The Fourth Book Of Lost Swords : Farslayer's Story (Saberhagen's Lost Swords 4)

by Fred Saberhagen

“And then?”

  “All I know is that the Sword was suddenly there—in my father’s back.” The lady closed her eyes. “As if it had come out of nowhere, through the grotto’s wall somehow. And in that instant my father let out a cry, and fell—of course he was killed instantly.”

  Lady Megara opened her eyes again and stared at the wall. When her silence had lasted for a few moments Chilperic prodded her, gently but insistently: “What happened next?”

  “Next?” Her blank gaze turned on him. “I—I don’t know. I saw Father dead, and after that I can remember nothing more.” Suddenly Megara burst out: “Who else was slain that night?”

  “We’ve talked about that before, Aunt Meg. Don’t you remember?”

  “Not really. Tell me again.”

  Hissarlik, somewhat reluctantly, began to run through the roll call of defunct relatives. To Megara, who listened to the list as if she were mesmerized, the extended roster of casualties seemed to present a generalized horror, though for some reason not a particularly acute one. Chilperic got the impression that she was listening for some name and had not heard it.

  When the listing was over, she commented simply: “So many on our side were killed, then.”

  “I fear that is so,” said her nephew calmly. Whatever grief and horror he might have felt on that night had evidently been exchanged over the past month for fear and worry. Only his craving for revenge had been retained unaltered.

  “And what of the enemy?” Megara’s voice grew cold and implacable. “Who among them have we killed?”

  Hissarlik, taking turns with Anselm and Alicia who had now come to join the others in the sickroom, recited the names of those they had personally called on Farslayer to strike down, and the other enemy names they had heard called out by relatives who were now dead themselves. The listing sounded quite as long as that of the Senones casualties. When it was over, Megara seemed to relax a bit, apparently slumping back toward unconsciousness.

  “Now leave me.” It sounded very much like an order, though her voice was weak. “Now I would sleep.”

  In a moment, Tigris, turned physician again, was ushering Chilperic and the others out.

  * * *

  Chilperic had to admit that he had learned almost nothing of any value in the sickroom. And now there was nothing left for him to do, except to take the decisive step he had been vainly trying to put off. Back in his room alone he went through the few simple steps required to summon the demon.

  From an inner pocket of his clothing he drew out the demon’s life, caught and trapped in leather by some tricks of wizardry that were as far, or farther, beyond him as the healing skills of the physician. But to use the thing that Wood had given him was simple enough. Stroking the little wallet with his fingers, Chilperic muttered the short formula of summoning.

  Then he waited, standing with his eyes almost closed, for the unspeakable presence to approach once more and establish itself inside his room.

  He waited, but nothing happened.

  The summoning was finished. He was sure that he had done it properly. Time stretched on, one breath after another, and still the demon did not appear.

  Presently Tigris, her healing chores evidently completed for the time being, tapped at his door and came in as silently as she had done before, closing the door immediately behind her. When she saw Chilperic standing with the leather wallet in his hand, she had no need to ask what he was doing.

  With Tigris watching him expressionlessly, Chilperic frowned, and rubbed again at his leather wallet, and once more uttered the proper words. He took great care to get the incantation right, rounding each syllable of it distinctly.

  But still there came no response from Rabisu. Something was definitely wrong.

  Fortunately for himself, Chilperic was not a man who panicked easily. To the best of his quite limited ability, he scanned the air and earth and water around him, seeking evidence of the demon’s presence, or of any interfering magic. He could find neither.

  “I sense no opposition,” murmured Tigris, who was evidently doing the same thing, at a level of skill doubtless much higher than his.

  Chilperic sighed and nodded. So, he thought to himself, what game was this? Perhaps the creature had been called away by some direct command from Wood. Chilperic thought that unlikely, but what other explanation could there be?

