Emperor and Clown (44 page)

The
start had been inauspicious-the regent in command, and no sign of the imperor.
But then Emshandar had appeared, apparently in good health, and Rap still with
him, like a court sorcerer. She had begun to think that her prayers might yet
be answered.

Down
again ... With no warning, Rap had used very obvious sorcery to reveal the
regent’s questionable tactics and displace him from the throne. Kadolan had
watched in rising apprehension, while Inosolan’s fingernails dug into her hand.
The boy was ignorant, of course; he had probably received no schooling at all,
but she had come to know him a little during their journey from Arakkaran, and
she knew he was well informed about the occult. How, therefore, could he
possibly expect the wardens to allow such open use of sorcery around the Opal
Throne itself?

But
for a heart-stopping moment, it had seemed that the faun’s temerity had escaped
notice. Visibly exhausted but yet jubilant, Emshandar had been about to end the
meeting and send them all off to bed-that being one of the problems that had
not been solved.

And
then the wardens had come.

Disappointing
... the Four were definitely not what Kadolan had expected. Warlock Lith’rian
looked barely old enough to shave-although she had a vague idea that perhaps elves
didn’t-and Warlock Zinixo still resembled an escaped quarry worker. Witch
Bright Water was young and about as close to beautiful as a goblin could ever
be. Warlock Olybino was the handsome young soldier Inosolan had described. None
of them looked old, or especially benevolent.

Fair
enough, appearances were unimportant. It was the way the Four behaved that
really upset Kadolan. True, they granted Master Rap a trial. They did not
follow normal courtroom procedure, for the judges called themselves as witnesses,
but she supposed that was reasonable enough when the judges were omniscient.
She could not disagree with the testimony, because she had witnessed the events
herself. But thereafter justice seemed to go sadly awry. The dispassionate,
disinterested guardians of her childhood lessons dissolved like mist.

The
verdict was quite obviously skewed by political self-interest. Of course an elf
and a dwarf could proverbially never be on the same side of anything, but
Bright Water’s vote for acquittal seemed to have no logical explanation at all,
unless it involved Master Rap dying horribly at the hands of the young goblin
the witch had embraced so shamelessly.

And
the old imperor! Emshandar had always been spoken of as a man of honor. He had
been a good imperor, ruling as a man of peace although he had soldiered well in
his youth. A man of law and justice. The elf had been very cruel in forcing him
to cast the deciding vote and put his heart before his head.

Of
course Kadolan had wanted Master Rap acquitted, and she had joined in the
applause with everyone else, probably much more sincerely than most of the
spectators. Yet somehow she had felt a wrongness, and almost a feeling of
guilt. She felt like an accomplice to something shameful. Perhaps it was to be
expected of so turbulent a day that the best news it could produce would be so
flawed.

Inosolan
had no such scruples. With a yell of delight she released Kadolan’s hand and
pulled loose from Azak’s arm-for the sultan was being quite shamelessly
attentive to her, like a love-sick boy-and went tearing over to embrace Master
Rap. Kadolan was left standing between a gold candelabrum on one side and an
almost equally tall sultan on the other, and she was not sure which was putting
out more heat. She thought for a moment he was going to pursue his errant wife
and drag her away bodily, but he restrained himself when he saw Master Rap
evade the hug.

“Inosolan!”
Azak bellowed, and Inos slunk back to him like a beaten dog.

Kadolan
cringed. She was certain that Inos was going to refuse to share a room with her
husband that night. There was going to be a most frightful scene. Azak was
probably capable of using force, and even Imperial law was on his side there.
Gods knew what Zarkian law would have to say on the matter. Why, oh, why had
Master Rap been so pigheadedly honorable?

Frightful
scene or not, surely the trial had ended and everyone could leave? Her feet and
ankles were complaining bitterly that every day must end at last, even a day
like this one. She peered around at the company-the wardens on their thrones,
the haggard old imperor, gentlemen in red or white togas, or uniform, ladies in
their white chitons. They all looked exhausted. What were they all waiting for?

Then
she saw that everyone was studying either Rap or the warlock of the west. Both
of them, in factthey seemed to be glaring very hard at each other.

