“Quickly!”
“You have received all that you have paid for.”
I scowled. This was extortion; but yet the Somnambulist had clearly seen the truth. I had learned nothing here than I did not already know, but that was sufficient to tell me I might learn more. I added to my fee.
Samit closed his fist on my coins and conferred once more with Murta. She spoke at length, in some agitation, whirling several times, colliding violently with a musty divan.
Samit said, “The man without eyes has come between a man and his wife. The outraged husband seeks punishment; the outworlders will thwart that; the outworlders seek hidden truths; they will find them, with a traitor’s help. The man without eyes seeks freedom and power; he will find peace. The stained wife seeks amusement; she will find hardship.”
“And I?” I said into an obstinate and expensive silence. “You say nothing of me!”
“You will leave Perris soon, in the same manner as you entered it. You will not leave alone. You will not leave in your present guild.”
“What will be my destination?”
“You know that as well as we do, so why waste your money to tell you?”
He fell silent again.
“Tell me what will befall me as I journey to Jorslem,” I said.
“You could not afford such information. Futures become costly. I advise you to settle for what you now know.”
“I have some questions about what has already been said.”
“We do not clarify at any price.”
He grinned. I felt the force of his contempt. The Somnambulist Murta, still bumbling about the room, groaned and belched. The powers with whom she was in contact appeared to impart new information to her; she whimpered, shivered, made a blurred chuckling sound. Samit spoke to her in their language. She replied at length. He peered at me. “At no cost,” he said, “a final information. Your life is in no danger, but your spirit is. It would be well if you made your peace with the Will as quickly as possible. Recover your moral orientation. Remember your true loyalties. Atone for well-intentioned sins. I can say no more.”
Indeed, Murta stirred and seemed to wake. Great slabs of flesh jiggled in her face and body as the convulsion of leaving the trance came over her. Her eyes opened, but I saw only whites, a terrible sight. Her thick lips twitched to reveal crumbling teeth. Samit beckoned me out with quick brushing gestures of his tiny hands. I fled into a dark, rain-drenched morning.
Hurriedly I returned to the Hall of Rememberers, arriving there out of breath, with a red spike of pain behind my breastbone. I paused a while outside the superb building to recover my strength. Floaters passed overhead, leaving the guildhall from an upper level. My courage nearly failed me. But in the end I entered the hall and ascended to the level of the suite of Elegro and Olmayne.
A knot of agitated Rememberers filled the hall. A buzz of whispered comment drifted toward me. I pressed forward; and a man whom I recognized as high in the councils of the guild held up a hand and said, “What business do you have here, apprentice?”
“I am Tomis, who was sponsored by the Rememberer Olmayne. My chamber is close to here.”
“Tomis!” a voice cried.
I was seized and thrust ahead into the familiar suite, now a scene of devastation.
A dozen Rememberers stood about, fingering their shawls in distress. I recognized among them the taut and elegant figure of Chancellor Kenishal, his gray eyes now dull with despair. Beneath a coverlet to the left of the entrance, lay a crumpled figure in the robes of a Pilgrim: the Prince of Roum, dead in his own pooled blood. His gleaming mask, now stained, lay beside him. At the opposite side of the room, slumped against an ornate credenza containing Second Cycle artifacts of great beauty, was the Rememberer Elegro, seemingly asleep, looking furious and surprised both at once. His throat was transfixed by a single slender dart. To the rear, with burly Rememberers flanking her, stood the Rememberer Olmayne looking wild and disheveled. Her scarlet robe was torn in front and revealed high white breasts; her black hair tumbled in disorder; her satiny skin glistened with perspiration. She appeared lost in a dream, far from these present surroundings.
“What has happened here?” I asked.
“Murder twice over,” said Chancellor Kenishal in a broken voice. He advanced toward me: a tall, haggard man, white-haired, an uncontrollable tic working in the lid of one eye. “When did you last see these people alive, apprentice?”
“In the night.”
“How did you come to be here?”
“A visit, no more.”
“Was there a disturbance?”
“A quarrel between the Rememberer Elegro and the Pilgrim, yes,” I admitted.
“Over what?” asked the Chancellor thinly.
I looked uneasily at Olmayne, but she saw nothing and heard less.
“Over her,” I said.
I heard snickerings from the other Rememberers. They nudged each other, nodded, even smiled; I had confirmed the scandal. The Chancellor grew more solemn.
He indicated the body of the Prince.
“This was your companion when you entered Perris,” he said. “Did you know of his true identity?”
I moistened my lips. “I had suspicions.”
“That he was—”
“The fugitive Prince of Roum,” I said. I did not dare attempt subterfuges now; my status was precarious.
More nods, more nudges. Chancellor Kenishal said, “This man was subject to arrest. It was not your place to conceal your knowledge of his identity.”
I remained mute.
The Chancellor went on, “You have been absent from this hall for some hours. Tell us of your activities after leaving the suite of Elegro and Olmayne.”
“I called upon the Procurator Manrule Seven,” I said.
Sensation.
“For what purpose?”
“To inform the Procurator,” I said, “that the Prince of Roum had been apprehended and was now in the suite of a Rememberer. I did this at the instruction of the Rememberer Elegro. After delivering my information I walked the streets several hours for no particular end, and returned here to find—to find—”
“To find everything in chaos,” said Chancellor Kenishal. “The Procurator was here at dawn. He visited this suite; both Elegro and the Prince must still have been alive at that time. Then he went into our archives and removed—and removed—material of the highest sensitivity—the highest sensitivity—removed—material not believed to be accessible to—the highest sensitivity—” The Chancellor faltered. Like some intricate machine smitten with instant rust, he slowed his motions, emitted rasping sounds, appeared to be on the verge of systematic breakdown. Several high Rememberers rushed to his aid; one thrust a drug against his arm. In moments the Chancellor appeared to recover. “These murders occurred after the Procurator departed from the building,” he said. “The Rememberer Olmayne has been unable to give us information concerning them. Perhaps you, apprentice, know something of value.”
“I was not present. Two Somnambulists near the Senn will testify that I was with them at the time the crimes were committed.”
Someone guffawed at my mention of Somnambulists. Let them; I was not seeking to retrieve dignity at a time like this. I knew that I was in peril.
The Chancellor said slowly, “You will go to your chamber, apprentice, and you will remain there to await full interrogation. Afterwards you will leave the building and be gone from Perris within twenty hours. By virtue of my authority I declare you expelled from the guild of Rememberers.”
Forewarned as I had been by Samit, I was nevertheless stunned.
“Expelled? Why?”
“We can no longer trust you. Too many mysteries surround you. You bring us a Prince and conceal your suspicions; you are present at murderous quarrels; you visit a Procurator in the middle of the night. You may even have helped to bring about the calamitous loss suffered by our archive this morning., We have no desire for men of enigmas here. We sever our relationship with you.” The Chancellor waved his hand in a grand sweep. “To your chamber now, to await interrogation, and then go!”