Exiled: Keeper of the City Read online

  As soon as it was possible, in politeness, Reswen bowed again, with his paws over his eyes. “Reverence, I would talk to you at more length—” (Lies, all lies!) “—but courtesy surely requires that I give my regards to the rest of your party .... “

  “Of course, of course, Master Reswen, have a good time,” purred the old reprobate, and somehow managed to make a slightly dirty joke out of it, while the council members around him chuckled in false good humor, and (Reswen suspected) wondered what was so funny. Only Reswen had caught the brief flash of eyes that told him the priest Hiriv had decided the Chief of Police was likely to be some kind of problem. He was covering as best he could: not very well. Good. Let him worry a little.

  Reswen sauntered away off to one side to find himself a cup of wine and continue the introductions. One of the merchants, the tall gray-striped one Reswen had marked out that morning at Haven, was standing toward one end of the richly draped table that held the iced wines and herb drinks. The she-mrem standing over him—for she was taller than he—was talking insistently in the merchant’s ear, and her expression and barely concealed hiss of voice did not suggest that she was inviting him out on the tiles, or indeed to anything but a frightful session of ear-biting once they were out of there—

  “Honorable Rirhath,” Reswen said kindly from one side, bowing, and the female broke off, flustered.

  The merchant turned to him with an air of mingled relief and annoyance, bowed slightly. “You have the advantage of me, master,” he said.

  “My business, I’m afraid,” Reswen said. “Reswen-vassheh, at your service.”

  “Oh, the softpaw,” Rirhath said, and Reswen had to grin slightly in spite of himself; it was one of the more casual slang words for policemrem.

  “Yes. Pleased to make your acquaintance, and welcome to Niau. But I have not had the honor to be introduced to your lady wife—”

  “Kirshaet,” Rirhath said, very shortly, making no great attempt to hide his bad humor, and took immediate refuge in the cup of wildflower wine he had been drinking.

  Reswen ignored the merchant’s shortness of manner, took the lady’s paw, and pressed it to his forehead with the best grace he could manage—which was considerable, considering how many she-mrem he had practiced it on over the years. “Madam,” he said, “your servant.”

  The ruffled lady put her soft brown fur down and broke out into a rather astonished purr—which did not last, somewhat to Reswen’s chagrin. “Oh, Master Reswen, thank you so much, and if that is true, can you do something about this food?”

  “Madam, if our food disagrees with you, I shall have every one of the catering staff from the scullions to the Artificer of Delicacies spiked up over the city gate.” Out of the corner of his eye Reswen saw the poor wine-server fluff up from ears to tail in terror. It was too bad, for the moment, but Reswen had other thoughts on his mind besides reassuring the kitchen staff. From the report Krruth had given him, this creature was one of the gods’ great gifts to an intelligence officer—a mouth on four legs—and Reswen for one was not going to let go of her until he had flattered and cajoled her into giving him her views on everyone in the room. “Meanwhile, tell me what the problem is so that it can be put right. Is it too cold? Too hot? Is there nothing here that appeals to you?”

  He broke off for a moment, noticing Rirhath moving away from the wine table. “But I would not want to take you away from your noble husband. Perhaps I could have something sent for—”

  Rirhath caught Reswen’s look, and gruffly said, “No matter, sir,” and walked off toward the group at the head of the room, looking entirely relieved to be shut of his wife.

  Reswen filed the exchange away for later consideration, and then said, “Your husband is gracious, madam. Come away from here; these wines do not favor the best of the food. Try this red wine instead, it encourages the heart’s humors, with which you are so well provided. Not everyone has the taste to understand the bouquet of it—yes, you are quite right, it is a soft stuff, it cries out for something to cut the sweetness. Here, see these hortolans, see the sauce they perch in. You will not find a more delicate tidbit anywhere. Ah, just a bite, my lady. No? Then I will. Ah, well then, here’s one for you. Another? Indeed, madam, are you sure? Your girlish figure—”

  Reswen spent no more than five minutes in such outrageous flattery, which was just as well; too much more of it would have turned his stomach. Between wine and fine food, and a bit of attention, the lady Kirshaet was shortly telling Reswen the history of her life and of the lives of everyone she knew, liberally intermingled with every thought about anything or anyone else that crossed her mind. Within twenty minutes Reswen knew quite well why her husband was so glad to be out of her company for a while. The she-mrem was a glutton, a minx, and a fool, endlessly hungry for attention and unable to realize that she was being given any, full of grievances against a world assumed to be in conscious conspiracy against her. Reswen had only to nod and smile to keep her going; his pleasant looks were all she seemed to need to confirm to her that he was in league with her against everything that was out to do her harm or annoy her. She spilled out her complaints against her husband (“I cannot hear words against him, he is a guest,” said Reswen more than once, for the benefit of any listening ears, but that did nothing to stop her); against his business, which took him away from her for interminable hours; against this errand to the West, which kept him with her just as interminably; against her children, her servants, the politicians of the East, the weather, the gods....