  In a little while Tigris, having made no comment, left him, saying that she wanted to look in again on her patient. Chilperic was still sitting alone in his room, wondering when to try the summoning again, unable to think of anything else to try, when a servant came to his door bearing a message from Hissarlik.

  “My master’s compliments, sir, and would you care to attend him in the great hall? Some men have arrived, claiming to be mercenaries looking for employment, and the Tyrant Hissarlik would like to consult with you on how best to deal with them.”

  * * *

  Descending to what was optimistically called the great hall, Chilperic found lamps being lighted against the gathering dusk. Hissarlik was established in a tall chair that evidently served him as a seat of state. Two men, both strangers to Chilperic, were facing the clan chief. One of these visitors, a powerful-looking brute, was standing almost at attention, while the other, taller and much leaner, had seated himself on a table with one foot on the floor, a disrespectful position to say the least. Signs of the military profession were much in evidence in the dress and attitude of both.

  The taller stranger stood up from the table when Chilperic entered, and in a moment had introduced himself as Captain Koszalin, commander, as he said, of his own free and honorable company of adventurers. Koszalin was youthful, certainly well under thirty years of age; lean, almost emaciated, with a haggard look as if perhaps he did not sleep well. His stocky comrade was his sergeant.

  With Chilperic now standing at the Tyrant’s right hand and giving the newcomers a stern look, Hissarlik was ready to speak out boldly from his tall chair.

  He addressed Koszalin. “Well then, fellow, what use do you think you can be to us here?”

  Chilperic got the impression that the youthful captain was totally unimpressed by this other youth who claimed hereditary power. But Koszalin, who appeared now to be making an effort to be pleasant, scratched his uncombed head and addressed the Tyrant.

  “Why, sir, it’s like this. I hear that you’re on no great terms of friendship with those people across the water, the ones who call themselves Malolo.” When Koszalin shifted his glance to Chilperic, his voice, perhaps unconsciously, grew more respectful. “Nor are you, sir, I suppose.”

  Chilperic was gradually becoming certain that these were a couple of the same mercenary scoundrels who had been hanging around the Malolo manor intermittently when he had visited there. He had had only the briefest contact with any of them then, but now he could not help wondering whether some of them might recognize him. He would have to make sure of that as soon as possible.

  “Ah,” said Hissarlik to the captain. “So you’ve had some contact with the Malolo, have you?”

  “Damned unfriendly contact.” The commander of the honorable company, wiry muscles working in a hairy forearm, scratched his head again; Chilperic wondered if he was going to have to ask Tigris for a minor spell to repel boarders. Koszalin went on: “Well sir, I’ll tell you the exact truth. Their new chief over there, name of Bonar, said that he wanted to hire myself and my men, and then he refused to pay us. Reneged on a deal, he did. Promised pearls and then wouldn’t give us nothing. We can’t make our living on deals like that. I’ve got thirty men in my company to look after, men who look up to me like I was their father. You, sir, being a real chief yourself, will understand that kind of responsibility.” The last remark was ostensibly addressed to Hissarlik, but with the words the speaker’s eyes turned briefly to Chilperic to include him.

  Chilperic supposed it was time he took an active part in the questioning. “When was this reneging, as you call it?”

  “That’s wh
at anyone would call it, sir. It was just a couple of days ago. So, my men and I have decided to see if we can find a better reception on this side of the water.”

  Chilperic turned his stare briefly on the second mercenary, the powerful sergeant, who straightened up to a position even closer to military attention, but still had nothing to say.

  “Well,” said Chilperic to Koszalin, “suppose we do hire you. It would have to be on a trial basis. To begin with I’d expect to hear a good deal from you regarding conditions over there in the Malolo camp. We know a good bit already, mind you, and I’d expect what you told us to match in every detail with what we know already. Stand up when you’re in this room, I didn’t hear anyone offer you a seat.”

