“Claims the neighboring tanzeer of Dumaan took the boy to force trade concessions. And Hafiz is more than willing to pay handsomely.” I pulled the leather purse out of a pocket in my russet burnous and rattled the contents. “Half up front, half after.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Neesha observed. “When do we leave?”
“About a half hour ago.”
Chapter 8
REZ WAS A SMALL ENOUGH TOWN, capping a domain not much larger. No wonder the tanzeer of Dumaan had deemed it necessary to go to such dramatic lengths as kidnapping to get concessions from Hafiz’s tanzeer. Hafiz was a rich domain. Hafiz had wealth to spare. Dumaan wasn’t and didn’t.
Del, Neesha, and I did a careful reconnoitering of Rez, locating the puny palace and paying strict attention to the comings and goings of palace servants. It is the servant population that forms the heart of any tanzeer’s palace; subsequently, it is the servant population that forms the heart of any city, town, village. You don’t see a tanzeer without first seeing his loyal servants, any more than you break into a tanzeer’s palace without first figuring out how to get past his loyal servants.
A day spent taking turns loitering outside the ramshackle walls of the dilapidated palace with the rest of the bored petitioners gained us a little information. We now knew one thing was certain: Rez’s tanzeer didn’t subscribe to the same religion Hafiz’s did. Or there wouldn’t be female servants on marketing expeditions. And there certainly wouldn’t be harem girls.
It was Del who came up with the idea. Neesha and I mostly watched the silk-swathed women spill out of the palace gates, giggling among themselves like children. Hoolies, for all I knew they were children; the silk burnouses hid everything save hands and sandaled feet, and the hands clutched at bright draperies eagerly, unwilling to share with the petitioners what the tanzeer saw any time he wanted. They were accompanied by three men in correspondingly bright silks and turbans; eunuchs, I knew, judging by bulk and Southron custom.
As we watched, Del considered. And then she guided us off into the labyrinthine market stalls and explained her plan.
Since she wouldn’t let either of us talk, I did, in silence, what I could to dissuade her. I shook my head repeatedly, vehemently rejecting her suggestion. Neesha looked from one to the other of us.
Finally, Del stopped and glared at me. “Have you a better idea? Or any idea at all?”
I scowled. “That’s unfair. I haven’t had time to think of one.”
“No. You’ve been too busy ogling harem girls. Both of you.” She motioned us to be quiet and stay put. “Wait here while I get the things we need.” And she was gone.
Disgruntled, I waited in the shade of a saffron-dyed canvas awning, out of direct sunlight. The Southron sun can leach the sense from your head if you stay in it too long; I wondered if it had finally gotten to Del’s Northern brains.
Neesha moved up beside me. “I don’t see how this will work.”
“You should have said so,” I observed sourly.
“She wouldn’t have listened to me.”
I grunted. “Half the time she doesn’t listen to me.”
“Oh, that’s not true.”
I scowled at him. “Whose side are you on?”
“Oh, neither side,” Neesha said. “I learned it’s best for me to remain in the middle if you two argue.”
Del came back a while later lugging an armload of silks and spent several minutes laboriously separating them until she had apparel sorted out. And then I began to understand.
“Del—”
“Put the clothes on. Both of you.” She plopped a creamy silken turban down on top of the pile in my arms, then thrust amber-hued clothing, and turban into Neesha’s chest. “We’re going into the palace as soon as we’re dressed.”
I gritted my teeth. “You want us to masquerade as eunuchs.”
Neesha was startled. “You do?”
“Neither of you can masquerade as a harem girl, can you? You’re too tall. You have to be eunuchs.”
“You’re not a whole lot shorter, you know.”
“Ah, but I have breasts.”
Neither Neesha nor I could come up with a good riposte to that.
A smile curved the corners of her mouth. “Get dressed. We’ll be in and out in no time with Dario in tow. And don’t forget to use the veil to cover the bottom half of your faces. Eunuchs don’t have beard stubble.”
“The khemi may have the right idea about you women,” I muttered in disgust, staring at the clothing in my arms.
Neesha asked plaintively, “How does a eunuch act?”
“Probably not much different from the Sandtiger or his son.” Her words were muffled behind the multitudinous robes she was bundling herself into. “Ready?”
Neesha and I hadn’t even begun to put on the bright silks.
“Hurry,” she urged. “We have to insinuate ourselves into that flock of Southron sillies. And they’re due to come by here about—now. Tiger, Neesha—come on—”
Silks whipping, tassels flying, Del hastened after the women as they bobbed and weaved their way through the narrow stallways on their way back to the palace. Hastily we jerked on our eunuch’s robes, slapped turbans on our heads, hid swords in silk, exchanged glances of resignation, and went after her.
We passed guard after guard on our way into the palace. Del fit in with the other girls well enough—though a head taller than most—but I felt about as innocuous as a sandtiger in a flock of day-old goats, and Neesha clearly didn’t believe we could pull this off. Nonetheless, no one paid much attention as we paraded down the corridors of the musty old palace.
I wasn’t certain I liked being taken so easily for a eunuch.
I watched as Del in her rose-colored robes allowed the other girls to move ahead of her. Now we brought up the rear. I saw Del’s quick hand gesture; we ducked out going around the next bend and huddled in a cavernous doorway.
“All right,” she murmured. “We’ve passed four corridors. I overheard that Dario’s supposed to be in a room off the fifth. Come on.”
Sighing, I followed as she darted out of the doorway and headed down the appropriate corridor at a run. Neesha was behind me. I didn’t run, but only because I decided it was not in keeping with a eunuch’s decorum.
We caught up to her outside yet another doorway. This one bore a large iron lock attached to the handle. “Dario?” I asked.
Del shrugged. “This is what I heard one of the women say.”
I glanced around the corridor uneasily. “Fine. You trust them, then. Did they slip you a key as well?”
“I already had one.” She displayed it. “I borrowed it from the same eunuch who donated his clothing to you.”
“Can we hurry up?” Neesha asked nervously. “Our luck can’t hold forever.”
The kid obviously needed more experience with adventuring, if this was going to bother him. I mean, the likely punishment, were we caught, was being turned into real eunuchs.
Now I was nervous.
She turned and inserted the key into the lock. Iron grated on iron; I wished for a little fat to oil the mechanism. But just about the time I was opening my mouth to urge a little more care, the lock surrendered and the door was ours.
Del shoved, but nothing happened. Neesha and I leaned on it a little and felt it move. Rust sifted from all the hinges. But the door stood open at last.