Angado

Chapter Thirteen

The party was dying and Angado was bored. A condition he shared with others but while their ennui was a cultivated pose or the genuine result of too few things done too often his was the product of comparison. Spall prating about the hardships of poverty-after experiencing Lowtown his complaints were both trivial and ridiculous. Plaskit and his talk of personal combat-a man who would never dare risk his skin against an armed opponent. Or even an unarmed one; his talk was based on long-distance viewing and the safe slaughter of helpless game. Crixus who spoiled the air with words appertaining to the idealistic existence to be found when living close to nature in the wild. Deakin Epstein, Spencer-all fools unconscious of their folly; posturing, gesticulating, making sly allusions, asking pointed questions.

The women were as bad, each in their own way acting a part, jealous, spiteful, vicious even as they made overt invitations. Angado remembered Dumarest's advice about those who could smile and murder as they smiled. The majority, no, they lacked the elemental courage. Some, perhaps, driven by whim or the pursuit of novelty. Only a few fitted the bill and of them all Perotto was the most ruthless.

"See how our young friend fits so easily back into his niche, Juan? Almost it seems as if he has never left us."

At his side Juan Larsen, sycophant, aide, a living echo of his master, nodded and smiled with thin lips. His tone was as acid as his words.

"Men are like the birds, Luigi. Some find the strength to leave the nest of their own volition. Others have to be helped. Some need to come crawling back to the only haven they can find. A pity. The Seventh Lord of the Karroum would, I thought, have had more pride."

Angado shrugged, remembering the part he was playing, the pose he needed to maintain.

"Pride and hunger make poor bedfellows, Juan. Blame my return on the accountant who forgot to continue my agreed allowance."

"He will have cause to regret it for years to come." Perotto turned to his friend. "You were a little hard, Juan. Angado has not had an easy time. In fact he was lucky to survive at all. A fascinating story, you must hear it soon, but one now we can put behind us. In any case it would be enhanced by the presence of his friend. One who still has not arrived, I see."

"Earl will be here soon. I sent Wynne to bring him."

"Wynne?" Perotto raised his eyebrows. "Wynne-ah, I see. A fine woman and she would have made you a good consort. A good wife too, once she had proven her ability to continue the Karroum line. Maybe that was your trouble, Angado. A man should not live alone. A woman at your side would have eased both body and mind."

"Or driven him insane." Larsen was blunt. "Not all men share your taste, Luigi."

"True, but who is to condemn? One likes cake another bread and who is to say which is right? But the head of a House has obligations and-well, never mind that now. Wynne, you say?"

"Yes, Wynne Tewson." As always Perotto made him feel small, inferior, and Angado fought to maintain his calmness. A battle partly lost as he snapped, "You know damned well who she is."

"Who and what," said Perotto. "It is obvious why your friend is so late in joining us. You made a bad choice of messenger, Angado. You should have sent another to pick up your friend. By now they are probably over the Steaming Hills or sporting in the Pearls of Toria. Not that it matters. We must be tolerant of such things. To be otherwise is to act the barbarian." Smiling he added, "And to be jealous is to act the fool. Don't give your friends the pleasure of seeing your discomfiture."

"You are mistaken."

"Of course. I often am." Perotto turned and signaled to a servant bearing a tray laden with goblets. The wine was smooth, subtle in its hidden potency, but Angado gulped it as if it had been water. Watching him Perotto said, "I think it time for our surprise, Juan. Will you fetch the box?"

As Larsen turned and walked away Angado said, "Box?"

"Merely a container for something rare and rather strange. The product of a new confectioner who has set up business on Schenker. A trader brought me a sample and you may find his wares amusing." Perotto took the box Larsen had fetched. "That will be all, Juan."

Angado reached for more wine as Perotto lifted the container. One made of finely carved wood inset with a tracery of metal and stone, gold and silver merging with emerald, ruby, amethyst, sapphire, amber, the clear sparkle of diamond, the somber hue of opal. The lid opened beneath his touch to reveal a compartmented tray filled with small mounds of rich darkness decorated with a dusting of minute pellets of a thousand hues.

"Chocolate." Angado was disappointed. The wine had made his head spin a little; boredom had sent him to the anodyne of alcohol too often during the evening. Now he looked at his cousin. "Ordinary chocolates."

