Noran sported the beginnings of a fruity black eye.
Jaezila saw my hand twitch uncontrollably toward my rapier.
“Jak! Nothing happened! For all our sakes — please!”
Noran passed the matter off — something about a door being ajar — and since Tyfar’s reactions would be well understood by Jaezila and me if he got into this, I, perforce, acquiesced, and let it lie.
To have made an issue of the incident would have impugned Jaezila’s honor. She had requested me to do nothing. There was Tyfar to consider. So, even though it may seem strange conduct for Dray Prescot, nothing was what I did. All the same, Jaezila was relieved to be out of Noran’s villa for that day.
“Do take the scowl off your face, Jak! Noran will—”
“Very well.”
My old beak-head of a face can assume so ferocious an expression, so I am told, that it will stop a dinosaur in its tracks. So I am told. My comrade, Deb-Lu-Quienyin, who was now one of the two resident Wizards of Loh in Vallia, had given me the secret of altering my facial appearance. I say given and secret. By Vox! It was a most painful experience at first, like having a swarm of bees stinging me. But I had practiced and could now hold a new face for a goodly length of time, so that I could pass unrecognized. So now I assumed a face of docility that was still me, still Dray Prescot, in a mood of sweetness and light. Ha!
“Anyway,” said Jaezila, “there is good news. Noran has arranged a meeting for the day after tomorrow. It does really seem as though we are getting somewhere.”
Tyfar fired up at the news.
“At last!” Then his expression grew grim. “A new spymaster has been appointed. He flew in from Hamal. It seems that our operations here have been penetrated by those Vallian devils. They were probably responsible for the attack on us in Malab’s Temple.”
“Then,” I said, desperately wanting to keep my Vallians and my Hamalese comrades away from one another’s neck, “we had best keep our plotting to ourselves.”
“By Krun! Yes!”
The situation in which I found myself was not an impossible one, although near enough to being impossible; it was most certainly a false position. This whole thing could explode around my ears, as the Quern of Gramarye had exploded the Souk of Trifles. I could be left surrounded by blood and dead bodies — and those corpses would be my comrades and my countrymen.
“This new spymaster has other disturbing news.”
“Yes?” said Jaezila. She spoke casually. “What does he call himself?”
“Oh, Nath the Eye.”
The name Nath on Kregen is like John on Earth. A pseudonym, without doubt. Jaezila nodded and Tyfar went on.
“There is something called Spikatur Hunting Sword.”
I held myself still. I listened.
“Nath the Eye knows little. Some Hamalese nobles have been murdered, foully done to death. A man was caught. Under the Question he confessed to this Spikatur Hunting Sword. But he knew little, being a mere villainous hired stikitche, murdering innocent people for pay.”
“I dislike assassins,” said Jaezila.
“So do I.” Tyfar looked angry and ashamed. “Yet, also, I dislike torturing people. Who can say that the answers are true, or shrieked in fear and agony, the poor wight saying anything he is led to say by his interrogators?”
I knew Tyfar well enough by now to know that his dislike of torture was not occasioned merely because the truth might not be extracted. He hated torture for the foul thing it was.
The reason for Prince Tyfar’s mission to Hyrklana was to buy vollers and this was no fake assignment, for Hamal desperately needed fliers. Well, so did we all, by Krun. His involvement with the plot to topple the queen was a bonus on that. So, the next day, we went along to the voller yards where a ship had, at last, been completed. She was a fine large craft, with two decks and a high forecastle and poop, equipped with fighting tops and galleries. She could carry two hundred or so aerial
Jaezila saw my hand twitch uncontrollably toward my rapier.
“Jak! Nothing happened! For all our sakes — please!”
Noran passed the matter off — something about a door being ajar — and since Tyfar’s reactions would be well understood by Jaezila and me if he got into this, I, perforce, acquiesced, and let it lie.
To have made an issue of the incident would have impugned Jaezila’s honor. She had requested me to do nothing. There was Tyfar to consider. So, even though it may seem strange conduct for Dray Prescot, nothing was what I did. All the same, Jaezila was relieved to be out of Noran’s villa for that day.
“Do take the scowl off your face, Jak! Noran will—”
“Very well.”
My old beak-head of a face can assume so ferocious an expression, so I am told, that it will stop a dinosaur in its tracks. So I am told. My comrade, Deb-Lu-Quienyin, who was now one of the two resident Wizards of Loh in Vallia, had given me the secret of altering my facial appearance. I say given and secret. By Vox! It was a most painful experience at first, like having a swarm of bees stinging me. But I had practiced and could now hold a new face for a goodly length of time, so that I could pass unrecognized. So now I assumed a face of docility that was still me, still Dray Prescot, in a mood of sweetness and light. Ha!
“Anyway,” said Jaezila, “there is good news. Noran has arranged a meeting for the day after tomorrow. It does really seem as though we are getting somewhere.”
Tyfar fired up at the news.
“At last!” Then his expression grew grim. “A new spymaster has been appointed. He flew in from Hamal. It seems that our operations here have been penetrated by those Vallian devils. They were probably responsible for the attack on us in Malab’s Temple.”
“Then,” I said, desperately wanting to keep my Vallians and my Hamalese comrades away from one another’s neck, “we had best keep our plotting to ourselves.”
“By Krun! Yes!”
The situation in which I found myself was not an impossible one, although near enough to being impossible; it was most certainly a false position. This whole thing could explode around my ears, as the Quern of Gramarye had exploded the Souk of Trifles. I could be left surrounded by blood and dead bodies — and those corpses would be my comrades and my countrymen.
“This new spymaster has other disturbing news.”
“Yes?” said Jaezila. She spoke casually. “What does he call himself?”
“Oh, Nath the Eye.”
The name Nath on Kregen is like John on Earth. A pseudonym, without doubt. Jaezila nodded and Tyfar went on.
“There is something called Spikatur Hunting Sword.”
I held myself still. I listened.
“Nath the Eye knows little. Some Hamalese nobles have been murdered, foully done to death. A man was caught. Under the Question he confessed to this Spikatur Hunting Sword. But he knew little, being a mere villainous hired stikitche, murdering innocent people for pay.”
“I dislike assassins,” said Jaezila.
“So do I.” Tyfar looked angry and ashamed. “Yet, also, I dislike torturing people. Who can say that the answers are true, or shrieked in fear and agony, the poor wight saying anything he is led to say by his interrogators?”
I knew Tyfar well enough by now to know that his dislike of torture was not occasioned merely because the truth might not be extracted. He hated torture for the foul thing it was.
The reason for Prince Tyfar’s mission to Hyrklana was to buy vollers and this was no fake assignment, for Hamal desperately needed fliers. Well, so did we all, by Krun. His involvement with the plot to topple the queen was a bonus on that. So, the next day, we went along to the voller yards where a ship had, at last, been completed. She was a fine large craft, with two decks and a high forecastle and poop, equipped with fighting tops and galleries. She could carry two hundred or so aerial
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