The Grand Ellipse Part 45

"Then my best advice to you is to wait here in AfaHaal for another week or two until the worst of the rains are over before attempting to move east," he told her. "There's considerable flooding between here and ZuLaysa. The stage has suspended operation until further notice, and there's no alternate means of travel that I might in good conscience suggest to a lady."

"I appreciate your concern, sir, but I can't wait, my business is urgent. Is it possible to hire private transportation?"

"If it is possible," he warned, "I wouldn't recommend it. You must understand that these yellow-fellows-that is, these Aveshquian natives-are an oddly mixed lot. Some are loyal and dependable as guard dogs-the most faithful and devoted of servants. Others are treacherous, malicious, and cunning beyond western ken. It's the divided nature of the eastern mind, I suppose."

That sounds like something a Grewzian would say, thought Luzelle, amazed.

"You might find yourself a yellow with a wagon willing to carry you east, at a price," the lieutenant continued. "And he might bring you safe and sound into ZuLaysa-or else he might take it into his head to rob and murder you, or worse. I do not mean to alarm you, Madame, but with these natives, one never knows. I strongly advise you to await the resumption of regular coach service."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She marched away, head and umbrella held high.

Find yourself a yellow with a wagon, he had said. Where in the whole dripping town of AfaHaal would she look for such a thing? She had no idea; she would have to start asking anyone and everyone, if need be.

Spying a stout covered wagon drawn by a pair of bullocks, she hurried on over to accost the owner, a burly character swathed in oilcloth rain gear. Like most natives he spoke fluent Vonahrish, and his reply was enlightening.

"The Esteemed Madame asks the impossible," he declared.

"Impossible?" She scowled.

"Truly. The land between AfaHaal and the city of ZuLaysa is presently an impa.s.sable bog, treacherous underfoot, soft with hungry mud, and spotted with standing pools. My wheels would sink in the mire straightaway. Or if they did not, then the little hyuuls swarming in the water would torment and perhaps kill the bullocks with their venom. It cannot be."

"It must be. It shall be. Somehow. Come," she coaxed, "you are a big, strong fellow. Surely you do not fear fear a bit of water and a few paltry snakes? I'll pay you well for your trouble. I will pay you"-she hesitated for effect-"twenty-five New-rekkoes." a bit of water and a few paltry snakes? I'll pay you well for your trouble. I will pay you"-she hesitated for effect-"twenty-five New-rekkoes."

His eyes widened. The munificence of the offer amazed him, as she had intended that it should, but he did not waver.

"No, Esteemed Madame." He shook his head. "Not even for twenty-five hundred hundred would I attempt this thing. Nor would any other mortal of sound reason." would I attempt this thing. Nor would any other mortal of sound reason."

"You do not understand," she persisted grimly. "It is necessary that I proceed to ZuLaysa without delay. I must go, I will will go." go."

"Not in my wagon, lady," he replied, and must have recalled that so flat a contradiction of an Esteemed Vonahrish-woman's a.s.sertion was unseemly as it was unsafe, for he continued almost without pause, "If Madame is truly set upon this course, then she might seek the counsel of HeeshNuri, who performs great wonders and marvels."

"HeeshNuri? Does he own a good covered wagon and a strong team of bullocks-mules-whatever? Or is he a hurrier with a fhozhee?"

"No, Madame. HeeshNuri is HeeshNuri-in-Wings, greatest astromage in all the western counties of Kahnderule. He reads the Script, that one, as if it were his gazette!"

A mumbo-jumbo fortune-teller fortune-teller? Luzelle bottled the impatient query. Native astromages-regarded as gifted individuals empowered to decipher the stellar configurations known as the Script of the G.o.ds, wherein divine will is revealed unto humankind-were deeply revered throughout Aveshq. An open display of disrespect could only offend her listener, and so she replied politely, "No doubt your astromage possesses great wisdom, but I seek ordinary transportation, nothing more."

