‘Well, true spoken. We’ve got to get some coin before we go anywhere, though. I can’t believe how much you’ve spent!’
‘Good horses are not cheap in this rare and refined land.’
‘We haven’t even got the horses yet, you wretched wastrel. Our show had best go well tonight, or you’re in for it.’
From a couple of jugglers Salamander had learned that any showman was welcome to perform in the public squares, provided he turned a quarter of his profits over to the archon’s men. When it grew dark, they hauled their newly-acquired props down to the market, which was just coming alive again in the cool. Oil lamps flickering among the gaudy sun-shades and banners cast coloured shadows on the white buildings while the merchants and their customers stood in little groups, talking and joking over cups of wine and snacks of spiced vegetables wrapped in fresh-baked rounds of thin bread. After a little asking around Jill and Salamander set up on the terrace at the top of a flight of steps leading to a public building. While Jill laid charcoal into the braziers and sprinkled it with incense, Salamander spread out the fancy carpet, then picked up the cloth-of-gold drape and began doing tricks with it, making it swirl in the air and catch the light, or suddenly turn stiff and billow out like a sail before the wind. Down below a crowd gathered to watch.
‘I am Krysello, Barbarian Wizard of the Far North. Look upon my marvels and be amazed!’ He flicked the drape one last time, then let it settle on the steps. ‘Jillanna, my beauteous barbarian handmaiden, and I have travelled far across the seas from the wondrous kingdom of Deverry to amuse, delight, and mystify you with magic that your otherwise splendid city has never seen before.’
By now some fifty people were gathered at the foot of the stairs. Salamander slowly raised one arm and pointed at the first brazier. In a perfumed tower flames leapt up high, then fell, leaving the charcoal burning red and the sweet resins smoking. When the crowd gasped in honest awe, other people came running to see. Salamander waited until the crowd was steady again to light the second brazier.
‘Shall I proceed with my humble show, O good citizens of Myleton?’
The crowd laughed, dug into their purses, and flung a shower of copper coins. Jill scooped them up, then took a place out of the way as Wildfolk of all sorts flocked to the improvised stage and clustered around Salamander. Her grey gnome appeared, did a little jig of excitement, then jumped to her shoulder and settled down to watch.
‘Now behold the marvels of the north!’
Salamander pulled a long silk scarf out of mid-air – or so it seemed – and began to do the ordinary sort of tricks that any sleight-of-hand artist might do. First he made it disappear, then pulled it out of Jill’s hair; he tossed it up in such a way that it looked like a bird, flapping down to his shoulder; he turned it into three scarves, sailed them around his head, then held them up to show that they were mysteriously knotted together. All the while he sang, snatches of a long wailing elven war chant, bits and pieces of Deverry ballads, and fragments of songs in some guttural tongue that Jill thought might have been dwarven. After a few minutes he switched to doing stunts with silver coins – again, just standard trickster’s fare. He wanted to impress upon the crowd that he was only a showman and nothing more, to plant in their minds the idea that there had to be a rational explanation for everything he did.
Finally, when they were starting to get restless, Salamander flung up his arms and sent a glowing waterfall of many-coloured sparks high into the air. As it poured down in a double rainbow, the crowd shouted and surged closer, a sea of sweaty faces in the rippling light. With a howl of elven delight Salamander drifted great red and blue washes, shot with silver and gold, across the stage, then followed with miniature lightning bolts and thunder growls. On and on the show went, with bursting flowers of light in many colours and purple cascades, while the crowd sighed and gasped and Salamander alternately sang and joked. When Salamander announced that he was growing weary, the crowd threw another rain of coins, and most of these were silver with here and there a gold. After some juggling tricks with hens’ eggs, he gave another good display of real magic, then announced that this time he truly was weary and the show over. Still, a good many more coins came their way.
As the crowd drifted away, still talking over the marvels they’d seen, one of the archon’s men – he had the city crest painted on his cheek – appeared to claim the official cut. While Jill rolled up the carpet and folded up the cloth-of-gold, Salamander sat down with the official near a brazier to count the haul.
‘That was the best show I’ve seen all year, wizard. Just how do you do it? Some kind of powder in those braziers?’
‘Oh, not at all. It’s all true magic, as taught in the barbarian kingdoms.’
‘Well, it’s not fair of me to pry into your secrets. It would only spoil the fun if I knew how the trick worked. But still, I’ll bet that handmaiden of yours is scattering all sorts of chemicals across the stage when everyone’s watching you juggle. I see that robe of yours has got good deep sleeves, too.’
Salamander merely smiled, but the Wildfolk scowled and stuck out their tongues, as if wondering how the man could be so blind.
They’d racked up so much coin that Salamander gloated all the way back to the inn. Once they were up in their chamber, he danced around, humming elven melodies and dancing in the elven way, head thrown back, arms up rigid by his shoulders, as he swayed and jigged through the piles of props on the floor. Jill had to laugh with him.
‘You love it,’ she said. ‘All those adoring female eyes looking up at you.’
‘Of course.’ He stopped, panting a little for breath. ‘Here, O beauteous barbarian handmaid, grab a handful of those coins and go buy us a jug of wine, will you? The Great Krysello is fired with thirst, and we shall celebrate the success of our ruse.’
Yet once the wine was fetched and poured, she found herself thinking of Rhodry again, wondering if he were safe, and if he would ever forgive her even if they did manage to rescue him.
‘You’re brooding again,’ Salamander said abruptly. ‘It’s not going to do one rotten bit of good.’
‘Oh I know, but I don’t have any elven blood, and so I can’t be heartless.’
‘What a nasty tongue! Here, if I were truly heartless, would I be running all over Bardek looking for Rhodry?’
‘You wouldn’t. Ah, forgive me – I’m sorry. I’m just all to pieces.’
‘Of course.’ He picked up the jug and frowned into it. ‘Almost empty. In a bit I’ll go buy more, but first we’ll drink this up. That way, if the shop is closed or I break my neck on the landlord’s unsafe stairs, at least we’ll have enjoyed the final cup. That’s the elven way, Jill, and is it truly heartless, to enjoy today when no man knows what evil the morrow will bring him?’
‘It’s not. I should be thankful that Rhodry and I had as many good times as we did, even if he heaps scorn on me when we meet.’
‘He’s not going to scorn you! Hum, I see from your dark look that if I go on talking, you’re going to strangle me, which would be a great hindrance to our plans. The Great Krysello shall make the supreme sacrifice and hold his tongue.’
Since they’d been stopping in every town and village, it had taken Zandar’s caravan several weeks to work its way to the city of Daradion, on the southern tip of Bardektinna. From there, Rhodry learned, they were going to take one of the special caravan barges, more cattle-boat than sailing ship, across to the island of Martinna and their home city of Danmara. As they arrived at the harbour town just before sunset, they camped outside the north gates in a public campground to wait until the gates opened again in the morning. Although the campground was deserted when they rode up, while they were tethering out the stock a small caravan joined them, among them a young man, expensively