"Far from that, Angado. Once tasted they can never be forgotten. For a discerning palate the effect is incredible. Here!" Perotto touched a chocolate with the tip of a finger. "Try this one."

"Aren't they all the same?"

"Far from it. Each contains within itself an entire new world of titillation. In fact I can't resist their promise." Perotto lifted the chocolate he had urged Angado to take, placed it within his mouth, closed his lips and sighed with audible satisfaction. "Magnificent!"

He had eaten and it would be safe to do likewise and courtesy demanded the acceptance of the gift. Angado picked a chocolate, placed it within his mouth, bit down and was suffused with a sudden plethora of flavors. There was peach and apple and chard and a touch of grize and a hint of orange and the tang of grape and of embra and lemon and… and… and…

And a sharp, overwhelming thirst.

His goblet was empty but the servant was already making his way toward him. The wine accentuated rather than washed away the flavors, joining with them to tease his palate and to wake memories of the recent experience. One almost duplicated as he ate another sweet. Almost-as Perotto had said there were differences and now he tasted blood and leather and the sweat from hides and horn and more subtle exudations from a hundred living things. Tastes which aroused strange stirrings and sent his hand again to the refilled goblet, the goblet to his mouth, the wine to his stomach.

Close to him a woman laughed with a thin, vicious chittering.

"Drink deep, Lord Karroum, it will help you to bear your loss. But don't worry, your friend will return."

"Unless Wynne kills him."

"A good sleep and he'll be as good as new and think of the fun you'll have scolding him."

More laughter and more wine to drown the sound and another chocolate and still more wine. And more laughter and too many grinning faces and walls that moved and air that stank.

And a floor that rose to hit him in the face to the sound of ribald cheers.

Dumarest heard the noise as the raft settled to land, the yelling incorporating a name which sent him jumping over the side and into the room before Wynne had time to kill the engine. Angado lay where he had fallen, face down on the carpet, a ring of shouting party goers laughing and deriding his condition. They scattered as Dumarest burst through them to stoop over the fallen man.

"Don't worry about him, Earl." A tall, young, languid man smiled as he reached out to touch Dumarest's arm. "I may call you that? It's much better to be on friendly terms, don't you think? I'm Yip Zaremba-you can call me Yip. Or anything you like as long as it's nice. But don't worry about your friend. He's just drunk too much. Once he's sober he'll be all over you unless-"

He staggered back, blood dripping from his lips as Dumarest lashed the back of his hand against the simpering mouth. To Wynne who had joined him he snapped, "Get some water. Salt too. Hurry!"

"Earl-"

"Do it!"

Angado sagged in his arms as Dumarest lifted him, bending him over a table which he swept clear with a brush of his arm. A woman screamed as he snatched feathers from her ornate headdress then fell silent, watching as Dumarest forced open Angado's mouth with the fingers of his left hand, standing behind and beside him as he was thrust the bunch of feathers down the exposed throat.

"Earl?" Wynne had returned with a jug of water and a container of salt. "Shall I mix them?"

He nodded, busy with the feathers, feeling the limp body in his arms begin to jerk and heave. A moment then vomit sprayed from Angado's mouth to spatter the table with regurgitated wine, food, blobs of nameless substance.

"Now!"

Wynne poured as Dumarest kept open the mouth, wiping it clean with his hand before bending Angado over again, using the feathers as before, again causing the limp man to empty his stomach in a liquid gout.

"More."

"Earl, is it-"

"More!"

Angado struggled as the water entered his mouth, pushing at Dumarest with weak hands, barely aware but conscious of his discomfort. As Wynne emptied the jug Perotto came through the crowd to watch as Dumarest clamped his arms around the young man, jerking to constrict the stomach, again flooding the table with a now almost clear fluid.'

"What's going on here? What are you doing? If the man is ill a doctor should be summoned. This conduct is inexcusable."

"He was drunk." Zaremba thrust himself forward, caked blood on his mouth. "I went to help and this boor struck me. A matter of jealousy it seems. I-" He broke off, backing as Dumarest turned toward him. "That is, I mean, well, they seem to be friends."

