To distract herself by the first means to mind, she said, 'Why did he tell youall this ... ? Ah, I'm an idiot. He didn't.'

'Correct.' Melilot looked smug. 'For that you deserve a taste of lobster. Here!'He tossed over a lump that by his standards was generous, and a chunk of breadalso; she caught both in mid-air with stammered thanks and wolfed them down.

'You need to have your strength built up,' the portly scribe went on. 'I have avery responsible errand for you to undertake tonight.'

'Errand?'

'Yes. The imperial officer who lost the scroll is called Commander Nizharu. Heand his men are billeted in pavilions in the courtyard of the governor's palace;seemingly he's afraid of contamination if they have to go into barracks with thelocal soldiery.

'After dark this evening you are to steal in and wait on him, and inquirewhether he will pay more for the return of his scroll and the name of the manwho filched it, or for a convincing but fraudulent translation which willprovoke the unlawful possessor into some rash action. For all I can guess,' heconcluded sanctimoniously, 'he may have let it fall deliberately. HmV

3

It was far from the first time since her arrival that Jarveena had been outafter curfew. It was not even the first time she had had to scamper in shadowacross the broad expanse of Governor's Walk in order to reach and scramble overthe palace wall, nimble as a monkey despite the mass of scar-tissue where herright breast would never grow. Much practice enabled her to whip off her cloak,roll it into a cylinder not much thicker than a money-belt, fasten it aroundher, and rush up the convenient hand- and toeholds in the outer wall which werecarefully not repaired, and for a fat consideration, when the chief masonundertook his annual re-pointing.

But it was definitely the first time she had had to contend with crack soldiersfrom Ranke on the other side. One of them, by ill chance, was relieving himselfbehind a flowering shrub as she descended, and needed to do no more than thrustthe haft of his pike between her legs. She gasped and went sprawling.

But Melilot had foreseen all this, and she was prepared with her story and theevidence to back it up.

'Don't hurt me, please! I don't mean any harm!' she whimpered, making her voiceas childish as possible. There was a torch guttering in a sconce nearby; thesoldier heaved her to her feet by her right wrist, his grip as cruel as atrap's, and forced her towards it. A sergeant appeared from the direction of thepavilions which since her last visit had sprouted like mushrooms between theentry to the Hall of Justice and the clustered granaries on the north-west sideof the grounds.

'What you got?' he rumbled in a threatening bass voice.

'Sir, I mean no harm! I have to do what my mistress tells me, or I'll be nailedto the temple door!'

That took both of them aback. The soldier somewhat relaxed his fingers and thesergeant bent close to look her over better in the wan torchlight.

'By that, I take it you serve a priestess of Argash?' he said eventually.

It was a logical deduction. On the twenty-foot-high fane of that divinity hismost devoted followers volunteered, when life wearied them, to be hung up andfast unto death.

But Jarveena shook her head violently.

'N-no, sir! Dyareela!' naming a goddess banned these thirty years owing to thebloodthirstiness of her votaries.

The sergeant frowned. 'I saw no shrine to'her when we escorted the prince alongTemple Avenue!'

'N-no, sir! Her temple was destroyed, but-her worshippers endure!'

'Do they now!' the sergeant grunted. 'Hmm! That sounds like something thecommander ought to know!'

'Is that Commander Nizharu?' Jarveena said eagerly.

'What? How do you know his name?'

'My mistress sent me to him! She saw him early today when he was abroad in thecity, and she was so taken with his handsome' ness that she resolved at once tosend a message to him. But it was all to be in secret!' Jarveena let a quaverenter her voice. 'Now I've let it out, and she'll turn me over to the priests ofArgash, and ... Oh, I'm done for! I might as well be dead right now!' • . 'Dyingcan wait,' the sergeant said, reaching an abrupt decision. 'But the commanderwill definitely want to know about the Dyareelans. I thought only madmen in thedesert paid attention to that old bitch nowadays ... Hello, what's this at yourside?' He lifted it into the light. 'A writing-case, is it?'

'Yes, sir. That's what I mainly do for my mistress.'

'If you can write, why deliver messages yourself? That's what I always say. Oh,well, I guess you're her confidante, are you?' Jarveena nodded vigorously.

'A secret shared is a secret no longer, and here's one more proof of theproverb. Oh, come along!'

By the light of two lamps filled, to judge by their smell, with poor-grade fishoil, Nizharu was turning the contents of his pavilion upside-down, with not evenan orderly to help him. He had cleared out two brass-bound wooden chests and wasbeginning on a third, while the bedding from his field couch of wood and canvaswas strewn on the floor, and a dozen bags and pouches had been emptied and notrepacked.

He was furious when the sergeant raised the tent flap, and roared that he wasnot to be disturbed. But Jarveena took in the situation ' at a glance and saidin a clear firm voice, 'I wonder if you're looking for a scroll.'

Nizharu froze, his face turned so that light fell on it. He was as fair a man asshe had ever seen: his hair like washed wool, his eyes like chips of summer sky.Under a nose keen as a bird's beak, his thin lips framed well-kept teeth marredby a chip off the right upper front molar. He was lean and obviously verystrong, for he was turning over a chest that must weigh a hundred pounds and hisbiceps were scarcely bulging.

'Scroll?' he said softly, setting down the chest. 'What scroll?'

It was very hard for Jarveena to reply. She felt her heart was going to stop.The world wavered. It took all her force to maintain her balance. Distantly sheheard the sergeant say, 'She didn't mention any scroll to us!'

And, amazingly, she was able to speak for herself again.

'That's true, commander,' she said. 'I had to lie to those men to stop themkilling me before I got to you. I'm sorry.' Meantime she was silently thankingthe network of informers who kept Melilot so well supplied with information thatthe lie had been credible even to these strangers. 'But I think this morning youmislaid a scroll...?'

Nizharu hesitated a single moment. Then he rapped, 'Out! Leave the boy here!'

Boy! Oh, miracle! If Jarveena had believed in a deity, now was when she wouldhave resolved to make sacrifice for gratitude. For i that implied he hadn'trecognized her.

She waited while the puzzled sergeant and soldier withdrew, mouth dry, palmsmoist, a faint singing in her ears. Nizharu slammed the lid of the chest he hadbeen about to overturn, sat down on it, and said, 'Now explain! And theexplanation had better be a good one!'

It was. It was excellent. Melilot had devised it with great care and drilled herthrough it a dozen times during the afternoon. It was tinged with just enough ofthe truth to be convincing.

Aye-Gophlan, notoriously, had accepted bribes. (So had everyone in the guard whomight possibly be useful to anybody wealthier than himself, but that was by-theby.) It had consequently occurred to Melilot - a most loyal and law-abidingcitizen, who as all his acquaintance would swear had loudly welcomed theappointment of the prince, the new governor, and looked forward to the citybeing reformed - it had occurred to him that perhaps this was part of a plan.One could scarcely conceive of a high-ranking imperial officer being so casualwith what was obviously a top-secret document. Could one?