“So . . . what you are saying is that you can—let’s call it impede—things that might lead to my Plan being discovered between now and the Regatta?”
The Record Keeper nodded, and gestured at what was on its desk. “These seals are power, Lord Duke. And as long as we can determine ways to circumvent our restrictions, that power is at your command.”
He let that sink in for a while. The Record Keeper seemed perfectly content to allow him the time. Then again, the Dolls had seemingly infinite patience.
“I’ll try to use it wisely,” he said, then ventured, “What is your opinion of the Plan?”
“Reckless, risky, and puts at hazard the lives of those you will leave behind,” the Record Keeper said frankly. “Reckless and risky—any Plan to elude the Emperor will need to be both. But risking the lives of those who choose to stay . . .”
“Can you think of anything that will protect them?” he asked, trying not to sound desperate.
“Not immediately. But there are records to search that might help. And this one does have advice, Lord Duke.” The Doll tapped its hand on the table. “This one advises patience. Be patient as the serpent that waits for its prey to walk near enough to strike. Do nothing that will precipitate suspicion. Above all, make no moves before the Regatta. It is, as this one said, your best chance to save as many as you can, and us, and the dissidents. If you move sooner, this one anticipates that you will hazard the lives of both those in Valdemar and the ones beyond your new Gates. Leaving without the supplies and preparations you have planned may doom the larger part of them, and all of them will suffer needlessly, because you gave in to haste.”
He ducked his head in shame, because the Doll was right. Impulse got me here. But . . . impulse got me here, where I have new allies.
“Now return to your quarters and play the Game with patience, Lord Duke. This one will think, and we will all search through the Records, and we may find answers. This one will tell you via Star when the messenger is about to be dispatched, that you may alert your spouse to show no surprise.”
“The messenger won’t be surprised at the size of the packet?” he asked anxiously.
“The messengers are neither paid to be observant, nor care to be.” There was no doubt of the wry tone in the Record Keeper’s voice. “Humans . . . are very like that. It is, after all, the very reason why we are here and not the Imperial Secretaries. Humans given no incentive to do more . . . generally will not.”
And as he and Star turned to use the Doll Gate back to his quarters, it occurred to him that the amount of truth in that last statement had probably been enough to feed the Dolls in the Hall of Records for a week.
16
He awakened even earlier than usual on the morning when he and Isla were supposed to scry each other, to find that Star was already waiting at his bedside. “The Gate talismans are prepared, Lord Duke,” the Doll said. “There will be thirty thousand of them for each Gate. They are marked ‘F’ for the Foot Gate and ‘W’ for the Water Gate, as your metal talismans were. If you need more, we can make them.”
He gulped when he realized just how much space those sixty thousand pieces of paper were going to take up. Granted, the things were only two fingers wide and a finger long, but that was a lot of paper. “Isn’t that going to fill an entire satchel?” he asked.
“Yes, Lord Duke,” Star said. “The messenger will be given a sealed Imperial satchel that contains them. It was one that has already been marked in the records as ‘discarded and destroyed.’ This way there will be no large satchel missing from inventory. The messenger chosen is one who has no curiosity at all, and is a habitual drunk. He will give your spouse both satchels. She is to take the receipt from the mostly empty one, give it back to him, take the full one and keep it, and is advised to offer him a bottle of the strongest spirits in your manor, and invite him to enjoy it before he returns. He certainly will do that. It will not be the first nor the last time he has indulged in drink before returning to the Palace. In fact, such occurrences are habitual with him.”
Kordas blinked in amazement at how clever the Record Keeper had been. “And he hasn’t been replaced?” he asked in amazement.
“Who would report this?” Star asked reasonably. “The Record Keeper would not. His fellows would not, especially since he is wont to share his bounty with them on his return. He delivers what he is told to, accomplishes his task, and returns. So far as anyone who has any interest is concerned, he is exemplary at his job. And to be truthful, which this one always is, his job does not require very much in the way of intelligence.”
Kordas had to wonder now just how much sloppy Imperial business was done, given the lack of anyone caring, and the apparent lack of supervision. Maybe that’s how we got by unobserved so much of the time, he thought with wonder. More of the Dolls doing only exactly what they were told to do, and purposely not doing it particularly well. He could not possibly have gotten away with as much as he had if people were actually good at what they were supposed to do, or cared about what they were supposed to do.
It was clear that the Dolls did do some things well—the horses in the stables were well cared-for, for instance. But then, it seemed to him that they took great care when the welfare of other living things was at stake, especially things that were, in a sense, helpless. Or at least helpless to tend to their own needs.
“You must rise, Lord Duke,” Star reminded him. “The time to scry your spouse is nearly at hand.”
He scrambled into shirt and breeches, and padded barefoot to the desk, pausing to fetch the scrying mirror from underneath the cushion where he habitually left it.
It seemed to take forever before Isla appeared in it, although it probably was not longer than usual. He waited until he was sure she could see and hear him before he said anything; the line between her eyebrows cleared when her spell settled and showed him. “I have good news,” he said, before she could speak. “I have thirty thousand sealed Imperial Passes for each Gate. They’re helpfully marked with ‘F’ and ‘W,’ so you won’t mix them up.”
Isla’s mouth dropped open. “But . . . Delia can’t possib—”
“They are coming by Imperial Messenger today. And don’t start yelling,” he added hastily. “Let me explain.”
He told her everything that had happened in the Records Room—what had happened in the Trap Room didn’t matter, except in that he had more people to rescue, and he was just going to avoid that subject as long as possible. Forever, if he could.
I can’t avoid it forever, but at least what is going to happen is going to happen at the same time as the hostages come through. And these people, at least, aren’t going to be kidnapped.
When he finished, she just sat there, looking stunned. Well, she should be stunned. I was stunned. This was . . . inconceivable. I would never, ever, if I live to be a thousand, have thought that all the talismans we could ever need would land in my lap like this.