Blood Of Ambrose Part 29

"Half, eh?" Genjandro said, more amenably. "Wait a time. I'll be down."

The window slammed shut, and presently the shop door opened. "Come in, come in," Genjandro said. "We'll drink tea. We'll talk. We'll make a deal." He swung the door shut and bolted it. Then, ignoring the others, he addressed himself to Morlock. "Well?"

"They're with us."

Genjandro nodded and made a gesture with his hand. Five shadowy figures rose up around the dark shop, carrying a variety of weapons: bows, clubs, knives.

"You take no chances," Jordel said admiringly.

"I beg your pardon, but we take dozens every day-far, far too many," Genjandro disagreed politely if briskly. "Had we any brains at all we would go into a different line of work. Hopefully, we'll soon have the chance. Morlock Ambrosius, it is long since we met."

"Good morning, my friend, and well met."

"The King is well, I hope, and my friend Wyrth?"

"I don't know."

"You have a story to tell, I see. What is it you need? Perhaps we can have breakfast while we wait for it."

"A cart, two black horses, needles, and red thread."

"Oh ho. No red cloth?"

"I'll take it if you've got it. I had planned to use my friends' cloaks."

"Hey!" Jordel shouted.

Aloe waved him to silence. "I think I know what he's got in mind-a good plan, Morlock. It may well work."

"Trivia, madam, trivia," Genjandro disagreed. "You should have seen the dodge we pulled on the Protector two years since-I think I may say 'we,' although my part was very small-"

"Essential," Morlock disagreed.

"Be that as it may, I can tell you the tale while we eat. Vora, our guests will be breakfasting with us. Kell: you heard the man. He needs a cart, two black horses, and some red thread. The rest of you may go about your business as we planned, but if any of you hear a rumor that Morlock is abroad in the city you should send me a message. Let's see, what should the code word be?"

"Seventeen," Morlock suggested.

"Superbly meaningless. Thank you. You see, my friends, he is a master of many crafts, including yours. Should you hear any rumor of Morlock's presence in the city, send me a message containing the word 'seventeen.' Throw in whatever else you like, so long as it's of no consequence. Good day: we meet at the appointed time."

The others left, some by the front door, others through a trapdoor behind the counter.

"Your servants?" Aloe guessed, when they were gone.

"My fellow spies, madam. I have the honor to be the King's spymaster in the occupied city of Ontil."

"Indeed. May I know your name?"

"I don't think so, madam, but you may address me as Alkhendron. That's what I go by these days."

Genjandro/"Alkhendron" led them upstairs to his living quarters, where a small if cheerful dining room was laid, rather awkwardly, for five. The thread came; breakfast came; Morlock drank tea and sewed as the others ate and talked.

Genjandro amused them with the story of the silken dragon, eliciting the names of his guests (without seeming to ask for them) as he told the tale. It amused the three vocates enormously Jordel laughed until he wept, and even Aloe grinned a few times. In turn, Morlock-amusing his audience less, but interesting them even more-told what had happened the previous night, beginning with the departure of the spider from Ambrose through his meeting with the vocates in the dead quarter. (He did not mention Wyrth's terror: he blamed himself for that.) "Don't like the sound of this," Genjandro said, when he heard about the corpse-inhabited quarter. "How much of the city have they taken over? What do they want?"

"We'll need to know as much as your people can tell us," Morlock said. "Next to this, the Protector is nothing."

"Almost literally, perhaps," Genjandro said musingly. "But I still don't understand how our friends here found you, or what their role in this is."

"We were following Morlock," Aloe said flatly.

Morlock glanced at her and glanced away. There were several ways to locate someone through magic. The easiest was if one had some sort of connection with the person through blood, or some other close tie, such as marriage. From her tone of voice, Morlock guessed that they had used this method to follow him. He could tell she liked it no better than he did.

"When we saw what was going on," Aloe continued, "we decided to follow from a distance. But when the zombie-riot started we thought we should get him out of there, if we could."

