The Pharoah Contract

Flomel approached Corean and spoke in wheedling tones. “Noble lady, Guildmaster Dolmaero asks a favor.”

“What is it?” Corean asked without inflection.

Dolmaero spoke. “There is an injured man. Could you speed the healing of his hurts, as you did for the phoenix? Or, at least, ease his discomfort?”

Corean came forward and the Moc moved after her, its great leaping limbs slowly pistoning. “Bring him out,” she said.

Dolmaero gestured and a moment later two men carried out an improvised litter. On it was the coercer, whose face was one vast bruise, radiating from his flattened nose. Casmin drew a sharp breath when he saw the Moc, then winced.

Corean stood over him, a look of detached curiosity on that incredible face. “How was he hurt?” she asked.

“He fell,” Dolmaero said quickly, before anyone else could answer, and Ruiz remembered to breathe again.

“He fell?” She turned to Flomel. “How well do you know this man?”

“Well, indeed, Lady. He was warded to our family when he was only three. A loyal man, who deserves your help.” Flomel stared at Casmin, taking in his injuries with growing puzzlement.

“Describe the part this man plays in one of your productions.”

Flomel looked defensive. “Ah, well, noble lady, he actually plays no direct part. His services are among the perquisites of my position. He provides protection against evil deeds, and instruction to recalcitrants.”

Now her amusement seemed definite. “In other words, he twists arms at your behest?”

Flomel made no answer for a long moment, and then nodded jerkily, features stiff with suppressed annoyance.

“Then he no longer performs any essential function,” she said, is that sweet clear voice. “Still, I’ll ease his discomfort.”

She bent over the litter. At the tip of her index finger, a shimmering tongue of disrupted air appeared. The burbling sound of a sonic knife came clearly to Ruiz’s ears. With a graceful sweeping gesture she sliced Casmin’s throat open, down to the spine, then danced nimbly back from the blood. The elders scattered like frightened chickens.

She nodded to the Moc. It pointed a midlimb at the corpse, which still twitched. A plasma lance whooshed white fire and heated the remains to crumbling incandescence. Most of the troupe fled indoors. Only Dolmaero and Flomel stood their ground, staring.

When nothing remained but smoking ash, Corean left without ceremony, taking along a pale Flomel. Before she passed out of Ruiz’s line of sight, Corean glanced directly at Ruiz’s place of concealment, expressionless.

When the slavers were gone, the Pharaohans came forth and stood about in the square in little arguing knots, avoiding the blackened spot at the center of the square. Dolmaero seemed not to be taking part in the general discussion. He sat on the low wall, staring at nothing in particular.

Ruiz waited a long while before he came out of the bathhouse and joined Dolmaero.

Dolmaero looked at Ruiz without speaking.

“I’m sorry about your man,” Ruiz offered.

Dolmaero made a gesture of dismissal. “Don’t be concerned. Casmin was always a jackal. Away from the restraining influence of his guild, it would have been only a matter of time before he’d have begun to practice his ugly pleasures on the innocent. And how would I have controlled him?”

“Still… I appreciate your not revealing the source of his injuries.”

“I told no lie,” Dolmaero said heavily.

“No, I suppose not. Did Master Flomel say what they intended for the Noble Person?”

Dolmaero looked at Ruiz, and Ruiz sensed that evil news was coming. Dolmaero seemed reluctant to deliver it. “Yes,” Dolmaero finally said, “he went into that a little. I’m not sure you want to hear what he said.”

“Tell me,” Ruiz said.

“Do you remember when I said my decision to put the phoenix to death was a mistake? Now I’m not so sure. It might have been a kindness, had you not interfered. Master Flomel plans to use her in an upcoming performance.”

“A performance?”

“Yes, so he said. It seems we will perform for an audience of the mighty, to whom the goddess-woman is simply an agent. I don’t understand the details, but there will be bidding for our services.”

Clever of the goddess-woman, Ruiz thought, sickened. She would put the troupe on the block, and they would do their utmost to bring her a high price, thinking it their opportunity to impress the influential of their new world. She practiced the slaver’s art skillfully.

“And so,” Dolmaero continued, “the girl will be required to die once more. I wonder; will she again be revived? How many times could that be done? Do you know?”