Perilous Seas (45 page)

Welcome?
Public reception . . . they were not even to be granted the grace of an
unobtrusive entry into the city. There would be bands and a parade.
Rejoice!-the sultan returns! Mockery.

Inos
turned away from the sight of the band and the assemblage of princes. She
glanced around her to confirm that the chests had been brought up and that all
was ready for disembarkation. Dawn Pearl would leave on the same tide.

Well!
Over there was the shrouded form of little Frainish, who had been so chagrined
to discover that she was coming home to Arakkaran instead of venturing forth to
Angot. But at her side stood Skarash, inscrutable again in the flowing robes of
a Zarkian merchant. Well, well!

Master
Skarash had supposedly disembarked at Torkag. No one had seen him since, so no
one had been able to question him. And here he was back? Either this was more
sorcery, or he had been plying the sailors with gold to keep him hidden. There
was one way to solve that question.

Inos
strode across the deck and accosted him. “Master Skarash? “

He
raised his chin and continued to stare at the harbor, arms folded, ignoring
her. He was being a djinn again, and djinns did not speak to other men’s
wives, or pretended wives.

“I
was hoping for a farewell kiss,” Inos said.

He
twitched. Garnet eyes flickered toward her, then away again. His Adam’s
apple lurched, but he did not speak.

“If
I tell Azak about that episode,” Inos said, “then he will kill you
now, with his bare hands.”

Again
the hard swallow.

“I
shall count to three, then I tell him how you forced your kisses on me in the
cellars. One!”

“Go
away!”

“Not
until I have some answers. Two!”

Frainish
was wide-eyed above her yashmak. Skarash did not look around, but gems of sweat
gleamed amid the pink stubble on his lip. “What do you want to know?”
he whispered.

Inos
had already gained one answer-Skarash was not a sorcerer. “Whom do you
serve?”

“My
grandfather, of course.”

“And
whose votary is he?”

He
licked his lips. The dock was very close now, Kar and the dozens of other
princes clearly visible, all loyally smiling. The band lurched into the
clamorous discords of the Arakkaranian national anthem.

“Warlock
Olybino’s.” Aha! “Since when?”

Skarash
turned a furious, frightened gaze on Inos. “Since the night we reached
Ullacarn. The centurion ... You saw! That was the warlock himself!”

“Yes,
I know. So your grandfather did serve Rasha when we left here?”

He
snarled at her. “Yes, and now he doesn’t, and it’s all your
fault!”

“Mine?”

“You
escaped from Tall Cranes. He had to use so much power to find you and get you
back that the warlock found him! You spoiled everything, Inosolan! Now go away!”

“I
am not quite satisfied. So it is not Rasha’s will that brings us back
here. Does she know we are coming?”

“Yes.
I think so. She must if they do.” He waved at the quay. “And why
are we coming?”

Skarash’s
ruddy face was all shiny with fright. He glanced momentarily over at Azak, and
then back to Inos. “He is watching! Please go away!”

“Not
until you tell. “

“The
wardens do not need you! The Krasnegar problem has been solved. You are
nothing, Inosolan! Nothing!”

She
flinched. Yet somehow it was almost a comfort to have one’s worst
suspicions confirmed, the uncertainty laid to rest. Now the fairer hopes could
be discarded and put away. Now Krasnegar could be forgotten, for whoever ruled
there in future, an ex-queen would not be allowed to return. Other alternatives
could be examined, and Inos could start to make some plans. The hurt ... The
hurt could wait.

“So
why bother to send us back?”

Skarash
looked longingly at the dock, as if wondering if he might leap to safety and
disappear into the crowd. Then he sneaked another glance across at Azak, and
paled at what he saw.

“As
a message to Rasha. She is nothing, also! Olybino is the stronger-he broke her
loyalty spell. Grandsire was her votary and now is his. He can enslave Rasha
also!”

Aha!
again.

“Please,
Inos!” Skarash whispered. “Have mercy! You are killing me. He is
still sultan of this city and Grandsire is not here to shield me. “

Inos
hesitated, then nodded. “I shall not forget the kiss,” she said
sweetly. Let him worry about what that meant! She spun around in a swirl of
hems and stalked back to the glaring Azak, picking her way between ropes and
baggage and hurrying sailors.

