The Warlock's Companion wisoh-9

by Christopher Stasheff

  Whitey stared. "Millionaire Hanash? The one who built the Ceres Center? The one who has all the filthy rich tourists paying him through the nose to lie back in their loungers and watch the asteroids fly by overhead? That Cornelius Hanash?"

  "The same," the captain answered, "and the records show he was thinking of setting up a branch on Homestead, had even bought a major hunk of bare rock there. But he ran low on cash, and got behind on his payments."

  "But how did—how did squashing Homestead…" Lona broke off, trying to swallow her tears.

  "Insurance," the captain explained. "He had that hunk of real estate insured for the full value of the hotel he 'planned' to build there. When the dome blew, Farland's had to pay—and it was enough to pay off his debts on the Ceres operation."

  "But how did he know we were…" Whitey stopped, frowning. "I didn't exactly make it a secret that we were going out to Homestead, did I?"

  "No, and even I heard the gossip that some nut was trying to get into the blown generator on the asteroid. Hanash was bound to hear it, with all the connections he has in Sector Hall—and he knew what you'd find."

  "Death," Lona whispered. "Death for a hundred thousand people—and Mommy and Daddy."

  Then the tears broke. Finally. And Whitey held her and comforted her, and waited for the storm to pass, glad that she could finally grieve, could finally put the past where it belonged.

  Cordelia wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and tucked her hanky away with a sniffle. "Oh, she was a brave lass!"

  "She was indeed—and, although she did not live happily ever after, most of her life was delightful. The rest was only exciting."

  "If 'twas as exciting as her childhood, she did ne'er grow bored," Magnus opined.

  "He was a brave man, this Whitey." Geoffrey's eyes glowed. "Valiant."

  "I cannot help but agree—though I must say he never sought danger. Still, he had a way of attracting it."

  "Oh, praise Heaven thou didst hear of such as they!" Gregory breathed. "Even through all thy years with the miner, though couldst know folk could be good!"

  "Aye, what of that miner?" Geoffrey frowned. "How didst thou come to be free of him?"

  "By death, wood-pate!" Magnus aimed a slap at his brother's head. "How else could one be free of such a louse?"

  Geoffrey blocked the blow easily and slapped back to score as he said, "I could think of an hundred ways, with a club at the beginning, and poison at the end."

  "Geoffrey! I trust you jest!" Fess said, shocked. "No, in point of fact, I was freed from him as a result of his own moral turpitude."

  "Turp… what?" Gregory asked.

  "Turpitude, Gregory—doing wrong without compunction. He exhibited this quality when he received a distress signal from a group of castaways and sought to pass them by, since he perceived no likelihood of immediate gain or pleasure from them."

  "The dastard!" Cordelia gasped. "Had he no respect for humankind, then?"

  "None," Fess confirmed. "He would cheerfully have left them to die, and never thought twice of it."

  "Yet thou wouldst not permit it?"

  "I could not. My program dictates that human life is of greater importance than human convenience—and saving lives was more important than my owner's whim. So I turned the ship aside and picked them up, containing them within the airlock. Once they were aboard. I persuaded my owner to permit them to come into the ship itself.''

  " 'Persuaded'!" Geoffrey cried triumphantly. "Thou didst not disobey!"

  "I did disobey my owner, by rescuing the fugitives—but he sought to break the law."

  "And thou didst obey the law!"

  "I did," Fess agreed.

  "Was there no other time when thou didst disobey?"

  "There was," Fess admitted, "for I soon perceived that the castaways had excellent qualities of mutual assistance and support; but my owner had received a broadcast identifying them as fugitives from governmental forces, and offering a reward for information leading to their capture. Since the fugitives had not contributed to his gratification, he attempted to use them as coin to buy it."

  "As coin?" Geoffrey frowned. "How can one use people to buy with?"

  "There is slavery," Fess answered, "and I am certain that the only reason my second owner did not descend to such depths, is that he lacked the opportunity. But he was not averse to attempting to collect bounty on fugitives when the chance presented itself. Accordingly, he ordered me to transmit a signal to Ceres Station, notifying the authorities of the fugitives' presence—and I refused to do so."