"HeeshNuri-in-Wings is more than an astromage, Esteemed Madame," insisted the other. "He is a master of magic, a conduit of that mystic power flowing into our world from the land of the G.o.ds. HeeshNuri directs this power where he will, and behold! Costly miracles occur. And the Esteemed Madame appears to seek a miracle."

"A good wagon would do," Luzelle replied, and took her leave, resolved to hunt down a driver of bolder spirit.

But the quarry proved elusive. Half a dozen times within the next hour she approached likely-looking natives attached to likely-looking wagons, and half a dozen times her offers, pleas, and arguments were turned down, always for the same reasons. Giant swamp...great quagmire...seas of sucking mud...the little hyuuls...dangerous...madness...impossible. Giant swamp...great quagmire...seas of sucking mud...the little hyuuls...dangerous...madness...impossible. She soon grew sick of hearing it. These Aveshquian natives, she decided, were a pitiful lot, deficient in courage and imagination alike. Their responses were drearily repet.i.tive, right down to the recurring recommendations that she seek the aid of their local witch-doctor, this HeeshNuri-in-Wings character. She soon grew sick of hearing it. These Aveshquian natives, she decided, were a pitiful lot, deficient in courage and imagination alike. Their responses were drearily repet.i.tive, right down to the recurring recommendations that she seek the aid of their local witch-doctor, this HeeshNuri-in-Wings character.

"Where would I find him?" she asked at last, without much interest.

"The house of HeeshNuri stands atop the highest of the hills overlooking this town," the latest of her reluctant wagoners explained. "Give me five zinnus, Esteemed Madame, and I will drive you there."

"I will give you five hundred hundred zinnus, if you will drive me to ZuLaysa." She saw his eyes light, and her own did likewise. zinnus, if you will drive me to ZuLaysa." She saw his eyes light, and her own did likewise.

"Truly it is a great sum, a princely sum."

"Indeed. It is not often that such an opportunity arises."

"Aeh." He shook his head, and the light in his eyes extinguished itself. "Here is only an opportunity to watch my wagon and bullocks sink in the mud. Keep the five hundred, I will satisfy myself with the five."

"You will satisfy yourself with none," she told him irritably, and splashed off down the twisty little rivulet of a street.

The clock was ticking and she was squandering time. The pusillanimous locals seemed uniformly unwilling to drive her to ZuLaysa. Alternatives? Buy a wagon and team outright, and drive herself? Possible, but how practical would that be? She had no experience in driving a wagon, managing a team of bullocks, or finding her way across flooded, snake-infested terrain. Purchase a horse and ride east? Purchase a horse where? She had not caught sight of a single horse since reaching AfaHaal. Mule? Slow and difficult to manage. Well, she'd do it somehow, if necessary. In the meantime the hire of a competent driver was still her best possibility, and she was not quite ready to give up on it yet.

The next three natives she approached refused her in quick succession. When the last offered to drive her to the house of HeeshNuri-in-Wings for the sum of six zinnus, she broke down and consented. Perhaps this fortune-teller that people spoke so highly of might offer some useful advice or suggestions. Perhaps he would sell her a wagon. It could not hurt to ask.

The ride was consistently uphill, and problematic in the rain. Water rushing down the slopes had turned the unpaved road to chocolate pudding. The bullock was up to his pasterns in mud, the wagon wheels sank and dragged, progress was slow and halting. And for the first time Luzelle began to appreciate the magnitude of the task she confronted. If a native driver, skilled and practiced, could barely manage to cover the two miles or less separating HeeshNuri's house from the town of AfaHaal, then how should she, alone and wholly inexperienced, hope to drive a wagon east through the floods, all the way to ZuLaysa?

Never mind, she thought, I'll do it if I must. I'll do it if I must.

The covered wagon halted, and she heard the driver calling her.

"What is it?" Luzelle stuck her head out.