  Reswen finally found himself in possession of more information than even he needed, and he began wondering how to shut Kirshaet off; the sheer flow of delighted, self-satisfied malice was beginning to wear him down. There was also the small matter that someone else might become suspicious of all the time he was spending with her. She was going on about Rauji, the junior merchant with the strange specialty in betting on uxen-breeding, when Reswen first heard, then saw his excuse. A soft purring peal of laughter, from behind one of the great black pillars, and then the long-limbed, gray-furred shape, and the flash of blue eyes peering out at someone else—

  “And who might that be?” Reswen said, into the torrent of words.

  Kirshaet looked, and broke off short “That one,” she said. “The whore. Certainly you have no interest in her, Master, everyone in the room must have guessed by now where she spends her nights, she and the other one, surely littered in a gutter somewhere, amazing that they’re allowed to consort with decent people, jewels or not, just the commonest kind of—”

  “Oh, certainly it’s not true,” said Reswen quite purposefully, Though it’s a bit perverse, since that’s possibly the first thing she’s said in some time that is true.

  “How dare you contradict me, you—you civil servant,” said Kirshaet without a moment’s hesitation, and with great relish. “Arrogant creature, contradicting your betters—” And off she went across the room, doubtless to tell her husband what a boor the policemrem was, not that it came as a surprise, no matter how fine the airs he might put on—

  Reswen breathed out and surreptitiously stroked the pads of his forepaws down his cloak; they were damp. He felt actively sorry for Rirhath, no matter what the Easterner might or might not be planning. But at least he was now in possession of a great deal of information about the delegation. Heaven only knew how much of it was true. It would all have to be correlated with the results that Krruth and his people produced from the next week’s listening to matters in Haven. But not bad, not bad at all for one night’s work. And meanwhile—

  He started to make his way to the far side of the room, which took some time—there were more mrem standing about and milling about than ever, a little boiling storm of silks, shot through with jeweled lightning, the thunder of much speculative small talk and gossip running under everything. Few people fell aside for him, which suited Reswen well. He came under the shadow of the right-hand portic
o, eyed the crowd on the far side of it, very carefully put his back against one of the massive pillars, and waited.

  It took only a second, and she was there, escorted past him on the arm of Aiewa, one of the older Councillors. Hard to make a better choice, thought Reswen rather sardonically, for Aiewa was old and half blind, and (to put it gently) of limited intelligence. Unfortunately he was rich, perhaps the second richest mrem in Niau, and therefore his opinions (such as they were) counted for something in council. Aiewa’s opinion of Deshahl was quite plain: His hungry gaze clung to her, slipped down her and up again like paws, trod her down, seized her neck—Reswen held quite still, frozen by simple revulsion, with annoyance at both prey and predator as they went by, crossed in front of him, came to rest in the shadows by the wall. Deshahl was in smoky blue again, silks so fine one could see through them, a floating cloud of the stuff draped from neck and arms and loins; a glittering blue stone as long as Reswen’s claw-joint hung low from her throat on a chain like a golden thread. Another one rested against her forehead, hung from a delicate golden webwork about her head and ears. She looked fragile, wanton, sweet, and fierce at the same time—and Reswen looked at her and felt nothing whatsoever.

  He breathed out, confused. After the odd feelings of the morning, this was very peculiar indeed. What he had seen then had nothing to do with what he saw now: just a whore indeed, plying her trade and doing it well. Going to have to find out just who she’s working for, he thought. A pity Kirshaet didn’t know anything about it ... but if she had, she would have made a point to tell me about it right away. Something else for Krruth to look into. But now here she stood teasing poor foolish Aiewa, stroking him not in any outwardly provocative way—and Aiewa was reacting to her like a mrem utterly besotted. Reswen felt like spitting. Bad news. I am going to have to speak to Mraal about this. Aiewa has become a liability, not to be trusted with anything serious that the council enacts: she will know about it in a second, if this beginning’s any indication of how she intends to continue. And then whoever she works for will know about it as well—

  “She is rather shameless, I’m afraid,” said a soft voice at his elbow.

  Reswen looked around and down, and found himself gazing into golden eyes in a dark face. The other one, the “less highly flavored sweetmeat,” Krruth had called her. “Your pardon?” Reswen said, slightly at a loss for the moment.

  “Laas,” she said. It was two syllables, and she sang it more than said it.

  “Reswen-vassheh.”

  She laughed at him. It was a delightful, quiet sound, warm and intimate, as if they had a joke together. Reswen leaned back against the pillar again, rather bemused at being laughed at by such a pretty little creature, and one he’d not spoken to for more than a breath’s time. “And is ‘policemrem’ part of your name, then?” she said.

  “Not when I’m off duty.”

  “And does that ever happen?” she said. “Surely not now.”

  Reswen smiled ruefully and shook his head.

  “No, I suppose not,” she said, and settled back against the pillar next to him, with her arms folded. “Certainly not with that going on.” She sounded faintly disapproving.

