when one or another of us wished to hear something our presence might prevent being said.

Kutulu refused refreshment and said that he could only stay a few minutes.

“I see your wounds have healed,” I said.

“Yes, at least partially,” he said. “I still have some stiffness in this side. But my brain has returned to working order. For a long time I kept going in and out of fogs, and wasn’t able to remember things, and lost track of conversations. I think … I hope … that’ll never happen again. My memory, being able to add things together, is my only real talent.” He might have said weapon.

“It probably won’t,” I advised. “Most people think a clout on the head just knocks you out. In reality, it takes a while to come back to normal.”

“Who did it to me?”

“Some woman, who then tried to cut your gullet.”

“I hope you dealt with her.”

“Cut off her head, in fact.”

“Good. I’d wondered. I was told you dragged me back inside our keep, but no one said what happened to my assailant. That’s why I’m here,” he went on. “To thank you, once again, for saving my life. I suppose it’s become a habit.”

I was slightly astonished. “Kutulu, are you making a joke?”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

Now I really began laughing, and a smile came and went on his face.

“At any rate,” I said, “it’s certainly good to see you. And I’m quite surprised you’re here.”

“Why? You’re one of my few friends. I’m just sorry I was laid up for such a long time. Why wouldn’t I visit you?”

“For one thing, the emperor isn’t thinking fondly of me.”

“What of that? I know — and so does he, really — you’re not a threat to the realm, in spite of your differences in Kallio.”

“I wouldn’t think he’d be pleased to see you visit anyone who’s in disgrace.”

“Perhaps not. But I didn’t choose to serve a man who’s ruled by his emotions. If the emperor uses a moment of logic, he’ll dismiss the matter.”

“Well …” I let my voice trail off, then slightly changed the subject. “Does he still have you chasing thus-far-invisible Maisirians?”

Kutulu frowned, nodded.

“And have you found any more evidence than you had before of King Bairan’s evil plots?”

“None. But the emperor persists in his belief.” Kutulu shook his head. “Now, does that make what I said a few minutes ago, about imperial logic, meaningless?”

“As you said once before, the emperor’s mind moves in ways we’re not privy to,” I said.

“I did, didn’t I?” Kutulu hesitated. “Actually, there was another, more important reason I came. And even though it’s somewhat threatening, I think your wife should be aware of what I’m going to say.”

I went to the door.

“Never mind,” Kutulu said, with that wisp of a smile. “I’ll call her.”

He walked to the waterfall painting concealing the spyhole and spoke to it. “Countess Agramónte, would you join us?” There was a hiccup of surprise from behind the picture, and I turned red. Marán’s face was even redder when she came into the room a few moments later.

Kutulu shook his head. “Why you should be embarrassed is quite beyond me. Why shouldn’t you have, and use, a device such as that? I would.”

“Because,” Marán managed, “it’s considered the height of rudeness to eavesdrop.”

“Not in my world,” Kutulu said. “Not in my profession. At any rate,” he went on, “I don’t know if Damastes told you that our friends the Tovieti are on the rise once more.”

“No … Wait, yes he did.” Marán remembered. “In Kallio. But I didn’t pay much attention. We had … more pressing worries, as I recall.”

“Well, they’re as active now as they were when the emperor sent me to Polycittara,” Kutulu said. “In fact, busier. That’s what’s worrying the emperor. He’s had me drop my other concerns to concentrate on them, specifically whether they’re being financed by Maisir.” Maisir again! Kutulu saw my expression. “He’s wondering if King Bairan is their paymaster, just as Chardin Sher was for a time. By the way, of course everything I’m saying must not be repeated. I haven’t found any evidence yet. But it would be logical.”

“I don’t see why this pertains to us,” I said.

“Two weeks ago, I arrested a cell leader, and she had greater knowledge of the organization and its plans than any one I’d interrogated before. She told me the Tovieti’s offensive is divided into two prongs. The first, and longest-ranged, is to continue murdering in the hopes that the emperor will tighten the screws and enact repressive laws. That will anger the populace, the anger will feed off the repression — back and forth until there is another rising, which won’t fail.

