The Pharoah Contract

“Yes… bad luck.” Denklar began to see a positive aspect to Anstevic’s unexpected presence. “But I’m glad you’re here. You can get him out of the cage and away from Stegatum much more easily than I — it’s more your line of work, isn’t it? I’m an innkeeper, not a man of action.”

“Umm…” said Anstevic. “Have you contacted him? Has he managed to send any messages to you?”

“No, no… I was just considering how best to proceed.”

“Good, very good. A pity, in a way, that the Lord survived. Eh? Then they’d have dealt with him at the Keep, and we’d have been out of it. But the Lord believes in public displays, so I suppose we must act.” Anstevic chuckled, apparently in a good humor again.

Denklar began to relax. The matter was out of his hands and into more competent ones — a great relief.

The wireblade slipped through the soft flesh below his chin, through his palate and into his brain. Anstevic gave a dexterous twist.

Denklar knew an instant of cold stinging astonishment, and then he was dead.

* * *

There was little blood. Anstevic rolled the corpse under the bed, and sat down to wait, pipe in hand.

* * *

The morning passed, and Ruiz gradually recovered his equilibrium. He explored his cage, but found no encouragement. The cage was stoutly constructed, with heavy forged fastenings and a solid door, locked with a massive padlock. The padlock’s keyhole faced the small grid set into the door, by luck. Had he a piece of wire, he might have tickled it open, but he was naked and the cage was swept clean. The cage grew hot, despite the water, but not unbearably so. Ruiz sat cross-legged in the center of the cage and concentrated on his situation. As the pounding in his head eased, he was able to think more clearly about the events that had led him to the Place of Artful Anguish.

The Lord had been poisoned, though not by Ruiz. The Lord was not well loved in Stegatum and the surrounding nomarchy. No doubt the Lord had many enemies, one of whom had seized the opportunity to assassinate Brinslevos in such a way that Ruiz would be blamed. It served no great purpose to wonder who or why; what was important was this: Ruiz was still alive. Presumably Denklar would help, and Ruiz could escape under the cover of night. And then Ruiz would be on his way. Unless, Ruiz thought, Denklar was part of the conspiracy that had first revealed itself aboard the platform. This was a disquieting idea, and led to a train of further unpleasant speculations. Perhaps the Lord had been poisoned not by the Lord’s enemies, but by Ruiz’s. In this case, Denklar might do nothing, except perhaps to laugh as Ruiz was taken out of the cage to his death. No, no, that was unlikely, because he had revealed himself as an Uberfactorial to Denklar, and so Denklar must assume Ruiz to be equipped with a death net. Even if Denklar was a conspirator, he would be foolish to dare the League’s investigators, who would be aware of the circumstances of Ruiz’s death as soon as it occurred.

If instead Brinslevos had died, and Ruiz had been executed immediately, such a plan could have worked well. Had that been the plan?

Ruiz shook his head; such speculation was pointless. For the present, he must compose himself to wait for Denklar’s help, which in any ease would not be forthcoming until after dark. When he was free, he would question the innkeeper vigorously. The thought was pleasant and calming.

The afternoon passed in heat and silence, and Ruiz was astonished to find himself bored. That the imminent prospect of a painful death could not divert him from boredom for a few short hours seemed to aim a frightening and ominous thing, though only abstractly. He pounded his fists against his forehead. “Alertness, alertness, Ruiz,” he told himself.

As the sun sank to the level of the surrounding hills, the citizens of Stegatum began to appear, strolling about the Place of Artful Anguish in couples and small groups, as though it were a peaceful park. Children ran here and there, occasionally stopping to fling a stone at the iron cages, which made a fine loud clang. Rontleses presently began to bellow lurid curses. Ruiz said nothing, plugging his ears with his fingers, and consequently the children spent most of their stones on Rontleses’ cage. Their parents looked on with solemn approval. No one attempted to speak to Ruiz Aw.

When the sun was down and twilight was fading, the citizens went in to supper, and a crew of laborers brought a small wheeled stage into the square, leveled it, and then set up a variety of unpleasant paraphernalia on it. There was a tall iron frame, well supplied with straps and chains and hooks, a coffin-shaped box, a long table with dark stains dried on its edges.

Ruiz felt a chill, and found himself no longer bored.