"Esteemed Madame, we have arrived. Here is the house of HeeshNuri."

"Good. Your payment." She gave him a ten-zinnu piece that she had picked up somewhere en route. "Now I want you to wait for me here. I'll give you another ten zinnus plus a bonus for carrying me back down into town. Will you wait?"

"Until the end of time, Esteemed Madame."

"Very well." She eyed him narrowly, wondering if she dared leave her valise with him. She decided against it. Valise in one hand, umbrella in the other, she alighted from the wagon and advanced along an immaculate white gravel walk edged with scrupulously tended shrubbery.

The house of HeeshNuri-in-Wings did not at all meet her expectations. A provincial native fortune-teller, she had a.s.sumed, would inhabit some dirtily bedizened little shack somewhere on the outskirts of town. HeeshNuri's dwelling, built of rose-veined dove-colored stone, bespoke wealth and settled solidity. The design recalled the perfectly proportioned elegance of the best Sherreenian town houses, but the tall oval windows with their elaborate surrounds and the small dome surmounting the portico were distinctly Aveshquian in style.

Marching straight to the front door, she let fall the gilded knocker, and a houseboy answered at once. He was garbed in spotless white linen, crisp and perfect, and even though he was only a servant and a native at that, she was suddenly aware of her wet, filthy skirt hem, her muddy shoes, and her escaped tendrils of hair curling uncontrollably in the humid air.

"Madame?" the houseboy inquired.

"I am Luzelle Devaire, a Vonahrish traveler, here to see HeeshNuri-in-Wings upon a matter of business. Is he at home?"

"Enter, Madame." He ushered her in with a bow.

Lowering her umbrella and pushing back her hood, she stepped over the threshold into a gleaming marble vestibule. Slender columns two stories high supported a dark-blue vaulted ceiling punctuated with golden constellations. She stood in the home of an astromage, after all.

"I will relay Madame's message." The houseboy's air was solicitous. "Would Madame care to add anything more?"

State your business, he was suggesting with an exquisite tact that somehow implied the unhappy consequences of refusal.

"I need transportation to ZuLaysa," she explained shortly. "I've been told that HeeshNuri may be able to a.s.sist me."

"I will relay the message," the houseboy repeated. "If the Esteemed Madame would be pleased to wait."

She wasn't particularly pleased-time pressed-but she inclined her head with such graciousness as she could muster, and the servant retired, leaving her alone. Seating herself gingerly on the edge of a western-style brocaded settee more than likely to suffer by contact with her soiled skirts, she waited. The minutes pa.s.sed and she lost herself in contemplation of the tessellated marble floor, until a flash of motion at the edge of her vision caught her attention, and she raised her head. She looked out through one of the big oval windows to behold the wagon in which she had arrived departing the property of HeeshNuri-in-Wings. The driver-bored with waiting, or else worried about the steadily deteriorating condition of the steep road-was heading back toward AfaHaal.

Luzelle jumped up, ran to the door, and struggled with the unfamiliar latch. By the time she got it open, the wagon was almost out of sight. She shouted at the driver, who did not turn his head. If he heard her voice above the rain, he chose to ignore it. The wagon rounded a bend in the road and disappeared from view. She suppressed the impulse to chase after it.

Mouthing a silent imprecation, she slammed the door shut and returned to the settee, where she sat fidgeting for another five minutes. Wasted minutes, no doubt. Wasted hours, priceless time squandered. This stupid excursion to the home of some jerkwater would-be wizard had been a mistake from the start.

The houseboy reappeared to announce, "The master invites Madame to join him and his guests in the salon. This way, if you please."

His guests? She had come at a bad time.

"May I take Madame's valise and umbrella?" the houseboy ventured as if asking a favor.

