Swords: 06 - The Third Book of Lost Swords - Stonecutter's Story (8 page)

      
The rain had ended some time ago, the day was growing hot and muggy, and Kasimir would have returned to the comparative coolness of his upper room. But before he could leave the courtyard another prospective customer had appeared, forwarded to him by the helpful innkeeper. This latest potential customer was actually carrying with him a bundle in rough cloth that looked very much like a wrapped sword.

      
This man was much younger than the first, and appeared considerably more nervous. “You buy weapons?” he demanded tersely.

      
“That is our business.”

      
“I have a sword here.”

      
“Very good.” Kasimir attempted to sound confident. “If I may see the merchandise?”

      
The other man’s fingers hesitated on the wrappings. “If you like this weapon—it’s really something special—then you can give me cash for it this moment?”

      
Kasimir had to suppress his excitement. He had never seen any of the Twelve Swords, but he had no doubt of being able to recognize one of them if it should come his way.

      
Carefully he said: “I do not carry large amounts of coin on me, but still cash is readily available. If your sword there should prove to be something that I really want, then you may have money in hand for it before you are an hour older.”

      
After another few moments of cautious hesitancy, the potential customer unwrapped the sword he had brought with him. Kasimir knew bitter disappointment. When the weapon was at last shown it did not look spectacular—the hilt was not even black, nor had the steel of the blade the finely mottled look that everyone who had seen the genuine Swords remarked upon.

      
Then a thought struck the young physician. Having heard tales of magical alterations in the appearance of things, and having once, years ago, had actual experience of such a trick, he thought he had better apply one more test. Taking the cheap-looking weapon in hand, he made a trial of it against the stone edge of the fountain. The only result of this was an angry protest from the seller. What was Kasimir trying to do, ruin a fine blade?

      
By the time Kasimir had succeeded in soothing the angry man, and sending him on his way with his precious sword, sunset was near. Leaving the courtyard that was already deep in shadow, Kasimir looked in on the innkeeper and gave orders that a warm bath be brought to him in his upper room, with dinner to follow. Then he went plodding up the stairs. Over the past several hours, his earlier feeling that the investigation was making progress had gradually faded into a sense of impatience and futility.

      
The bathtub had been taken away again and he was just finishing his solitary dinner when the sound of feet ascending briskly on the stairs made him turn his head. But instead of the familiar countenance of Wen Chang or Komi, there appeared in the doorway, just at the top of the stairs, the visage of a scowling beggar.

      
Kasimir immediately reached for his dagger, and was about to bawl an oath downstairs at Komi for having allowed this stranger to get past him when the beggar called out a greeting in the voice of Wen Chang.

      
Kasimir’s hand holding the dagger fell to his side. “You! But—is this magic?”

      
“Only a touch of magic, perhaps, here and there.” The figure of the beggar doffed its ragged outer coat.

      
“Why such a marvelous disguise?”

      
“It is sometimes necessary to gather information on the streets,” the Magistrate said, his voice a little muffled in the process of pulling off the shaggy gray facial hair that had concealed his own neat mustache along with most of his lower face.

      
“I never would have known you!”

 
      
“I trust not.” With another muffled grunt the older man now tugged off a sticky something that had altered the shape of his nose and cheekbones, and tossed this flesh-colored object on the table along with his wig and beard. Now undeniably Wen Chang again, he straightened his back and stretched.

      
“Now,” the Magistrate continued in a clear tone of satisfaction, “we must exchange information. My day has been a long and trying one. The beggars’ spaces at the Great Gate are considered most desirable, but they are too jealously guarded and fought over for an outsider like myself to have any chance of forcing his way in. The same situation obtained in Swordsmiths’ Lane, and again behind the Courts of Justice, where there was much rumor mongering over the matter of the execution two days hence. But as it turned out, all those difficulties were undoubtedly for the best. When I finally found a place to put down my begging bowl, in the vicinity of the Blue Temple, I learned something that may prove useful to us indeed.”

      
Kasimir could readily understand why there was no surplus of beggars near the Blue Temple, whose priests and worshippers alike were notoriously stingy. He asked: “And what was this most useful thing you learned?”

      
“Have you ever heard of the famous diamond, the Great Orb of Maecenas?”

      
“I admit that I have not.”

      
“If you, Kasimir, were a lapidarist, or a jewel thief, or a priest in the Blue Temple, you would certainly give a different answer to that question. Know, then, that such a diamond exists, that it has recently been brought to the Blue Temple of Eylau in secret, and that it is there to be carved into several smaller stones in the hope of thereby increasing its total value. This is obviously a matter of concern to us, for it is certain that the Sword can be used in the precise cutting of small stones as well as great. But before we discuss that any further, tell me of your day. What did you discover at the Red Temple?”

