Walegrin glared at her, dropping the second tunic to the floor as he stormed toward the stream where they washed.
"I wasn't always like this," she shouted after him.. "I know better ways."
Dripping, but clean, Walegrin returned to the room to find his tunic lying neatly on the mattress. Somehow the girl had gotten the extra wrinkles out. His bronze circlet had been given a quick polish and some of the mud was gone from his sandals. But Cythen herself was gone from the shed, the courtyard and the villa. Coming on top of the loss of Illyra and Thrusher it was almost more than he could endure. Had he found her right then he would have cheerfully beaten her.
But the girl had been right, damn her. He felt better clean. His few men straightened up as he assembled them in the courtyard. He told them what he'd told Cythen. They grumbled and he doubted they'd wait more than a day before going their separate ways if he did not return. He looked for Balustrus too, and found only his share of the swords. The ore, the necklace and the metal-master had vanished. He was getting used to that.
Knots ofpeople ducked out of his path once he was on the streets. He was recognized, but no-one stopped him. With eyes fixed forward, he walked past the gallows, not chancing a glance at the corpses. The gatekeeper took his name without ceremony and a lad appeared to conduct him to the Hall of Justice.
He was left alone there in the echoing chamber. Kadakithus himself was the first to enter, accompanied by two slaves. The young prince dismissed the slaves and took his place on the throne.
"So, you're Walegrin," he began simply. "I thought I might recognize you. You have been no small amount of trouble."
Walegrin had intended to be quiet and meek-to do whatever was necessary to free Thrush. But this was Kittycat and he invited disrespect. "Finding your clothes each morning must be equal trouble. You've got my man in your dungeons. I want him freed."
The Prince fidgetted with the ornate hem of his sleeve. "Actually I don't have your man. Oh, he's been taken all right, and he's alive-but he's Tempus' prisoner, not mine."
"Then I should be talking to Tempus, not you."
"Walegrin, I may not have your man-but I have you," the Prince said forcefully.
Walegrin swallowed his reply and studied the Prince.
"That's better. You're entitled to your opinion of me-and I'm sure I've earned it. There's a lotto be said for playing one's part in life. Now, you'll talk to Tempus after you've talked to me-and you'll be glad of the delay.
"I've had gods know how many letters from Ranke about you-starting before you disappeared. I got my most recent one with the recent delegation from the capital. Zanderei-as cunning an assassin as they could find. I know how much money you got from Kilite. Don't look so surprised. I was raised in the Imperial Household-I wouldn't be alive at all if I didn't have some reliable friends. The chief viper in my brother's nest is always asking for you. He seems to think you've discovered Enlibar steel; I assure him that you haven't, though I know you have. I know how much he said he'd pay you for the secret; so I know you're not in Sanctuary looking for a better price. But then, I also know what Balustrus said about your progress with the steel. Does any of this surprise you?"
Walegrin said nothing. He was not truly surprised, though he hadn't expected this. Nothing was truly surprising today.
The prince misunderstood his silence. "All right, Walegrin. Kilite's faction found you, paid you, pardoned your absence and then tried to have you killed. I've run afoul of Kilite a few times and I can promise you you'll never outsmart him on your own. You need protection, Walegrin, and you need protection from a special sort of person-the sort of person who needs you as much as you need him. In short, Walegrin, you need me."
Walegrin remembered thinking the same thing once, though he'd envisioned this interview under different circumstances. "You have the Hounds, Tempus and the Sacred Bands," he remarked sullenly.
"Actually, they have me. Face it, Walegrin: you and I are not well-equipped. Alone with only my birth or your steel, we're nothing but pawns. But, put my birth with your steel and the odds improve. Walegrin, the Nisibisi are armed to the teeth. They'll tie up the armies for years before the surrender-if they surrender. Your handful of Enlibar swords won't make any difference. But the Empire is going to forget about us while they're fighting in the north."
"Or, you want my men and my steel here instead of on the Wizardwall?"
"You make me sound just like Kilite. Walegrin, I'll make you my advisor. I'll care for you and your men. I'll tell Kilite we found you floating in the harbor and make sure he believes it. I'll keep you safe while the Empire exhausts itself in the north. It may take twenty years, Walegrin, but when we return to Ranke, we'll own it."
"I'll think about it," Walegrin said, though actually he was thinking of Illyra's visions of an invading fleet and her warning that he would not go north.
The Prince shook his head. "You don't have time. You've got to be my man before you see Tempus. You might need me to pry your man loose."
They were alone in the room and Walegrin still had his sword. He thought of using it; perhaps the Prince thought the same thing for he sat far back in the throne, playing with his sleeve again.
"You might be lying," Walegrin said after a moment.
"I'm known for many things, but not lying."
That was true enough. Just as much of what he'd said was true. And there was Thrusher's safety, and Illyra's to think of. "I'll want a favor, right away," Walegrin said, offering his hand.
"Anything in my power, but first we talk to Tempus-and don't tell him we've made an agreement."
The Prince led the way along unfamiliar corridors. They were in the private part of the palace and the surroundings, though crude by capital standards, dazzled Walegrin. He bumped into the Prince when the latter stopped by a closed door.
"Now, don't forget-we haven't agreed to anything. No, wait-give me your sword."
Feeling trapped, Walegrin unbuckled his sword and handed it to the Prince.
"He's arrived, Tempus," Kadakithus announced in his most innane voice. "Look, he gave me a present! One of his steel swords."
Tempus looked around from a window. He had some of the god's presence to him. Walegrin felt distinctly outclassed and doubted that Kitty-cat could do anything to help him. He doubted that even the metal boss in his pouch could help him free Thrusher or Illyra.
"The steel is Sanctuary's secret, not Kilite's?" Tempus demanded.
"Of course," the Prince assured him. "Kilite will never know. The entire capital will never know."
"All right, then. Bring him in," Tempus shouted.
Five Stepsons crowded into the room, a hooded prisoner with them. They sent the man sprawling to the marble floor. Thrusher pulled the hood loose and scrambled to his feet. A livid bruise covered one side of his face, his clothes were torn and revealed other cuts and bruises, but he was not seriously hurt.
"Your man-I should have let my men have him. He killed two last night."
"Not men!" Thrusher spat out. "Whoresons; men don't steal women and leave them for the rats!"
One of the Stepsons moved forward. Walegrin recognized him as the one who had overturned Illyra's table. Though he felt the rage himself, he restrained Thrusher. "Not now," he whispered.
The Prince stepped between all of them with the sword. "I think you should have this, Tempus. It's too plain for me-but you won't mind that, will you?"
The Hell-Hound examined the blade and set it aside without comment. "I see you can control your man," he said to Walegrin.