Part 14 (1/2)
The three of them made their way along a gravel path to a door in the high garden wall. The door hung ajar on its rusty old hinges; probably it had been used in the very recent past. They went through, transferring themselves in a disorienting moment from the forgotten rusticity of the silent garden to the bustle of a busy city street.
Luzelle stood still, trying to take it in. Tall buildings of honey-colored stone arose on all sides. Horse-drawn carriages, carts, and hansom cabs filled the wide urban avenue, and there were people, hundreds of people everywhere. The suddenness of the change was almost as startling as transference by ophelu.
”Look. Look at.” Mesq'r Zavune pointed. ”There is Rakstriphe's Victory Column. Very famous. We are in Hurba.”
”By sunset, just as they promised,” said Girays.
”Hansom. Waterfront,” urged Luzelle. ”Ticketing agencies. Pa.s.sage to Aeshno. Come on on, gentlemen, let's grab a cab, let's go!”
”Whew!” Zavune smiled.
”Couldn't have put it better myself,” Girays agreed, entertained.
”What are you smirking about?” Luzelle asked him.
”I am not smirking. I never smirk.”
”You are. You do.”
”If you've detected some sign of mild amus.e.m.e.nt, it's a natural response to your rather-how shall I put it-charmingly impetuous enthusiasm.”
”Girays, you know I can't stand it when you-”
”Because, you see,” he continued with annoying composure, ”in your eagerness you have failed to consider the lateness of the hour, and its effect. By this time the ticketing agencies are shut up for the night. There's no possibility of booking commercial pa.s.sage from Dalyon before tomorrow morning.”
”For now, we stuck,” Zavune informed her.
”Unless, of course, you happen to enjoy access to a private yacht,” Girays suggested helpfully. ”Or a dependable night-flying balloon, or perhaps some really imaginative newfangled suboceanic vehicle, or a trained leviathan, or-”
”You needn't belabor belabor the point.” Luzelle scowled. the point.” Luzelle scowled.
”The Herald Inn, not far from here,” Mesq'r Zavune told them. ”Very excellently clean. Good food.”
Food. Luzelle's stomach rumbled responsively. She noticed herself smiling.
They took a cab to the Herald Inn, an elderly but immaculate establishment with black half-timbering and a gabled roof, where there were plenty of decent rooms available at stiff city rates.
Luzelle ate a good dinner of Hurbanese winepoachies in the Herald's old dining room, in the company of Girays and Zavune. The latter, she discovered, was almost feverishly antic.i.p.ating a very temporary reunion with his wife and children in his homeland of Aennorve. The conversation scarcely touched on the Grand Ellipse, and for a short time it was possible to relax and enjoy the illusion that the three of them were ordinary dinner companions rather than rivals.
The meal ended, and camaraderie began to wane. Luzelle was already wondering if she might somehow find a way tomorrow morning of beating them both to the docks. To her surprise, Girays insisted on walking her back to her room. She suspected that he wanted some sort of private conversation, and this proved to be the case.
They paused in the empty corridor at her door, and Girays turned to face her. His angular face had lost all trace of characteristic amus.e.m.e.nt or weariness. An odd little frisson-trepidation? excitement?-ran through her at the sight, and she asked, ”What is it?”
”That gun,” said Girays.
”Khrennisov FK6 pocket pistol.”
”So I noticed.”
”Good weapon for self-defense.”
”In properly trained hands. Where did it come from?”
”A p.a.w.nshop in Lanthi Ume.” She paused, then added with a certain delicious enjoyment that she strove hard to disguise, ”Karsler Stornzof helped me pick it out.”
”But how amiable of him.”
”Yes, I thought so.”
”Unfortunately the gallant Grewzian seems to have overlooked a small but possibly telling detail. In his zeal to serve a lady, he has succeeded in placing a deadly weapon in the hands of one who-forgive me if I am mistaken-has not the slightest notion how to handle it.”
”Oh?” She considered denial, but recognized the pointlessness. ”Was it so very obvious that I don't know how to shoot?”
”It was to me, because I know your face; I know your eyes.”
”Bav Tchornoi doesn't, and he was the one I needed to convince. Worked, too.”
”Yes, but tell me-what would you have done if Tchornoi had called your bluff? Would you actually have fired? Do you even know how?”
”Well, it didn't go that way.” Even to herself she sounded lame.
Girays smothered a curse. ”That irresponsible fool of an overcommander ought to be horsewhipped. Is he trying to curry favor with you, trying to get you killed, or both?”
”Don't blame Karsler-”
”Karsler?”
”It wasn't his doing. We were walking together-”
”Indeed?”
”We met by accident, only he thinks it wasn't altogether an accident.”
”Really.”
”I'd been a little ill, and he'd helped me. He really was wonderful-”
”Wonderful, again!”
”Anyway, we pa.s.sed a p.a.w.nshop, and I told him I wanted to buy a gun. He didn't suggest it, he didn't have any say in the matter. It really didn't matter whether he was with me or not, I'd have gone ahead and bought some sort of handgun in any case. Since he was was there, he helped me pick out a good one. That's all.” there, he helped me pick out a good one. That's all.”
”Perhaps not quite all. He encouraged you, I suppose.”
”Hard though it may be for you to believe, Girays-it was my own decision.”
”And then he washes his hands, he walks away, without troubling to instruct you.”