Vergence (20 page)

“And you think this Ebryn is trained in the fashion of the Aremetuet?”

“Galling as it is, I must agree with the Ronyon. Even without the oddness, this boy would make a fine candidate. His ward was exceptional — it would have put many masters to shame. Whoever trained him undoubtedly possessed much knowledge, and a great deal of eccentricity. I could see no clear pattern in what he's learnt.”

“And do you think he could have been taught to do this thing with sevyric iron?” Vittore asked.

“No, I think not,” Nee said. “Why would a caster train some stripling boy to do this, if they could do it for themselves. If there is a way to teach such a skill, without first knowing it, I cannot imagine what that method might be. At the examination this Ebryn looked to be as surprised as any in the room — as you know we cannot take sevyric iron to Fyrenar, so he could not have practised there. He seemed as unfamiliar with the iron as you would expect.”

“Do you think it is a coincidence then?” Vittore asked. “Isn't this talent incredibly unusual?”

“The last one who possessed it was Aerik, a friend of Ben-gan. He died eighty years past, at the fall of Volane. Affinities with sevyric iron are rare indeed, but not impossible. Perhaps it is just time and chance.”

Another lengthy silence followed, and Orim could imagine Vittore sitting with the tips of his fingers pressed together, lips pursed, making a merchant's calculation of risk, and profit.

Eventually, Vittore cleared his throat. “Time and chance, perhaps, but my nose tells me there is more.”

“So what do you want from me?” Nee asked. “You could easily have learnt as much, or more, from a Genestuer scholar.”

“Two things,” Vittore said. “Set your spies and informers to look into this matter. Discretely. Find out everything you can about this boy, and the people he spends time with. Orim has only one pair of eyes, and I want this matter examined from every side.”

“And the other thing?” Nee asked.

“Assign a team to clean up after Orim — and Nee, use only trusted people. We must appear unconcerned in this business.”

The Ambassador

A
MESSENGER ARRIVED
while Palona sat in the morning room, working on an invitation list with Jaquit. Most of the invitees were obvious, and the first four sides of parchment had almost filled themselves. At the top were those she needed to cultivate and be polite to, further down friends, and those who could be relied on to be entertaining. The real challenge lay in juggling the last few places.

Her musings were interrupted a short while later when her uncle appeared in the summer room entrance. She could see the lines around his mouth and eyes were taut. Something in the message must have upset him.

“I will be having guests shortly,” he said. “Palona, would you kindly show them through to the meeting room when they arrive.”

Palona masked her disappointment. She had just been trying to decide whether inviting young Mebez or leaving him off the list would irritate Lord Rais more, and which she would find most entertaining.

“Will your guests be here very long?” she asked. “Should I arrange refreshments?”

“Hmm, yes, that would be good, and can you see to it we are not disturbed afterwards.”

He paused for a moment, looking at Jaquit. Palona could see him weighing up asking her to leave, then dismissing the idea. Jaquit had proved unfailingly loyal over the many years she'd been with Palona, but she was also deaf, so no inducements, however sweet or bitter, could persuade her to reveal a conversation she hadn't heard.

Master Urr arrived first. He ignored Palona, barely looking in her direction as he strode past on short sturdy legs. Resentment warred with relief. Urr had never been anything other than rude and dismissive, but she found him so entirely disgusting that the prospect of even feigning civility appealed to her as little as driving a paring knife under her fingernail.

Nepet the merchant entered the room as Urr left. When he saw Palona he gave a very good impression of being delighted to see her. Phar Salsa waddled into the room behind Nepet, his heavy jowls quivering as he chuckled. He looked like a man made from two, melded together into great soft folds of flesh, his long, sleeveless robes cascaded to the floor, caressing the creases and undulations of his body.

Nepet took her proffered hand and bowed, careful to ensure his lips merely hinted at brushing the rings on her fingers. “My lady, you grow more enchanting by the day.”