      
As Kasimir began his tale with his arrival at the Red Temple in the morning, the feet of servants were heard on the stairs. Soon they entered once more bearing a tub and buckets of hot water. The physician delayed his story until the tub had been set up behind a screen and the servants had departed.

      
Faint splashing sounds issued from behind the screen as Kasimir detailed his adventures in the vicinity of the Red Temple, and Wen Chang listened. The young man’s story of recruiting the girl model to act as a paid spy elicited only a momentary cessation of splashing.

Not until Kasimir described his leaving the temple area to return to the inn did Wen Chang comment aloud. “And you did not persist in your attempt to obtain employment there yourself?”

      
“No sir, I thought I had explained that. What I had managed to achieve at the temple seemed to me at least enough to deserve reporting—and of course when I reached the inn your note was waiting for me, asking me to remain here.”

      
The Magistrate grunted. “And I suppose there have been no callers at the inn wishing to sell us Stonecutter?”

      
As Kasimir began to describe the first man who had come asking to buy weapons, there sounded a louder splash than before from behind the screen; a moment later the face of Wen Chang, staring narrow-eyed above the folds of an enormous towel, peered fiercely around the edge of the screen. “And you simply let him go?”

      
“But the man told us, both Komi and myself, at the start that he wanted to buy weapons—”

      
“Did it not occur to you that he may have begun that way simply as a precaution? That he wished to see if our merchant operation was a legitimate one before he approached us with his real treasure? What did he look like?”

      
Here, at least, Kasimir had not failed, and could supply a fairly complete delineation. But the description of the elderly would-be client did not tally with that of anyone Wen Chang was able to recognize.

      
Wrapped from shoulders to knees in his great towel, his bath for the moment forgotten, the Magistrate paced impatiently. “Well, well, it is impossible for me to tell now whether he had any connection with our real business here or not. Did he give you the impression that he was coming back?”

      
“Frankly, he did not. Though I fear that also is impossible to know with any certainty.”

      
“Then it is useless to speculate upon these matters any longer. Here comes my dinner up the stairs if I am not mistaken, and when I have eaten I intend to sleep. Tomorrow we must arise early. Unless there is some new development, we are going to interest ourselves in the gem-cutting project at the Blue Temple.”

Chapter Seven

      
Wen Chang declined to discuss his plans for approaching the Blue Temple until morning. Even then he remained silent on the subject until, over breakfast in their rooms, Kasimir questioned him directly.

      
“How are we going to approach the authorities in the House of Wealth? If, as you say, this fabulous diamond is being kept there secretly, they are not likely to admit its presence, or that any special gem-cutting is about to take place.”

      
“True, they will not admit such things to the merchant Ching Hao. But if they are approached directly by the famous Magistrate Wen Chang, their response might be more favorable—especially if I bring them information of a plot to steal the gem.”

      
Kasimir paused with a tea mug halfway to his lips. “You said nothing to me last night of such a plot.”

      
“Nor did I learn anything of one during my investigations yesterday. But today it strikes me as a very useful idea.”

      
“I see. And who am I going to be today?”

      
“The very well-known Doctor Kasimir, of course. We shall both be surprised—raise our eyebrows politely, so—if any of them admits that he has never heard of you. You are my assistant—or my associate, if you prefer—and a specialist in forensic medicine.”

      
Kasimir thought about that. “It is not a common specialty. In fact I have never heard of it. But I suppose the very fact that it is unknown makes it sound prestigious. Very well. And I think I do indeed prefer ‘associate.’ ”

      
“So be it, then.”

      
There was not a single shabby thread in any of the garments in which Wen Chang arrayed himself this morning. Before starting for the Blue Temple with Kasimir, the Magistrate left orders with Lieutenant Komi to maintain the fiction of the merchant Ching Hao against any suggestion to the contrary, and to take careful note of any potential customers.

      
“In particular I am interested in the elderly man who was here yesterday and said he wanted to buy weapons. If he should return, send one of your men riding to the Blue Temple at once to let me know. And meanwhile detain this fellow merchant of ours, forcibly if necessary, until I return.”

      
“It shall be done, sir.” Komi saluted. His salutes meant for the Magistrate always looked more serious than the ones he gave Kasimir.

      
“Good. Have you been sending reports to the Prince?”

      
“I dispatched a flying messenger yesterday, sir, bringing him up to date. There has been no reply as yet.”

