Perilous Seas (36 page)

Had
Rasha already sold Inos to Olybino? Had Elkarath actually been East’s
votary all along? The answer to those two questions seemed to be no. If she
belonged to the warlock, then she would be magicked to Hub in no time. That
much at least seemed clear-Rasha was still in control.

Ullacarn
was admittedly a fair city. Most of its streets were straight and wide, typical
of Imperial planning and completely unlike the chaotic alleys of Arakkaran. A
few patches of ramshackle native construction still lingered here and there
like unhealed wounds, including the ancient House of Elkarath itself, but all
these old slums were scheduled for demolition in the near future, to be
replaced by modern, more sanitary construction. So Skarash had told her.

“How
do you feel about that?” she had asked.

“Do
you want my imp answer or my djinn answer?” Which was an answer. Even
Skarash seemed out of sorts today. Around his grandfather he was submissive and
self-effacing. For Azak he played stern patriot, for Kade dutiful escort, for
Inos flippant playboy and now charioteer. The day before he had never missed a
step, but that morning he had fumbled a few times, displaying the wrong face or
having to change voice halfway through a speech. Either he was attempting too
many roles at once, Inos thought, or something new was worrying Master Skarash.

The
sightseeing had been a mistake; her headache had grown worse. Now, thank the
Gods, she was on her way to pick up Kade and go home; if she lived that long.
The wheels rat-tatted on the cobbles, shooting bolts of fire from her eyeballs,
and the chaise lurched and rocked down the hill, scattering pedestrians and
pack animals alike, swerving around on one wheel between wagons and carriages.
Spectators roared in anger and shook fists. Dogs barked and horses shied.
Dwarves with hammers beat on her brain like an anvil.

Skarash
being charioteer ... the two hussars sent along to guard Inos had objected to
his fast driving. Mainly they’d just been throwing their weight around,
hassling a rich djinn. So Skarash had challenged them to a race down the Way
Imelada, the steepest, narrowest, nastiest alley in the city, so far as Inos
could tell. He was going to win it, too, if it killed her.

Ullacarn
was a flatter city than Arakkaran, or Krasnegar, but it did have the Way
Imelada, and it did have a palace on a hilltop. The emir was rumored to be
under house arrest, Skarash had said. There must be a strong anti-Impire
faction in the city, so perhaps Azak could enlist some secret allies among the
local djinns.

In
three days? And why would the enemies of the Impire aid a sultan who wanted to
go to Hub? More like they would see him as a traitor and push a scimitar
through him; and the problems of a refugee queen from the far northwest would
interest them not at all. Bury that idea.

Or
bury Inos! The chaise skidded around a corner on one wheel, narrowly missing a
cart laden with vegetables.

And
now the way ahead was flatter, wider, and packed with people. Skarash was
screaming warnings, cracking his whip in the air. Inos clung tight and tried
closing her eyes, but that did not help much. Every jolt flashed flames inside
her head, and they just seemed brighter when she had her eyes closed. Somewhere
behind the bouncing chaise came the two horsemen, but Skarash had outwitted
them right at the beginning by getting them to agree to give him a few paces’
start, and ever since then they had been unable to find a place clear enough to
overtake. Unless he killed someone, he was going to win the race.

Yesterday
Azak had escorted Inos; today he had gone off on his own. He had reluctantly
agreed to wear impish costume while in Ullacarn, for otherwise he would be
conspicuous and might find himself harassed by the soldiers. As always, he had
gone full measure. He had shaved off his beard and had his hair cut to impish
shortness; it was coppery and lighter than his beard. In hose and breeches and
ruffles, he was a sight to catch every female eye in town. Suddenly the idea of
Azak in Kinvale or even Krasnegar was not quite so hard to imagine-but that was
another problem altogether.

The
chaise lurched extra hard and skidded and swung sideways. Inos muttered a
prayer and clung tighter. Then she heard yells of triumph close by and opened
her eyes just as the hussars went thundering past. Ambly Square was right
ahead.

“You
lost!” she said.