  Reswen looked sidewise at her, trying not to be too obvious about it. She was dressed much more modestly than Deshahl, as she had been that morning. The material was similar—the gauze dark golden, instead of blue—but the cut was demure, not designed to point to certain parts of a she-mrem and indicate that one might get in there under certain circumstances. There was a touch of gold here and there on the dark, dappled fur, a bracelet or two, earrings of braided gold wire, but nothing like the ostentation that Deshahl was indulging. Looking up to the golden eyes again, Reswen found himself wondering what he had seen in Deshahl in the first place.

  “No,” Laas said, as if to herself, but just loudly enough for Reswen to hear, “subtlety was never one of her talents.” She looked over at Reswen, and her eyes narrowed with barely restrained laughter, including him in the joke again. “Though I suspect it has been one of yours.”

  “Oh?”

  “This morning. In the courtyard. I’ m glad to see they let you wear better clothes to parties, at least. Hiriv thought you were something to do with the stables.”

  Reswen let his jaw drop in a smile, while inside his mind was racing with a mixture of bemusement and dismay. This one is sharp. Just what I need ... I think. “And what does he think now?”

  Laas looked at Reswen with something like resignation, but the humor was still very much to the fore. “Gods above, why would I be telling you a thing like that? You’re a policemrem, anyway; surely you already know.... “

  Reswen was conscious of being mocked, and found that he didn’t mind it. “Well, I did have to try,” he said.

  There was a pause. “Yes,” Laas said, “I know. So did I.... “

  The companionable silence fell again, leaving Reswen feeling completely confused, and not minding that either. It was a peculiar feeling, for Reswen hated not understanding things ... as a rule. And now what do we say? he asked himself. ‘How was-your trip? Do you like the weather we’re having?’

  “And did Kirshaet tell you everything you needed to know?” Laas said. “And everything else? The wretched gossip.”

  Reswen turned and looked at her with mild astonishment. “Was it that obvious?” he said.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Not to any of our group, at least. We’ve been stuck with her for forty days across the desert, remember ... I think anyone who notices her at this point is just relieved that she’s talking to someone else.”

  “I believe that,” Reswen said, and glanced over at Aiewa again. Deshahl was whispering something in his ear, and his tail was twitching. “But it was obvious to you.”

  “After a little while, yes.”

  “I think I’ d like to talk to you, sometime,” Reswen said quietly.

  “So send for me,” said Laas equably. “No one will be particularly surprised, especially since I’m supposed to be seducing you anyway.”

  That made Reswen’s ears go forward. “Well,” he said, with every indication of reluctance, “I guess we’d better make it look that way, hadn’t we?”

  “Not unless I choose,” Laas said. Reswen considered her casual tone with bemusement. For a courtesan, she seemed fairly uninterested in the business.

  They paused for a moment as Kanesh swept by. Unfortunate creature, thought Reswen, noticing that he had Kirshaet on his arm. She glared at Reswen and Laas as she went by, speaking small venomous nothings into Kanesh’s ear. When she had passed, Reswen and Laas exchanged a look of incredulous humor.

  “That’s it for you,” Laas said. “You’ve been seen talking to me. You’re going to have to send for me now.”

  “Not unless I choose,” Reswen said, thinking, Two can play at this game.

  Laas shrugged her tail and smiled. “You haven’t even fed me anything yet,” she said. “And after all those little bird things you made her eat, to cover up how many of them you ate. You should be ashamed of yourself. “

  Reswen had to laugh out loud at that. His bemusement was becoming worse by the moment, but he was enjoying it, and there seemed no reason why he should not indulge in hand-feeding a courtesan in public. “Very well,” he said. “Since I didn’t have enough of them before, we’ll start with them now.”

  “And don’t get the gravy on my clothes,” Laas said, “the way you did with Kirshaet. We’re going to be hearing about that for days, I’m sure.”

  “Perish the thought,” Reswen said. He led Laas across the room to the table where the hot foods lay smoking over their lamps.

  Two hours later the party was still going strong, but Reswen was beginning to think he should leave, because the rumors about him and the pretty little dun-and-orange number were more than sufficiently started; the servingmrem behind the tables had started winking at
him every time he and Laas came back for another cup of wine or plate of hortolans. That should make whoever she’s working for quite happy, Reswen thought calmly, as he finished one last cup of wine, and stifled a hiccup. We’ll see how long we can keep this going.

  He lowered the cup to see Laas looking at him over hers. She sipped, then put it down. “Don’t tell me you have to leave so soon,” she said.

  Reswen blinked, then smiled. Laas had this gift for reacting to what he was thinking before he said it. “I’m afraid I must,” he said. “Unlike some of the people here, I have to get up and work in the morning. And some of them are watching me with great care to see if you’ve got me tied to your tail yet, my dear. So better to keep them wondering.”

  “True enough,” she said, “though I have to be seen to be arguing the point a little.” She drew close to him. Reswen found himself being rather astonished by her nearness. All the evening so far, she had rarely come closer to him than a long arm’s reach. He bent his head down so that she could reach better, and she stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Don’t go. Or if you must, let me go with you. I’ve heard the rumors about your house.”

  “News travels fast, I see,” Reswen whispered back.