Читать книгу Quicksilver Zenith - Stan Nicholls - Страница 10

After their brutal taking of Bhealfa, the conquering imperialists of Gath Tampoor demolished the triumphalist structures left over from rival empire Rintarah’s occupation. They replaced them with buildings grander, taller and more opulent..

Few were as magnificent as the vast construction the Gath Tampoorians erected in central Valdarr. Within sight of the clans’ headquarters, it was in sharp contrast to that baleful pile. Where the paladins’ base appeared grim and brooding, this was celebratory, its every line glorying the authority of its builders. It was a monument to triumph and might. A building that bragged.

There was magic in its architecture, literally. The stones it was constructed from were charmed, and enchanted dust had been mixed into the very mortar. Pigments used to decorate its splendid stained-glass windows were rumoured to include a concentrate of demons’ blood, the ground bones of trolls and desiccated unicorns’ mane; notwithstanding that such creatures no longer existed, if they ever had. The upshot was that it permanently shimmered with magical energy, and on the ample expanse of its outer walls inspiring images could be conjured at will – the likenesses of imperial heroes and statesmen, explorers and merchants. Icons to hearten the populace, or to remind them that they were vanquished.

The Gath Tampoorians saw no irony in naming it the Freedom Hall, and it was proclaimed as a palace of the people. Though naturally common folk were rarely permitted to enter, except as menials.

This evening, fleets of carriages jammed the surrounding streets, delivering an army of grotesques. The comely and the hideous, the fabulous and the whimsical, climbed the stairs, wide as a city block, to the massive doors. Once inside, they were ushered into a series of elegantly appointed reception rooms, then through to the great hall itself.

The enormous chamber was lit by a score of magically illuminated crystal chandeliers. Each the size of a haystack, they hung beneath the vaulted, gold-inlaid ceiling with no visible means of support. The light they threw made the room’s accoutrements glitter and sparkle. Gold again, lots of it, along with flashes of silver and the crisp glint of gems; precious metals and exquisite jewels were moulded into the decor and furnishings. Beautiful tapestries adorned the panelled walls. Underfoot, the carpets were rich and plush.

It wasn’t only feet that padded over them. Paws, hooves, claws and suckers walked them, too. Dreams made flesh. And nightmares. People with eagle, goat and locust heads. Revellers who chose instead to transform their bodies, and who wore elaborate masks. Humans in the guise of demons and cherubs. Or cats and cockroaches, large as men. The best body magic money could buy.

Genuine chimeras mingled with the humans. Pure glamours in numerous exotic forms, brought as companions and pets, or just for effect. Impossible to tell from flesh and blood, they reflected their owners’ natures. A few were angelic. Most were incarnations of base instincts, ugly and venal.

The masque was well underway. A glamoured orchestra played. Liveried flunkies weaved through the dancers, pewter trays held high. Secure in the knowledge that they were above the law – indeed, many present were servants of the law – the revellers behaved as they saw fit. They imbibed grape and hop, some recklessly. Others sampled the pleasures of cuzcoll, viper sting and pellucid, or stronger narcotics like sabre cut, red frost, and even ramp.

In a quiet corner, a rat and a serpent were engaged in earnest conversation.

‘I’m not saying I sympathise with them, for the gods’ sake,’ the rat protested. ‘It’s just a question of methods.’

‘You always were inclined to be too soft on these dissidents,’ the serpent snorted.

‘I resent that! I loathe them as much as you do. We differ only in how best to address the problem.’

‘All a bit academic now, isn’t it? Word’s come down from on high and it no longer matters what we think. Or are you questioning your superiors’ wisdom?’

‘No, no. Of course not. I’m just saying that honey catches more flies than vinegar. I’ve always believed that stealth’s the best policy when dealing with these misfits.’

‘Mollycoddling them, you mean.’

The rat’s whiskers quivered irritably. Before he could respond, a drunken satyr barged between them.

‘Let’s sit,’ the serpent said, nodding towards an empty table.

Once they’d settled, a servant brought them drinks. Wine for the rat, brandy for the serpent.

The rat wore a plump, copper-coloured medallion. He ran his thumb over it, dismissing the mask. It evaporated to reveal a clean-shaven man of middle years. His velvet skin and silvering, coiffured hair indicated one who lived by talk rather than deeds.

Following his lead, the serpent wiped away his own disguise. He was older, and his face was weathered from a lifetime of doing. In his hair and beard, close-cut military fashion, he was further along the road to silver than his companion.

‘You have to admit, Clan High Chief,’ the one-time rat continued, ‘that the unrest has got worse since the emergency regulations were brought in.’

‘There’s always a period of turmoil after measures like that are introduced,’ Ivak Bastorran told him as he lifted his draught of brandy. ‘It’ll calm down once the hotheads know we mean business.’

Gath Tampoorian Ambassador Andar Talgorian thought the paladin sounded typically self-satisfied. He took a sip of wine and kept that to himself. ‘Far from abating, reports reaching the diplomatic corps indicate dissident activity’s spreading like wildfire.’