"And so you did," Genjandro said heartily. His eyes met Morlock's; he had not failed to notice that Aloe had not explained why she and her companions were following Morlock.

Morlock nodded and shrugged. He held up the red mask he had been making. "What do you think?"

"Very convincing," Genjandro approved. "Who gets to wear it?"

"I vote for Morlock," Jordel said. "He has the authentic air of a gravedigger, if you know what I mean."

Morlock grunted. "You'd smell the same if you'd been fighting corpsegolems all night."

"Well, we all have our favorite amus.e.m.e.nts. I suppose the three of us are to portray the unliving dead."

"The silent majority," Aloe remarked. "You might try easing yourself into the role."

Jordel, offended, threw up his hands. "You won't get another word out of me!"

Morlock donned the red hood, red gown, and red mask he had made while the others ate breakfast. He would hold the reins of the horses with his hands m.u.f.fled by the sleeves of the gown-risky, but not as risky as waiting to st.i.tch a pair of gloves.

The cart and horses were waiting in front of Genjandro/Alkhendron's shop.

"A thousand thanks, Alkhendron," Morlock said, shaking both his hands. "You've been a friend in need, as so often before."

Genjandro actually blushed and said, "It was nothing. Always a pleasure. No, really."

Morlock carried the Guardians to the would-be death cart for greater authenticity. Baran went first: a heavy burden. Jordel was as tall, but not nearly so heavy. However, he held his body stiff with all his limbs awry in an implausible imitation of rigor mortis; Morlock hoped no one was watching. Finally he carried out Aloe.

"Just like our wedding night-eh, Morlock?" she whispered through nearly motionless lips.

He grunted, dumped her in the back with the others, and covered them with a rough blanket. Then he jumped into the driver's seat and shook the reins. His mask was cut from Aloe's cloak, and it smelled like her. The soft velvety strength of her burned on his arms and chest: he had forgotten how much he longed for her. But, unfortunately, he could not forget how useless that longing was.

No one attempted to detain him as he drove straight through the Great Market and past it. The Protector's Men on duty "besieging" the City Gate of Ambrose simply stood aside when it was clear he intended to cross the bridge.

When they were out of direct line of sight, he pulled off the mask and hoped the guards on the other side of the portcullis would recognize him. Evidently they did, as he was not shot at while he approached. They raised the gate and he drove the cart in. On the far side he reined in and dismounted; the three vocates threw off the blanket and jumped down beside him as the portcullis rattled down to seal the gate.

"Welcome to Ambrose, Guardians," Morlock said as the Royal Legionaries stepped forward to receive them. "You'll pardon me if I leave you in the care of these soldiers-these are honored guests, Hundred-Leader; amba.s.sadors from the Wardlands."

"Morlock," said Aloe, stopping him dead by putting her hand on his chest. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to tell Ambrosia what I've learned and what has happened," Morlock said. "This is her war, more than mine, and she needs to know. And if the King and Wyrth have not returned by the time I'm finished, I am going to go into the city and look for them. If they do return, I plan to take a bath"

"Well, you have your ducks in a row, as usual," she said, with a dark warm smile that pierced him to the heart. "We'll catch up with you later."

Morlock turned and fled into the stone ways of the castle, his heart beating like a boy's.

PART FIVE.

THE.

Two.

CITIES.

THE DESCENT INTO h.e.l.l IS EASY. THE DOOR OF THE DARK CITY STANDS OPEN NIGHT AND DAY. BUT TO RECALL YOUR STEPS, AND ESCAPE INTO THE UPPER AIR ... FOR THAT YOU'LL WORK. FOR THAT YOU'LL SUFFER.

-VERGIL, AENEID.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

THE KINGS )uDcEMENT.

nd now," said Ambrosia, leaning back, her iron-gray eyes as cold as death, "it is time for me to pa.s.s sentence on the condemned traitor, Karn. Guards, seize him."

"Ambrosia, a word with you," Lathmar said urgently.

"Later, Your Majesty."

"Now, my Lady Regent. Or should I say Protector?"

