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Leading his horse. Thorolf arrived at the barracks just as the morning's drill was being dismissed and the men were returning their pikes to the huge rack at the side of the drill ground. Captain Bothvar came up with a scowl like a thunderstorm, saying:
"Where in the seven hells have ye been, Thorolf? Your leave went only till muster time this morn. 'Tis not like you to vanish without leave."
"A matter of honor, sir. A noble lady who besought my aid met with an accident, and there was none but I to obtain her the proper medical care."
"Hmm. If ye say so, I daresay 'tis so. I put Sergeant Regin in your stead; ye can trade leaves with him to make up the time."
After his midday meal, instead of retiring to his room for an afternoon of quiet study, Thorolf set out for the consular palace. He had to wait an hour before being admitted to see his father. While he waited, pictures of Yvette floated through his mind. If only old Bardi had not blundered; or if the spell could have been postponed for a single day ...
Thorolf had never felt apologetic about his virginal state, since the Paganist religion was fairly strict in its sexual standards. Because of his brawn, none of the soldiers beneath his orders dared to chaff him about it. after he had thrown one scoffer twenty feet into a manure pile. His fellow sergeant, Regin, who notoriously flouted these standards, sometimes remarked after a weekend of revelry:
"Well, Thorolf old boy, hast become a real man yet?"
But he said it in fun. He could do it with impunity because he was Thorolf's closest friend among the soldiers.
At last Thorolf was waved into the Consul's inner chamber. Clad in official scarlet, Consul Zigram overflowed the chair in which he sat behind an oversized desk. The side of this desk toward the Consul was curved to make room for Thorolf's father's bulk, which his luxuriant snow-white beard covered. His golden chain and medallion of office were hung round his neck atop the beard, which would otherwise have concealed them.
"Greetings, son!" puffed the Consul. "How wags thy world?"
"Well enough, Father. Hast heard of my involvement with the Countess of Grintz?"
"Only that ye brought this fair fugitive to Vasco's inn for the night. Where is she now? We lust not for a confrontation with the Duke of Landai."
"At Bardi's urging, I left her in charge of Doctor Orlandus, to treat her for an ill. Now I would fain ask some questions about this Orlandus and his Sophonomists."
The change in the Consul's aspect startled Thorolf. His fat features seemed to collapse like a ruptured bladder, while his eyes rounded with fear. Casting about furtive looks, like those of a rabbit stealing cabbages, he whispered:
"Son, son, mention not that name within these walls!"
"But Father, these folk might be dangerous to the Commonwealth! Orlandus' guards go about with swords unwired, as if members of the army or the Constabulary—"
"Shh!" Zigram laid a finger to his lips. "Not a word about them or their leader! I cannot explain here, for the walls have ears."
Thorolf frowned. "As bad as that? Where can we talk frankly, then? In your private quarters?"
"Nay; I never know when a flunky or chambermaid hath been suborned."
"How about our old house? We could ask the tenants to leave us alone in a room—"
"Nay; knew ye not? The tenant hath bought the place."
"I knew there was talk—" began Thorolf.
"Well, he did. Without your mother, I saw no use in keeping up that old pile, especially since I won the consular election. And speaking of your mother, I never truly appreciated the lass whilst she lived." Zigram hastily wiped a damp eyelid with his sleeve.
Thorolf proposed: "Shall I take a room at Vasco's again? I must return thither to give Vasco a sheet I borrowed."
The Consul hesitated, then said: "Nay, nay; they'd follow me." Still whispering, Zigram added: "My dear son, have nought to do with these folk, any more than youd pick up a viper with a bare hand! Flee all contact! A clean pair of heels is your only salvation."
"But I cannot abandon the Countess in their custody—"
"A pox upon your Countess! Some decadent aristocrat from the benighted feudal regime of Carinthia—"
Thorolf interrupted: "With all due respect, you know not whereof you speak. You've never seen her. If there be aught Yvette is not, it's decadent."
