Jephraim Tallow, who had been following her, emerged, standing with hands on hips, cat on shoulder, to look about him. He had lost the mad woman.
“Well, Tom, she’s led us nowhere. I’d hoped for a pantry, at least. I think we’ve exhausted her possibilities as a guide and must find some other old inhabitants to show us more secrets.”
He stalked to where a narrow stair ran up the wall to a gallery. He climbed. He found a bell-shaped arch and went through, crossing a narrow bridge with a parapet higher than his head. Above was darkness. Below were echoes, perhaps the sound of water. He walked quickly, found more steps and then was opening a door which took him onto a little balcony, set into a tower, and he was in daylight. He shivered, glancing down once at the two figures far below in the garden, before he went inside again.
Oubacha Khan, son of the Lord of the Western Horde and ambassador from Tatary to the Court of Gloriana the First, clad in a long ponyskin coat that reached to his ankles, ponyskin boots that reached to his knees, and a cap of chain mail lined with wool, was walking the grey garden with the Lady Yashi Akuya, who, kimono-clad, was forced to take several little steps for every stride of his but, since she was secretly in love with the thin Tatar, she bore all discomfort (including the cold) with an eager smile. Tatary and Nipponia had long been traditional enemies, which was why the two found one another’s company so comforting at this alien Court.
Certain that they were not observed in their distant and forgotten garden, they spoke casually of the matters most frequently upon their minds.
“Last night it was the little ones again, and the swimming pool,” the Lady Yashi Akuya informed Oubacha Khan, “or so I had it from my girl.” (She had introduced a geisha to Gloriana’s seraglio and now the geisha sent regular reports.)
“Followed by some obscure activity involving toy sheep, as I understand it,” said the young Khan, fingering long moustaches and causing Lady Yashi Akuya to blush. He maintained his own spy, Maurentanian, to keep him informed not of Gloriana’s specific amusements (if amusements they were) but of her condition, of her state of mind and her state of health. Several nations pursued a theory of diplomacy based very closely on their own interpretations of Gloriana’s private misery.
“But without result, as usual,” added the Lady Yashi sympathetically. She suffered much as Gloriana suffered, but rather less intensely. Also, she was convinced that she would soon know the pleasures of orgasm, when Oubacha Khan at last decided to have his will with her.
“She remains frustrated.”
The Nipponian ambassadress made a small noise through her rounded lips.
“And no suggestion that either Poland or Arabia visited her secret apartments?”
“None. Though both were eager. Attempts were made. Notes were sent, and the like. But in the end Poland left, assured of a sister in the Queen, while Arabia consoled himself with a page or two and-this is a mere rumour-the Countess of Scaith.”
“He hoped the Countess would provide a way to Gloriana. We can reasonably guess that it was with this in mind that he broke a lifetime’s habit.” The Tatar ambassador uttered a frosty chuckle to disguise the jealousy he felt. Although he had absolutely no ambitions concerning the Queen, he had for two years entertained a passion for her closest friend and would have courted her long since, had he not, when leaving home, taken the vow of celibacy demanded of all Tatar nobles who went as emissaries to foreign lands.
“And yet,” said Lady Yashi Akuya enthusiastically, “both Arabia and Poland appear to have committed themselves even more closely to their alliance with Albion.”
The Tatar nodded. “It is a tribute to Gloriana’s innocence and Montfallcon’s guile. I had thought, by ensuring Lord Shahryar’s discovery of the truth concerning Montfallcon’s part in his nephew’s murder, that I had provided a substantial subject for contention, but evidently Arabian ambition is so great they would relinquish all honour if it meant one slender chance of winning the Queen.” He was disapproving now. “If such a thing had happened to a Tatar, vengeance would have been taken immediately, no matter what the political gains at stake.”
Extended lashes fluttered. “Honour is not dead,” she said, “in Nipponia, either.”
He put habitual prejudice behind him. “The Nippon Isles are a synonym for selflessness,” he told her generously. “Our two nations stand alone as upholders of the old values in a world where pacifism has become a creed in itself. I am all for peace, of course-but a proper peace, won by victorious arms, a well-deserved rest after manly conflict. Battle clears the air, decides the issues. All this diplomacy merely complicates, confuses and suppresses problems a decent war would bring immediately into the open. The victors would know what they had won and the vanquished would know what they had lost-and everyone would have a perfectly good idea of their position, until things became cloudy again. As it is we know that Arabia wants nothing more than to go to war with Tatary but Albion frustrates her, and that is why Arabia grows degenerate, because her energies are not naturally employed.”
They had reached the door which led into Lady Yashi Akuya’s quarters. “How refreshing it is,” she said, “to listen to such direct and healthy talk. Would you consider it self-indulgent if I invited you to talk with me so that I might listen a little longer to your thoughts?”
“Not at all,” replied the Khan. “I am flattered by your interest.”
She stepped aside to admit him to a room which was, like all her rooms, excessively black and white. “And you must tell me more about the Arabian murder.” She clapped her hands for her servants to come to take Oubacha Khan’s tawny coat. “Montfallcon did it, you say?”
“His creature.”
THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER
Within the narrow confines of a sedan chair carried by four none too healthy lackeys cursing and stumbling on rain-slippery cobbles, Captain Quire sat staring almost tenderly at Alys Finch, who sat with back straight, hands folded and knees together, in respectable stomacher, gown and petticoats, with a starched ruff like an aurora about her throat, emphasising her high, unnatural colour; she was as carefully costumed as her ex-swain, and as carefully trained by the demon who had mastered them both. His tone was approving: “How swiftly you rise in society, Alys. I shall soon be proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir.” The voice was small and automatic.
“You had natural manners and I have needed to do little in that area. I improved your taste in clothing, taught you to eat properly and to speak and so on, but I have not the time to teach you the most important accomplishment, which is to be able to laugh, smile, make witty observations at will, yet never once relax into genuine and dangerous happiness. I feel a responsibility to you, Alys, as any father might (for I am creating you more consciously, more carefully, than a natural father would), and I cannot allow you to be vulnerable. I promised to make you strong, to make you reliant only upon yourself and your master. And to that continuing end we visit Josias Priest.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You thought yourself weak and Phil so strong. I proved you wrong. It is you who are strong, Alys, and who will be stronger still anon. An able lieutenant for Captain Quire in his constant war against the world’s weaklings. For Quire is Mother Nature’s thresher.” His black eyes smouldered with self-mockery which she, mesmerised for almost two months, could neither understand nor recognise. “And that is why I have never insulted your strength and your intelligence by demanding love from you. Instead I have demanded disciplined obedience and given you power and security in return. For few men understand what Quire understands-the extent of a woman’s physical fear. It is what I exploited in you at first. And now I offer you release from that fear. I have trained you as a sergeant trains his troops. I have said, ‘Trust me with your life, your soul, your freedom-and I will protect you and teach you how to protect yourself.’” He stretched his cruel, muscular hand towards her and lifted her chin. “Do you feel safe, Alys, and strong?”