The Pharoah Contract

When Ruiz considered it, however, it did seem strange that the slaver had shown so little interest in the source of Casmin’s injuries. And why had she allowed Nisa, a valuable item, to be penned in the paddock, ill and vulnerable to superstitious peasants? Ruiz could make no useful inferences, so he took a deep breath, shook his head, and put all thought of Nisa from him.

On the day that Ruiz completed the hook, Flomel came again, late in the afternoon. Ruiz was in the house of the casteless, adding to the length of his rope and inspecting it for weaknesses. He heard voices in the square, and he went cautiously to the door.

Flomel stood in the middle of the square, conversing with Dolmaero and the other guild elders. Two Pung guards stood by, their bodies expressing patient boredom. Ruiz could just barely hear what was being said.

“But how will they bring it?” Dolmaero spoke, puzzled, and he gestured in the direction of the small personnel lock.

Flomel pointed overhead with a theatrical flourish. “Look,” he said. “See the beams, those silvery threads? The Lady’s minions will hang the stage from those beams and float it down into our practice quarters. Don’t ask me how. There’s a lot about these folk that none of us understands.”

You could say that, Ruiz thought, with a certain vengeful relish.

Dolmaero looked diplomatically dubious. “As you say, Master Flomel. And when will Masters Kroel and Molnekh join us?”

“Very soon, very soon. Now, I anticipate a problem with the girl. In Bidderum she was magnificent, but then she was an Expiant, no? Naltrehset, we’ll have to rely heavily on your philters to make her amenable, but to an extent she must cooperate willingly. Dolmaero, you worked most closely with her before. Have you any suggestions?”

Ruiz became even more intensely interested in the conversation. To Ruiz’s eye, Dolmaero seemed to sink slightly into himself. “Nothing comes to me at the moment, Master,” Dolmaero said, looking aside.

A man with pinched features and a subservient whine spoke up. “Master,” he said, “what of the casteless one, the one that protected her from Casmin?”

“What is this?” Flomel asked, his narrow face darkening. “Who is this casteless one, and why was it necessary to protect the phoenix? Who wanted to harm her?”

Dolmaero answered. “Before we knew you were safe, Master, before we understood anything of our situation, the elders decided, by guild ballot, that the survival of the phoenix was unnatural and possibly an affront to the gods.” Here Dolmaero paused, looking uncomfortable. All eyes turned toward the house of the casteless, where Ruiz hid. Reluctantly Dolmaero continued. “The casteless one, Wuhiya by name, a snake oil seller by profession, he cared for her, since she was mistakenly lodged in the house of the casteless. No doubt he recognized her value. At any rate, I sent Casmin in to fetch her out for judgment, and Casmin — you know how he was — Casmin attacked Wuhiya. Wuhiya defended himself. You saw the result.”

Flomel rubbed his chin. “I should be pleased, I suppose. The girl is far more important to the troupe than Casmin was, though I’ll miss his rough-and-ready humor. Had you restrained your religious impulses, none of this would have happened.” Then Flomel’s eyes widened, and rage suffused his features. “Wait,” he said thickly. “Is this Wuhiya the same oil-sucking wretch who threw himself onto the apron at Bidderum, spoiling the finale?”

Flomel started for the house of the casteless, his long fingers crooking into claws. “Is he the one?” Flomel shouted.

Dolmaero hurried after Flomel. “Wait, Master. Do nothing rash, I beg you.” He caught up with Flomel at the doorway, where Flomel had paused, staring past the fluttering insect-guards into the darkness inside. Ruiz Aw, meanwhile, was pressed against the wall, out of sight, wondering what he could do if Flomel attacked him or denounced him to the guards. They might not take Flomel’s accusations seriously; on the other hand, they might take Ruiz before Corean, where Ruiz would be hard-pressed to explain his eccentric behavior. But Flomel stopped, his breath whistling between his clenched teeth.

“Come out, dust rat,” Flomel hissed. “Come out and be rewarded.”

Ruiz made no sound.

Dolmaero reasoned with the conjuror. “Master, you can’t think to sully yourself with this one’s worthless blood. Besides, look what happened to Casmin.”

Ruiz heard nothing for a few seconds.

Then Dolmaero continued. “Listen, I have an idea. The phoenix is obviously attached to this Wuhiya. He nursed her, he saved her from Casmin’s cord, and they were observed in passion at the bathhouse.”

Flomel gasped. “You joke, Dolmaero! She’s a princess, or was before she became an Expiant.”

“Nevertheless, it’s true. Master. I don’t know the reason; it seems incomprehensible to me, too… but what doesn’t, these days? At any rate, we can use her regard for the wretch to secure her cooperation in the play.”