Emperor and Clown (50 page)

He
flinched, and her suspicions swelled to horror. “Bright Water!” she whispered.

“Nonsense!”

“I
think so! Maybe not one of her own, but she made sure you got one. She’s very
fond of that goblin monster, and-”

Rap
shook his head and her tongue stopped like a balking horse.

“She
had nothing to do with it! Not that I know of. Yes, Little Chicken did. But don’t
worry about that.”

“Tell
me what you paid for that word]” she shouted, banging her fist against the
frosted stone of the pillar. There was no one else in sight now. “How can a
goblin torture a sorcerer unless the sorcerer agrees to be-”

“That’s
true.” For the first time a faint hint of a smile touched Rap’s eyes. “And
probably not even then. I’d find it awfully hard not to lose my temper when he
began breaking things.”

Relief!
That nightmare had haunted her for weeks.”It isn’t going to happen then? The
third prophecy?”

“Not
prophecies-I told you. But, no, I don’t think it is. It isn’t quite,
absolutely, completely certain, and you mustn’t talk about it with Little
Chicken if you see him. But no, I don’t think he’s going to insist. Never mind
that! When do you want to go to Krasnegar?”

“
‘Insist?’,” she queried.

“Forget
Little Square-Eyes! When do you want to go to Krasnegar, and what are you going
to do when you get there?”

“What
do you advise?”

“You
want to be queen, then you’ve got to learn to make your own decisions.”

“Rap!”
Inos said crossly. “Stop playing silly games. You’ve been there?”

He
nodded, looking just a tiny bit shamefaced. “I’ve glanced around. No one saw
me.”

“Then
report. You can’t expect me to decide when I don’t know the situation.”

He
pulled a face. “It’s worse than I thought at first. This Greastax is just a
young lout-he even looks like a younger version of Kalkor. His `men’ are mostly
not much more than boys. Greastax is no thane, and the whole thing was an
irregular prank. He heard about the inheritance, took a ship, and came to claim
it in his brother’s name.”

“What
would Kalkor have said?”

“Said?”
Rap scoffed. “He’d.have slaughtered the lot of them for impudence.”

“How
many?” she asked, trying to remember Krasnegar in winter dark, when the streets
were choked by drifts and peat was precious as gold, when fresh air was deadly
and white bears might roam the harbor.

“Greastax
and forty.”

“Holding
the whole town?” What sort of sheep did she have for subjects? “Boys, you said?
And only fortyone of them?”

Rap
shook his head. “It’s easy to laugh, Inos. But you’re not there. You have no
wife and children, no sisters and parents. Some of the Nordlanders have died,
yes. just youths, but they’re big, and they’re armed, and they are ruthless!
The imps took away all the weapons, and these young brutes came sailing in the
next day. They kill any man who talks back. Six or seven of them stirred up
more than they could handle and died, but then the others slew babies and
burned houses in retribution.”

It
seemed all wrong that so few could tyrannize so many, but Krasnegar had no
history. of any warfare worse than barroom brawling. As long as the invaders
were armed and united and the citizens were neither, then resistance would mean
suicide or the massacre of innocents. She could see that when she remembered
how Kade had been used against her in Arakkaran.

Rap
was watching her intently. “He rules in Kalkor’s name, so who dares oppose him?
No one can leave. Some tried, and the goblins sent back their eyes in bags. The
imps wouldn’t let anyone on the ships, because no one had money.”

She
shivered, and not from the cold. “I think I understand. And what can you do to
help?”

For
a moment the cold, ironic mask slipped, and he looked puzzled. “Me? Anything
you want. Court sorcerer. I’ll melt down the castle if you tell me to.”

“That
seems a little extreme.”

“You
decide what you want. Load your coach when you’re ready to leave.”

“Rapt”
she said hastily, frightened that he was about to vanish. “Give me a clue?”

He
frowned. “If you give someone something for nothing, that’s how he’ll value it.”

“I
do value-”

“I
didn’t mean you. That’s your clue. Go talk to your Gods about it!” His stare
became icy. “And one more thing-forget about us, Inos! There’s no youand-me in
your future! If you want a man to share your throne and warm your bed, you’ll
have to pick some other strong lad. Not me!” Muscles clenched at the corner of
his jaw. His neck was corded.