Things
were a little clearer now.

“Well?”
Azak demanded. There might be hint of twinkle in his scowl, making Inos wonder
how much he had deliberately been aiding the interrogation of Skarash.

“Rasha
knows we are coming. Olybino has sent us back as a threat-his sorcery is
stronger than hers. She is in danger herself now.”

“Gods
of the Good!” The tall young man’s face broke into a wide smile.

But
Rasha was still a sorceress, and she would be waiting in the palace.

Nothing!

All
during the bowings, the prostrations, the speeches of welcome, that dread word
kept echoing to and fro in her head. You are nothing, Inosolan!

As
the band played and the procession moved slowly up the long and hilly road to
the palace, she sat with Kade in a decently screened carriage, accompanied by
two anonymously shrouded women whose presence stifled conversation completely.

She
thought about being nothing. If her kingdom had gone and she was nothing, then
surely she had been nothing before? Inosolan had always been nothing. Krasnegar
had been everything. Bitter taste.

The
crowds were not cheering for her-they could have no idea who was inside that
opaque little oven bouncing by on its unsprung axle. They knelt with their
faces in the dust and they cheered their sultan on his big black horse. They
were shouting Azak! Azak! Azak! but it sounded very much like Nothing! Nothing!
Nothing! to Inos.

Now
she need not wont’ about Krasnegar. Now she was free to consider the
alternatives. There were not very many to consider. She had no assets. She knew
no trade. Her needlework was scandalous, her lute playing pained the ear. Who
ever heard of a female hostler, or a cook who could catch the dish but not
prepare it? With a royal title she had been useful timber for matchmakers like
the dowager duchess of Kinvale. Without it, she might make a governess or a
dancing instructor. Or she might many a rich, fat merchant who hoped to rise in
society and needed guidance in gentility.

Of
course she had one asset. Doubtless she could soon acquire the skill required
to use it to its best advantage; but that road led down to the pit that Rasha
had known, the bog from which almost no one but Rasha had ever escaped.

Nothing!

If
her father had told her a word of power as everyone believed, then she had
mistaken it. So far she had displayed no signs of being an occult genius at
anything.

Why
had the warlock been so cruel as to send her back to Zark? Anywhere in the
Impire would have been better for an unattached female with no skills, no
title, no money, no friends.

She
might have one friend, but one she was not certain she wanted. And she was not
even sure of him any more. Since being released from the brig, Azak had not
said he loved her. Was it she he had thought he loved, or only the romantic
myth of a beautiful, dispossessed queen? What had he dreamed ofbeing her
husband, or being king of Krasnegar? If he still wanted her, could she ever
want him?

The
Azak who had been good company in the desert had been Azak the lionslayer, a
freelance swordsman with no kingdom to worry about. The Azak she had just
glimpsed on the dock had been the ruthless sultan, grim and saturnine,
terrifying everyone.

She
might have learned to love the one; she doubted she could ever love the other.

If
Rasha must now flee from Arakkaran to evade the warlock, then Azak would be
free to be sultan as he wished to be. He would be free to marry, if he chose,
although he could no longer marry a queen, because there was no queen
available. He might prefer a woman of his own race, one who could do a better
job of running the royal household. Who would not shock princely society by
wanting to ride to hounds. Who would be properly respectful of her lord, not
teasing and talking back.

He
lusted after her, Elkarath had said. But Azak was never petty. He might
withdraw his offer of marriage, from the needs of political expediency, but ...
but surely there would always be a bed for her in the palace?

They
had gambled together. Inos had lost.

And
Rasha had lost. So Azak had won.

And
if Inos accepted the job of son-breeder, what happened when she was forty, with
Azak long since assassinated and someone else on the throne? To whom would the
chattel be reassigned?

She
thought about all these things in the hot and stuffy carriage as it climbed the
hill. She was still thinking about them as it rattled to a halt in the palace
yard.

