But there was more to be gained from holding Darloona and me captive―especially if you have a trained and subtle telepath on hand! We had been housed in the apartment next to Ang Chan so that he could read our minds while we slept or idly conversed. And in our minds lay immensely valuable information of enormous use to any would-be conqueror, for Darloona and I well knew the details of the defense and armaments of Shondakor, the disposition of troops, the schedules of sentries, the flag signals―even the passwords of the gates, which were changed daily according to a prearranged system.
And now perspiration bedewed my brow as well. For if Ang Chan were beyond this wall, mentally eavesdropping on us, he must surely by now know that we were escaping!
I reached out and seized Glypto by the collar of his cloak and hissed an urgent question into his ear. He shrugged, then fumbled along the inner wall until his sensitive fingers found some small aperture invisible to me in the uncertain light. Fitting his one good eye on the spyhole, the little rogue peered into the room beyond, then straightened, smirking.
“Nay, my master, the priest be not within. Oh―aye!―now that I call it to mind, this night our holy Empress holds a state ball to celebrate some coup or other against the realm of Shondakor, which city, the gossip of the taverns hath it, be the first prize on her list of conquests,” he said, offhandedly, not dreaming that it was our capture which had been the coup in question. We had seen no particular reason, as yet, to inform our involuntary little guide as to our identities, or the reasons for our captivity. Doubtless he assumed us to be courtiers suffering house arrest for some displeasure we had caused the Empress. Things had happened too swiftly, perhaps, for him to have yet noticed in the darkness and the confusion of our scuffle, that of the three of us only Ergon was a Perushtarian.
I relaxed a bit at the news that the suite beyond the wall was currently unoccupied; but the hour was very late, and surely the ball must have ended by now and the lords and ladies of the court would be returning to their suites. At any moment, the yellow dwarf from mysterious Kuur might enter his suite to eavesdrop on us. At any moment, then, he could discover that we had escaped, and would raise the alarm!
“We must be gone from this place just as soon as possible,” I whispered, thinking swiftly. “Glypto, where does the passage lead to in this direction?”
He fingered his tuft of beard with nimble, greasy fingers, thoughtfully.
“Now let me think on it, my master … past the royal apartments of the Empress herself, aye! And thence deeper into the inner citadel―”
“And in the other direction? Swiftly, friend―every moment counts!”
“Why … out through the walls of the keep, of course … ‘tis a lengthy and a winding way, I fear, but it ends at last in the sewers which honeycomb the space beneath the streets o’ the city, and thus to many o’ the safe and snug hidey-holes in the Thieves’ Quarter … . “
I cursed desperately, feeling the precious moments slipping away―and with them, this last small chance of our escaping.
“No good at all . . that way would take too long, and if Ang Chan is what I fear he is, he could find us even in the sewers … is there any other exit nearby?”
Glypto squinted a bright, inquisitive eye up at me, curious as to my haste. “Oh, aye, a trap in each ceiling leads down into every room, even the Empress’s, though he would be a bolder chanthan than even Glypto who would dare to use it! Ooff!” he squeaked as I shook him violently, to shake his mind from these rambling reminiscences. “Aye, I’m thinking, lord, don’t shake the breath out of my poor old bones! A nearer exit―aye! I mind me that my grandfather had a stone hollowed away at ‘tother end, which lets forth on this tier … .”
“The third tier, isn’t it?” I demanded suddenly, a marvelous scheme having suddenly sprung full-blown into my brain.
“Aye … the third tier it is.”
“Where the balloon is tethered―the flying thing that carried us here?”
He nodded slowly. “Aye … guarded by three, or is it four, men at arms? Three, I think … .”
“I care not if ‘twere a dozen,” I said recklessly, with a grin of sheer mischief. “For the Lords of Gordrimator are with us this night! They must be, for at last things are going in our favor!”
Ergon’s froglike face looked at me bewilderedly in the feeble light of the flickering candle stub.
“Jandar, what is toward? You’re hatching some scheme, I’ll wager, but ‘tis past my wit to guess it straight .…”
“Everything will be explained in a moment,” I laughed. And then another thought occurred to me―a thought so deliciously pregnant with pleasurable possibilities that I stopped short in my tracks.
“Glypto―where is the suite of this self-styled Empress of yours?” I snapped.
His wizened face was every bit as bewildered as Ergon’s but there was no time to play the game of question-and-answer now. Sensing my impatience, he scuttled ahead of me down the narrow way, and showed me the position of the spyhole.
I slid the baffle aside, stopped, and fitted my eye to the tiny aperture. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness, but then I began to make out the details of a huge room draped in silks, carpeted with rare furs, and thronged with paintings, statuettes, tapestries, and other artworks too numerous to list.
Directly in front of me, Zamara sprawled languorously on an immense low couch covered with costly furs. She wore a dazzling gown of some sparkling, expensive-looking fabric that looked like silver lame, and a gem-studded tiara flashed about her brows, caught in her ebon tresses. As I gazed upon this scene, the Empress of Tharkol was sipping a goblet of chilled wine while a slave girl knelt before her, gently massaging her feet with some perfumed oil. Even as I watched, Zamara dismissed the servant with a flick of her hand, turned to an immense mirror, and began lazily removing her jewels. The slave girl scuttled out, and, my eyes searching every corner of the room, I ascertained to my indescribable amusement and delight that Zamara was now completely alone in her apartments.
Taking my eye from the spyhole, I seized Glypto by the collar of his threadbare cloak.
“Where is the trapdoor in the ceiling of the room?”
“There, lord, but “
“Give me the candle. Ergon! Collar this rogue, and if he squeals, teach him the weight of your hand.”
“‘Twill be a pleasure,” Ergon growled, enveloping the little thief in brawny arms. From behind him, down the narrow passage, Darloona gazed at me with amazement and wonder in her emerald eyes.
“Jandar, what is it that you plan to do?” she asked.
I blew her an airy kiss.
“Beloved, we are going to escape in style―and we’ll be carrying a little `life insurance’ along, just in case a guard or two gets too handy with his spear! I’ll be back in just a moment, with a surprise for you all. While I’m gone, go back down the passage and find the exit that leads out onto this tier of the palace. If our luck is still with us, we’ll find the balloon still tethered there … get along, now, all of you!”
Faces mirroring their puzzlement, they crept off down the passage while I ducked through the low rat hole, crawled out on one of the beams, found and unlatched the trapdoor, opened it and swung through, to drop as soundlessly as a great cat to the floor directly behind the would-be Empress of Callisto!
Chapter 7
The Plaything of the Winds