"Of course!" Perotto beamed, extending his hands in a gesture of welcome. "You must be Earl. I should have recognized you from Angado's description. Still taking care of him, I see."

"Someone has to."

"And you are best suited for the task. We must talk, you and I. Later perhaps? Before you leave?"

Dumarest nodded and led Angado to the windows, the cool air outside. A fountain cast a crystal shower into the air, droplets illuminated with subtle glows, mist that flowed as if made of silk. Light that showed the area deserted, sound that masked his voice.

"All right, what happened?" Dumarest frowned as he listened. "Chocolates?"

"They were harmless. Perotto ate one before my very eyes."

"One?"

"Yes, just the one." Angado frowned, thinking. "It didn't seem to make him thirsty but when I ate one I had to gulp down some wine. The same with the others but the one he ate didn't affect him at all." His face took on a deeper pallor as he realized the implication. "Poison?"

"I doubt it. Just something to get you drunk but all kinds of accidents can happen to a man who can barely stand. Or perhaps he merely wanted to make you look a fool. Lord Hedren Angado Nossak Karroum the Seventh-crawling and puking on the floor. Who would respect you after that?"

"Who will now?"

Dumarest said, "You were ill. A blockage in the windpipe or a constriction of the epiglottis-there is no need to go into detail. You've had it before and I recognized the signs. How did you get on with Perotto?"

"What?" Angado blinked, then shrugged. "He put the blame on a clerk. The allowance will be resumed together with that owing and with an increase. He was most apologetic and promised it will never happen again."

"Do you believe him?" Then, as Angado hesitated, Dumarest added, "You were reported dead. Did he explain that?"

"Of course. A message from the Thorn. He had it all to hand, Earl. The answer to every question I might ask. Once, I would have swallowed every word but not now. I've learned to be mistrustful." Angado gave a wry smile. "It seems I've still a lot to learn."

"We all make mistakes."

"I make too many. You warned me but still I acted the fool." Angado swayed and would have fallen had not Dumarest caught his arm. "Those damned chocolates," he muttered. "Earl!"

"Drink water and bring it up." Dumarest half-lifted Angado to the fountain. "Wash out your stomach. Quick now!" He watched as the other obeyed. "Better?"

"I feel awful."

"Sick?"

"Queasy and my head aches like hell. That's just what I feel like."

And looked. Dumarest studied the pale face, the sweat dewing cheeks and forehead, the color of the eyes. Any poison would have been eliminated unless it was a subtle variety which had passed immediately into the bloodstream. A possibility but one he discounted; the death of Angado must not be too obvious.

"Get home," he said. "Get to bed. Call medical aid. The hotel should have a resident doctor. Can you manage on your own?"

"If I have to. Why can't you come with me?"

"I've an appointment to keep," said Dumarest. "With Perotto."

He sat in a room which echoed his dignity; a chamber rich in leather, wood, intricate carving and expensive fabrics. The chair behind the wide desk was like a throne and he occupied it as if he were a king. One who lifted a hand in regal greeting as Dumarest stepped toward him.

"Earl, be seated." Light blazed from the gemmed ring he wore as he gestured toward a chair. "My apologies for having kept you waiting but some affairs cannot wait. The penalty of duty, you understand. To be the head of the House of Karroum demands the sacrifice of all personal inclinations."

"A sacrifice you are willing to make," said Dumarest, adding, as he saw the other frown, "as Angado was not."

"He was too young. He is still too young and I am not talking of chronological years. His mind is unable to accept the concept of total dedication. The need to sublimate all private needs and desires for the sake of the greater good. Words." Perotto gestured, the light again blazing from his ring, one Dumarest studied as the hand was lowered. "How little they mean. Dedication, devotion, duty-labels, some would say, for outmoded concepts, yet without them what of the House of Karroum?"

"Ruin," said Dumarest. "Devastation."

"For the House and all connected with it. Entire families made destitute because of a youthful whim or brash inexperience. I do not intend that to happen."

"There are ways to prevent it."

"Many ways," agreed Perotto. "What is Angado to you?"

"A friend."

"And?"

