The End of the Game (38 page)

“What’s wrong?” Peter came to my side with a concerned expression.

“Nothing much. It’s those Basilisks on Chance’s boots. Made me think of Dedrina Dreadeye. Dedrina-Lucir’s mama.”

“Lucir? That was the one who tried to kill you?”

“Yes, she tried, but I succeeded. I killed her, and I’ve walked in fear of the Basilisks’ vengeance since. Dedrina Dreadeye is still alive; sometimes I remember that and it makes me go all over cold. Porvius Bloster came northward, I remember. Likely his sister Dreadeye did, too. I keep expecting to encounter her, or him, or both.” I wandered toward the rocky edge of the shelf we had camped upon, stood looking toward the eastern horizon.

“We’ve seen no sign of her, or him.” He stood beside me, giving me lecherous looks. No. I thought of them as lecherous. Perhaps he intended them only to be admiring.

“True. I’d feel happier if we had—if we knew, for instance, she was headed off in some specific direction, preferably away from us. Ah, well. Not important now. What is important is Queynt. How’s he feeling?”

“Seems in good spirits. Asked me what we’d done with the amethyst crystal.” He turned to look back at the wagon, where Queynt and Chance seemed engaged upon wheel repair.

“What did you say?”

“Told him I hadn’t seen it since the event.” He moved toward me with a purposeful leer.

“Peter,” I begged weakly. “Don’t.”

“Peter, don’t!” he mimicked savagely. “Gods, Jinian. I’ve had enough of “Peter, don’t.”“

“You know why. It isn’t that I want to say it! It’s that you’ll never listen.”

“I’ve listened long enough. You’re not studying the art now. The seven aren’t here. But you’re here, and I’m here, and all this going on about your oaths is meaningless. I know you love me—want me. Unless you’ve changed completely since the Wastes of Bleer. I remember a certain night there. If we’d had a little more time, the oath wouldn’t have mattered then!”

“You know I haven’t changed. But we thought we were going to die then.”

“I know. And we could die tomorrow. Which makes this oath business even more stupid. Well, Jinian, love, I’m not going to go on like this ... “ He had the look of a man who had spent a restless night of frustrated desire and was determined it should be the last.

What I might have said was stopped by Queynt’s voice.

“Time to move,” accompanied by a bugling cry from the krylobos.

“I’m not going to go on, Jinian,” Peter repeated in a thick, passionate voice, pulling the veil up over his mouth so all I could see was the determination in his eyes. “If we’re to travel together, we’re going to have to be together. I can’t take much more of this.” He strode off, not waiting for me.

Chance was already on the wagon seat. Queynt was mounted. “So far as Fangel is concerned,” Queynt said, “I am a mere Merchant’s man. You three black-cloaked Zinterites are the owners of this strange equipage. We travel in proximity, but not together. Isn’t that so?” We started off, Peter riding close beside the wagon, Queynt slightly after. Others from the campsite creaked into motion as well, a fragmentary snake crawling toward Fangel.

The city lifted its roofs before us. Its towers bore long black pennants, like great tattery bats flitting silently above the hill. There was no sound from Fangel, not the creak of wagons nor the sounds of commerce, no vendors’ shouts, no children’s laughter.

A silent city, it poised above with expectant gates like open mouths.

It had no smell, Fangel, no woodsmoke, cookery, market goods, people-cum-animal smell. If there had ever been a kindly stench of people there, the jungle wind had blown it away. Now was only the graveyard odor of stone and dust.

Outside the open gates a troop of guardsmen stood, each arrayed with the Dream Merchant’s insignia, looking us over with long, calculating stares.

“Business?” asked one, leaning on the wagon step.

“On our way to Luxuri,” said Chance. “No real business in Fangel.”

“Turn aside to Dungcart Road, to your left outside the walls.”

“We heard there was a procession. Thought we’d go in to see that.”

“Procession this afternoon. In that case you can park the wagon off the avenue in the park. Leave before dark. No fires in Fangel. No rooms, either, and no food served after dusk, so don’t think of staying. We’ve plenty of room in the prison for vagrants who remain after dark.”

Chance clicked to the birds and they moved through the gate. “Friendly,” he remarked. “A real friendly place.”