  "Thou didst most thoroughly disobey, both thine owner and the law!"

  "Not quite," Fess demurred, "for I had reason to believe that the authorities in question were themselves violating the law."

  Geoffrey looked exasperated. If Fess said he "had reason to believe," then he had almost complete proof.

  "My owner activated a manual transmitter, though, and sent the signal."

  Cordelia frowned. "Was that not exceedingly dangerous?"

  "Aye," Geoffrey agreed, "and from what thou hast said, he hath not the sound of being a bold man—for would he not have valued his own welfare above all else?"

  "He did," Fess confirmed. "The fugitives in question, though, were scarcely dangerous. They were not criminals, but simply people who had expressed a disagreement of opinion with the party that was attempting to overthrow the government of the time. Since they were not dangerous in themselves, the miner showed no hesitation in betraying them to the assassins employed by that party."

  "The coward! The poltroon!" Geoffrey cried. "Had he no fellow-feeling in him at all?"

  "I suspect not. Certainly, he was not averse to attempting to collect bounty on the fugitives when the chance presented itself. Yet he did not know that he would gain a considerably greater amount than I was worth from the gentleman who purchased me from him."

  Geoffrey frowned. "Dost thou say these 'fugitives' did buy thee from him?"

  "Their leader did, yes."

  Cordelia frowned, too. "Yet wherefore did the wealthy gentleman purchase thee from the miner?"

  "Because he and his friends needed me and the burro-boat to carry them away from the assassins the miner had summoned."

  "How did he know the miner had called them up?"

  "I took the liberty of informing them."

  "Fess!" Geoffrey stared at him, scandalized. "Thou didst betray thine owner!"

  "I did," Fess said, without the slightest hesitation. "I have explained my reservations about the miner's character, children—but in only an hour's time, I had come greatly to respect the fugitives, and had realized that they were struggling to preserve liberty for all people. My program holds such liberty to be fundamental, equal in importance to my loyalty to my owner."

  Geoffrey frowned. "That hath an odd sound, in light of what thou hast told us of thy program aforetime."

  "It does seem anomalous," Fess admitted, "to the point that I suspect some error was made in my program, and only in mine. Nonetheless, this was the only instance in which such a conflict arose. Revealing the miner's report to the fugitives was consequently in accord with my program."

  "Thou hadst learned summat more of human folk than when thou didst guide an aircar, hadst thou not?"

  "Considerably more, and had come to realize as I have said, that there are qualities of goodness and badness in people."

  Gregory looked up, puzzled. "Yet thou art but a robot, or so thou wouldst have us believe. How canst thou know good from bad?"

  "Be mindful of my programming, children. To me, anything is 'good' if it is conducive to human life, liberty, or happiness, and anything is 'bad' if it is inimical to that life or happiness, or threatens liberty."

  "Yet strong drink would thereby be 'good,' " Geoffrey said.

  "I spoke of happiness, Geoffrey, not pleasure."

  Geoffrey shook his head. "I ken not the difference."

  "Nor did my second owner. But even acknowledging the difficulties of his situ
ation, I could not condone his behavior.''

  " 'Tis a wonder he did not scrap thee!"

  "He did not have the opportunity; for the chief of the fugitives secured his own safety, and that of his friends, by the simple expedient of abandoning the miner on a small asteroid, with a sufficiency of food, water, and shelter—and a beacon to summon assistance."

  "Why, how cruel!"

  "Not really; there was no doubt of a rescue well before the miner's supplies ran out."

  Geoffrey frowned. "Then why abandon him in so unlikely a place. Why not take him to a town?"

  "Because, if they had taken him to Ceres, the authorities would have arrested them. But if they marooned him, it would take several days for the rescue to arrive, which guaranteed their being able to vacate the vicinity safely."

  "Wherefore did they not slay him out of hand?" Geoffrey demanded.

  "Geoffrey!" Cordelia protested.

  But Fess admitted, "There was some sentiment in favor of such an action—but the fugitives' leader suggested the more humane alternative."

  "Only 'suggested?' " Geoffrey questioned. "Had he no authority, then?"