‘I wouldn’t say things are that bad. We’ve had our successes against these terrorists, and it’s in their nature to retaliate.’

‘There, you admit it. Your heavy-handedness is making the situation worse.’

‘I didn’t say that. We’re stamping out a pestilence. There’s bound to be bloodshed before we’re through. It’s a case of holding our nerve.’

‘Let’s hope the rebels blink first. For all our sakes.’

‘You give these people too much credence, Talgorian. Not least in dignifying them as rebels. They’re criminals, chancers, vandals. Scum. I’m proud the clans are at the forefront of eradicating them.’

‘It must be very gratifying to have a free hand at last,’ the Ambassador commented dryly.

‘I’ve made no secret of my views on public order. And it seems I’m not alone. You know as well as I do that Rintarah’s cracking down hard, too. That proves the canker’s everywhere.’

‘So the insurgents are organised, then? You can’t have it both ways, Bastorran. Either this is an outbreak of random disobedience or a movement.’

‘They’re as organised as any other bandit gang, and their aims are no more noble.’

‘We shouldn’t allow ourselves to be hampered by too rigid an outlook,’ Talgorian replied pointedly, ‘or we’ll miss seeing the true nature of the problem.’

‘Nonsense. The truth is both empires are applying stricter sanctions because lawlessness is endemic if you let the mob have its head. East and west have been too soft. It’s past time to redress the balance.’

‘Throw oil on the flames, more like.’

‘And what would your remedy be? Soft words? Yielding to their insolent demands?’

‘I’d apply a little balm. Toss the people a few concessions. Repeal one or two petty laws, perhaps a small easing of taxes; and allow the poorest better access to basic provisions. They’d not be so easily stirred up if they had full bellies.’

‘Sounds like appeasement to me. Why give them what they haven’t earned?’

‘You asked for my opinion. I think artfulness has its part. A carrot to entice the donkey.’

‘Carrots,’ the paladin sneered. ‘What about the rod?’

‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking me squeamish. My way, we’d isolate the ringleaders and make examples of them. Single them out for assassination even, as the Council for Internal Security does back home.’

“Then we’re in accord. The clans believe in eliminating the agitators, too. It’s just that where you see a few rotten heads in a field of corn, we see them all as infected.’

‘And cut down the lot.’

‘If need be. But you’d do well to leave such considerations to us, Talgorian. You’re too much of a worrier.’

‘It’s what they pay me for.’

‘Like this warlord you’re so obsessed with,’ Bastorran ploughed on. ‘You fret about him unnecessarily, too.’

‘Nothing’s happened to make me believe Zerreiss is any less of a threat,’ the Ambassador returned indignantly. ‘Everything we hear suggests he’s continuing to make inroads.’

‘I don’t know why you get so worked up about it. If the barbarians want to make a sport of slaughtering each other, that’s their affair. They can never offer any danger to the empire.’

‘Again I hope your optimism proves well founded.’

‘You won’t have to rely on my opinion alone. The northern expedition should be reaching its destination soon. Then you’ll see this Zerreiss for what he is. Any word, by the way?’

‘None. And according to our agents, nothing’s been heard from the Rintarah expedition either.’

‘Communication’s always poor from the barbarous lands. Everything gets delayed coming that far.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘There you go again with the anxious face.’ He took a gulp of his drink. ‘Trust me, Ambassador; you’ll see that all this is just a rash of pinpricks.’

Talgorian’s attention was on the far side of the room. He nodded that way. ‘Talking of pinpricks …’

Bastorran looked, seemed uncertain for a second, then spotted the mark. ‘Ah. Dulian Karr.’ There was no warmth in the recognition.

Karr stood with his back to a wall. It bore the ubiquitous emblem of Gath Tampoorian rule: the dragon rampant, scales shimmering, belching gouts of glamoured flame. Karr was conversing with a small group, but it was obvious even from a distance that he wasn’t really engaged with them. He wore a simple black cloth eye-mask, contrasting with the elaborate facial decorations all around.

‘That speech he gave earlier,’ Talgorian recalled, ‘wasn’t far short of a disgrace. All that guff about sympathy for the so-called dispossessed …’

‘Close to seditious, if you ask me. Sentiments almost worthy of your own.’

The Envoy’s face darkened. ‘I do not appreciate that kind of comment. As I keep stressing, it’s only in methods that we –’

‘Yes, yes, I know. Take a jest, man. Your views are simply misplaced; Karr’s border on treachery.’

‘I’ll take that as a back-handed compliment,’ Talgorian replied coolly. ‘At least you appreciate the difference between my concerns about strategy and Karr’s flirting with anti-social elements.’

‘You know it’s more than flirting. We’ve suspected him for years, and so have your people. He’s a sympathiser, a fellow traveller. Maybe more than that.’

‘Suspicion’s one thing, proof’s another.’

‘Circumstances have changed. We have a freer hand, remember. And in a couple of weeks he’ll be stepping down from his patricianship. That office gave him a measure of protection. Once he goes, the restrictions go.’