Palona smiled at him indulgently. “Nepet, you're a shameless flatterer.”

“Not so my lady, not so — I assure you.”

Palona appreciated Nepet despite his bland appearance. Square-faced with course features and an ungainly physique, he nevertheless wore the latest Farrul fashions from Ulpitor, kept his hair appropriately oiled in tight ringlets, and wore a subtle but pleasant perfume. And he could be very generous.

“My lady,” he said, leaning close to her and switching seamlessly to the conspiratorial form of common Ulpitorian. “I have the good fortune to have just this day received a shipment of purest tk'tk silk in a wonderful deep gentian, and a set of moon tears from Magadigar set in the finest silver filigree.”

“Now now Nepet, don't start keeping secrets from me,” Salsa warned.

Salsa flicked his swish at an imaginary fly, wafting an unpleasant odour of mingled citrus, mint and garlic in her direction. To Palona's ear, he sounded irritatingly petulant, but her uncle favoured the man so she stifled her annoyance, and forced a smile.

“Nepet is telling me about a fine silk he has acquired Master Salsa,” she said, switching back to common Volanian. “If it's as fine as supplied me for the parade—”

“Finer—” Nepet said.

“— then I will need to discuss with my uncle the importance in representing—”

“Please, there is no need to trouble your dear uncle,” Nepet said. “There should be nothing so base between us, my lady. Naturally, should you find my humble wares worthy, you would honour me by accepting a bolt of the cloth and a set of tears as a gift? Perhaps you might wish to have something fabulous made from it to wear for a public engagement?”

“You are a rare friend,” Palona said.

Salsa snorted. “Very rare indeed.”

“Perhaps then,” Nepet said, ignoring Salsa, “I can send a man once the festivities are concluded?”

The cunning hound, Palona thought. The top part of her invitation list lay uncovered on the small table next to her chair. She'd written it in Ulpitorian script to conceal its contents from inquisitive eyes, but of course Nepet had understood it perfectly.

Lord Garr, Vuko the high priest and Baldon arrived next. They were accompanied by Lord Bae, Baldon’s youngest brother, and also one of Garr's bravos, an ugly pinch-faced man with close-set eyes, random teeth and distinctive Kurbezh complexion.

The older men were grim faced, and although there was nothing unusual about that, Palona thought they also looked troubled. They greeted her with the sign of the three-faced god, three extended fingers to lips like a blown kiss. Lord Bae smiled, and with a quick glance through the summer room door, sighed elaborately and made a half-hearted attempt at the three-fingered greeting. The bravo stared at her and Jaquit with cool insolence, but passed behind Lord Bae in silence.

Following almost on their heels was the creepy Shuhrat Shoru. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and leered at Palona, eyes travelling from the line of her neck to her knees, lingering on her breasts and hips. She could see in his hooded eyes not lust, but calculation. He, too, was a merchant of sorts, but traded nothing in Vergence, and Palona had heard the rumours which proclaimed him a slaver. She pointedly ignored him, turning her attention back to her list.

She didn't think her uncle liked Shuhrat much, but she understood he often had to deal with those he disliked. He'd explained to her, when she was old enough to understand, that his position as ambassador for Ulpitor required him to hide his true feelings, and deal in a pleasant manner even with animal-people. Soldiers must master themselves for battle, he'd told her. Why should he expect lesser discipline of himself when he fought for his homeland using words?

Last to arrive were Murzel, a member of the inner circle of Kurbezh's Triumvirate, and Ibiz, the inquisitor. Murzel dressed in black, with the eyes of a dead man, and Ibiz's face looked like a skull with a thin sheet of velum stretched over it. These two Palona found chilling. She averted her eyes and, looking down in a display of humility, performing the three-fingered observance with care, lest she attract unwanted attention. To her relief neither paused, and she sat back in her seat near the door from where she could eavesdrop on the meeting.

“Are we all here … yes? So what is this matter that cannot wait?” Salsa asked in a peevish tone.