  Koszalin, who had begun to relax himself casually onto the table again, hurriedly straightened up. If he was upset by the sudden order, he gave no sign of it. Yes, undoubtedly a veteran soldier, even if his promotion to captain was quite likely self-awarded. “We could tell you a lot about them, sir. If we can reach a deal, that is, and if you can pay us something adequate on account.”

  “Very well.” Chilperic made a motion with his head. “You and the sergeant wait outside now. We must discuss this matter first.”

  Koszalin saluted and turned, with his sergeant moving a step behind him.

  Chilperic and Hissarlik were left alone. They were on the point of beginning their discussion when Aunt Megara, looking grim and pale, and dressed in a pale robe with a kind of turban wound round her head, surprised them by appearing in a doorway.

  “Who were those men?” she demanded, sounding to Chilperic like one who might be ready to assume control.

  Hissarlik explained to his aunt. He sounded ready to defend the power he had already taken.

  Tigris, who entered close behind her patient, explained in a whisper to Chilperic that Aunt Megara was making good progress though she was still weak, and she had insisted on starting to get about.

  “What did those men want?” Tigris added.

  Chilperic explained. He was basically in favor of hiring the mercenaries, and told Tigris as much. He added that he privately intended to secure such loyalty as Koszalin and his men might be capable of for the cause of the Dark Master, Wood.

  “Of course,” Tigris agreed. “They don’t appear very effective, but I suppose there’s no one better available.”

  Chilperic nodded. “Soon I’ll take Koszalin aside and speak to him.”

  Hissarlik now joined their conference, apparently without suspicion. He was also in favor of hiring Koszalin and his men, believing rightly or wrongly that they would be tougher and more reliable than his own militia when it came to combat. From what the clan chief said, it was plain that he envisioned another and final assault on the Malolo, with or without the Sword, defeating the ancient enemies of his house once and for all.

  The Lady Megara listened to the discussion among the other three, and took some part in it herself. To Chilperic, observing carefully, it seemed that she was not so much interested in the question of hiring the mercenaries as she was in finding an opportunity to talk to them, once she learned they came from the south bank of the river.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Presently the mercenary officer and his sergeant were summoned back into the house. This time Chilperic pointedly invited Koszalin to sit down.

  With Chilperic doing most of the talking, Bonar in his tall chair, and Megara standing by, an offer of employment was made to the mercenaries. Modest terms of payment were agreed upon, with the proviso that bonuses would be awarded later in the event actual combat became necessary.

  When the agreement had been sealed with a round of handshakes, and the payment of a small handful of coin brought up from some subterranean Senones treasury, the Senones and Chilperic began to question the captain further.

  Yes, of course, Koszalin said, everyone over on the Malolo side of the river had been talking about the Sword of great magical powers, with which last month’s battle had been fought. And the people over there were all wondering where Farslayer might be. But in fact little effort was actually being made to find it.

  “Then,” asked Chilperic, “is it possible that the Malolo secretly have Farslayer hidden?”

  “It’s hard to say that anything’s impossible, sir, as you know. But I don’t think so.”

  Koszalin went on to add that the Malolo now generally thought that Farslayer was over here on the Senones side of the river.

  “Well, it isn’t,” said Hissarlik. “And if it’s not here and it’s not there, where in all the hells is it?”

  Naturally no one had an answer for that.

  After a time, when odors of food preparation started to waft into the great hall, Hissarlik in a whispered conference with his new vizier asked whether the officer ought perhaps be invited to dine with the family tonight. Chilperic whispered back that he thought not.

  Arrangements were made to feed the mercenary captain and his men outside. Before Koszalin and Sergeant Shotoku went out, they were instructed by Chilperic to make their encampment somewhere outside the grounds of Senones manor. They were also ordered sternly to refrain from bothering any of the local people.

  * * *

  In the morning, Chilperic awakened alone in his room, feeling reasonably well rested.

  The first order of business was to try the demon-summoning again. The ritual was no more effective than before. Well, there was nothing to be done about it except to try to obtain the Sword without the demon’s help; and Chilperic had to admit that he would feel a certain relief if the damned creature was really gone for good.