Dumarest said flatly, "I'm broke. Stranded here on Lychen and totally dependent on Angado's charity. If he should turn against me or fall sick or die I'd be sleeping in the fields and living on dirt. That's why I acted as I did out there; my concern was to keep him alive. Once I get a stake he can sweat in his own juice. I wasn't born to be a servant."

"The price of friendship," murmured Perotto. "The price of two High passages? Three?"

"To do what?"

"To persuade Angado to leave this world and never to return. I've made him an offer-you can see that he accepts it."

"Three High passages." Dumarest looked at the room, the rich furnishings, the items of price. "A low price for what you have here. Five would still be low but a little more attractive. Paid in advance?"

"In your hand when you board. Of course there could be more if your powers of persuasion are too strong to resist. Fifty times as much if you can convince me Angado will never return to Lychen."

"Fifty?" Dumarest pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. "My Lord, you are generous."

"But hard to convince."

"You shall have positive proof. My word on it." Dumarest rose from his chair. "Now I must see how my friend is faring. A sick man needs a break from routine and there are other worlds aside from those in the Burdinnion. Interesting worlds, some a little dangerous, perhaps, but what is life without risk?"

Perotto said, "How will you travel?"

"To the waterfall? Wynne will take me."

"She has already taken Angado. I'll arrange for a raft." Perotto reached for an intercom then withdrew his hand as he changed his mind. "No. I'll take you myself. Work has made me stuffy and it'll be a chance to clear my head."

Outside dawn had broken, the day brightening as the raft moved east. Perotto sat beside Dumarest, the driver a hunched and silent figure at the controls. The air was clear, deserted aside from minute flecks wheeling over the top of the waterfall: birds scavenging the hotel complex, many settling to perch on the rails of the observation platform. Close to the entrance to Angado's home Wynne's raft lay empty on the grass.

She met them as the elevator sighed to a halt, turning to lead the way into the main salon. The door to the balcony was open, cool air wafting into the chamber together with the deep organ-note from the chasm, until it died to a muted drone as she closed the portal.

"Angado sat out there for a while," she explained. "I tried to get him to eat but he wasn't hungry so I made him take a shower and go to bed. The last time I looked in on him he seemed to be asleep."

"How is he?" Perotto sounded genuinely concerned.

"As well as can be expected."

"I've been thinking of what must have happened. Some fools at the party must have slipped drugs into his wine. A combination which caused a syndromic shock. Maybe it was triggered by the confections he ate. A special blend of exotic flavors that I thought would amuse him." Perotto shook his head in self-reproach. "I should have remembered his delicate stomach. Even as a child he had to be careful of what he ate. I blame myself for what happened."

"It wasn't your fault." Wynne glanced at Dumarest. "Do you want to see him?"

"Not if he's sleeping."

"He might be awake. I'll check." She left the room to return, shaking her head. "Still asleep and I guess it's best to leave him that way. One thing, Earl, I managed to find the key to that desk. You know? The one in the den. It's open now if you want to check what's inside."

Perotto frowned. "Desk?"

"Earl wanted to examine some old maps. The kind of thing Chenault is so fond of." Smiling she added, looking at Dumarest, "I never did get to take you to him-well, we didn't have the time. Tomorrow, perhaps. If you find anything interesting he'll be able to explain it to you."

"The den," said Dumarest. "You know, I've forgotten where it is."

"Just down the hall and-" Wynne broke off, shaking her head. "How could you have forgotten so soon?"

"Maybe I've had other things on my mind." His eyes held hers, their message plain. "Come with me. You can show me that trick with the lights you mentioned. Perhaps I could learn something."

"I doubt it." Her smile was inviting. "Come on, then I won't be long, Luigi, when I come back I'll make some tisane. You like tisane, Earl?"

"I'd like anything you make."

He followed her from the salon, a man eager to get her alone, to recapture the experience of the night, its joy and pleasure. Coming close to her as she paused before a door ending a passage, his left hand rising to rest against her back, his head lowering to touch her cheek with his lips.

As she relaxed he jerked open the door with his right hand, pushed with his left, slamming the door after her as she staggered through the opening. A second and he heard the thud of her falling body.

"Wynne?" Perotto called out as Dumarest neared the salon. "Wynne, is everything all right?"

He was standing beside the wide window facing the waterfall. He was not alone.