      
Wen Chang had decided to go to the Blue Temple on foot; a riding-beast carried more prestige, but only if you were assured of a place to put it safely when you had reached your destination, and they had no assurance of being offered such hospitality. A good walk lay before the two men, for the Blue Temple was in a different quarter of the city. Wen Chang, who had observed it while in the guise of a beggar yesterday, reported that it, like the Red Temple, bordered upon its own vast square.

      
Their route took them close to the Hetman’s palace, which like the great temples had its own plaza; in the case of the palace, the plaza surrounded the building completely. Wen Chang detoured slightly so that they should go right past the palace, crossing the surrounding open space. About all they were able to see of the great house itself were the formidable outer walls of gray stone, several stories high.

      
At one place on the pavement, no more than thirty meters or so from those walls, a few men and women in country garments were conducting a protest demonstration. Kasimir was reminded at once of the public exhibition he had seen as the tumbrel passed bearing the unfortunate Benjamin of the Steppe. Whether these were the exact same people or not he couldn’t tell, but he supposed it likely. Here they were crouched, facing the high gray palace wall, which in this area was pierced by a few high, small, heavily grilled windows, appropriate for prison cells. All of the demonstrators were slowly and rhythmically pounding their heads—fortunately with no more than symbolic force—upon the plaza’s paving stones.

      
Kasimir stopped, joining a few other passersby who had taken time out from their own affairs to stare at this bizarre behavior. Wen Chang paused too, to stand with his arms folded, observing. As moments passed, a few more gawkers gathered.

      
The crouching head-bangers were all dressed in loose peasant clothing. The loose braids of the women swung as their heads moved up and down. When one of the men, perhaps sensing that by now a sizable audience had gathered, raised his head and looked around, Wen Chang called to him, asking the reason for these actions.

      
Eager to tell his story, the man abandoned his symbolic head-banging and jumped to his feet. He spoke in an uncouth accent.

      
“Oh, master, the prisoner who is to be so unjustly and horribly executed on the first day of the Festival, Benjamin of the Steppe, is even now held captive in a cell inside this building!” Raising a quivering arm, the protester pointed at the palace. “All the people of Eylau should be here now, petitioning the Hetman for his release!”

      
The reaction of the small crowd was not generally sympathetic. Many jeered and made threatening gestures. Some looked over their shoulders and hurried away, lest they be seen by the Watch associating with these mad treasonous folk who seemed to criticize the government.

      
The Magistrate did not answer the speaker but turned away. Kasimir followed silently. They had other matters to discuss besides these hopeless protests, and were talking in low voices about the Sword again when at last their goal came into sight.

      
The Blue Temple of Eylau, like most of its kind elsewhere, was practically devoid of exterior decoration, and sported no statuary at all on walls or roof. To most of its clients as well as its managers, such ornaments would have indicated a tendency toward frivolous waste. Whenever Kasimir looked at the outside of a Blue Temple in any city he got the impression that an effect of shabbiness if not actually dirtiness, the grim opposite of frivolity, was what the proprietors were striving to achieve.

      
Nor was the style of architecture accidental either. This particular Blue Temple, true to type, was reminiscent of a fortress; even more, perhaps, of a miniature mountain, though the total bulk of this structure was somewhat less than that of the Red Temple across town, which looked less like a mountain than like a giant hive. Undoubtedly this fortress, the Blue Temple, would be an extremely good place in which to leave your money and keep your valuables on deposit. Nothing, not even an earthquake, was ever going to budge or threaten this building and its contents—that, at least, was the impression meant to be conveyed by the massive walls and foundations, and reinforced by the iron bars, each thick as a strong man’s arm, that guarded all the windows.

      
Wen Chang confronted all this majesty of strength undaunted. He marched majestically forward, straight across the square in the direction of the main entrance of this formidable edifice. Kasimir, walking half a step behind him, observed that here as at the Red Temple the majority of worshippers entering were men.

      
There was no difficulty about entering, for men so respectably dressed. Once they were inside the lobby, all cool white and pale blue, the Magistrate did not delay to look around. As if he knew exactly where he was going, he made his way straight to one side of the marble counter where a massive and yet somehow discreet sign promised information. Already, here in the outer lobby, the impression of penuriousness was beginning to fade.

      
The imposing manner of Wen Chang’s approach did not appear to make the least impression upon the well-dressed clerk behind the counter, who doubtless dealt every day with equally imposing folk.

      
Nor was the clerk shaken when the Magistrate fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare, and announced in a firm voice: “I wish to see the Director of Security.”

      
The expression on the clerk’s face remained perfectly neutral as he looked this grand visitor up and down. “And may I tell the Director who wishes to see him?”