  "I do not know," Fess mused, "for the issue never arose. None of them contradicted him, when he spoke of action."

  "Thou dost mean they did not think to disobey." Geoffrey scowled. "Is this admirable?"

  "It is," said Fess, "when the commands are right."

  "But thou dost tell me naught!" Geoffrey cried. "Am I to disobey, or not?"

  "The issue is unclear, Fess," Gregory agreed.

  "You must decide for yourselves, children, and decide each case as it arises, not seek to abdicate your power of decision by imposing an inflexible rule."

  "Then give us a rule that is flexible," Magnus suggested.

  "Your parents have already done so."

  The children looked at each other, puzzled.

  "Doth he toy with us?" Geoffrey asked.

  "Nay," said Gregory, "for 'tis not in his nature."

  "His nature is to be loyal to his owner," Magnus said, "and that owner is Papa."

  Cordelia turned to stare at the back of Fess's head, beginning to feel angry. "Hast thou sold us, then?"

  "I have not," Fess answered, "and if you consider, you will find it so. If you seek to know whether or not to obey, I can only tell you the answer I have gained by experience: 'Obey, but be true to your programming.' "

  Geoffrey frowned. "What use is that to a flesh-and-blood person? What programming have we, to be true to?"

  "You will have to discover that for yourself, Geoffrey;" Fess answered. "That is a part of what adolescence is for."

  The children stared at him, trying to decide whether or not to be outraged.

  Then Magnus smiled. "Yet thou didst not know this when thou didst first awake, didst thou?"

  "I did not have subroutines for resolving conflicts between my program and the daily problems I encountered, no. But my program does allow for development of such subroutines."

  "And thou didst form these subroutines by contemplation of the events of which thou hast but now told us, didst thou not?"

  "That is an accurate statement, yes."

  "Then thou didst have an adolescence!" Cordelia crowed.

  "A period equivalent to human adolescence, yes. I am glad it pleases you to discover that, Cordelia."

  "Oh, we ever seek to learn from they who have gone o'er the road before us," Magnus said airily. "From whom didst thou learn to resolve such conflicts as these, Fess?"

  The robot was silent a moment, then said slowly, "I worked out my subroutines from principles contained in my basic program, Magnus. However, I did incorporate some concepts from one human being, who professed ideas that formed perfect loops, comparing present events to past events, enabling one to discern similarities and contrasts, and thereby judge the appropriate action to be taken."

  "And that person was?"

  "The leader of the fugitives."

  "Thy third owner?" Magnus stared. "How came he to have so great an impact on thee?"

  "Principally by the brilliance of his mind, Magnus—though he would have disclaimed such a statement. And the effects of his ideas were no doubt enhanced by his being the first of my owners to be a good human being."

  "I can credit that, from what thou hast said." Magnus frowned. "Who was he, this chief fugitive, this paragon?"

  "His name was Tod Tambourin, and he was scarcely a paragon, though certainly, at heart, a very good man."

  "Tod Tambourin!" Cordelia stared, aghast. "Dost thou mean this 'Whitey the Wino' of whom thou hast but now told us? He who aided his granddaughter out of the agony of her parents' death?"

  "The same," Fess confirmed.

  Gregory frowned. "Yet how doth he come to be the namesake of that other 'Tod Tambourin' thou hast taught us of, in our schoolroom?"

  "By the easiest of means—he was not the namesake, but the same man."

  Geoffrey's mouth dropped open, flabbergasted. "That Tod Tambourin? That weakling man of pen and ink? Him whom thou dost say was the greatest poet of the Terran sphere?"

  "That is not merely my opinion, children, but the consensus of Terran critics—and he was scarcely a weakling."

  "Yet 'tis he whose verses thou hast made us con by heart," Geoffrey objected, "whether we would or no."

  "Wast thou so reluctant, then?" Magnus jibed.

  Geoffrey frowned. "Not with 'The Rebels and the Admiral,' nay, nor with his 'Foc'sle Ballads.' Yet for his 'Decline and Fall of Liberty,' I've little use."

  "Nor I," Cordelia agreed, "yet I shall ever treasure his 'Young Wife's Rejoicing' and 'The Dandy's Courtship.' "

  "Thou wouldst," Geoffrey scoffed.

