The Two of Swords: Part 12 (7 page)

He shuffled the pack, to clear it, then went through picking out the picture cards, which he then put in order, starting with the Crown Prince and ending with the Cherry Tree. Then he went through the homily of the City, starting with the prince in exile, ending with the avenging armies seeing the tree that marked the end of the world and turning back. He wasn’t sure it was the right homily for the circumstances; it reminded him of the war (there was a homily for that, too, but they didn’t teach it at Beal Defoir; you had to have a lot of seniority to learn it, and he’d even heard that it needed the special pack, with the extra cards) and he wanted to forget about that, because of Rasch Cuiber and the silver pack that was less than thirty yards away from him, and which he was having to try very hard not to think about, all the time. So he shuffled and sorted the pack again, and started over with the Faithful Son (“Once there was a merchant’s son who was sent on a long journey …”); first with the cards orthodox, for the happy story, and then with them reversed, for the sad one. Then he shuffled the picture cards and cut, which got him the Angel; so he laid them out again and told the stories, orthodox and reversed, from the Angel’s point of view, reflecting at each stage on what he would have done in her position, and what that told him about himself. Then he laid them out in order descending, starting with the Cherry Tree and ending with the Crown Prince, and said the homily of the Leper, orthodox; at the end of the world there grows a magic cherry tree, and all who touch its leaves are cured of their diseases. He got as far as the Thief; and then the cook rang the galley bell, and it was time for lunch.

For some reason, the pirates didn’t want to bring their ship into the main harbour and tie up among the naval galleys and the revenue sloops, so they dropped anchor off a secluded cove, in the middle of the night, and rowed them ashore in a little boat. It struck Musen as a ludicrously dangerous enterprise, but apparently the pirates had had a certain degree of practice.

“You’ll have to hoof it into town from here,” said the pirate captain, who’d come along to wish Axeo Godspeed. “Just climb up to the top and follow your nose across the downs till you get there. The inn’s called the Diligence, just keep kicking the door till they answer. Say I sent you, they’ll see you right.”

Needless to say they did no such thing, but the innkeeper saw them right anyway, as soon as Corason flashed a handful of silver fifty stuivers under his nose. Nothing was too much trouble, apparently, not even for strangers who walked in over the fields in the dead of night.

In the morning, Corason asked if he could buy three horses. The innkeeper didn’t laugh, because that would’ve been rude; instead, he hazarded a guess that they might just possibly find something at the Wheel Star, where from time to time they sold off pit ponies that were too old and feeble to pull a cart; but that was thirty miles away in the other direction, so maybe the gentlemen might prefer to wait for the stage.

While Corason conducted the negotiations, Axeo had wandered off; he came back with the news that there were four very fine geldings in the stable – remounts for the Imperial couriers, in all probability, but the emperor already had far more horses than was good for him, as witness the appalling mischief Senza was getting up to with all that cavalry, whereas three good horses and a fourth to carry a few supplies would get them to Choris quickly and in relative comfort. “Now if only,” Axeo said, looking straight past Musen as if he wasn’t there, “we knew a good horse thief—”

Musen was rather inclined to resent being given the job, since stealing horses doesn’t call for a skilled and talented thief, just a dishonest groom. Walk across the yard, look round to see nobody’s watching, go inside, saddles and bridles, lead the horses out into the yard and ride like hell; where’s the technique or the finesse in that?

At least once they’d got clean away there was no danger of being pursued; not when they’d stolen the only four horses in the county.

They had to get rid of them, of course, before they reached the main road, where horses with the Imperial brand but ridden by obvious civilians might excite comment. They tied them to a rail outside a farmhouse, then trudged up a long hill to the road, four miles shy of a way station, where they caught the stage. But they’d cut off forty miles and saved a day and a half. The stage was due into the suburbs of Choris by nightfall. The journey was nearly over.

“Of course, you’ve been here before,” Corason said as they stood in the queue for the checkpoint outside the South Gate. “I keep forgetting that. For Axeo and me, of course, this is practically home from home. I suggest we spend this morning catching up on the news, meet up again at midday and decide on what we’re going to do. Axeo?”

“Fine,” Axeo replied. He seemed preoccupied. “The usual place?”