      
The tall figure that stood in front of his marble counter became, if possible, even a little taller. “You may tell him that his callers are the Magistrate Wen Chang, and his associate Doctor Kasimir.”

      
The expression on the clerk’s face achieved something—not quite a real change, thought Kasimir, more like a greater intensity of neutrality. In a moment, speaking in a voice that now admitted a certain grudging courtesy, the man behind the counter invited: “Step this way, if you please, gentlemen.”

      
Wen Chang, with Kasimir remaining more or less half a step behind him, followed the clerk through a curtained doorway behind the information counter. On the other side of the doorway, solid steps led up. As he climbed Kasimir observed, in the materials of walls and stairs themselves, that they were now definitely entering the plusher precincts of Blue Temple administration.

      
The information clerk conducted them up only one level, and into a small office where he left them standing in front of the desk of another functionary. This woman, upon hearing the Magistrate’s identity, welcomed him and his associate with something approaching warmth. Then she promptly left her small office to escort the visitors on up to a higher level still.

      
This process repeated itself, with subtle variations, on several levels. In each new office Kasimir and Wen Chang encountered a pause in front of a new desk, new introductions, and a brief conference. All this was conducted in an atmosphere of cordiality tempered by suspicion, palpable though never openly voiced, that this imposing man might not really be who he claimed to be.

      
Early on in the game it became evident to Kasimir that the higher up you went in the Blue Temple, the closer you penetrated toward its center, the plusher, more luxurious, everything became. Inside this fortress it was no longer frivolity to display wealth. Instead it had become a duty to show it, or at least enough of it, to suggest how much more treasure must be available.

      
There was a great deal of affluence in sight already, and still he and Wen Chang had not penetrated to their goal. The Director of Security, Kasimir was thinking, must be a very important part indeed of this establishment.

      
But at last Wen Chang, with Kasimir at his elbow, was standing in the office of the Director himself, who came around from behind his enormous ebony desk to greet them with a moderate show of warmth, that somehow did not include revealing his name if he had one apart from his office. No great sensitivity was needed to detect a certain wariness in the Director’s manner as he pressed his callers’ hands, one after another. Inside this man’s fine robes of blue and gold his body was very lean, as if perhaps the guardianship of such mind-boggling wealth as had been entrusted to his care left him with no time to eat.

      
The words of the Director’s greeting, at least, sounded perfectly sincere.

      
“To what does our poor establishment owe the honor of this visit? Everyone has heard of the wise judge Wen Chang, whose eye is capable of penetrating with a glance to the very heart of wickedness. But I confess, Your Honor, that somehow I had pictured you as an older man.”

      
Wen Chang bowed, lightly and courteously. “And I, even in lands far distant from this one, have heard of the Director of Security in the Blue Temple in the great city of Eylau. But we have not come here for an exchange of compliments however pleasant. Instead we are upon a matter of the most serious business.”

      
“I am all ears. Please, be seated.”

      
Wen Chang and Kasimir helped themselves to ivory chairs, while the Director resumed his place behind his desk of ebony. Then the Magistrate continued: “It was another matter entirely that brought myself and my associate, Doctor Kasimir, here to Eylau. But in the course of our investigations in this city there has come to our attention the existence of a plot to steal from this temple the jewel known as the Great Orb of Maecenas.”

      
The Director blinked once, and then his face went totally blank. “What reason have you to believe that jewel is here?”

      
The Magistrate shook his head. “Come, come, sir, we are going out of our way to do you a favor. Do not waste my time or your own.”

      
At this crucial moment there was a confused bustling and whispering at the door of the Director’s office. In a moment a man entered, a fat and oily-looking man wearing a cape of almost pure gold, touched only with a little blue.

      
The two visitors got to their feet, and a fresh round of introductions began, this time with more ceremony than before. The new arrival was actually Theodore, Chief Priest of the Blue Temple in Eylau.

      
From the moment of his arrival in the room, the Chief Priest’s manner indicated that he was at least somewhat mistrustful of everyone else, including his own Director of Security.

      
When all were seated again, Wen Chang repeated, for Chief Priest Theodore’s benefit, his statement about the discovery of a plot to steal the jewel.

      
Theodore did not trouble to deny the presence of the Orb inside his establishment. Instead he asked Wen Chang bluntly: “How do you know this?”

      
“The circumstances in which I gained the information are closely connected to the original investigation upon which my associate and myself were engaged. More than that I cannot tell you at present. You will appreciate that I extend to all my clients the same confidentiality I would extend to you, were I retained by you personally, or by the Blue Temple.”