  Descending from his room, he bypassed for the moment the great hall, where something in the way of breakfast would be served, and walked out alone into the misty morning to see how events were progressing in the matter of the mercenaries.

  He soon located the small encampment, which had been established near running water as he expected. The captain, up early, came to greet him. Surveying the small handful of tents and shelters, Chilperic remarked to Koszalin: “You said last night that you had thirty men.”

  The other’s mouth changed shape. Perhaps you could have called its new shape a smile. “Some of my men are out on patrol, sir. You see, we’re already at work.”

  “Commendable enthusiasm,” Chilperic responded dryly. “Well, until I see them back here, and have a chance to count them for myself, I won’t call upon you to do any jobs that might require thirty men.”

  “Yes sir. That’s a good idea.”

  Chilperic started to say something sharp, then bit the words back. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he extracted a small flask from a pocket, helped himself to a swig, and passed it over without comment.

  Koszalin sniffed the flask, and then drank, politely limiting himself to a couple of swallows. “Ah,” he said in tones of reverence. “That’s something good, I’d say.”

  “I’d say so, too. Now understand me, Captain. You can tell what stories you want to that boy up in the big house, and his relatives. You can claim to have a hundred heavy cavalry at your command, and they might even believe it. But when you deal with me, I expect to hear the truth, and I can usually tell the difference. Got that?”

  “ ’Sir,” acknowledged Koszalin, and passed the flask back with evident reluctance. He belched, almost silently. He looked at Chilperic, evidently reassessing him.

  At last he said: “All right, sir. What I’ve really got is ten men now. Yesterday morning I had twelve, but two of ’em disappeared somewhere.”

  “Ten men I can believe. Understand me, now. You should do what the Tyrant Hissarlik says, unless I tell you to do something different. But between you and me, I’m the one who’s really going to be giving you orders.”

  Koszalin demurred. “There’s a certain matter of payment, sir. The payment I received did come from the Tyrant, as far as I know.”

  “You mean that trifle they gave you? I’ll double that for you right now.” And Chilperic pulled out his purse
. After a quick glance around, making sure they were not observed, he handed over a small amount of gold.

  Koszalin, expressionless, received the bribe and evaluated it as quickly and neatly as it was given. When it had vanished into one of his inner pockets, he assumed a position of attention. “Standing by for orders, sir,” he announced. Suddenly military formality and intelligence had appeared.

  “Good. Come, take a little walk with me.”

  Bawling an order to his sergeant to take charge of the camp for the time being, the captain readily enough joined Chilperic for a stroll through the misty woods, where it seemed probable that they could converse without being heard.

  In the course of this talk Chilperic soon heard about the four strange people who had recently arrived at Malolo Manor and established themselves there as unexpected but welcome guests. This was news to Chilperic, and he pricked up his ears at once.

  “Two of them are pilgrims, or at least they’re wearing gray,” Koszalin amplified. “A young man, who’s a good shot with a bow, and an old lady. Never heard her name, but she knows how to give orders.”

  “Oh?” This sounded very much to Chilperic like the pair he had heard described by the hermit. And the time assigned by Koszalin for their arrival at Malolo Manor fit with that identity.

  “Then, the next day, or night rather, two more men showed up. I don’t know just how they got into the house. I thought we were watching both doors at the time.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Yes sir. Two more new arrivals who obviously know the first two. Both of them look like real fighters—probably some kind of officers, I’d say. And, you should know this, one of them is wearing a Sword.”

  Chilperic, surprised, frowned at the captain. “What do you mean, a sword?”

  “What I mean is he’s got one of the Twelve strapped on. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Do you know what you’re saying? Which Sword?”

  “You can rely on it that I know what I’m saying—sir. I’ve seen them before. Which Sword this is I don’t know, except it can’t be Farslayer that everybody’s already looking for. Because everybody over there still thinks that one’s over here.”