What
was the wayward faun up to now? Cheeking a warlock?

If
the God of Love Themselves had not decreed it, Kadolan would never have seen
this boy as a suitable partner for Inos. He seemed to do the wrong thing so
often. It wasn’t that he was headstrong-the Powers knew that Inosolan needed no
tutoring or assistance in that direction) No, Master Rap so often seemed to act
deliberately, and for the best possible reasons, and then commit the worst
possible blunder. Disaster followed him like a black dog.

The
staring match continued. That was the sort of silly game very small boys
played, not young men. Not sorcerers, surely?

Then
why did everyone seem to be holding their breath?

Abruptly
the dwarf lurched down from his throne and reeled across the floor toward Rap.
The warlock seemed to be drunk, or ill, and Master Rap remained paralyzed, the
audience still spellbound. Kadolan glanced at Inos, and she obviously did not
understand what was happening either. But this was no childish matter, clearly.

About
two paces from Rap, the dwarf halted and raised great killer hands, as if about
to attack him. But then he just stood for a moment, swaying on his feet, and
suddenly the game seemed to be over. Both contestants started from the trance;
both breathing heavily. Rap wiped an arm across his forehead. What had all that
been about?

Then
the elf explained. “Hail to our new warlock of the west)” he sang.

Inosolan
jumped. So did Kade, despite her sore feet. Warlock?

Apparently
not. Rap shouted out that he was no warlock. Now everyone seemed completely
confused, even the wardens. Rap and Zinixo were back watching each other, but
Rap at least was trying to make friends. He smiled. He held out a hand.

Then
West accepted the handshake, vigorously. And not just a handshake-an abrazo as
well? How disconcerting! She knew that in some times and places it was
permissible for men to embrace one another, but she had thought that it was an
elvish custom, not a dwarvish one.

Kadolan
relaxed with a sigh of relief. Well, perhaps now the show was over and they
could all go off to bed, please?

No-suddenly
the day made another of its mad plunges into disaster.

Warlock
Zinixo vanished, totally. Master Rap staggered back, clutching his head. The
other three wardens all leaped to their feet, and Warlock Lith’rian clapped his
hands over his ears.

That
gesture ...

Rap
had done that just after Rasha had made him tell her a word of power, as if he
had heard something mundanes could not.

Not
a kiss. A whisper!

Rap
spun around, looking at the imperor-who had fallen back in his seat, aghast-and
then at the other three wardens in turn. And finally he turned to stare across
at Inos, as if in farewell. His face was a mask of despair, and his eyes were
already glowing with a pearly gray light.

It
was a judgment-a judgment on the perverted judgment! The Gods had spoken!

Kadolan
heard herself cry out. The Rotunda swayed and the rushing sound of rain was
suddenly impossibly loud ... Inosolan caught her, and Azak helped, and they
lowered her to a sitting position on the floor, but then she resisted, refusing
to lie down despite the spinning howl in her head.

Rap
screamed.

So
did several other people. His clothes were smoldering, smoking ... fire
trickled out from his collar. And suddenly he was engulfed in searing white
flame.

Inosolan
released Kade’s arm, and a second time she raced across the floor of the
Rotunda to Rap. “Tell me!” she yelled as she went. “Share them! Dilute them!”

Impetuous
as ever, she threw her arms around him and was enveloped in fire also. Her
dress vanished in one flash. For a moment the pair of them were visible, two
bodies locked in terrible embrace, blazing together, filling the Rotunda with
light so noontimebrilliant that the candles seemed extinguished. Spectators
raised hands to shield their eyes from the glare; the floor was striped black
with their shadows and the shadows of the candelabra. The seats and distant
walls sprang into view; the great stone ribs of the ceiling shone overhead,
with every crystal pane reflecting back the incandescent lovers’ pyre through a
gathering haze of white smoke.

Consumed,
the bodies vanished, and the fire, also, and the Rotunda was plunged into
Stygian dark.

Sacred
flame:

All
thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, Are all
but ministers of Love,

And
feed his sacred flame.

