"You were the traitors," said Rash. "This sudden madness of visions, a completely unprofitable journey into the desert, selling off ail the animals, dismissing all the workers, and now this-as steward of the house of Wetchik, I had no choice but to involve the clan council."
"Gaballufix isn't the clan council," said Elemak. "He's a common thief, and you've put our fortune in his hands."
"You were putting the fortune in his hands," said Rashgallivak. "Don't you see that I did this for you? For all four of you? The council will leave me as guardian for a few years, until all this blows over, and in that time if one of you proves himself to be a sober and completely reliable man, worthy of the responsibility, the Wetchik name and fortune will be returned to you."
"There'll be no fortune left," said Elemak. "Gabya will spend it on his armies before the year is out."
"Not at all," said Gaballufix. Tin turning it all over to Rash, to continue as steward."
Elemak laughed bitterly. "As steward, required to use it as the council directs. And how will the council direct? You'll see, Rash. Very quickly indeed-because the council has incurred some pretty heavy expenses with all these soldiers they're paying."
Rashgallivak looked quite uncomfortable. "Gaballufix did mention that some small part of this might need to be deducted to meet present expenses, but your father would have contributed to clan expenses anyway, if he were still in his right mind."
"He's played you for the fool," said Elemak, "and me too. All of us."
Rash looked at Gaballufix, dearly concerned. "Maybe we ought to call in the council on this," he said.
"The council has already met," said Gaballufix.
"How heavy are the clan expenses?" asked Rashgallivak.
"A trifle," said Gaballufix. "Don't waste time worrying about it. Or are you going to prove yourself as unreliable as Volemak and his sons?"
"See?" said Elemak. "Already it begins-do as Gabya wants, or you wont be steward of the Wetchik fortune anymore."
"The law is the law," said Gaballufix. "And now it's time for these worthless young spendthrifts to leave my house before I charge them with the murder of their father."
"Before we say anything more to help Rash see the truth, you mean," said Elemak.
"We'll go," said Mebbekew. "But all this talk about the Palwashantu clan council and making Rashgallivak the Wetchik is rat piss. You're a thief, Gabya, a lying murdering thief who would have killed Roptat and Father if we hadn't left the city the day we did, and we're not leaving our family fortune in your bloody hands!"
With that Mebbekew lunged forward and seized a bag of jewels.
Immediately the soldiers were upon them, all four of them. The jewels were out of Meb's hands in a moment, and with no particular gentleness all four of them were out of the salon, out of the front doors, and thrown into the street.
"Away from here!" cried the soldiers. "Thieves! Murderers!"
Nafai hardly had a chance to think before Mebbekew was at his throat. "You're the one who had to lay all the treasure on the table!"
"He meant to have it all anyway," Nafai protested.
"Shut up, fools," said Elemak. This isn't over. Our lives aren't worth dust-he probably has men waiting to kill us not fifty meters off. Our only hope is to split up and run. Don't stop for anything. And remember- something Rasa told me today- trust no man?He said it again, changing the emphasis a little. "Trust no man. We'll meet tonight where the camels are. Anyone who isn't there by dawn we'll assume is dead. Now run-and not for any place that they'd expect you to go."
With that Elemak began to stride off toward the north. After only a few steps he turned back. "Now, fools! See-they're already signaling the assassins!"
Sure enough Nafai could see that one of the soldiers on Gaballufix's porch had raised one arm and was pointing at them with the other. "How fast can you go with those floats?" Nafai asked Issib.
"Faster than you," he answered. "But not faster than a pulse."
"The Oversoul will protect us," said Nafai.
"Right," said Issib. "Now move, you fool."
Nafai ducked his head and plunged into the thickest part of the crowd. He had run a hundred meters south along Fountain Street when he turned back and saw why people were shouting behind him: Issib had risen some twenty meters into the air, and was just disappearing over the roof of the house directly across from Gaballufix's. I never knew he could do that, thought Nafai.
Then, as he turned to run again, it occurred to him that Issib probably hadn't known it, either.
"There's one," said a harsh voice. Suddenly a man appeared in front of him, a charged-wire blade in his hand. A woman gasped; people shied away. But almost without knowing that he knew it, Nafai could feel the presence of a man directly behind him. If he backed away from the blade in front, he would walk into the real assassin behind him.
So instead Nafai lunged forward. His enemy had not expected this unarmed boy to be aggressive-his swipe with the blade came nowhere near. Nafai put his knee sharply into the man's groin, lifting him off the ground. The man screamed. Then Nafai shoved him out of his way and ran in earnest now, not looking back, barely looking ahead except to dodge people and watch for the shimmering red glow of another blade, or the hot white beam of a pulse.
THIRTEEN - FLIGHT
Issya had never tried to climb so high with his floats. He knew that they responded to his muscle tension, that whichever float he pressed down on the hardest remained fixed in its position in the air. But he had always thought that the position was somehow relative to the ground directly under the float. He was not entirely wrong-the higher he got, the more the floats tended to "slip" downward-but by and large he found that he could climb the air like a ladder until he was at roof height.
Naturally, everyone looked at him-but that's what he wanted. Everybody watch me, and talk about the young crippled boy who "flew" up to the roof. Gaballufix's goons wouldn't dare shoot him with so many witnesses, at least not directly in front of their leader's own house.
There was no one on the roofs, he saw that at once, and so he used them as a sort of highway, drifting low between vents and chimneys, cupolas and elevator housings, roofline ridges and the trees in rooftop gardens.
Once he did surprise an old fellow who was repairing the masonry on the low wall around a widow's walk; the clattering sound of a broken tile worried Issib for a moment; when he turned, though, he saw that the man had not fallen, but rather stared gape-mouthed at Issib. Will there be a story tonight, Issib wondered, about a young demigod seen drifting through the air over Basilica, perhaps on some errand of love with a mortal girl of surpassing beauty?
It was an exceptionally long block of houses, since several roads had been built over in this area. He was able to get more than halfway to Back Gate without descending to street level, and certainly he had made better time than any possible pursuers could have. There was always the chance, of course, that Gaballufix had assassins posted at all the city gates; certainly if he had an ambush at any gate it would be at Back Gate, the one nearest to his house. So Issib couldn't afford to be careless, once he was down at street level.
Before he left the roofs, though, he cast a longing gaze at the red wall of the city. High as he was, the sun was still up, split in half by the wall line. If only I could just fly over that. But he knew that the wall was loaded with complicated electronics, including the nodes that created the magnetic field that powered his floats. There was no crossing there-the tiny computer at his belt could never equalize the violently conflicting forces at the top of the wall.