“But,
Rap, why-”

“No
why!” he shouted. “I’m just telling you a fact. That’s a prophecy, if you like,
a real prophecy.”

“I
love you, Rap.”

He
shrugged. “And I love you I That’s the problem !” He was fading, the brown of
his clothes becoming gray, and fainter. She thought she could see love and pain
and longing in his eyes, but he was leaving.

“Rap,
wait!”

He
shook his head, and spoke in a faint, distant voice. “Another clue: When do
Nordlanders celebrate Winterfest?”

He
had gone. She was alone in the cloister, and the yard was bare and naked under
the frost of the winter morning. She began to move to the church door and then
changed her mind. Shivering, she tugged her cloak tight about her and headed
back to the palace.

Two
days after Winterfest, the farewells began. The first to go was Shandie,
heading off to stay with his aunt until spring came. His mother was rarely seen
and he never spoke of her, but he was a much healthier, happier little boy than
he had been during the regency. The Leesofts departed in a caravan of coaches.
Others followed.

Kade
and Inos began their own good-byes. There were many good-byes. A dozen young
men swore they would come to Krasnegar on the first ship of spring. It would be
heavy laden, Inos thought, and just as burdened when it returned.

Eigaze
wept and ate chocolates. Her father was more restrained, but his political
standing had not suffered by befriending Inos. He was heavily favored for the
next consulship, and she was glad of that. Tiffy swore his heart was broken and
he would resign from the hussars to become a priest. Inos made him promise to
wait at least a week, confident that by then soft arms would have cushioned his
fall.

Kadolan
had a strange farewell with Sagorn and his companions. Inos skipped that one,
as she knew neither the sage nor Jalon well. She had met Thinal not at all, and
retained unhappy memories of the other two.

The
imperor was gracious, and he had not presented a bill. What he had offered
instead was a treaty between Krasnegar and the Impire, a pact of nonaggression.
Inos found the idea amusing, but she also saw what the sly old man had seen
sooner-however meaningless it might be in practice, such a document would give
her authority if any of her subjects wanted to argue her claim. The text was
brief and seemed harmless. Sagorn approved it for her; Emshandar chuckled and
claimed that it was the only honest treaty he had ever signed.

Nor
would he even accept thanks. “I am far more deeply in your debt than you are in
mine, Queen Inos,” he said. “Had it not been for you, Master Rap would not have
come to Hub. I owe you my life and my Impire.”

“You
owe them to Rap’s folly, Sire, if I may say so.”

“Blessed
are fools, for they have no doubts. But most of all, I owe my grandson to him,
and to you.”

“You
will miss him greatly.”

The
foxy old eyes misted. “That is what grandchildren are for-so that the old may
also dream, a promise of a future in return for the lost past. Did I tell you
what Master Rap told me?”

“No,
Sire.” Of course he knew that.

“Greatness!
He said he foresaw greatness in Shandie!” Then the ruthless old rogue sniffled
quietly and changed the subject.

Clutching
her cloak tight about her, Inos came down the steps with Kade, and the coach
was waiting. Tiny snowflakes drifted down from- a pewter sky. She was not at
all surprised that the solitary footman grinned at her with teeth that could
have graced a cart horse, nor that his face had a faintly greenish tinge. The
cold would not bother him.

She
walked over to the coachman, who was petting the lead right horse and
whispering in its ear. “Nordlanders celebrate Winterfest at the time of the
nearest full moon,” she said softly. It had taken her much trouble to discover
that simple fact in Hub. He nodded and granted her a small smile. “Logical that
they would, isn’t it? Three nights from now.”

“They
will be feasting?”

“And
drinking.”

“Rap
... I am so grateful. If there is anything-” He lost the smile. Business was
all right, apparently, but personal affairs were not. “Think hard, Inos!” he
said grimly. “This is the start of a lifetime. A kingdom will suck you in and
bind you forever. You may never hear a word of thanks.”

“Will
the people accept me?”

He
eyed her for a moment. “After what they have been through? And I can add a few
tricks. But is it what you want?”

