“You have everything for the journey? Melow will go with you? Weapons, clothes, money, food, the fastest voller?”
“Yes, yes, my heart!” She laughed. “Do not take on so!”
“When you go venturing out into Kregen, my love, you must take all the protection you may.”
“That is true. But the Sisters of the Rose take care of their own. We do a great deal of good, in a quiet way. We have opened two new hospitals for sick slaves in the past year. And when there is a war. . well, you know.”
Yes. I did know. The Sisters were invaluable. There were other feminine orders, of course, notably the Sisters of Samphron and the Order of Little Mothers and the like. Delia often abbreviated in the Kregen way, calling the Sisters of the Rose the SoR, as I abbreviated the Krozairs of Zy to Krzy. This was important, truly important.
So I contented myself with making sure she had everything I could think of — save myself — upon her journey. Melow would go, and a female Manhound, a jiklo, can rip up a wersting or a neemu and the chances of a strigicaw are not all that bright.
Melow the Supple jagged her fangs and said in her hissing voice, “Do not fret, Dray Prescot. The princess is a canny girl and knows her way about. I can but wish you had eased two more sets of twins into the world for me.”
“Hush, Melow!” said Delia.
The Manhounds of Kregen are indeed a fearsome sight. Artificially bred to run on all four like hunting cats, ferocious of aspect, deadly in killing skills, superbly muscled, they can strike terror into the stoutest heart. Yet this Melow the Supple, for whom I have a great fondness, savage and vicious as she was, was a kindhearted mother of twins. She was dressed in bright clothes, for she loved brilliance in dress, with neatly groomed hair and wearing sandals over those gut-ripping claws. I put out my hand and touched her cheek.
“Take care of her, Melow.”
She grimaced and hissed, as much as to say what an onker I was and I ought to know better than even to mention so obvious a thing.
Then I said another stupid thing.
“Thelda?” I said to Delia.
Well Thelda, Seg’s wife, had been companion to Delia in some fraught moments in our lives, and she always meant well, and she always said that she was Delia’s best friend. I knew Thelda belonged to the Order of Sisters of Patience — I invariably found a high amusement at that particular trifle of appositeness — so I couldn’t be surprised when Delia very calmly said, “This is a matter for the SoR, my love. Now you have delayed me long enough. Come on, Melow.”
She kissed me again and I let her go reluctantly, saying, “But you haven’t said when you’ll be back.”
“When you see me.” Then she relented, and said, “I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise.”
I saw her to the voller. And it was no joke; she’d selected our fastest four-place craft. I saw the way she solemnly observed the fantamyrrh as she stepped aboard.
I stood back. The guards and the retainers stood in a ring, all looking up. The voller sprang away, with Melow looking over the side like some frightful gargoyle, and rose up into the limpid air with the streaming mingled lights from the Suns of Scorpio lighting up her side and blazing like a beacon.
“Remberee, my love!”
“Remberee, my heart!”
And the flier spun up and away and soared over the glittering rooftops of Vondium. Damned independent in their ways are the girls of Kregen.
But, then, that is just as it ought to be.
Eleven
“All praise to Papachak of the Tail!” said Laka Pa-Re, and he thumped his empty flagon back onto the stained sturmwood table with a crash. All around the low-ceiled room of the tavern men were drinking and shouting, a few were brawling, some were trying to play Jikalla and being continually interrupted. The clatter of dice sounded from the corner and on the opposite side a Pachak was tail-wrestling a comrade amid spilling wine bottles and toppling ale flagons.
This was the famous tavern The Savage Woflo, an example of the warped Kregan humor that either amuses or infuriates, for the woflo is a wee creature of extremely timid nature, overfond of cheese. Among the tables ran remarkably pretty girls of various races carrying wide wooden trays stacked with foaming jugs or exotically shaped bottles. These serving wenches were, unfortunately, slaves. They were clad in transparent draperies, with tawdry bangles and beads, with colored feathers, all designed to enhance their natural beauties. Well, I suppose that in some cases they did. But generally cunning old Urnu the Flagon, landlord of The Savage Woflo, had an eye for female beauty and his wenches — I dislike the commonly used word shif for these serving girls for it indicates a contempt I do not feel -
were every one carefully chosen at the auctions and paid for above the standard price. Normally I avoided places like this and when in Vondium and in need of a quiet drink I would go down to Bargom’s Rose of Valka by the Great Northern Cut. Bargom, a Valkan, did not employ slaves and aroused some bemused envy that he managed so well without their unwilling aid. Now the Pachak paktun, Laka Pa-Re, yelling for more ale, handled these slaves girls with a courtesy I fancied was not assumed for my benefit. This tavern, the famous Savage Woflo, was much patronized by the guardsmen. No female customers were allowed. Such a thing was still possible in Vondium. This was a male preserve and, I suppose, on Earth would have been choking with smoke as well as the fumes of alcohol.
“By Mother Zinzu the Blessed!” I said, lowering my flagon. “I needed that!”
Saying that little aphorism cheered me up, although Laka had never heard of Mother Zinzu the Blessed, the patron saint of the drinking classes of Sanurkazz.
“You do me great honor, my Prince, in drinking with-” he said, until I shushed him. I wore simple buff tunic and breeches and swung a rapier, as we all did here, where brawls and good-humored swishings of blades were common occurrences. I wished to look inconspicuous. Laka also wore plain buff, out of uniform.
“If you must call me anything, let it not be prince,” I said. “Rather, merely call me Nath and have done.”
“Aye, my Pri- Nath!” he bellowed, and used that cunning tailhand to whip a fresh flagon from a passing girl’s tray. She squeaked and laughed — all simulated, for that was how the customers liked to think these girls behaved — and ran on with slender flashing legs to fetch more ale. There were Fristle fifis, and sylvies, and shishis here, as well as other races of beautiful girls. There were no Rapa girls or Och maidens, but then there were few of their menfolk in the tavern either. A parcel of Chuliks sat glowering at a table, steadily drinking. When the singing began the Chuliks would depart to find a place where a fighting man might drink without having to sing. That is the way of Chuliks. I had come here because — and then to admit the true reason would be to betray more, perhaps, than I cared to. I knew that I would hear gossip here that might be overlooked in the echoing corridors of the palace. Also, I felt sure that one of the emperor’s agents would be here listening. What he would report might not tally with what he heard.
For the emperor’s position had been steadily eroded.
Covell of the Golden Tongue had said the tavern plots were all moonshine. Maybe they were. But I felt the need for a drink and a song in masculine company.
Most great nobles of Vallia kept up their villas in Vondium even if they only visited them once or twice a year, and their guards patronized establishments like this, so there were many varieties of uniform and colors among the civilian dress. The Vallian Air Service was notable by its absence. Also, Laka was one of the few high-ranking officers present. I noticed three other Jiktars and quite a few hikdars, but the majority of the drinking, gambling, shouting men were deldars and swods. When I had quizzed the Pachak paktun as to why he had said he was pleased to see me, he had answered evasively, even defensively, but now he was thawing out and eventually he said: “It’s like this, my Pri- Nath. I drew guard duty on the Prince Majister’s wing of the palace. I do not grumble at that. But I see things. I hear things. There are men among the guards — aye! Men I have known! Men who speak behind their hands. They have been bought by gold.”