  "Every person who has read his verses has a favorite, children," Fess said quickly, forestalling mayhem, "though they frequently know not who wrote them. Yes, my third owner was Tod Tambourin. He gave me as a wedding present to his granddaughter, Lona, and I have served her family ever since."

  Magnus stared at Fess. "Thou dost not mean that we are of the blood of Tod Tambourin!"

  "You should not be so surprised," Fess chided. "Have you not found that, when your heart is light, you cannot keep from singing?"

  The children looked at one another in amazement.

  "But enough now, your parents call."

  "More, Fess. More of Tod Tambourin!" Cordelia pleaded. But the great horse shook his head, and led them toward Rod and Gwen, who waited under the shading tree.

  Chapter 4

  They came up the long, winding road to the castle just as the sun slipped below the horizon—and, though they had traveled east from their home, the road had wound its way around and around up the mountain, so that, as they looked up at the castle, the sunset was behind it—a blood-red sunset, making the castle appear black and ominous, brooding above them.

  Cordelia shivered. "It doth watch us, Papa."

  "Just an illusion, dear." Rod squeezed her against him—to hide his own shiver. "It's the angle of view. A pile of stones can't watch—it has no eyes to see with."

  "Yet it doth, Papa." Magnus's voice broke on the word, somewhat spoiling the effect of his tone—but he ignored it, frowning up at the castle with a scowl as dark as its own. "There is summat held there within those stones, that doth mark our approach."

  This time Rod let go of Cordelia to hide his shiver. There might indeed be a presence in the castle—on a planet where virtually everyone was a potential esper, you couldn't rule out anything. He glanced at Geoffrey, and even his hardening warrior-child was frowning, drawn-in and truculent, glaring at the castle as though it were an attacker—and Gregory was wide-eyed and pale.

  Rod turned to Gwen. "Do you feel it, too?"

  Gwen nodded, gaze fixed on the castle. "There is a sense of old misery there, milord—some ancestral curse that must needs be lifted."

  "Well, then, a family like ours is the one to lift it!" Rod squared his shoulders and strode ahead. "Come on, troops. How long has it been since
we've found a villain who could stand up to us?"

  He should have heard a cheer at his back, but he didn't. He risked a quick peek and found they were all following him, with, a sense of determination that he found more unnerving than reluctance would have been.

  "Are you sure this is wise, Rod?" Fess's voice said behind his ear.

  Rod noticed that the robot hadn't used human thought-frequency, which meant the rest of the family probably hadn't heard. He muttered back, "Of course not, Old Iron. Has that ever stopped me before?"

  The sky had darkened to dusk by the time they came up to the moat and saw just how dilapidated the castle was. A roof had fallen in, and some crenels were missing from the towers. Frost and thaw had prised several other blocks out of the northern wall, leaving a four-foot notch high at its top. As they watched, bats shot out of the northern tower and darted away into the night. Rod wondered just how much more of a ruin it would seem by day. Slowly, he said, "I don't think I want to spend the night there."

  But, "Nay," Gwen said, "we must."

  Rod turned to stare at her. "Spend the night in there? The time when unquiet spirits are most apt to roam? When we've all felt some wrongness there?"

  "Aye, and therefore must we stand against it," she answered, eyes hard with determination, "or let the evil that it holds endure to befoul the domain that hath been given into our care."

  Well, there was no way around that, Rod had to admit—they had accepted the estate that had been split off from Di Medici's lands, which meant they had assumed the responsibility for the welfare of its people. Not that they had asked for it, mind you, or wanted it—but they hadn't refused it, either. If Tuan and Catharine needed to have them take care of this parcel of land and people, why then, it was their duty to do so, as loyal liegefolk—unless they had a damn good reason not to.

  Which they hadn't. "I notice the Di Medici haven't bothered de-ghosting it, no matter how long it's been in the family…"

  "Thou hast said it; 'tis haunted." Gregory's eyes were huge.

  Geoffrey gave him a contemptuous glance. "Is't such news, sin that the Puck hath told us so, and we all have felt some eldritch presence there?"