Skarash
dared not turn to look at her yet, but he grinned. His face was bright scarlet
and shiny with perspiration, his hair flew loose, and his plumed hat had
vanished completely. He was obviously very pleased with himself. “Of
course I lost! You think I’m crazy enough to win?” He was still
hauling on the reins to slow the horse.

Two
minutes later he brought Inos safely, if not soundly, back to the couturier’s
door. He began passing gold to the hussars, along with his congratulations. He
was still being a trader, still giving what was wanted.

The
couturier’s establishment was a grand house on a grand square. Djinn
servants came hurrying to lead the horse to the mews, and Skarash again flashed
coin as he demanded that the hussars’ mounts be taken, also, to be walked
and rubbed down. Then he gave Inos his hand to help her descend, followed by
his arm to mount the wide stairs to the door. He was puffing and still excited
from the race. He could have won had he wished, so losing was a double victory
for him.

Inos
fought for concentration through the thumping surf in her head. “Master
Skarash? “ she murmured as big white doors swung open before them.

“Yes,
my beloved?” he replied softly.

Inos
ignored that. “I have relatives in Hub. My aunt knows many people there.
I was wondering if we might write letters to forewarn them of our arrival?”

They
stepped together into a hallway richly furnished, although possibly at
secondhand, for the rugs and draperies seemed mismatched. Inos started toward
the room where she had left Kade, but the footman was leading the way across to
the stairs, so Kade must have moved.

“Letters?”
Skarash mused. “There would be no point at the moment, would there? No
ship is due to sail before Dawn Pearl, so you would merely be paying to send
mail on the same vessel as yourself. When we reach Qoble, of course, then the
case may be different. You may not wish to travel at the posts’ pace
then. “

“You
will be accompanying us? “ For a moment that surprise even cut through
the headache.

Skarash
smiled innocently. “Only as far as Angot, to deliver some messages for
Grandsire.”

So
Elkarath was not going! Yet how could he risk sending his prisoners off
unaccompanied? Winds were fitful. Even if Dawn Pearl had no preliminary
landfalls scheduled before Qoble, the Gods might arrange one. Rasha would not
dare withdraw all occult restraint-what did that hint about Skarash?

Then
Inos was being ushered into a room where Kade was preening before a pier glass.
She spun around and beamed. “Ah! Did you have a pleasant journey, my
dear? Do sit down and advise me. These pearls are such a problem.”

Inos
set her face in a rictus of smile and sank onto a chintzcovered chair. The
draperies were rich purple velvet, the rugs soft and thick, in a discordant
mauve. The furniture was an odd assemblage.

Kade,
of course, was exultant at the thought of journeying to Hub. All her life she
had wanted to visit the capital. She had almost attained her ambition twice,
and each time something had come up to prevent her leaving Kinvale.

Kade,
in a sense, was being as deceitful as Skarash. Having played the role of desert
nomad for months, enduring hardship and discomfort without complaint, she had
now reverted to being a brainless Kinvale lady, totally engrossed in gowns and
frippery. Well, if she enjoyed the procedure, she had certainly earned it, even
if it was only a comfortable sham.

“What
do you think of this string?” she inquired. “Or this one? “

The
impish assistants fussed and exclaimed around her, delighted to have a customer
with such exquisite taste and such impressive wealth. Of course pearls were
plentiful in Ullacarn, on the shores of the Sea of Sorrows. Despite her worries
and her pounding temples, Inos was impressed by the glowing heaps being
displayed.

“Why
not take both, your Highness?” Skarash suggested. “And the
stomacher, also?”

“You
really think so?” Kade said, seeming tempted. “And what about
earrings and brooches? Look at these, Inos! “

Inos
murmured appreciation and offered opinions, and then reluctantly moved to a
chair before a mirror so that she also might try on clasps and brooches
encrusted with fine pearls. Skarash encouraged and applauded, flaunting wealth
and pressing the noble ladies to buy whatever they fancied. The clerks murmured
and enthused.

Inos’s
head continued to throb, but even while she babbled about settings and matches
and sizes, her mind went on wrestling with the main problem, rejecting this
whole charade as being unbelievable. There just was no reason why Rasha should
be sending her prisoners off to Hub. The promised voyage to Qoble must be a
feint to keep them happy while something else was planned.