‘He’s not a man to underestimate. It takes a certain cunning to sail so close to the wind all these years.’

‘He’ll be given every opportunity to stumble, believe me. If he has so much as a hair out of place –’

‘He’s seen us.’

Skirting the outlandish dancers, Karr made his way to them. They greeted him with sham smiles and hollow salutations.

‘Patrician,’ Talgorian drawled. ‘An excellent speech.’

‘Very enlightening,’ Bastorran echoed.

‘Thank you.’

Talgorian indicated the spare chair. ‘Please, take a seat.’

‘So,’ the diplomat said, ‘you’re finally retiring from public service. After … how many years is it?’

‘Too many, it sometimes seems.’

They gave expedient, empty laughs.

‘And how will you fill your days?’

‘I expect I’ll have plenty to occupy me, Clan High Chief.’

‘No doubt your passion for the downtrodden will continue to find expression,’ Talgorian suggested. ‘Perhaps in the form of charitable works?’

‘I hope I’ll always find time for the less fortunate.’

‘I see you’re showing solidarity with them tonight in your choice of dress,’ Bastorran commented, in reference to Karr’s plain, unglamoured mask.

The patrician smiled thinly. ‘I think it behoves the more privileged to set an example.’

‘By looking impoverished ourselves? You’re to take no offence from that yourself, of course.’

‘Of course, Ambassador. The example I had in mind was one of modest consumption.’ He saw their puzzled expressions. ‘Look about you.’

Bastorran sniffed. ‘I see men and women of substance. The example they hold out is the possibility of a better life for all.’

‘Prospering under the wing of the empire,’ Talgorian added, almost piously.

‘How many here have earned it?’ Karr wondered.

‘Ever the controversialist, eh, Karr? Public life will be the poorer for the lack of your witticisms.’

‘I don’t think the destitute are laughing too heartily.’

‘Your beloved downtrodden,’ the paladin leader came in irritably, ‘would be best employed improving their lot through honest hard work.’

‘Most would like nothing better. Assuming work existed, and they didn’t risk being arbitrarily rounded-up and brutalised every time they stepped onto the streets.’

‘If they’ve done no wrong they have nothing to fear.’

‘They’d say they’re treated as enemies of the state regardless. Not all of them are necessarily insurgents, you know.’

Bastorran fixed him with a hard stare. ‘You’d be surprised who is, Patrician.’

‘I’m sure your sentiments are commendable, Karr,’ Talgorian interjected, ‘and we can all applaud your humanitarian instincts. Let’s charge our glasses and toast your retirement.’ He made to beckon a waiter.

‘No,’ Karr replied. ‘Thank you, but … it’s been a long day and I have others to see before I can leave.’

‘You are looking a little out of sorts, if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘It’s nothing. Overwork. You know, trying to clear everything before I retire.’

‘It wouldn’t do to jeopardise your health,’ Bastorran said, an unmistakably barbed edge to his words. ‘Retirement was a wise decision. Now you can lay down your burden and let others worry about the welfare of the people.’

‘Indeed.’ He gave each a small nod in turn. ‘High Chief. Ambassador Talgorian.’ Then he left.

As they watched him moving through the crowd, Talgorian breathed, ‘Scandalous.’

‘Wouldn’t so much as take a drink with us. As for his views … Free expression’s all very well, but –’

‘He looked ill, don’t you think?’

‘I’m a great believer in the inner man determining the outer. Nine times out of ten it’s a guilty conscience that brings about the appearance of poor health.’

‘At least he’s abandoned what little power his position gave him.’

‘Doesn’t mean he’ll stop fighting for lost causes. The man’s a born meddler.’

‘You’ll be keeping an eye on him, then?’

‘Oh, we will. Ambassador, we will. As no doubt you will yourself.’

Talgorian leaned closer. ‘You are aware that there have been attempts on his life?’

‘More than a few, I understand. And with all the hallmarks of being officially sanctioned.’

‘Not by my people. Or any of the other departments of state that I’m aware of.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I suspect they were the work of the CIS.’

‘There’d be no mishaps if the paladins were given the job.’

‘No doubt. My point is that the CIS aren’t supposed to operate beyond Gath Tampoor’s shores. Legally, that is. But I’ve been hearing rumours that their methods might be exported to the protectorates.’

‘What’s your meaning?’

‘Should Karr be the victim of assassination, my superiors, your employers, could hardly kick up a fuss when one of their agencies has been trying the same thing.’

‘Interesting. I’ll bear it in mind.’ He surveyed the bizarre throng. ‘We’re neglecting our duties. Better get back to it.’ The touch of a finger against his medallion re-formed his mask. An elongated snout appeared, the eyes grew slitty, yellow-green scales formed.

‘Excellent guise,’ Talgorian commented.

‘It is rather fine, isn’t it?’ Bastorran admired himself in a nearby wall mirror.

The Ambassador reactivated his own mask. Grey fur erupted, the nose blossomed, whiskers sprouted.

Bastorran glanced at his companion. ‘I meant to ask.’

‘Hmmm?’

‘Why a rat?’

‘Irony.’