Didima nodded. Yes, yes. What else could it be?"
He thought a moment, then asked, What shall we do about Acolyte Timura?"
"Nothing just now, Kalasariz said. Let him have his head. At the right time we'll make certain he pays a very public visit to our executioner to have it removed. He slipped a scroll from his sleeve and rolled out it out on Didima's desk, saying, And to that end, Majesty, I'll need your signature authorizing his execution and the execution of his fellow conspirators when the time comes to sweep them up. We don't want any messy trials or other delays that might give their supporters time to whip up public support."
The king chuckled, picking up his quill pen and charging it with ink. I see you have only Timura's name listed now, he said.
"Oh, there'll be more, Majesty, Kalasariz said. You'll notice I left a great deal of room on the page."
The king nodded approvingly. Tulaz is anxious to improve his record, he said. We'll make a day of it, eh? A public holiday. Free food and drink. A bit of carnival to mark the moment. He scratched his name on the document, saying, There's nothing like a mass execution to calm the citizenry."
Kalasariz smiled thinly, blew on the wet signature and passed the document to Umurhan. I'll need you to witness this, he said. Just a formality."
Without hesitation, Umurhan signed. It's a pity, he said, I had such hopes for the lad."
Some hours later Kalasariz made himself ready for sleep. While his pretty maids drew the blankets and plumped up the bed he drank his favorite hot sweet potion, laced with brandy and mild sleeping powders.
He was a not a man who slept well. It wasn't all the blood he'd spilled that disturbed his dark hours, but the constant worry that he'd overlooked something. His tricks and betrayals were legion and he had so many enemies he didn't dare let down his guard. He was a master of the great lie and was therefor continually occupied with keeping track of his untruths and half-truths. During the day he never had a weak moment, but at night his dreams were bedeviled with plans that went awry because of a stupid mistake or oversight. Without his nightly ritual he'd awaken so exhausted from nightmares that he'd be stricken with doubts. And so, despite the lateness of the hour, he let his maids pleasure him after he'd had his potion. Then they'd bathed him and dressed him in a nightshirt of black silk.
He dismissed them, reaching for the black silk mask he wore to shut out any stray light. Just before he put it on he remembered the document of execution, still sitting on his dressing table. Despite the sleeping potion and the attention of his maids he knew he wouldn't sleep well as long as it sat there unattended. Never mind that no one would dare creep into the home of Walaria's spymaster, much less rob his sleeping chamber. His unguarded mind was so active that as he tossed and turned through the night he would come up with countless scenarios in which such an unlikely deed would suddenly become real.
Close as he was to sleep, he got up to attend to it. He'd taken much care to collect the signatures of his brother rulers on Safar's death warrant. His name did not go on ita remarkable absence in its own right. Kalasariz rolled it up with another document which did bear his name. It was an official protest of the decision, praising Timura as a young man of many notable qualities and virtues. He locked them away in his special hiding place behind the third panel from the entrance of the bedchamber.
Kalasariz had no ambitions besides survival in his current position as co-ruler of Walaria. He certainly had no more desire to see Didima dethroned than he did to see himself king. But as Didima had said, these were dangerous times. If by some distant chance the young upstart, Iraj Protarus, should someday be in the position to seek revenge for the death of his friend, Kalasariz preferred to be viewed as one of Timura's champions. The spymaster had little doubt he was right to support the decision for Walaria to ally itself against Protarus. But there was a slight chance the alliance would fail and Protarus and his army might someday show up at the gates. Didima and Umurhan would pay for their crime with their heads. Tulaz would most likely perform the honors, since good executioners are difficult to find and he'd be instantly welcomed into the new king's service. Armed with the documents proving his innocence, Kalasariz would also be welcomed. Protarus would need a spymaster, and who could be a better man for the job than Kalasariz himself?
Timura had presented Kalasariz with a unique opportunity. One the one hand, as a friend of Iraj Protarus it was necessary to remove whatever danger he might represent. On the other, as an outsider great blame could be heaped upon him. He would be declared the ringleader of all the young hotheads who opposed Walaria's rulers. A dozen or more of his lieutenants"in reality the real leaders of the oppositionwould also earn the ultimate punishment. This would not only quell their followers and sympathizers, but outside and unnamed influences would get the ultimate blame.
There was a saying about getting your sweet and eating it too."
Kalasariz wasn't fond of sweets. But he did enjoy the sentiment.
The spymaster slept well that night. But just before First Prayer he had a dream about a strange little creature with a man's body and a demon's face. It was gobbling up a sweet roll, scattering crumbs, left and right.
When it was done it brushed itself off and looked him square in the eye.
"Shut up! it said. Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
He didn't know what to make of the creature or its antics. But for some reason it frightened him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Unlike Kalasariz, Safar slept little that night. Every straw in his mattress and lump in his pillow made itself known. A few days before the only major worry he'd had was a vague and somewhat academic fear that the world faced some great threat. At the age of twenty summers he was incapable of taking it personally. The spy master's visit, coupled with his recent difficulties with Umurhan, made him feel less immortal. He was in trouble and that trouble had grown from the granite hills of Umurhan's displeasure to the bleak peaks of Kalasariz suspicions.
In short, he was besieged from all sides and was in a confusion about what he ought to do. Adding to that morass was the confusion created by Nerisa's gift plus his fears about Nerisa herself. Someone, for whatever reason, had marked her.
Everyone on the streets knew Nerisa ran personal errands for anyone at the Foolsmire with a copper or two to pay. Most certainly some of the young men who hired her held controversial views. That didn't make Nerisa a conspirator. This was also a fact all knewincluding any of Kalasariz minions who made the Foolsmire their territory. So why had the informer lied? Why had he singled Nerisa out?
Then it occurred to Safar that he was the target. Someone might be striking at him through Nerisa. But once again came that most important of all questions: Why? Then he realized that answer or not, his fate might be racing toward an unpleasant conclusion. The only intelligent thing to do was to flee Walaria as quickly as he could. Such an act would certainly turn Kalasariz suspicions into an outright admission of guilt. Safar thought, however, it would be even more dangerous to remain in Walaria at the mercy of the spymaster.
He decided to run. He'd flee home to Kyrania as fast as he could. But what about Nerisa? He'd have to come up with some plan to protect her from any reprisals his flight might cause.
Safar was relieved as soon as he made the decision. He'd learned much in Walaria, but it had been a mostly unpleasant stay in an unpleasant city. He missed his family and friends. He missed the clean mountain air and blue skies and molten clouds and snowy slopes.
Only one thing stood in his waya lack of money. To make a successful escape he'd require a hefty sum. He'd need a swift mount and supplies for the long journey home and money for Nerisa as well. Where could he lay hands on it? There was no sense asking his sponsor, Lord Muzine. Not only would the money be denied, Safar thought it likely the request would be immediately reported to Kalasariz.