"And I will have wasted the Messenger, and poisoned my reputation, and endured the abuse of your company all for nothing. Yes, Tannen, I'm well aware of the angles of what you no doubt believe to be a terribly clever argument." "Our antidote, then?"
"You" ve not earned a final cure yet. But you'll have the consequences further postponed."
Stragos pointed to one of the Eyes, who bowed and left the room. He returned a few moments later and held the door open for two people. The first was Stragos's personal alchemist, carrying a domed silver serving tray. The second was Merrain.
"Our two bright fires have returned," she said. She was dressed in a long-sleeved gown that matched the sea-green portions of Stragos's cape, and her slender waist was accented by a tight cloth-of-gold sash. Threaded into her hair was a circlet of red and blue rose blossoms.
"Kosta and de Ferra have earned another temporary sip of life, my dear." He held out his arm and she crossed over to him, taking his elbow in the light and friendly fashion of a chaperone rather than a lover. "Have they, now?" Til tell you about it when we return to the gardens."
"Some sort of Festa Iono affair, Stragos? You" ve never struck me as the celebratory type," said Locke.
"For the sake of my officers," said Stragos. "If I throw galas for them, the Priori spread rumours that I am profligate. If I do nothing, they whisper that I am austere and heartless. Regardless, my officers suffer far more in society when they have no private functions from which to exclude their jealous rivals. Thus I put my gardens to use, if nothing else."
"I weep again for your hardship," said Locke. "Forced by cruel circumstance to throw garden parties."
Stragos smiled thinly and gestured at his alchemist. The man swept the dome from the silver tray, revealing two white-frosted crystal goblets full of familiar pale-amber liquid.
"You may have your antidote in pear cider tonight," said the Archon. "For old times" sake."
"Oh, you funny old bastard." Locke passed a goblet to Jean, emptied his in several gulps and then tossed it into the air. "Heavens! I slipped."
The crystal goblet struck the stone floor with a loud clang rather than a shattering explosion into fragments. It bounced once and rolled into a corner, completely unharmed.
"A little gift from the Master Alchemists." Stragos looked extraordinarily amused. "Hardly Elderglass, but just the thing to deny rude guests their petty satisfactions."
Jean finished his own cider and set his glass back down on the bald man's serving tray. One of the Eyes fetched the other goblet, and when they were both covered by the silver dome once again, Stragos dismissed his alchemist with a wave.
"I… um—" said Locke, but the man was already out through the door.
"This evening's business is concluded," said Stragos. "Merrain and I have a gala to return to. Kosta and de Ferra, you have the most important part of your task ahead of you. Please me… and I may yet make it worth your while."
Stragos led Merrain to the door, turning only to speak to one of his Eyes. "Lock them in here for ten minutes. After that, escort them back to their boat. Return their things and see that they're on their way. With haste."
"I… but… damn," Locke sputtered as the door slammed closed behind the two Eyes. "Antidote," said Jean. "That's all that matters for now. Antidote."
"I suppose." Locke put his head against one of the room's stone walls. "Gods. I hope our visit to Requin goes more smoothly than this."
11
"Service entrance, you ignorant bastard!"
The Sinspire bouncer came out of nowhere. He doubled Locke over his knee, knocking the wind out of him in one cruel slam, and hurled him back onto the gravel of the lantern-lit courtyard behind the tower. Locke hadn't even stepped inside, merely approached the door after failing to spot anyone he could easily bribe for an audience with Selendri— "Oof," he said as the ground made his acquaintance.
Jean, guided more by loyal reflex than clear thinking, got involved as the bouncer came forth to offer Locke further punishment. The bouncer growled and swung a too-casual fist at Jean, who caught it in his right hand, then broke several of the bouncer's ribs with the heel of his left. Before Locke could say anything, Jean kicked him in the groin and swept his legs out from beneath him. "Urrrrgh-ACK," he said as the ground made his acquaintance.
The next attendant through the door had a knife; Jean broke the fist that held it and bounced the attendant off the Sinspire wall like a handball from a stone court surface. The next six or seven attendants who surrounded them, unfortunately, had short swords and crossbows. "You have no idea who you're fucking with," said one of them.
"Actually," came a harsh feminine whisper from the service entrance, "I suspect they do."
Selendri wore a blue and red silk evening gown that must have cost as much as a gilded carriage. Her ruined arm was covered by a sleeve that fell to her brass hand, while the fine muscles and smooth skin of her other arm were bare, accentuated by gold and Elderglass bangles.
"We caught them trying to steal into the service entrance, mistress," said one of the attendants.
"You caught us getting near the service entrance, you dumb bastard." Locke rose to his knees. "Selendri, we need to—"
"I'm sure you do," she said. "Let them go. I'll deal with them myself. Act as though nothing happened."
"But he… gods, I think he broke my ribs," wheezed the first man that Jean had dealt with. The other was unconscious.
"If you agree that nothing happened," said Selendri, "I'll have you taken to a physiker. Did anything happen?" "Unnnh… no. No, mistress, nothing happened." "Good."
As she turned to re-enter the service area, Locke stumbled to his feet, clutching his stomach, and reached out to grab her gently by the shoulder. She whirled on him.
"Selendri," he whispered, "we cannot be seen on the gaming floors. We have—"
"Powerful individuals rather upset about your failure to give them a return engagement?" She knocked his hand away. "Forgive me. And yes, that's exactly it."
"Durenna and Corvaleur are on the fifth floor. You and I can take the climbing closet from the third." "And Jerome?"
"Stay here in the service area, Valora." She pulled them both in through the service entrance so that tray-bearing attendants, studiously ignoring the injured men on the ground, could get on with earning festival-night tips from the city's least inhibited.
"Thank you," said Jean, taking a half-hidden spot behind tall wooden racks full of unwashed dishes.
"I'll give instructions to ignore you," said Selendri. "As long as you ignore my people." "I'll be a saint," said Jean.
Selendri grabbed a passing attendant with no serving tray and whispered a few terse instructions into his ear. Locke caught the words "dog-leech" and "dock their pay". Then he was following Selendri into the crowd on the ground floor, hunched over as though trying to shrink down beneath his cloak and cap, praying that the next and only person who'd recognize him would be Requin.
12
"Seven weeks," said the master of the Sinspire. "Selendri was so sure we" d never see you again."
"About three weeks down and three weeks back," said Locke. "Barely spent a week in Port Prodigal itself."
"You certainly look as though you passed some time on deck. Working for your berth?" "Ordinary sailors attract much less notice than paying passengers." "I suppose they do. Is that your natural hair colour?" "I think so. Swap it as often as I have and you start to lose track."