Behind us we heard the guard saying to Queynt, “Business?” and Queynt’s reply. “Merchant’s man from Bloome, summoned for the reception.” We dawdled, letting Queynt pass us. High walls enclosed the street, blank walls marked again and again with the linked letters of the Dream Merchants. Above the featureless walls jutted ornamented facades of great houses or blank sides of long unwindowed buildings.

“Factories?” I wondered. “Warehouses? Is this a manufacturing town, then? At this height?” The streets were empty. No person walked there; no curious head protruded from a convenient window. Our scanty caravan wove through the city to a central park, a place of mown grass, trees, and wide basins of polished stone in which water lay quiet.

Even here there was no smell, as though the trees had been made of some inorganic material, the water poured from some sterile vat. Across a wide avenue a twisted metal fence made a barrier between the park and the much embellished walls of the residence. As we watched, the doors of this ornate building swung wide to emit a voluminous, almost architectural robe. A square head protruded from the neck of it, close-clipped no-color hair, a promontory of nose overhanging a clifflike upper lip beneath which the mouth writhed wave-like around fallen stones of teeth. “Thtrike,” said the mouth in a sibilant shout as the robe gestured with practiced drama.

“Gods,” mumbled Chance, looking at the gong they were about to strike. “Look’t the size of that thing. Hold your ears!” The warning came barely in time. An earth-shaking “Bong!” set up a trembling reverberation throughout the city, the very ground shivering beneath us, the sound seeming to gain strength as it continued, permeating the buildings with an inexorable message.

“Bong!” again, and yet again. Then a slow falling into momentary silence, broken at once by other sounds.

Doors opening, people speaking, carts moving out of warehouses and onto the streets, a child screaming laughter, fountains suddenly splashing. Somewhere a band started to play.

It had been like a stage set on which the curtain had suddenly gone up. It was unreal. I did not believe it. Queynt sat on his horse only a little way from us.

“The man in the robe was the Dream Merchant,” he remarked. “Brom described him to me. The gong could be a kind of curfew, to keep everyone off the streets at night.” He did not sound convinced of this.

Across the avenue the guardsmen opened the iron gates and propped them wide as the Dream Merchant retreated into the residence. Waiting beside the convoluted fence was a bulbous, beak-nosed man displaying a seal of office much like the one Queynt wore. He raised his hand to Queynt, beckoning.

“Merchant’s man? New at it? From Bloome? Ah. I’m here from Woeful. We can check in with the Dream Merchant now if you like. I’ll show you the way.” Queynt dismounted, tied the horse to a convenient tree, and walked through the gates with the other Merchant’s man, leaving the three of us to ourselves.

“I smell food,” said Chance. “No inns, but lots of food carts. Suppose I get us some breakfast.”

“Do that,” said Peter. “Meantime I’ll take a short prowl around and see what’s to be seen. Jinian?” He invited me with a gesture.

I didn’t want to go anywhere. If truth were told, I wanted to get out of Fangel, the sooner the better. The silence before the gong went; the lack of smell to it; the way the people moved; everything about it gave me the shakes. “No. It’ll be easier for you to go here and there without me. I’ll keep an eye on the wagon while you two roam about.” He turned away with rejected sulkiness, moving into the gathering crowd that was assembling to stare at the krylobos.

“Aren’t they pretty things,” gushed a lady of Fangel, got up herself as a pretty thing, all ruffles and bows. “Great beauties. What do you feed them?”

Not of a mood to be tactful, I said, “About a twenty weight of raw meat a day, including the guts.”

The lady made a moue, tossed her head. “So savage! And where are you from? I have not seen garb like that before.”

“From Zinter. It is the usual dress there. Our people have a dislike of displaying their faces.” I tried to look the woman in the face, tried to make eye contact. Each time I came close, her glance slid away as though greased. Her expression was not unkind, and yet there was something about her that set my skin aprickle.

“Is it a Games dress of some kind?” She evidenced no particular interest in my answer, but I didn’t like the question.

“No, madam. It is the ordinary dress of our people.” She posed, simpered, displaying her own face in several well-practiced expressions. On her bodice she wore a jet plaque with the letters “DM” picked out in brilliants.

“How exotic. Do you allow others to know your names?”

So here it was. “Jambal,” I replied. There are many spells, seizings and sendings that can be done against those whose names were known. Silly to suspect this stupid-looking woman of any villainy. Silly. Why then did I suspect it? “My name is Jambal.”

“I am happy to meet you, Jambal. My name is Sweetning Horb. I live over there”—she pointed at one of the high-walled mansions along the avenue in Horb House. “Perhaps you will come to dine with us?”