“Yes.
It is my second greatest wish.”

He
scowled and turned his back on her to speak to the horse.

There
were four of them in the big coach as it rumbled off along the Avenue Agraine
in search of the Great West Way. Bundled in fur robes, with hot bricks at their
feet, they were an oddly assorted bunch.

Duke
Angilki was indifferent, smiling faintly at nothing. He did that for hours at a
time, rarely speaking except when he asked for food or bathroom in a childish
monotone. Sagorn’s skills had achieved nothing for him, and he would live out
his days as one more monument to the evil known as Kalkor. .

Kade
was engrossed. From her capacious purse she had produced a lengthy scroll
entirely covered in a crabbed, spidery writing. She began studying it intently.
Last summer she could not have read a word of it, and certainly not in a
bouncing coach.

Locked
in a strange medley of emotions, Inos gazed out the windows at the great
buildings gliding past. She had come to Hub and conquered; she would never
return. The strange adventure was drawing to its close-Kinvale, and Zark, and
Thume, and Ilrane, and Hub, and ultimately Krasnegar again. The butterfly would
return to its cocoon. Now she must create a new life there for herself, heal
wounds, forge new friendships or recast old ones, learn the lonely life of a
ruler. With the overland road closed, perhaps for years to come, Krasnegar’s
lot would be harder than ever, and all the problems of that tiny make-believe
kingdom would come to roost on her thin shoulders. She would not even have Kade
to lean on.

With
a sorcerer it would be possible. Nothing might be possible without him.

She
could not bear to live with Rap around and not love him.

She
could not bear to think of living without him around.

And
yet, ultimately, her royal duty included producing an heir.

“Some
other strong lad,” he had said, but he was the only strong lad she wanted.

Trust
in love? Was that a divine admonition as she had believed for so long, or was
it, as Rap had said, merely mockery?

The
fourth passenger was Master Odlepare, the duke’s secretary. He was a balding,
angular man of sour disposition, prematurely middle aged. He had an
infuriatingly condescending manner.

Shortly
after the coach passed by the sinister Red Palace on its hill, and long before
the interesting architecture stopped, he had become bored with silence.

“I
brought some thali tiles, ladies,” he remarked. “If either of you cares to
play?”

“It
is not one of my favorite games,” Inos said, thinking of the Oasis of Tall Cranes
with inexplicable nostalgia.

He
sighed odiously. “Well, perhaps some other day. We have many days to pass. Many
weeks.”

“Weeks?”
Kade said, looking up innocently. “Days? Oh, I hardly think so. Master Rap,”
she continued without raising her voice, “it is a trifle chilly in here. Would
you be so kind as to provide a little warmth?” There was no reply, but the
windows silently misted over.

Kade
removed her lap robe. “Thank you. That is much better.”

Master
Odlepare had turned milk white. His mouth hung open.

“A
faun?” He gurgled. Coachmen were often fauns, but the worthy secretary should
have realized that a team of eight could not normally be driven from the perch,
with no postilion.

“A
faun,” Kade remarked calmly. “You were the duke’s secretary, were you not? I
have here a copy of the accounts submitted with the latest tax remittance from
Kinvale, and some of the figures strike me as a trifle odd. Did you have any
part in preparing this?” He gurgled again, nodding.

“Assuming,”
Kade said, “that further building activity is curtailed or even discontinued,
how many retainers do you estimate could be struck from the estate workforce?”

Stifling
an unbearable desire to snigger, Inos turned to the window and wiped a small
viewing area clear. Kade had run Kinvale before, periodically, when Ekka had
been sick or bearing children. If Master Odlepare had expected the new imperial
protector to be as addle-headed as she normally pretended, then he was in for a
harrowing awakening.

The
carriage picked up speed, the snow became thicker. The coachman never stopped
to change horses. Shortly before lunchtime, he slowed to turn off the highway.
Inos took another peek through a fogged-up, rain-washed window and recognized
the gates of Kinvale.

Kinvale
was strange and eerie. No guests graced its lofty halls, no orchestras played
for afternoon tea or evening banquets. Much of the furniture huddled under
dustcovers, and the grates were dark.