“Their second, more immediate plan is selective assassination of the emperor’s leaders. I asked her for names, and she said the campaign was still being discussed. But she did say the Tovieti targets would be men like, and I’m quoting her precisely, ‘that gods-damned yellow-haired devil Damastes the Fair, the one who rode us down before and helped the emperor slay Thak. He’s one, and so’s his, pardon me, countess, solid gold bitch of a wife.’ ”

“But … but why? Why us? Why me?” Marán said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“Because you’re better, richer, smarter than they are, maybe? I don’t know. Doesn’t the peasant always hate his better?”

“Not necessarily,” I said, remembering the peasants I’d labored with as a boy, not much richer and at least as hungry as they were.

“I wouldn’t really know,” Kutulu said. “My parents were shopkeepers, and I don’t remember anyone hating us, or us hating anyone.

“But that’s another matter. I thought I’d best warn you. I wish the emperor would change his opinion of you and restore your Red Lancers. This palace is hard to defend properly.”

“We have watchmen.”

Kutulu was about to say something, but I shook my head slightly, and he kept silent. “Be careful, both of you,” he said, instead. He got to his feet, then realized he was still clutching the parcel. “Oh. Yes. Here’s a present. For both of you. No, please open it after I’ve left.” He seemed in a hurry to leave, and we escorted him out. He had only two warders to escort him.

“Kutulu,” I said, “perhaps I should return the warning. You’re a finer target for those madmen than I.”

“Of course,” he said. “But who knows what I look like? Or remembers my face?”

“A question for you,” I said. “Have you ever heard of a certain Domina Obbia Trochu?” I described him.

Kutulu’s face blanked, and he furrowed his brow, as if in deep thought. “No,” he said blandly. “I don’t believe I have. Should I?”

“Not necessarily,” I said dryly. “Not unless you want to.”

Kutulu didn’t ask for an explanation, but climbed into the saddle. “I really like your home,” he said. “Perhaps, one day, if the emperor decides …” His voice trailed away. He tapped his horse’s reins and went off down the winding road to the street beyond the gates.

“That is a truly odd little man,” Marán said.

“He is,” I agreed. “Shall we see what present an odd man buys?”

It was an expensively worked wooden box. Inside were a dozen differently scented bars of soap.

“Oh dear,” Marán said. “Has he
no
social graces? I’ve known men challenged to a death duel for such an insult.”

“Would
you
challenge the Serpent Who Never Sleeps?” I asked. “Besides, perhaps he’s right. Maybe we do need a bath.”

Marán eyed me. “I suspect you, sir, of having ulterior motives.”

I rounded my eyes and tried to look innocent.

• • •

One of the more secluded parts of the Water Palace was a series of falls, ponds, and rapids running through small glades and mossy gardens. Some of the ponds were icy cold, others sent steam roiling into the chill night wind. All were lit with various-colored lamps, hidden in glass-fronted underwater alcoves.

“Why do we start up here, instead of where it’s warm?” Marán said. “This is arctic!”

“Sybarite! Do you want to always do things the easy way?”

“Of course.” Marán wore a soft cotton robe, and I had a towel around my waist.

“Ah, my love, you’re
such
an ascetic sort,” she murmured. “Here I am, freezing my tits off, and you have nothing but that towel.” She opened her robe, and, indeed, her dark brown nipples were standing hard and firm. “See?”

I quickly bent and bit one. She squealed, then took a bar of Kutulu’s soap from the pocket of her robe. She’d had one of her maids drive a hole in it, and tied a silk cord through the center. She hung the soap around her neck. “Now, you filthy creature, you’ll have to work for your bath,” and she dove into the pool. An instant later, she surfaced. “Shit, it’s even colder in here than out there,” she yelped.

I plunged after her. It was cold, as frigid as any stream cascading through a mountain valley in Urey. I surfaced, shivering and treading water, and slowly moving closer to her.

“Ah-ah. I see your treachery,” she said and dove, swimming hard. I went after her, following the foam and the flail of her feet. I was reaching for her ankle when I realized she’d made it to one of the falls, and then the current took me and sent me tumbling over the lip. I fell five feet and splashed into another pond, this as warm as the other was cold.

I let myself drift to the bottom, then languidly swam back to the surface. Marán floated on her back, looking up at the sky. The hard diamonds of the stars shone down. The steam from the water twined white serpents around us.

“I guess … most times … this isn’t that bad a world,” she said softly.

“There could be worse,” I agreed.

“Are we possibly doing something wrong?” she asked.

“Not yet.”