“If it’s still there,” Corason said. “It’s been five years since I was in Choris. If not, I’ll see you outside the Prefecture. That’ll still be there, you can be sure.”

The news was, there was no news. Senza was still languidly besieging Rasch, the Western army was still lurking in funk holes, nobody knew what was going on and everybody had a theory. Musen and Axeo heard this about a dozen times in various different tea houses, taverns and barbers’ shops, then headed into town to find Corason.

Musen was disconcerted, to say the least, when he saw the sign over the tea-house door.

“What, the Cherry Tree? Been here for ever.” Axeo sat down at a table in front of the main door and put his feet up on an empty chair. “Everyone who comes to Choris has to visit this place, it’s the law.” He yawned. “Can’t say I see much to it myself, but I like a bit more atmosphere, if you know what I mean.”

The sign was a painting, in rather fine style, though the paint was beginning to flake. Musen thought it was almost obscene, that particular picture, the size of a gate, stuck up in the air for everyone to see. A bored looking girl in a long yellow silk gown brought them tea and a plate of honeycakes. They were ever so slightly stale.

“I’ve found us a clerk,” Corason said, “in the Chamberlain’s office. He’ll get us in to see the Grand Domestic of the Wardrobe, who I know for a fact is a craftsman, and he’ll arrange for a message to go in through either the barber or the food taster, I don’t know which, who’s also Lodge. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have our audience with His Nibs.”

“Why don’t I just go and see him?” Musen said. “He told me himself, if I ever heard anything about another silver pack—”

“Bless the child,” Corason said. “Listen, you wouldn’t get ten yards. We’ve only got this incredibly straight line right through Imperial protocol as the result of years and years of slow, careful infiltration. The whole majestic bulk of the Imperial civil service serves one overriding imperative: stopping people from getting to see the emperor.”

“But they can’t just turn me away. The emperor said—”

“They can do what they like so long as the emperor never finds out. And how does he find out about things? They tell him.” Axeo smiled. “You can play a sort of game,” he said. “It’s called breaking into the palace. If you can sneak past the guards, you reach the emperor and he agrees to speak to you. If the guards catch you, they kill you and bury your body in a dungheap, and nobody ever knows what became of you. Or we can do it Corason’s way.”

“I broke in once.”

“Yes, you did, and it was one of the best-planned operations in the history of Division,” Corason said irritably. “To get you there, so the emperor could believe he’d caught you. And the trouble is, we used up so many one-time-only resources on that job that now we’ve got hardly anything left. So we do it my way.”

“Fine,” Musen said. “I’m not bothered.”

The tea was stone-cold. Axeo had asked for some more, but that was a long time ago. Musen liked cold tea, so that was all right. “My brother really likes this place,” Axeo said. “Well, he would. Apparently they keep a table empty all the time, just in case he should happen to drop in.”

Axeo, Musen knew, was a light sleeper. Just for once, however, he’d hung his coat on the back of the chair next to his bed. Musen knelt beside it and let his fingertips drift up the cloth until they encountered the flap of the pocket. He prised the pocket apart with his thumb and little finger, then slipped his hand down inside, until his fingertips came up against something straight and square. He let them follow the line; and then there was a click, and blinding pain—

“Well done for not screaming,” Axeo said. “It’s a small mechanical device for catching rats. One hell of a spring on it.”

Musen dragged his hand out, catching it on the edge of the pocket. The thing was still crushing his fingernails; he couldn’t think while all that was going on.

“Here, let me.” Axeo was beside him, grabbing his wrist; then the pressure stopped, though the pain continued. “Your left hand,” he said. “Oh, well. You’ll probably lose two of those nails, when the quicks swell up.”

Musen tried to back away, stumbled and banged against a wall. He knew his chances of getting away were draining fast, but the pain had taken all his strength. He could feel tears running down his cheeks, and something else running down the inside of his leg.

A familiar whirring noise, and a flare of light that grew steadily. He turned his head and saw Axeo, in his shirt, trimming the lamp. “Corason’s got it,” Axeo said without looking round. “I gave it to him earlier. The rat-catching thing cost me fifty stuivers, by the way. It’s the very latest thing in vermin control.”

