Part 44 (1/2)
”The h.e.l.l with this,” Aiken muttered, and went slouching off into the grand foyer and thence to the courtyard for a breath of air. There he found Yosh Watanabe and Raimo Hakkinen climbing into a waiting caleche.
”Going downtown?” the King inquired. ”Can't say I blame you. No fun upstairs at all.” He sighed lugubriously.
”We'd planned to pub-crawl,” Yosh said. ”But first, we're off to visit my neputa works. I've been out of town so long, the crafters have probably managed to screw things up. Sneak inspections keep people on their toes. Besides, the shop's right next door to our favourite groggery, the Mermaid.”
Aiken lifted a hand. ”Ah. Well, have a good time, guys.” He began to turn away.
Raimo said impulsively, ”Aik. Come along! Forget this king s.h.i.+t for one friggerty night.”
”I'll cramp your style.”
”Just get rid of the royal threads,” Raimo suggested.
”Like this?” Aiken asked. There was a subdued flash. His magnificent golden outfit disappeared. He wore frayed khaki shorts, calf-high reefwalkers with tabi toes, and a grubby yellow t-s.h.i.+rt imprinted DALRIADA WINDSURFER RACING TEAM. His distinctive physiognomy was hidden under a ratty straw sombrero and he had a silver torc about his neck.
”Climb in, kid,” Raimo said, ”and we'll show you the big city.” He whipped up the h.e.l.lad and they were off, clopping over the great gla.s.s drawbridge and onto the winding road that led through the castle park. Even before they emerged onto the boulevard that had its terminus at the central Gyre of Commerce, they heard the laughter and shouting of roisterers, the cries of vendors, and strolling musicians playing flutes and fiddles and electronic accordions.
The Gyre was so crowded that their carriage moved at a snail's pace. Most of the pedestrians were human; but there were plenty of Tanu strolling about as well, and Aiken recognized a number of Most Exalteds who had pleaded urgent business as an excuse for leaving his party early. All of the shops around the periphery of the ring were open. The central area was thronged with the colourful booths of freelance artisans and the purveyors of novelties, flowers, Milieu jumble items, and other ephemera.
”Something missing.” Raimo frowned, thinking. Then he snapped his fingers. ”The Firvulag sellers! Remember, Yosh?
Before we left with the caravan for Bardy-Town, the Gyre had plenty of spook vendors at the night market. The Armistice brought 'em out of the woodwork, peddling their baubles and bangles and funny mushrooms and weird booze. But they're gone-!”
Yosh glanced at the King, who merely nodded, frowning.
”Ices! Raspberry ices!” a nasal voice was calling.
”That sounds good,” Raimo remarked with enthusiasm.
”How about you guys?” He stood up tall on the driver's perch, emitted an ear-splitting whistle, and held up three fingers. The vendor grinned as a coin wafted toward him over the heads of the mob. Presently Raimo's PK took hold of three cups piled high with rosy slush, which made a safe journey to the caleche.
They rode on, nibbling at the concoction.
”d.a.m.n good,” said the King, licking his lips. ”We ought to sponsor that joker at the Grand Tourney. Set him up with a refreshment stand, lots of different flavours. A new snack item like this would go over big with the fans.”
”I'll see to it,” Raimo said. ”Old Guercio will be thrilled to death.”
He guided the h.e.l.lad into a side street. Though less crowded than the Gyre, it was still thick with pedestrians heading for the famous Mermaid Tavern and other places of entertainment.
”The workshop's right here,” Yosh said, bending down to pound loudly on a courtyard door with his bronze-clad samurai fan.
Two ramas swung the portals wide and Raimo drove the caleche inside. As the doors closed behind them the noise level dropped by sixty decibels. The courtyard was dimly lit by two hanging sconces of flaming oil.
”n.o.body about this time of night, of course,” Yosh remarked as they piled out of the carriage. ”But the monks'll usher us in.” His telepathic voice spoke expertly to the two small apes.
One hurried to unbar the door to a barnlike structure while the second fetched a big twenty-second-century-vintage electric lantern.
They entered the workroom, and Aiken exclaimed in surprise at the sight of huge sheets of paper hanging from the walls and ceiling, all elaborately painted with vivid, swirling figures locked in mortal combat. ”It looks like another kite factory!”
”Close, but no cigar,” said the samurai warrior. ”Neputa are a kind of gigantic lantern, carried along in a traditional harvest parade in the j.a.panese city of Hirosaki on Old Earth. I've modified the design slightly, and we'll have ours rolling along on wheeled floats. But they'll be gorgeous, believe me!”