“Have you not heard about events at the admissions this morning?” Vuko asked.

“I've heard,” Salsa said, sounding irritable. “What's it to us?”

Urr made a choking sound. “The devil destroyed a dozen pieces of my work.”

“So some student has an accident and breaks a few of your knick-knacks?” Salsa said. “Surely this is a matter for the orders. Can't you discipline your own? I have important guild duties to perform tonight for the festival—”

“Eating and drinking,” Shuhrat said.

Shuhrat's voice had a sneering slippery quality that made Palona's skin crawl.

“—and for this I am dragged here? Can't this wait until after the Tranquillity?”

“Sevyric iron. He destroyed sevyric iron,” Urr shouted. “Do you not understand this!”

There was a clatter as something heavy landed on the table.

“If he's broken your toys, make some more. Isn't that what you do?” Salsa asked.

Lord Garr cleared his throat. “Friends, friends — in the name of the three, let us not divide one against the other. This reaches beyond the orders of the casters. Sevyric iron is a divine gift. It aids us in our quest to root out the perfidy and excesses that brought great Volane low—”

“Yes, yes,” Shuhrat said, “we all know Vergence is full of wicked people who just live to commit sin. If this boy is such trouble, send a man to stick a knife in his ribs and have done.”

“We cannot just murder the boy and think it will go unnoticed,” Palona's uncle said.

“Agreed,” Baldon said. “Tenlier has him now. We cannot simply kill his people with impunity.”

Urr spluttered. “Tenlier is an addled fool, who busies himself chasing phantasms and illusions. Only the gullible, more foolish even than him, believe his research has value.”

“Even so, he is an Elector, with powerful friends on many sides,” Baldon said.

“No,” Murzel said. He spoke softly, with an emotionless tone. “We must remain attentive to what is essential. Does it not say in Admonitions To The Young: Blessed is the man who cleaves to the truths; and cursed is he who forsakes them for favours of the moment?”

Baldon and the priest responded at the same time, “Praise the three.”

“Respectfully,” Palona's uncle said, “I believe Urr has a point. Why would this boy suddenly appear now, at a time when our plans are so advanced? The chance that one with such a gift should now appear, and join Tenlier by chance, strains credulity—”

“So you think Tenlier is behind this?” Bae asked.

“Unlikely. How would it profit Tenlier to have the boy exposed in public if Tenlier planned to use him? The boy would have been more useful if his abilities had remained hidden,” Palona's uncle said.

“Tell me,” Garr said, “what else did he show? Which others sought him?”

“Warding and folding,” Urr said. “He could not have learnt either by chance. Even amongst adepts folding is rarely studied and difficult to master.”

“What is folding?” Garr asked.

“To hide something, place it beyond the reach of any, and bring it back later if he wishes,” Urr said.

Shuhrat laughed harshly. “Useful for a smuggler—”

“Let's not get side-tracked by irrelevancies—”

Urr made a growling sound. “This point is not meaningless. It was folding the boy used against the iron.”

After a few moments Palona's uncle spoke. “Are you suggesting this boy's training was deliberate?”

“It is possible … yes,” Urr said.

“Well, if he's as great a threat as you say, do what Salsa suggested, have him killed. If it looks like an accident no one will suspect,” Shuhrat said.

“Perhaps you'd like to shut up and leave the decision on how to deal with this to those of us with experience,” Bae said.

“And who's paying for this great plan—” Shuhrat said.

“You're not the only one paying—” Nepet said.

“The funding from my guild far outweighs your meagre contributions,” Salsa said, his voice rising.

A number of voices started shouting, talking over each other, and Palona couldn't make out anything they were saying.

She wanted to look round the corner of the door, to see what was happening, but she knew if her uncle spotted her he would shut the door.

“
What are they doing?”
she signed at Jaquit.

Jaquit pulled a mock fierce expression. “
Shaking fists and ugly faces.
”