"I've called you here," Laquatus said, "because I think I've got something for you. I believe that the assassins who attacked our lady were hired by the Cabal."
Veza considered. "Do you know why?"
Laquatus waved his hand dismissively. "Who knows? With animals such as these, it could be a simple matter of murder for hire."
Veza stopped. "Ambassador. I hope you didn't bring me all the way here from Breaker Bay just to tell me that you suspect the Cabal may be involved."
"Of course not, my dear." Laquatus put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And please. Call me Laquatus." He pointed upward and surfaced. When Veza's head broke the surface of the pool, Laquatus said, "I wanted to meet you in person, and I wanted to show you something that will make it easier for us to do so again in the future."
The ambassador reached a long arm out and traced a circle on the water's surface. He was whispering under his breath, and with each new circle he inscribed, Veza tingled as if the water were conveying a mild electric shock. There was a rip and a crack, and the circle drawn by Laquatus became a disk of energy floating on the pool's surface.
"This," Laquatus said, "is a transport portal. With it, you can travel from the surface of one body of water to the surface of another. It is one of the great imperial secrets, and in the name of the empire, I share it with you." Across the room, a similar disk of energy appeared in Laquatus's fountain. With a playful grin, he rose up and dove into the disk beside him, instantly coining out of the disk in the fountain. Veza noticed that he had changed back into his legged form in mid- transfer in order to fit in the fountain's pool.
"From now on," Laquatus called, "if I need to tell you something, or if you need me, we can be together in a matter of seconds. Simply call to me from your mirror, and I will join you or bring you here."
"I'm flattered, Ambass-Laquatus. But I don't see how this is a significant improvement over the mirror itself."
Laquatus stepped back into the portal and reemerged with his tail fully formed beside Veza once more. "That's because you limit your thoughts to the task at hand. The empire rewards those who go beyond the call of duty, who take risks. You should be more fluid, Veza. Expand to fill the space around you. It is your nature."
Laquatus's penetrating eyes burrowed into hers. "I want us to be friends as well as loyal subjects. I want you to visit me as often as you can. I think we have much to offer one another, even beyond our duty to the empire."
"Of course." Veza blinked. "Have any of your contacts in the Cabal told you who hired the assassins?"
Laquatus's gaze narrowed. "No. But I will tell you as soon as they have."
"Thank you, Laquatus." Veza ducked under the glowing disk and swam to the edge of the marble. "I must get back to my duties now." She took her robe from poolside. "Can your transport get me back to Breaker Bay?"
"Certainly. In this case, that's what it's for." Laquatus waved his hands and the two disks disappeared. He quickly traced another onto the surface of the pool and turned to Veza. "The other portal should be on the surface of Breaker Bay, just outside your cottage." Veza swam back to Laquatus, and he stopped her with a raised hand.
"I hope," he said, "that you don't feel this trip was for nothing."
"Not at all. But I am unused to reporting directly to the empress, and I do not want to disappoint her."
"Impossible," Laquatus said, flashing his most winning grin. Veza nodded. "Long live the empire." "Until we meet again."
Laquatus watched Veza dive into the portal and disappear. Damn the little land crawler anyway. Her mind was tight and ordered and clear, but it was also as hard as ice. He could see it, touch it, test it, but he could neither take hold of it nor gain access to it. Like many sea creatures, Veza was immune to all but the most invasive of the ambassador's telepathic probes.
Laquatus switched back to his legged form and climbed out of the pool. He was not overly concerned. He had cracked tougher minds than Veza's in his time, and she already seemed enamored of his ability to change shape so easily. The more they interacted, the more receptive she would become. If he was careful, he could cultivate her as a political ally and as a scapegoat should anything go wrong.
For now, he thought, Veza and Llawan both could keep. He put on his robe and mentally signaled Turg. The games were about to start, and it was time for the eventual winning team to scout the competition.
CHAPTER 9
Chainer helped Kamahl find the location of the barbarian's first bout, then disappeared into the crowd. Kamahl was slowly warming to Chainer's presence, but Chainer took the first opportunity he could to break away.
He wanted to watch Kamahl fight from a clear vantage point, to see how good the mountain warrior really was. Chainer also wanted to avoid the centaur Kamahl had been given as a partner. Chainer didn't like centaurs, and he didn't trust himself to treat the man-horse as tactfully as the First required.
So he stood in the spot with the best view he knew, up against the railing in the mezzanine. When Kamahl and the centaur teamed up against a Cabal dementia caster, Chainer was honestly impressed. Kamahl was much more careful in his application of force than any barbarians Chainer had heard about. He was devastating in combat, but he was also in control. The centaur seemed competent enough, but it was Kamahl who finished off their opponent with some kind of exploding axe. It was marvelous.
Chainer gladly joined in the cheers for the victor. As he'd expected, the fixers had put long odds on the unknown warrior from the mountains, and anyone smart enough to put a bet down on Kamahl more than quadrupled their money. Chainer himself earned a tidy sum.
Until the moment Kamahl's bout started, he hadn't felt the rush of being in the pits again, hadn't recaptured the simple joy of combat. No wonder he'd felt uninvolved. The games had been lackluster, he was on an important assignment from the First, and he was unarmed except for a thrice-damned ornamental dagger. Watching Kamahl brought it all back for him. The elegant simplicity of the contest, the concrete rewards of developing one's skills, the pride of a well-fought victory, these things were missing from an apprentice's life.
Chainer picked his way through the crowd back to Kamahl's side and congratulated him personally. The centaur had trotted off to comb the nettles out of its tail or some such thing. Chainer was only glad it was gone.
Chainer and Kamahl were watching Turg tear apart a Krosan dragonette when the alarm sounded. The barbarian reacted a split second before the Cabalist, but both were up before the sentries blew a second warning.
"Something big is coming," Chainer said. "That's the full-on alert klaxon."
Kamahl grunted and unsheathed one of his throwing axes. "Come on, then. Let's go kill something big."
Chainer paused, trying to sort out competing priorities. The First had told him to stick with Kamahl, but the Cabal was under attack.
Chainer watched a pitiful few Cabalists standing firm against the crush of warriors and spectators trying to escape. The Master of the Games had lost all control.
"You go," Chainer said to Kamahl. "I can do more good in here." Kamahl nodded, and without a second glance charged off into the bedlam.
Chainer watched him go with a kind of jealousy. The barbarians had it good, he thought. All they needed was something to fight and their path became clear. Chainer didn't know what Kamahl was running off to confront, but then neither did Kamahl, and Chainer longed for that kind of abandon. Perhaps he should have been born in the mountains.