She relinquished both articles, and he led her along a carpeted corridor past a succession of lavishly appointed rooms, one of which contained a figure that caught her eye. It was someone quite tall and heavy, powerful looking, clothed in the conventional Aveshquian costume of baggy trousers and voluminous tunic, with a sash knotted at the waist. Less conventional were the deep hood, leather mask, and leather gloves concealing every trace of ident.i.ty. Height, bulk, and breadth of shoulder marked the individual as a man. He stood in a shadowy corner, and something in his utter immobility struck Luzelle as peculiar, even disquieting. For a moment she was unsure whether she looked upon a human being or a mannequin.

Her doubt must have shown on her face, for the houseboy rea.s.sured her, "Madame need not concern herself, it is only one of the master's Quiet-fellows."

His what? She said nothing. Moments later she spied another figure of similar type, masked and m.u.f.fled, impersonating a statue at the far end of the hall. She tried not to stare. She said nothing. Moments later she spied another figure of similar type, masked and m.u.f.fled, impersonating a statue at the far end of the hall. She tried not to stare.

The houseboy led her to a double set of polished ebony doors inlaid with countless tiny ivory lozenges. He knocked, and a resonant voice speaking in lightly accented Vonahrish bade him enter. Opening the door, he announced, "Esteemed Miss Devaire."

Luzelle walked into an opulent salon. The door closed behind her and the houseboy withdrew, but she hardly noticed, for the occupants of the room claimed her full attention. Three men rose from their chairs as she entered. One of them-Aveshquian, tall, imposing, handsomely gowned in robes of damson silk embroidered with gold and jet-had to be the astromage. Beside him stood Girays v'Alisante and Karsler Stornzof. Together. Both apparently unharmed. And here in this place ahead of her. How? How?

Did it really matter how, so long as they were both safe? No road-gang labor for M. the Marquis. No envenomed Ygahri darts for Karsler. An almost painful grat.i.tude filled her.

Girays was himself again; clean shaven, hair trimmed, dressed in well-cut khakis suitable to the climate. She had almost begun to forget how he looked without a scruffy beard and dark locks straggling over his brow. He was regarding her with a smile, probably amused at her expression of transparent astonishment; or perhaps simply relieved to see her whole and healthy as she was relieved to see him. And Karsler...his impact was still startling. Her mind had not properly retained the remarkable blue of his eyes, or their indefinable remoteness.

"Miss Devaire. My house is honored by your presence," the tall Aveshquian intoned ceremoniously, but without a trace of the servility that she had already come to expect from the natives. But this was clearly no ordinary native. The golden insignia attached to the fringed sash wrapping his waist proclaimed his membership in the Order of Wings, one of the highest of the ancient Aveshquian social divisions. His speech was that of an educated man, his manner faultless, his bearing regal. She judged his years to be something over sixty, by reason of his plentiful silver hair, the lines grooving his high forehead and lean cheeks, and the pigmented spots spattering his long-fingered hands. But his eyes-uncommonly large, deep set, and blackly brilliant-were ageless. "I am HeeshNuri-in-Wings. I believe my guests are already known to you."

"They are, and I am glad to see them well. I greet HeeshNuri-in-Wings, most famed and gracious of astromages," she responded musically. "His wisdom is celebrated and his arcane skills deemed incomparable. I come in hope that he will a.s.sist a lone, unprotected woman in her hour of distress." She saw Girays's lips turn down at the corners, and Karsler blinked.

"Such talents and resources as I possess are at Miss Devaire's command."

"HeeshNuri-in-Wings is generous."

"I am unworthy of praise. Will it please you to sit, Miss Devaire?"

"Thank you." She seated herself, and the men resumed their chairs.

"May I offer you refreshment? Tea, perhaps?"

"You are most kind, but I think not." Actually she would have liked some tea, but did not care to linger over the rituals of hospitality.

"Ah, I understand. You are pressed for time and filled with urgent purpose." HeeshNuri nodded paternally. "It is often so with my visitors, many of whom live as if striving to outpace fate itself. The three of you, however-all contestants in the famous Grand Ellipse-simply strive to outpace one another, and to this end you seek my a.s.sistance. You see, Miss Devaire, your rivals M. v'Alisante and the Overcommander Stornzof have already explained matters."

