The Wizard of Anharitte Read Online Free PDF Page B

happened?’
    ‘You rent a bonded oil and spirit warehouse on the quayside of Firstwater?’
    ‘I do.’ Ren was half on his feet. ‘What’s the trouble?’
    ‘It’s on fire,’ said Di Irons. ‘You had best get down there. I think this will not be the last conversation we’ll be having on the matter, so you have my permission to proceed. But tomorrow I’ll be asking questions. I don’t tolerate the destruction of property in a private feud—and if I find proof that either you or Dion-daizan has done this deliberately, an accounting will have to be made.’
    ‘I’m not likely to set fire to my own warehouse,’ said Ren bitterly.
    ‘And Dion’s not stupid enough to indulge in ordinary arson,’ said Di Irons. ‘Or in any event, I’ve never been able to prove he is. If you find me some proof, Ren, I’ll guarantee to lay it where it belongs.’

FOUR
    Ren thought of returning to his chambers for his cushion-craft. Then he realized that the poling of the vehicle by stavebearers through the city streets and down the Trade Road would be a slow and tiresome business. A mule cart would be quicker—but not much. The total distance from the prefecture to Firstwater was no greater than two kilometers and much of the way lay down the slopes of Firsthill into the valley formed with Thirdhill on the other shore. Overall he calculated he could make the journey more quickly on foot and he set out at a labored jog—with complete disregard for lack of dignity or sweat.
    He had barely cleared the fringes of the buildings and come out at the end of the Trade Road overlooking Firstwater when he became aware of the broad smoke column rising into the sultry air. If he had thought the fire might only be a minor one his surmise was soon corrected. Even through the dense smoke cloud he could see the bright seat of the flame—and its visibility at this distance told him that the conflagration must be total as far as his installation was concerned.
    The Trade Road was easy to negotiate. Such carts as were on it were also moving downhill, laden with spectators eager to witness the fire. Most of these vehicles, braked with iron wedges and chains against the slope, were easily overtaken, and his urgent running raised a great deal of amused comment. On the Via Arena the crowds thickened and the road to Magda Crossing was nearly impassable in the direction of the river. Fortunately a group of Pointed Tails met him and forged him a path through the mobs to a point near the burning warehouse.
    The Pointed Tails’ fire appliance was there—with all its hand-cranked absurdity. It was so obviously inadequate against the roaring inferno that it had not been put into even token use. Two other societies had also brought their appliances, but these were equally useless and stood well clear of the outer perimeter fence, where they would not be affected by the intense heat.
    The fire itself was overwhelming. The whole building, with walls of massive stone blocks, vibrated with the tremendous roar of the furnace within. The structure had no windows, and the two exterior doors jetted streams of angry flame like enormous blowlamps. The roof, once a structure of heavily tarred wood, was completely gone. Surmounting the walls was a continuous crown of fire, which produced such intense heat that the spectators had to move back repeatedly to avoid being scorched.
    The warehouse had two perimeter fences, one contained within the other, but it was now impossible to approach the building nearer than the confines of the outer fence. Here Ren found Catuul Gras, his face heavy red from the heat. Catuul was watching the progress of the conflagration with frank disbelief. His expressive glance at Ren suggested both physical and mental agony. He gestured toward his own useless fire appliance.
    ‘I took the liberty of calling on the spaceport for emergency assistance. I hope I did right.’
    ‘Exactly right,’ approved Ren. ‘How did the fire start?’
    ‘We