On the other side of the bed was a small square single-leg table and on it was a pack of cards, a tall brown pottery jug and two tiny porcelain bowls. Smashed, one of those bowls would have an edge like a razor. But you’d need to be able to use your hands.

Axeo got up, walked to the door and turned a key in the lock. Then he crossed to the window and threw the key out. “Bear in mind we’re three floors up,” he said. “I asked for the attics specially. I can pick that lock, but you can’t, not with your hands like that.” He sighed. “It’s a shame, I could really have done with a good night’s sleep. But I suppose that’s out of the question.”

Axeo lifted the pillow; under it was another rat-trap. He prodded the back end of it gingerly until the spring triggered and the bar came down with a snap that made Musen’s heart stop for a moment. A surge of pain swept up his arm into his chest. “I got a good deal on half a dozen,” Axeo said. “The other four are in Corason’s room. I told him it was just in case. Apparently there’s been a lot of thieving in this district lately. I hope he remembers where I set them.”

Musen looked at him. “What are you going to do?”

“I thought we might play cards,” Axeo replied, pulling out the chair and lifting it over the bed. “There’s a stool over there in the corner, you can sit on that.”

A sudden wild thought crossed Musen’s mind; but the cards on the table were just cards, a conventional cheap lime-board pack. His pack, in fact. He patted his coat pocket with his right hand; empty.

“Have a drink,” Axeo said. “It’s pretty foul stuff, but it might help with the pain. It won’t stop it hurting, but after a bit you just won’t care.”

Musen shook his head. Axeo shrugged and filled one bowl from the jug. “Been a change of plan,” he said. “Corason sent up one card – Four of Spears, I think it was – for the old man to look at. I gather he damn near wet himself. But he’s learned some sense, by the look of it. He’ll see just one of us, alone, at dawn, up in his tower. Corason pulled rank, so he’s it. You and I just wait here till he gets back. Or until the kettlehats come and march us off to the dungeons, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Musen looked at him. “You mean, he’s going to see the emperor alone, and he’s taken them with him?”

Axeo laughed. “Oh, come on,” he said. “He’s not that stupid. Well, actually he is, but I’m not. I told you, we’ve got someone inside – the food taster, turns out he’s a very big fish indeed, though of course I’ve never heard of him. Anyway, he’ll hold on to it for us while Corason’s in with the old man. Even if all three of us are arrested and he beats it out of one of us, the food taster won’t let him have it.” He paused. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But it’s not up to me. Come on, let’s play cards.”

Musen stayed where he was. Axeo sat down, shuffled the pack and started to deal. “Think about it,” he said. “By the time your hands have healed up, the emperor will have the pack. He’ll keep it safe, and you’ll know exactly where it is. If you choose to take a month’s leave and come back here, that’s entirely your own business. I’d strongly advise you not to, of course, but I promise faithfully I won’t try and stop you.”

Musen got up. His knees were weak and the pain was still very bad. He sat down on the stool.

“I’ve taken the liberty of dealing,” Axeo said, “for obvious reasons. Can you cut for trumps? Or shall I do it for you?”

Musen tried, but even with his right hand he couldn’t. Axeo took the pack from him. “Spears it is,” he said, and picked up his cards. “Oh, God in heaven, what a load of old rubbish.”

Musen pulled his cards down into his lap and spread them out as best he could with the sides and heels of his hands. He’d drawn four high Wheels and the rest were picture cards. “I haven’t got any money.”

“Not true, as it happens.” Axeo dumped a handful of coins on the table. “That’s yours,” he said. “I figured you wouldn’t get far with no money.” He grinned. “I’ve learned a lot from watching you,” he said. “Which is fair enough. I taught you to pick locks.”

Musen looked at him, then swept the coins over to his side of the table with the inside of his wrist. Then he glanced down at the cards in his lap. There was no way a hand like that could lose. “I’ll bet the lot,” he said.

“You sure?”

Musen nodded. Axeo dropped a gold angel on to the pile. “Read ’em and weep,” he said, and turned over his cards. All pictures; the highest, counting back from the Cherry Tree. He gathered the money and swept it to his side of the table. “Nominally your deal, but I’ll do it for you. Now, since you’re broke, we’ll have to think of something else you can bet with.”