I was, of course, behind mirrored surfaces, indeed, within an intersection of such surfaces, in one of the niches. The joining of the mirrors, facing outwards, was concealed by a narrow freestanding decorative pole, from which plantings might be hung, which pole, thanks to Boots, was now somewhat recessed in the niche. The casual observer would take the mirrored surfaces of the two opposite walls for a single, solid surface, that well behind the pole, at the back of the niche. The recessing of the pole, with the joining of the mirrors behind it, made it impossible, because of the angles involved, for an observer to see his own reflection in the mirrors unless, of course, he were to come into the niche itself.

The hallway now seemed quiet. I could hear shouting in the distance. I slipped from the bores I wore. Those in the search parties would presumably be looking for a fellow in merchants' robes, yellow and white, perhaps even of a Turian cut or fashion, and sewn with silver. Beneath the merchants' robes I wore that uniform seemingly of an officer of Brundisium. In a city the size of Brundisium, in an hour of confusion and tumult, with soldiers rushing about, coming and going with orders and reports, with agents sometimes in uniform and sometimes not, I did not expect to be easily recognized. Too, I had gathered that many of the courtiers, scions of an ilk not signally noted for its valor, those who had seen me in the hall, had perhaps managed to resist the temptation to join heartily in a search which might be not without its dangers. Better, perhaps, they might reason, to hold themselves boldly in reserve, in their own quarters, sternly readying themselves to sally forth if needed, immediately upon the behest of their ubar. In the meantime, of course, they could keep themselves abreast of the latest news. I prepared to step forth into the hall. With luck I might even be able to commandeer a few soldiers, to form my own search party. That seemed a good way to go almost anywhere. Who knew where that rascal, Bosk, of Port Kar, might be?

I poked my head warily out of my hiding place. The corridor was empty. I stepped boldly forth. I did pause long enough to move the mirrors about a bit, setting them apart from one another. In this fashion a supervisor of cleaning slaves tidying the hall, his whip on his wrist, puzzled by them, by their presence in this place, might have them removed to various individuals' quarters or have them stored somewhere. In a moment or two I was striding boldly along the hall. I could still hear the shouting in the distance. Too, from outside the palace, from the prison area, and from various parts of the city, I could hear the ringing of alarm bars.

"Hold!" cried a guardsman, one of two, at this post on one of the long, arching, graceful, railess, narrow bridges interlaced among the towers of Brundisium. Such bridges are a feature of many Gorean cities. They are easy to defend and serve to link various towers at various levels, towers which in a time of attack or siege may serve on given levels or in isolation, if the defenders choose to block or destroy the bridges, as independent keeps, each an almost impregnable, well-stocked fortress in its own right. In Brundisium there were eleven such towers.

In many of the high cites there are many more. In Ar, for example, there are hundreds. Other than in their military significance, of course, such bridges tend to be quite beautiful and, functionally, serve to divide the cities into a number of convenient levels. Many Gorean cities, in effect, are tiered cities. Gorean urban architecture, in the high cities, tends to be not so much a matter of flat, spreading, concentric horizontal rings, as in many cities, as a matter of towers and tiered levels, linked by soaring, ascendant traceries. The security-mindedness of Brundisium, incidentally, was manifested also in the tarn wire strung among its towers, extending down in many cases to lower rooftops and even the walls. Such wire can be quite dangerous. It can cut the head or wings from a descending tarn. It is usually strung only in times of clear municipal peril, as when, for example, the city may be expecting an attack or is under siege. If all went well I hoped to be able to use it in my plans.

"Out of the way, fellow!" I said.

"You cannot pass," said he. "This is the bridge to the private apartments of Belnar!"

"We search for Bosk of Port Kar," I informed him.

"I have not seen him," said the man.

"Do not be to sure of that," I said.

"You cannot pass," he said.

"Surely you are aware of the urgency of this search?" I said.

"Of course," said he.

"Step aside," I said.

"I may not do so," he protested.

"Surely you have heard of the fellow's mysterious escape from the palace below?"

"Yes," he said.

"Who knows where he might be?" I asked.

"He is right," volunteered the fellow's companion.

"But this bridge leads to the private apartments of Belnar," said the man.

"And is not that the last place one would expect to find Bosk of Port Kar?" I inquired.

"Perhaps," said the man.

"What better place then for such a cunning rascal to take refuge?" I asked.

"He is perhaps right," said the fellow's companion.

The man's face turned white.

"It is there then that I intend to search," I said.

"Pass," he said. I then trod meaningfully past him, followed, single file, by some five foot soldiers I had ordered to accompany me, fellows I had found mustered within the palace walls, near the east gate, awaiting orders. I saw some fires below, off to the right in the city. I did not know if these had been precipitated in the possible confusion attendant on the ringing of the alarm bars or if they might have been set by escaped prisoners, perhaps as a diversion, perhaps to cover their flight or to distract men from their pursuit, perhaps even turning them to more pressing tasks.

"Wait here," I said to my men, near the entrance to the balcony garden outside the apartments of Belnar. I then proceeded to the paling of the gate outside the garden. "I have information for the ubar," I said.

"He is not to be disturbed," said the man. "He is in seclusion."

"I know the location of Bosk of Port Kar," I said.

"Enter," he said, "swiftly."

I was ushered through the garden now, the foliage black in the shadows, silvery in the moonlight. It occurred to me that in such a garden there would be many places to hide. It might be reached, too, I supposed, by climbing the ornate exterior of the tower. I myself, however, would not have cared to do so. The bridges served very well for me, and I had a simpler exit in mind. Also, of course, it would be patrolled. "Tiding of Bosk of Port Kar," said my guide to the fellows at the household door.

I waited there while these fellows consulted further guards within. Moonlight glinted on swaying tarn wire overhead. "You may return to your post," I told my guide. He withdrew. I then signaled to my men, a few yards beyond the gate, raising my arm. They entered the area. "Examine the garden," I said. It would not hurt, I speculated, to keep them busy. Too, it might make me seem a more efficient officer. Too, my men might expect this sort of thing. As far as they knew, not the fellow at the gate, they were supposed to be looking for Bosk of Port Kar, a fellow in the yellow and white robes of the merchants. The fellow at the gate was free to suppose that they might be scouting about for some other reason, doubtless escaped prisoners. Some, after all, might be about, though, to be sure, up here, it was not very likely.

"Enter," said a man within.

I stepped within. "I have tidings for Belnar," I said. "They pertain to the fellow, Bosk of Port Kar."