But
what could three penniless, friendless fugitives do in an unknown city? They
could not pay their fares on a ship, they could not bribe guards, or sailors.
They seemed to have no option except to play along with the pretense until such
time as Elkarath revealed the sorceress’s true plans.

“And
you should see the lacework!” Kade exclaimed. “Do you remember
those lace cuffs-no, they were before your time, my dear. I had a pair of lace
cuffs that moved from gown to gown for ten years at least, until they were
dishrags. Lace was so expensive in Kinford! And here they have lace like I have
never seen. Collars and cuffs-”

“The
best lace comes from Guwush,” said Skarash, the trader in him emerging
briefly. He began describing how the gnomes harvested silk from forest spiders,
and then went into technicalities of quality and grading.

Half
an hour or so later, Inos could rise thankfully to her feet, prepared to leave.
The sun was near to setting, and the thought of lying down on her lumpy little
bed in the House of Elkarath was heavenly. Kade had shamelessly frittered away
a fortune, but seemed content at last-dear Kade! She had earned it. The
assistants were hastily wrapping all those riches, and Skarash was counting out
gold as carelessly as if it were millet.

Kade
caught Inos’s eye briefly.

Inos
blinked and looked again, but the odd expression had vanished and her aunt had
turned to ask about alterations to the turquoise tea gown.

By
then Inos understood. Right under her eyes, Kade had solved one of the
problems. The fugitives might not have gold, but they now had an enormous
supply of valuable earrings and brooches and pins. For bribery, at least, those
might do as well.

Three
in a one-horse chaise were cramped, and although Skarash did not indulge in any
more chariot races, he seemed to have picked up an inexplicable sense of
urgency. The streets were crowded with homebound workers, and he fretted
impatiently, muttering under his breath.

Inos
considered him out of the comer of a bleary, pain-filled eye. Jumpy or not, he
had been flirting all afternoon, at every chance. Dare she attempt to seduce
Elkarath’s grandson from his loyalty? Would she ever trust anything this
devious young man promised? If he were indeed the Chosen One, he would be crazy
to risk losing his chance of inheriting such powers just for a mild flirtation,
for Inos had no intention of going any further than that. If he was indeed
going to be her guardian on the ship, then he might already have been granted
occult powers, and thus he might already know what she was thinking-and a
flirtation would get out of hand very quickly. She decided not to pursue the
matter ... pursue Skarash. The way her head was thumping, she was not capable
of producing even one winsome smile, anyway.

At
last the rattling vehicle turned into a narrow alley and came bouncing to a
halt outside the merchant’s house. Skarash growled something inaudible.
There were too many legionaries milling around there, too many horses, too many
citizens excited about something.

Suddenly
apprehensive, Inos followed him down and ran ahead, awkward in her city shoes,
not waiting for Kade. Then she heard a familiar voice and stopped abruptly.

In
a moment she located him, Centurion Imopopi. He was barking out orders, and
again she felt an uncanny unease. She had not seen him since the previous
morning, but she had thought about him several times without deciding why he
had so disconcerted her. His voice was arousing the same mysterious alarms as
it had before. The soldiers were gathered in a group, with the djinn workers
emerging from the big loading room to cluster around them. What were they all
looking at?

She
began to push her way through the crowd, even shoving at the leather and bronze
of legionaries, and suffering a few pinches and fondlings in the process. She
saw Elkarath himself appearing, large and hot-looking in his scarlet gown, his
skullcap perched awry on his white hair, his ruddy face ruddier than ever.
Everyone was staring at something on the ground.

She
reached the center before the sheik did. Azak lay flat on the cobbles,
obviously unconscious. His face was battered, his clothes tattered. He was red
with blood. As she dropped to her knees at his side, a hand closed crushingly
on her wrist and hauled her back upright.

“You
know the man, ma’am?” The centurion’s black eyes were
fearsome with suspicion.

“I
... Yes.” Shocked by the pain of his grip, Inos tried to pull free, but
she might as well have tried to uproot an oak. “Sheik-I mean,
Master-Elkarath employed ... employs him. You’re hurting me!”