She shook her head.
'It's ... activity. As much activity as a rock is passivity, which is conscious of being a rock but of nothing else. A worm is a little more aware; a dog or horse, much more; a human being, vastly more - but not infinitely more. In wildfire, storms, stars, can be found processes which with no consciousness of what they are act upon the outside world. A spell is such a process, created by an act of will, having neither aim nor purpose save what its creator lends. And to me my rival bequeathed ... But no matter. I begin' to sound as though I pity myself, and I know my fate is just. Shall we despise justice? This scroll can be an instrument of it. Written on it are two sentences.
'Of death.'
While he spoke, there had been further changes under his concealing garb. His voice was now mellow and rich, and his hands, although very slender, possessed the ordinary number of joints. However, the redness still glowed.
'If one sentence is upon Commander Nizharu,' Jarveena said firmly, 'may it be executed soon.'
'That could be arranged.' A sardonic inflection coloured the words. 'At a price.'
'The scroll doesn't refer to him? I imagined -'
'You imagined it spelt his doom, and that was why he was so anxious about its loss? In a way that's correct. In a way ... And I can make certain that that shall be the outcome. At a price.'
'What - price?' Her voice quavered against her will.
He rose slowly from his chair, shaking his cloak out to its fullest; it swept the floor with a faint rustling sound.
'Need you ask, of one who so plainly is obsessed by lust for women? That was the reason for my downfall. I explained.'
Ice seemed to form around her heart. Her mouth was desert on the instant.
'Oh, why be so timid?' purred Enas, Yorl, taking her hand in his. 'You've endured many worse bedfellows. I promise.'
It was true enough that the only means she had found to cross , the weary leagues between Forgotten Holt and Sanctuary had been | to yield her body: to merchants, mercenaries, grooms, guards-' men ...
'Tell me first,' she said with a final flare of spirit, 'whose deaths are cited in the document.'
'Fair,' said the wizard. 'Know, then, that one is an unnamed man, who is to be falsely convicted of the murder of another. And that other is the new governor, the prince.' Thereupon the light faded, and he embraced her unresisting.
5
She woke late, at least half an hour past dawn. She was in her own bed; the dormitory was otherwise empty. All her limbs were pervaded by a delicious languor. Enas Yorl had kept his promise. If he had been equally skilled when he was younger, small wonder his rival's bride had preferred him to her husband!
Reluctantly opening her eyes, she saw something on the rough pillow. Puzzled, she looked again, reached out, touched: green, iridescent, powdery -
Scales!
With a cry she leapt from the bed, just as Melilot marched in, red-faced with fury.
'So there you- are, you little slut! Where were you all night? I watched until I could stay awake no longer! By now I was sure you'd been taken by the guard and thrown in jail! What did Nizharu say?'
Naked, bewildered, for a long moment Jarveena was at a loss. Then her eye fell on something infinitely reassuring. On the wooden peg over her bed hung her cloak, jerkin and breeches, and also her precious writing-case, just as though she herself had replaced them on retiring.
Seizing the case, she opened the compartment where she hid such things, and triumphantly produced the gold she had accepted from the commander - but not the silver he had allotted to herself.
'He paid this for a false rendering of the scroll,' she said. 'But you're not to make one.'
'What?' Snatching the coins, Melilot made to bite them, but checked.
'How would you like to be scribe by appointment to the governor's household?'
'Are you crazed?' The fat man's eyes bulbed.
'Not in the least.' Heedless of his presence, Jarveena reached under the bed for her chamberpot and put it to its appropriate use. Meantime she explained the plot she had hatched.
'But this means you're claiming to have read the scroll,' Melilot said slowly as he tried to digest her proposals. 'It's enchanted! How could you?'
'Not I, but Enas Yorl.'
Melilot's mouth worked and all his colour drained away. 'But his palace is guarded by basilisks!' he exclaimed at last. 'You'd have been struck to stone!'
'It doesn't quite work like that,' Jarveena said, pulling on her breeches, giving silent thanks that she could do so briskly. That dreadful paralysis would haunt her dreams for years. 'To settle the argument, though, why don't you bring the scroll? I mean, why don't we go and take another look at it?'
They were in his sanctum a couple of minutes later.
'It's perfectly clear,' Melilot said slowly when he had perused the document twice. 'It's very stilted - formal Rankene - and I don't know anybody here or in the conquered cities who would use it for a letter. But it says exactly what you said it would.'
A tremor of awe made his rolls of fat wobble.
'You're satisfied it's the same scroll? There's been no substitution?' Jarveena pressed.
'Yes! It's been all night in a locked chest! Only magic can account for what's happened to it!'
'Then,' she said with satisfaction, 'let's get on with the job.'
Each noon, in the grounds of the Governor's Palace before the Halls of Justice, the guard was inspected and rotated. This ceremony was open to the public - to everybody, in principle, but in practice only to those who could afford to bribe the gate guards. Hence most of the spectators were of the upper class, hangers on of the nobility, or making an appearance at the law courts. Not a few bore a general resemblance, in figure or clothing and in their retinue, to Melilot, who was in any case a frequent visitor when transcripts of evidence were in demand.
Therefore his presence and Jarveena's were unremarkable. Moreover word had got about that today was the last day when the crack imperial guards would perform the ceremonial drill before fifteen of them were ordered back to Ranke. There was a much larger throng than usual awaiting the appearance of the governor, one of whose customary chores this was whenever he was in residence.
It was a warm, dry, dusty day. The sun cast strong dark shadows. Tents, pavilions, stone walls seemed all of a substance. So in a way did people, especially those in armour. Under closed visors, any soldier might have been mistaken for any other of like stature.
Strictly it was not the turn of a guard detachment from the watch-house on Processional Way to take over from the Hell Hounds. But a few bribes, and a sharp order from Aye-Gophlan, and the problem had been sorted out.
Jarveena composed her features and did her best to look as though she were just another casual passer-by impressed by the standard of marching of troops from the capital, rather than a person whose dearest ambition for revenge bid fair to be fulfilled.
But her mouth kept wanting to snarl open like a wolf's.
The relieving guard marched in from the direction of Governor's Walk, exchanged salutes and passwords with the imperial troops, and formed up in the centre of the courtyard. Attended by two armed orderlies. Commander Nizharu formally recognized his successor and took station at his side for the governor's inspection. As soon as it was over, the departing troops would retire by squads " and march away with flying colours-Less than ten minutes later, amid a ripple of applause at the precision drill of the Hell Hounds, the prince was leaving the parade ground arm-in-arm with Nizharu. The latter was being posted back to the capital, but five of his comrades were to establish a bodyguard of local soldiers for the governor, trained to imperial standards.