Hugh grunted, puffed on his pipe.
Ciang regarded him through languid eyes, lids half closed. “This has to do with Stephen’s son, who is not, they say, Stephen’s son. Yes, I heard the boy was in the emperor’s clutches. Be easy, my friend. I ask nothing. I begin to see the tangle you are in all too clearly.”
“Whose side is the Brotherhood on in this?”
“Our own, of course.” Ciang shrugged. “War has been profitable for us, for Skurvash. Peace would mean an end to smuggling. But I’ve no doubt new business opportunities would arise. Yes, so long as greed, hatred, lust, ambition remain in this world—in other words, so long as mankind remains in this world—we will thrive.”
“I’m surprised no one’s hired us to murder Rees’ahn.”
“Ah, but they have. He’s remarkable, that one.” Ciang sighed, gazed far away.
“I don’t mind admitting to you, Hugh the Hand, that the prince is one man I would have liked to have known when I was young and attractive. Even now... But that is not to be.”
The elven woman sighed again, came back to business, to the present. “We lost two good men and my best woman on that one job. Reports say he was warned by the magus who is always with him, the human female known as Ravenslark. You wouldn’t be interested in taking on this assignment yourself, my friend? His head would fetch a fine price.”
“Ancestors forbid,” Hugh said shortly. “There isn’t enough money in the world could pay me for that.”
“Yes, you are wise. We would have said, when we were younger, that Krenka-Anris guards him.”
Ciang sat silent, her eyes again half closed, one finger making an absentminded circle in the blood on the polished wood. Hugh, thinking she was tired, was ready to take his leave when she opened her eyes, stared full at him.
“There is one piece of information I have that may help you. It is strange, only rumor. But if so, it has great portent.”
“And that is?”
“The Kenkari, they say, have stopped accepting souls.” Hugh took the pipe from his mouth, his own eyes narrowed. “Why?” Ciang smiled, made a slight gesture. “They discovered that the souls being brought to the Temple of the Albedo were not yet ready to come. Sent there by royal decree.”
It took Hugh a moment to assimilate her meaning. “Murder?” He stared at her, shaking his head. “Is Agah’ran insane?”
“Not insane. Desperate. And, if this is true, he is also a fool. Murdered souls will not aid his cause. All their energy is expended, crying out for justice. The magic of the Albedo is withering. Another reason Rees’ahn’s power grows.”
“But the Kenkari are on the emperor’s side.”
“For now. They have been known to switch allegiances before this, however. They could do it again.”
Hugh sat silent, thoughtful.
Ciang said nothing further, left Hugh to his thoughts. She took up the pen again, wrote several lines upon the paper in a firm, bold hand that looked more human than elven. She waited for the ink to dry, then rolled the paper up in a complex twist that was as much her signature as that writing upon it.
“Is this information helpful to you?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Hugh muttered, not being evasive, just attempting to see his way. “At least it gives me the beginnings of an idea. Whether or not it comes to anything ...”
He rose to his feet, preparatory to taking his leave. Ciang stood to escort him out. Courteously, he offered her his arm. Gravely, she accepted it, but took care not to lean on him. He matched his pace to her slow one. At the door, she handed him the twist of paper.
“Go to the main docks. Give this to the captain of a ship called the Seven-eyed Dragon. You and your passenger will be admitted on board without question.”
“Elven?”
“Yes.” Ciang smiled. “The captain won’t like it, but he’ll do what I ask. He owes us. But it would be politic to wear your disguise.”
“What’s his destination?”
“Paxaua. I trust that will suit?”
Hugh nodded. “The central city. Ideal.”
They reached the door. The Ancient had returned from his previous task and now waited patiently for Hugh.
“I thank you, Ciang,” said Hugh, taking the woman’s hand and lifting it to his lips. “Your help has been inestimable.”
“As is your danger, Hugh the Hand,” said Ciang, looking up at him, eyes dark and cold. “Remember the policy. The Brotherhood can help you get into the Imperanon.... perhaps. We cannot help you get out. No matter what.”
“I know.” He smiled, then looked at her quizzically. “Tell me, Ciang. Did you ever have a weesham, waiting around to catch your soul in one of those Kenkari boxes?”
The woman was startled. “Yes, I had one, once. As do all of royal birth. Why do you ask?”
“What happened, if the question’s not too personal?”
“It is personal, but I don’t mind answering. One day I decided that my soul was my own. As I have never been a slave in life, so I would not be one in death.”
“And the weesham? What happened to her?”
“She would not leave, when I told her to. I had no choice.” Ciang shrugged. “I killed her. A very gentle poison, swift acting. She had been at my side since birth and was fond of me. For that crime alone my life is forfeit in elven lands.”
Hugh stood silent, withdrawn into himself, perhaps not even listening to the answer, though he was the one who had asked the question.
Ciang, who was usually able to read men’s faces as easily as she read the scars upon their palms, could make nothing of Hugh. She could almost have believed, at that moment, that the absurd tales she had heard about him were true.
Or that he has lost his nerve, she said to herself, eyeing him. Ciang withdrew her hand from his arm, a subtle indication that it was time he left. Hugh stirred, came back to himself and to business.
“You said there was someone in the Imperanon who might aid me?”
“A captain in the elven army. I know nothing of him, except by report. That very man who was previously here—Twist—recommended him. The captain’s name is Sang-drax.”
“Sang-drax,” repeated Hugh, committing it to memory. He raised his right hand, palm outward. “Farewell, Ciang. Thank you for the wine... and the help.” Ciang bowed her head slightly, lowered her eyelids. “Farewell, Hugh the Hand. You may go on ahead alone. I have need to speak with the Ancient. You know the way. The Ancient will meet you in the central hall.”
Hugh nodded, turned, and walked off.
Ciang watched him through narrowed eyes until he was out of hearing. Even then, she kept her voice low.
“If he comes here again, he is to be killed.”
The Ancient looked stricken, but gave silent agreement. He, too, had seen the signs.
“Do I send round the knife?”[61] he asked unhappily.
“No,” answered Ciang. “That will not be necessary. He carries his own doom within him.”
28
Most elves did not believe in the existence of the dread dungeons of the Unseen, the emperor’s own personal guard. Most elves considered the dungeons little more than dark rumor, a threat held over small children when they misbehaved.
“If you don’t stop hitting your little sister, Rohana’ie,” scolds the long-suffering parent, “the Unseen will come in the night and carry you off to their prison! And then where will you be?”
Few elves ever saw the Unseen; thus their name. The elite guard did not walk the streets, or roam the alleyways. They did not come knocking on the door in the hours when the Lords of Night had spread their cloak. And though the elves might not believe in the dungeons, almost all elves believed that the Unseen themselves existed.