“After
the rigors of the desert and the confines of a ship,” Kade said brightly,
“it will be nice to enjoy some really luxurious decadence again.”

Their
old quarters had been taken over by another prince and his household. Kade and
Inos were ushered to a small suite of rooms that they had never seen before.
Compared to the others they were dingy; compared to anywhere else they were
still opulent. A half-dozen shrouded women waited to attend them, but they were
surly and uncommunicative. There was no sign of Zana.

Inos
demanded a bath, and enjoyed it. Then she defiantly scrabbled through her trunk
until she found a slinky Imperial dress of cool green and white silk, and she
braided up her hair herself. She smothered herself in pearls and admired her
reflection in a mirror and wanted to weep.

Kade,
when she appeared, had donned a Zarkian chaddar of white cotton, although her
head was uncovered.

They
hugged without words, and wandered out to a balcony overlooking a jeweled
garden. Parrots screamed among the trees. “Nice to be home?” Inos
asked bitterly, sniffing the flower scents in the air.

“I
enjoy the little comforts.” Kade waited, and when she received no answer,
added, “Don’t believe everything that Master Skarash says, my dear.
He’s not a very reliable witness.”

“But
it makes sense. It all makes sense. And nothing else does. “

Kade
sighed and went to sit on a soft chair. “Well, you may have lost your
kingdom. We can’t be sure of that yet. And even if you have-it wasn’t
ever very much of a kingdom, you know. “ Battling a lump in her throat,
Inos said nothing.

“Kinvale
was always more comfortable. And Kinvale is still there. We shall always be
welcome.”

“To
accept charity from that sly old bitch who set Yggingi on us?”

“Inos!”

“It’s
true! And she will still believe I have a word of power. She will brew up some
other foul scheme to rack it out of me for her precious moronic son.”

Kade
beamed, being motherly. “Well then, not Kinvale. We know hundreds of
people in the Impire. We shall go and visit Hub.”

“And
just how do we get there? On camels? Will our earrings buy camels? “

“They
would buy a lot of things.” Kade smiled brightly. “You are young,
and healthy, and wealthy, and well educated. You have beauty and grace. I am
sure that Sultana Rasha will still be sympathetic, perhaps even more so now.
You have been harshly treated-by men-and she disapproves of women being
oppressed. She will see you on your way, back to the Impire where you belong.
She may even magic you there. Now that the wardens know about her, she has no
reason to conceal her existence or her powers.”

Inos
was not sure she believed all that. She did not trust Rasha, and certainly did
not want to be beholden to her. Kade tried again. “Remember the God’s
words? You were told to trust in love. Love is worth more than all the kingdoms
of Pandemia.”

“Whose
love? Azak’s?”

Her
aunt hesitated and pursed her lips. “If you want my honest opinion . . .
No, I don’t think so. You do have a great attraction for men, Inos. He
will not be the last man to fall in love with you.”

“But
none more truly,” said Azak, coming out of the doorway.

Inos
jumped and bit back a sharp comment about eavesdroppers. He was sultan again;
she must watch her tongue.

He
strode over to her and stopped, very close, and his jewels glittered in the
sunlight. His fringe of beard was a two-week stubble, but it was enough to
distinguish him from the dashing imp he had been in Ullacarn, or the bushy
lionslayer of the desert. He stared down at her with his dark red eyes.

“I
have not changed,” he said.

She
tried not to show how much that meant. Then she felt guilty. She wanted to use
that love against him, to win favors, not to love him in return. Could she
ever? Queens did not marry for love; they married for reasons of state.

Was
that so very different from what Rasha had done in her younger days?

He
smiled, but it was not a very warming smile. It looked too deliberate. “No
answer?”

“Azak
... I don’t know what to say. Kade was just warning me that we still don’t
know for certain about Krasnegar. Skarash is not the most reliable of
witnesses. “

Azak
snorted. “Of course not. Well, you shall remain here as-”

He
twisted and went rigid. She saw beads of perspiration break out on his face.

“Azak!
What’s wrong?”

He
relaxed with a gasp and shivered. “I came to tell you that we are
summoned. I must be taking too long. That was a nudge, that’s all.”