Dreams of Steel

Chapter Thirty

Ram waited till he was confident we were out of earshot. “Something is going to happen, Mistress.”

“Trouble?”

“We were watched by sneaking Gunni priests all the time. They acted like they were up to no good.”

“Ah.” I did not question his estimate. He did not have too rich an imagination. I snapped fingers at a nearby servitor. “Fetch Master Gupta.”

Master Gupta ran the grove, a benign dictator. He was attentive to his guests-especially those who were close to the Prahbrindrah Drah. He appeared almost instantly.

Bowing like a coolie, he asked, “What could the great lady want of this lowly worm?”

“How about a sword?” Dressed as a woman and empress I had not come heavily armed. I had one short dagger.

His eyes got huge. “A sword? What would I do with a sword, Mistress?”

“I haven’t the faintest. But I want to borrow one if you can provide it.”

Eyes even bigger, he bowed several times. “I’ll see what can be found.” He scooted off, throwing uncertain looks over his shoulder.

“Ram, help me shed some of this showpiece.”

He was scandalized. He refused.

“Ram, you’re pushing for the opportunity to spend your army time digging latrine trenches.”

He took my word for it, accepted the disapproval of several dozen watchers as he helped me shed my most cumbersome garments. He was embarrassed.

Abda, not asked to participate, pretended blindness.

Gupta materialized. He had a sword. It was someone’s show toy. “I borrowed this from a gentleman who was gracious enough to permit me to carry it to you.” He was blind, too. I expect he had seen everything over the years. The grove was a place where lovers managed clever assignations.

“I shall harbor kind thoughts toward you forever, Gupta. Am I correct in assuming the staff sent for my coach when they saw me getting ready to leave?”

“The men responsible will be seeking employment elsewhere if it isn’t there when you arrive, Lady.”

“Thank you. I’ll send this toy back shortly.”

Ram again waited till he thought no one could hear, grunted a question. I replied, “If there’s to be trouble it’ll come just inside the gate. If we reach the coach we’ll be safe.”

“You have a plan, Mistress?” “Spring the trap. If there is one. We wipe them out or take them prisoner and carry them off, never to be seen again. How many might there be?”

Ram shrugged. He did not waste time looking at me now. He had eyes for trouble only.

Abda said, “Eight. And the one you embarrassed. But he’ll avoid getting too close. He might have to explain if someone saw him.” “Oh?”

“I was involved in two similar schemes when I was an acolyte.”

I had no idea what he meant. It did not seem like the best time to fill myself in on his past. We were approaching a brushy area that crowded the path to the exit.

I say brushy but I’m no devotee of formal gardening. The area consisted of heavy vegetation four to eight feet high. Every single leaf was tended and considered daily. Its function was to mask the grove from the world so Taglios’ lords would not be defiled by common eyes.

I started a spell as soon as we left Gupta. I was ready when we reached the shrubbery. It was another child’s plaything but my most ambitious effort yet. I spoke the initiator and threw the resulting fireball into the growth to my left.

By the time the ball went ten feet it was hot enough to melt steel. It broke into fragments that broke into smaller fragments.

Someone screamed.

Someone else screamed. A man plunged out of the growth pounding his side.

I got another ball ready, threw it the other way.

“Wait,” I said. “Let them come out. We’ll push them down the path to the gate.” There were three men on that path now, wild-eyed. Then three more came out like spooked cattle. The brush was burning. “That’s long enough. Let’s move.”

We hustled forward. The baffled would-be assassins retreated. They piled up against the closed gate. The gatemen stared at the flames, stunned, unsure what to do.

“Ram. Bang them over the head. Put them in the coach.” A guard recognized me, did his job by rote as Ram waded into the six.

“Mistress.”

Abda was behind me. I turned. A man afire was charging us with an upraised tulwar, a weapon I had not seen here before. It looked like an antique.

Abda ducked, darted, had his rumel around the man’s neck in a blink. I did not get to use my borrowed blade. The assassin’s impetus broke his neck.

That was it. Ram tossed bodies into the coach. I told the least rattled gate guard, “Thank master Gupta for the loan.” I gave him the sword. “And extend my apologies for the damages. The priest Chandra Chan Tal should be happy to make them good. Ready, Ram?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Abda, get that carrion loaded.” I walked to the coach, climbed up beside my driver, looked around, spotted Tal. He and two other priests in red were standing streetside eighty feet away, bug-eyed. I saluted them.

“Loaded, Mistress,” Abda called up.

I got some amusement from him and Ram. They did not want me up there, exposed, but did not want me inside with the dead and captive, either. “Shall I run along behind like a good Taglian woman. Ram?”

Embarrassed, he shook his head.

“Climb aboard.”

We rolled right past Tal and his cronies. I called down, “Get what pleasure you can from the hours you have left.”

Tal blanched. The other two were made of sterner or stupider stuff.