"But how convenient," she murmured, still wondering how the two of them had managed to reach this place ahead of her.

"You require transportation east to ZuLaysa," HeeshNuri continued. "Or rather, east as far as the village of JaiGhul, where railroad service resumes. I am capable of furnishing such transportation."

"Indeed?" Luzelle brightened. "You offer a wagon-a carriage-a fhozhee?"

"None of these would serve your needs," HeeshNuri observed. "No ordinary wheeled vehicle will navigate the seas of mud that presently bar your way east. For that you must avail yourselves of my Quiet-fellows."

"Quiet-fellows?"

"Servants of a specialized nature, possessed of certain unusual attributes."

"What unusual attributes?"

"They are complex and manifold. Suffice it to say, my servants are fully capable of bearing occupied palanquins across the flooded plains to the village of JaiGhul, a journey of some forty-eight hours' duration."

"Forty-eight hours?" Luzelle's brows rose, for the estimate struck her as more than a little optimistic. "Pardon me, HeeshNuri-in-Wings, but I have studied the map, and I do not see how this can be. The distance is considerable, and if one a.s.sumes that progress is restricted to the daylight hours-"

"No such restriction exists," the astromage informed her. "My Quiet-fellows travel by night or day."

"They'll need to sleep, though."

"They are beyond that."

"Rest? Eat?"

"No."

"And all those little poisonous snakes-?"

"Will not trouble my Quiet-fellows."

"I see." Luzelle wondered if Girays and Karsler believed all or any of this. She shot a dubious glance at them, but their faces, ordinarily so dissimilar, were now identically inscrutable.

"Perhaps," she essayed, "you could summon one or two of your Quiet-fellows, and we might have a word with them."

"Impossible, Miss Devaire." HeeshNuri shook his head. "They do not speak Vonahrish. In fact, they do not speak at all."

Or sleep? Or eat? Madness. She should slog back on down the hill to AfaHaal, she was wasting her time here. Or was she? What if the astromage's offer turned out to be legitimate? If so, she could hardly afford to retreat, leaving the field clear to Girays and Karsler. Neither of them them, she noticed, seemed disposed to withdraw. Did they know something she didn't? Luzelle gnawed her lower lip.

"Forgive me, HeeshNuri-in-Wings, but I do not understand," she confessed.

"Ah, the rational western mind craves the unreliable crutch of logic. But you are in Aveshq, Miss Devaire, and the forces at work in this land may perhaps exceed your experience. I might describe the nature of my Quiet-fellows to you, but the explanation would surely strain your credulity."

"My credulity might surprise you."

"Perhaps." HeeshNuri allowed himself a small smile. "But time presses, does it not? Please accept the word of one whose stars have led him down many a curious path-the Quiet-fellows may be relied upon to serve your needs. M. v'Alisante and the Overcommander Stornzof have chosen to believe this. Their questions, so like your own, were answered prior to your arrival, and that, no doubt, is why they sit so quietly now."

"Quite right," interjected Girays. "The options are limited, and I've decided to take a chance on your Quiet-fellows. Since I'm eager to be off, I'd like to conclude our transaction quickly." He reached into a pocket to bring forth his wallet.

Luzelle was taken aback. When last she had seen him, Girays v'Alisante had spoken and acted as her companion and ally. Now he was unmistakably her compet.i.tor. He was not even looking at her. He had hardly acknowledged her. He must still be angry at the way she'd run off and left him, back in Jumo Towne. Well, let him sulk.

Her surprise deepened when Karsler concurred quietly, "I too will hire a palanquin."

The two of them seemed quite certain, and that was good enough for her. She would trust their judgment.

"I too," declared Luzelle. "Oh, but what about food and water? For a two-day journey, we'll need-"