Coleridge,
Love

Bold Lover

The
midnight. sky was dusted with a myriad of bright stars. Slowly they grew
brighter and larger, becoming candleflames and crystal droplets on the
candelabra. A dull, faint light returned as eyes adjusted, although a greenish
afterimage of the immolation still ached on the retinas. Shapes of gentlemen in
togas materialized in the gloom, and two ladies came hurrying to Kadolan’s
assistance.

“No,
please!” she protested. “. . . standing a little too long. Quite all right ...
If you’ll just help me up ...”

Marshal
Ithy himself was at her side then, bringing the chair vacated by Princess
Uomaya, and willing hands helped her into it. She felt a fool.

The
Rotunda seemed very dark, still. The warlocks had vanished. The imperor was
slumped on the Opal Throne, elbows on knees, face in hands. Dismay and fear
ruled the court.

Gone?
Inosolan gone? Rap gone?

Kadolan’s
mind could not comprehend the tragedy. Surely the Gods could not be so cruel?

Voices
began to rise as people demanded explanations. Azak’s harsh tones broke in,
explaining what had happened.

Plop!
Heads turned. Sudden silence. Inosolan was back.

She
was standing exactly where she had been when she vanished, before the throne.
The golden hair that had scorched away in flames was restored to its former
glory; her sheer chiton hung again in soft folds, clinging daringly to her
figure. Kadolan had watched that garment sear away to nothing, and the sandals,
also.

Not
a burn, not a scar ...

Inosolan
smiled vaguely and said, “Hello?”

The
imperor looked up, incredulous. Others just stared.

Azak
recovered first. He moved forward a few paces and then halted, peering at the
apparition from a safe distance. “Inos?”

She
blinked over at him as if still bewildered, her smile a trifle unfocused. “Who
else?”

“What
happened there?” he demanded.

“Where?
Oh, there! Well, it’s a little hard to explain . . .” She pondered for a
moment. “Very hard to explain, actually.”

“Where
is Rap?” the imperor asked harshly. Inosolan turned and looked at him
wonderingly. “Rap? Oh, Rap. Yes, he’ll be along in a moment, Sire. Had some
business to attend to, he said.”

Kadolan
tried to rise, and someone laid a hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “Inos!”
she cried. “Are you all right?”

Inosolan
turned more, until she had gone all the way around. “Aunt? There you are. Yes.
Yes, I’m fine. A little dazed, maybe.”

“Will
you please tell us what happened?” the imperor asked behind her.

This
time she merely twisted her head to look at him. “It isn’t easy to describe,
your Majesty. Not easy at all. Maybe Rap can tell you, when he gets here. I don’t
think I can. But I’m all right. And he’s all right.”

Then
Azak lurched into motion. He strode over to Inos and grabbed her shoulder. “What
is the meaning of this?” he roared.

Inos
blinked again and peered up at him. “Meaning of what?” she asked, her voice a
little firmer.

“How
dare you disappear with that man like that?”

“Take
your hands off me!”

“Slut!”
The sultan gripped her other shoulder also and shook her. The spectators gasped
and bristled. The imperor straightened. “Sultan!”

But
Azak did not seem to hear. He released Inos. “Whore!” He swung a hand at her
face.

Somehow
Inos dodged the blow, stepping back with extraordinary agility in a swirl of
fabric. “How dare you!”

“Dare?
You are my wife, and I-” Again he tried to strike her.

The
imperor roared an objection, and several of the men in uniform stepped forward.
But again the blow had missed, and now Inos shouted back, apparently recovered
from her confusion, her face flushed with anger.

“Brute!
You odious brute! Hit me, would you? Well, I’ve had quite enough of your
tantrums, Azak ak’Azakar.” She spun around to face the imperor. “Sire! You are
chief magistrate of the realm, and high priest, also, are you not?”

The
old man started, then nodded. “And what of it?” He seemed to have forgotten his
weariness for the moment.

“My
marriage to this man has never been consummated. I ask that it be annulled.”

Azak
howled like a frustrated tiger and reached for her. At the touch of his
fingers, Inos slipped away from him and moved nimbly to the base of the dais,
as if seeking protection from the imperor. When the sultan tried to follow, a
tribune stepped in front of him. He was unarmed, but his uniform made Azak
hesitate.