That got her attention, though the look she threw at him was not a warm one.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." She motioned him forward, then sat him down on the throne and bent forward to hear his whispered words.

"Grandmother, you will spare Karn."

"No. If that's all-"

"It is all. It is everything. For you, madam, for you!"

"What are you talking about? Please keep your voice down."

"Once and twice last night, Karn could have run away to save himself. He didn't. When there was no hope, when you weren't there, he saved me. You need to hear that before you pa.s.s judgement."

"Suppose I don't?"

"Then I'm done. You can carry on your d.a.m.ned war for your d.a.m.ned empire without me."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I'll make it known that you acted against my wishes and why. I'll make it known that you killed Karn even though I had personally a.s.sured him that his life would be spared. I'll make it known that I'm as much a prisoner of the Lady Regent as I was of the Lord Protector."

"And you think-what? That soldiers will leap up out of the ground to take your side? That-"

"I think it will make your war against the Protector harder to win. I think it will make the peace that follows impossible to win."

"You're taking a rather big risk, Lathmar. After all, if you are not an a.s.set to me, you are a liability."

"I understand your threat perfectly, madam," Lathmar hissed. "I understood it before you uttered it. Karn pledged his life for me; now I pledge mine for him."

"You're making a mistake, Lathmar," Ambrosia said, with unexpected mildness. "Karn is not the man you think him."

"The mistake is mine to make. Not yours, madam."

"Stop calling me that. Step back; tell me the tale of last night's doings, in whatever detail you think fit; I'll use it as a pretext for sparing Karn's life. But," she said, seizing his arm as he began to draw away, "understand that it's only a pretext. We'd all be safer if he were out of the way. He's a weak link in a chain that must not break."

Lathmar shook loose and stepped down from the dais. His hands were trembling, so he clasped them behind his back before he began. "My Lady Regent, before you pa.s.s judgement on Legionary Karn, I wish to speak in his defense."

"Say on, Your Majesty," said Ambrosia cheerfully. "I am your least humble servant."

"Madam," the King began pointedly, "last night I left Ambrose with certain members of this council to survey matters east of the city...."

For brevity's sake, he began the tale with their walk through the grave fields. He was weary beyond words, but he kept his voice hard and clear until he had told how Erl and Karn appeared to rescue him when all seemed lost. He didn't mention Wyrth's terror at the prospect of the corpse-golems. Then his voice broke and he found it hard to stand, much less go on.

"If it pleases the regent," Erl said hesitantly, "I could carry on the story, since His Majesty is-"

"No need," Ambrosia interrupted. "Thank you, Erl. And I thank you, Your Majesty; your intervention was timely indeed."

Lathmar nodded, wearily.

"The punishment of treason, as I remarked yesterday, is death. Karn was guilty of treason in that sorry episode, and I fully intended to have him executed this morning, if he was so ungallant as to make it through the night alive. Instead of killing himself, as I had hoped, Karn spent the night earning the grat.i.tude of the King and myself in a selfless act of bravery. I find I cannot now give him the punishment his treason deserves, but neither can I leave him unpunished."

Ambrosia seemed to brood for a moment, and then continued, "The man who can't take orders shouldn't be in a position to give them. Karn has proved his fitness as the King's bodyguard, under the supervision of Commander Erl, so that is precisely the rank I a.s.sign to him. He is stripped of all seniority and rank in the Royal Legion, and will forfeit a year's pay. I'd sentence him to a beating and a jail term as well, but a beating would not affect a man of Karn's indomitable courage, and he'd only escape from the jail cell. He is to consider himself to have been very leniently dealt with, and he may be a.s.sured that if he fails in his duty again, I will personally cut his d.a.m.n throat.

"I would be pleased to welcome the emissaries from the Wardlands at this time, but I have kept the Protector's people (to use the term loosely) waiting longer than is really civil. I hope you'll join me for dinner-or we should make it supper, perhaps? Some of us will need a good day's sleep. Yes, Kedlidor?"