“Alas, lady, no. We are expected in Luxuri and will leave before long.” Thank all the gods.

“All honor to the Duke of Betand. Hail Huldra. Hail Valearn. Hoorah for Dedrina Dreadeye. What a pity you must leave so soon.” I heard the name but did not. Dedrina Dreadeye.

Frozen with shock, I was still alert enough to see that Sweetning Horb wore a dream crystal about her neck. It was a pinkish stone set in a gold bezel.

Nausea struck at me; it was hard to raise my hand to stop her, but I managed to put a hand on the woman’s arm. “Please, who are these people you exclaim honor upon?”

“Honor? Upon whom, Jambal?”

“You said, “Honor upon the Duke of Betand.”“

“I did? Well, undoubtedly he is an official visitor worthy of honor.”

“But who is he?”

“But my dear, I haven’t the least idea. I must run. Lovely to have met you, and your huge savage birds.” I was given no time to recover. An oldster with a raffish beard stood importunately before me demanding to know the names of the birds.

“Yarnoff and Barnoff,” I said at once, trying to keep from shaking. “Yarnoff is the female.”

“And where were they captured, madam? I am zoo keeper for the city of Fangel and would be glad to know where a specimen could be acquired. Honor to the Duke.” He wore the jet badge, the pinkish crystal.

“It is my understanding they were taken as chicks from the mountains above the Southern Sea. However, since they came into my care as adults, I cannot vouch for the truth of this.” All lies, good safe lies.

“All honor to the Duke of Betand. Hail Huldra. Did I understand you to say they are fed raw meat?” When I nodded, he went on, “From my own experience, I would counsel the addition of cooked grain. I have been told that krylobos in the wild do eat grain, and it might be their health would suffer from a diet of meat alone ...” He took his crystal in one hand and licked it reflectively.

“Idiot,” commented Yittleby to Yattleby. “I’d feed him stewed grain. Actually, Jinian, a few ripe thrilps wouldn’t be amiss ...”

“Hail Valearn,” said the man, looking at me earnestly. “Hoorah for Dedrina Dreadeye.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I didn’t hear. What was that you just said?”

“That their health might suffer from a diet of meat alone.” He licked the crystal again.

I shivered deep inside, trying to keep it from showing. “Whether it would or not, sir, they must be fed now. Will you excuse me?” Then, almost silently, “Yittleby, couldn’t you two clear the area somewhat?” Yittleby charged the onlookers with a hungry caterwaul. Yattleby began to kick, missing his targets but only slightly. The oglers drew back in dismay, some reaching for the pinkish crystals that all of them wore. Some sucked upon them, seeming not to notice that they did so.

“The krylobos don’t like crowds,” I called, voice cracking. “Stand well back.” Now, I said to myself, it will be only a matter of moments before someone appears at my side with a pink crystal and insists I have a taste of it.

It was Chance who appeared, however, bearing fragrant meat pies and pastries. “All honor to the Duke of Betand,” he remarked. “This place is enough to give you the grues. I’ve decided my name is Biddle, by the way.”

“Thank the gods you were cautious. I’m Jambal. I hope to hell Peter had sense enough to—”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s all right. Tell you something interesting, though Jin ... Jambal. There was a fella over there on the street in Tragamor dress. First Gamesman I’ve seen since we left Zinter. Came in on a wagon just behind us. Well, he was picked up by some woman dressed up like a Festival Horse, all ruffles, and before he could get two steps away from her, she’d given him a dream crystal right off her neck.” Chance wiped his brow as he set the food out on the wagon seat and cocked his head to the bird’s uproar. “Lemme get those birds some food and I’ll tell you the rest.” He went to the rear of the wagon where the meat stores were kept.

I sniffed at the food ravenously. Seemed all right, but just to be sure I murmured a renewal of the Fire Is Sparkening spell, which would warn if anything unhealthful were encountered. I was halfway through a savory meat pie when Chance returned.

“So, like I was sayin’, this flouncy high-nosed dame gave him this crystal, right off her neck. Then she teased him into tasting it. Well, that’s all right, just a taste doesn’t usually—you know. But it was like those yellow ones, Jin ... Jambal. He tasted, then he took off his helm and left it lying, and as he went off with her over there, he was sayin’, “All honor to the Duke of Betand.” Now, I ask you!”