not match her status as a middle-aged matron, she quickly slipped around anyone blocking her way in the street, her rounded buttocks eliciting rude comments from the people behind her. Before the local troublemakers had a chance to wager as to her intended destination, she slid through the front door of Bedsores. Several people guffawed as the door closed behind her.
History ignored the matter of what adventures the port district’s young people went in search of that evening, but it paid close attention to the woman in brown. She gestured at the owner of Bedsores, a short, oily man with an unpleasant face, and he nodded and turned away from her. Then, the woman pulled her head covering over her face and headed up the wooden staircase.
It was a long way up. The tavern had four floors of rooms, and each floor was given a symbolic name: earth, water, forest, and sky. Since the residents of the most expensive rooms on the sky level did not wish to walk up four flights of stairs, the names were assigned in reverse order. So, in order to reach the cheapest rooms on the earth level, the woman had to make her way to the very top of the old building.
The landing at the top of the stairs was lit only by a smoking candle. In her haste, the woman bumped shoulders against a young man smoking a pipe filled with stinking herbs. He half-turned and mumbled something that sounded like “boiled slut!” before disappearing down the stairs. Stopping only briefly to comment on the past seventeen generations of his family – pigs, all of them – the woman finally planted her shoulder against the door of one of the rooms. It opened into an even darker room where someone had long been waiting for her.
The room was filthy. Calling it a hole would have been too charitable. It was a pigsty. In one corner was a construction made of creaky, stained boards. On top of that was a straw-filled mattress. Sprawled on the mattress was a heavy-set, gray-haired man of about fifty with light-green, almond-shaped eyes and a thin face that hinted at an aristocratic background. He gazed condescendingly at the woman, for she had interrupted him in the critical business of picking his teeth with a piece of straw that was probably already dried out when the world was created. For her part, the woman ignored his pantomime (although it was worthy of the Imperial Honto Theater) and sat down on the only chair in the room. Finally at rest after pushing her way through the streets, she removed her head covering. Her blue eyes betrayed a mixture of anger, indifference and exhaustion that did not bode well for the man on the bed. He sensed the change in the weather and decided to make the first move.
“Well? What could possibly be so important that you had to see me right away?”
The woman stood up quickly, and for a moment it seemed that she would hit him. She regained control, however, and spoke with composure.
“Oh, it was nothing, really. Nothing at all. Last night they tried to kill the interpreter.”
The man rolled his eyes and snorted. “You say they tried…”
Her composure spent, the woman leaped up and cried out, “They poisoned him! I told you not to get him mixed up in your affairs, and I knew you were lying when you said he would be safe!”
The man sat up and took her face in his hands. His eyes were blank and cold, like the eyes of a snake staring up out of a deep well. “Sit down,” he said. She fell back into her seat. Now, their faces were very close to each other, and her hands rested in his warm, calloused hands.
“Calm down and tell me exactly what’s been done.”
The woman took a moment to collect her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was distant. “They tried to poison him at the Fish. Cistrusa. We have had someone near him all the time since he was put on the delegation, but our people didn’t see anything. It was a professional. The only mistake they made was not knowing that he seems to be one of the rare people who is immune to cistrusa. Vordius took him to Tokto’s house, and the good physician informed us immediately.
“Old Tokto always has both eyes open. Vordius, too. He made the right decision.”
“Yes, he did,” the woman replied in a monotone. “He’s a smart young man.”
“I was talking about his engagement to Luvia.”
“I see. Well, Tokto told them it was poison, so Vordius had five of his men move Uni to the barracks.”
“And the enemy?”
“Their men watched the house all night, and we watched them. They had men along the route to the barracks, but Vordius took back streets. He did the right thing, but I had to run to keep up. I gave the order to come out of hiding and engage the Yellows to the death, if necessary, but they withdrew.”
“Of course. They don’t want to raise a commotion. You did everything you could, except for one mistake: his friends. Have you uncovered who it was?”
“I have an idea,” the woman said, eyes flashing. “We will find out for sure, in any event. One thing concerns me, though. Vordius appears to want to investigate on his own.”
“Will he get in the way?”
“Doubtless. He’ll poke around until the entire beehive comes after him.”
“Would he be the son of Calbius Onato, the Imperial Guard veteran?” The woman nodded. “Then just keep an eye on him. That won’t be hard for you.”
She took a deep breath. “As long as Uni is still in the capital, the fate of the delegation hangs by a thread. Can you do anything to speed up their departure?”
“Believe me, Velenia, I am doing all I can.” At this, the man’s eyes looked tired.
“Has the Emperor been informed?”
“There’s no reason.”
The man stood and paced the room with his hands behind his back. “We have no proof,” he told her. “And if there is an investigation, the enemy will use it to postpone their departure. I am personally monitoring this whole business, and I’ll make sure their mistake costs them dearly!”
After seeing his visitor off, the man lay down and went back to picking his teeth with a piece of straw. The attack on Uni was an unforgiveable mistake, and all that had saved them was a chain of coincidences. The man hated coincidences because one never knew whose side they would favor. Who would get lucky next time? Uni would travel to Virilan with a person who was known and tested and who would be responsible for his safety. But what if a killer went along, too? The episode at the Fish showed him that even friends could not be trusted when the stakes were high.
He couldn’t be late. There was plenty of time left before the ceremony, which was scheduled for the third watch, but Unizel Virando had already leaped from his bed twice to look out the window at the sundial that was just visible from his room in the infirmary wing of the Imperial Guard barracks, where he was staying thanks to Vordius’ efforts on his behalf. It was one of the most precise sundials in all of Enteveria, second only to the one at the Great Lord’s palace. The Emperor Nazalio – the same one who rebuilt the capital on a much grander scale – had held a competition for a new sundial to be hung outside his palace. First place was won by the sculptor and scientist Ferintey, and his sundial was a work of art, featuring brightly painted bas reliefs celebrating the exploits of the Herandian emperors during the age of the Great Union. What made the sundial truly amazing, however, was the way it seemed to be suspended in the air above its stone platform. In reality, it was held up by three thin legs that were cleverly hidden by the viewing angle and by the shadow of the platform.
The