The consul's white-browed eyes narrowed. "So vehement, stripling? Art in love with the dame?"
"Of course not! After but one day and night—"
"Night, eh? I know these high-born jades. Didst have a good time?"
"Father, you are impossible! I have not bedded her—"
"Well, then, do ye court her honorably? Titled wenches make chancy wives, being full of hoity-toity snobbery. They fancy themselves beings of a superior species by virtue of blue blood, when 'tis well known that most noble houses were founded by successful banditti who frightened some weakling ruler into granting titles."
"She has some of that," Thorolf conceded. "She thinks in the imperative mood. A pity; she's a fascinating creature. But I will do what my conscience commands."
"From what my spies tell me," said the Consul, "she is a combination of the goddess Rianna and a man-eating tigress."
"Not so formidable as all that, Father! She's a small person, but with more energy per pound than I've ever seen."
Zigram mused: "I'm concerned for my line, with mine only son still unwed at nearly thirty. Since high rank in the state be closed to you by our nepotism law, at least whilst I remain in office, ye were better-advised to court the daughter of some banker or rich merchant."
"And you," said Thorolf, "were better-advised to eat less and exercise more, if you'd fain live through that second term of office you seek." He rose. "Come over to the barracks, and I'll work fifty pounds of that fat off."
"Speak not rudely to thy sire, boy!"
"Nor you to me. But come, walk with me to the barracks. It will do you good, and we shall be where none can overhear."
"Oh, very well." With a groan, Zigram heaved himself out of his chair and shrugged a black cloak over his crimson doublet.
In the street, Thorolf gave his father a sharp look. "Tell me, Father, what hold have the Sophonomists on you? For some I'm sure they have, to make a brave man quail at their mere mention."
"Nay, son; meddle not. 'Twill do you no good."
"Father, I insist! Have they discovered something to your discredit in your past?"
"Nay, nay; 'tis—a small matter of no import."
"If it were so little, you'd not flinch at its mere mention. Out with it! If it affects mine own future, I should be forewarned. Am I your son or not?" Thorolf used the tone of a professor to a refractory pupil.
"Oh, very well." said Zigram dejectedly. "They discovered that, years ago whilst your dear mother was yet young, I had taken up with another woman, over in Uberunnen. I had in fact committed bigamy. If the tale were spread abroad, away would go my chances for a second term."
"Ha!" said Thorolf. "And what of this other wench? Meanst that I have a stepmother across the mountains?"
"Nay. She got a quiet annulment and hath since rewed. I've not set eyes upon her for years. But you comprehend the potential scandal. By Kernun's antlers, breathe not a word of this!"
"Never fear. How did they find out? Filching documents?"
"I know not; but I am sure they have done the like with certain senators. Thus grows their power."
"What is this lady's name? I ought to know in case I should encounter her."
"Nay, that I will not tell. Let the dead past ..."
They argued, but Zigram was adamant. At last Thorolf said: "My Countess brought her coronet with her. Who were the safest banker to leave it with?"
"Waddo Sifson were as good as any."
"Thanks. Here are the barracks. Come over some time and, if you won't take exercises, at least watch me at mine. Good day, sire!"
-
IV – The Desirable Dragon
During the following days, Thorolf's attention was often distracted by thoughts of Yvette. He saw her fine-boned face in the visage of every girl he passed on the streets. Afternoons, after drill, he found himself lingering on the Street of Clockmakers, ostensibly absorbed in an elaborate astronomical timepiece in a merchant's showcase. By silvered disks, gilded hands, and moving mythological figurines it displayed not only the time but also the phases of the moon, the tides, and the motions of the planets.
Thorolf's examination of the clock was but a pretext for shooting furtive glances up Castle Hill to the fortress where he had left Yvette. He realized that his father was right; he was falling in love.
He knew it was a folly. Yvette had told him plainly that her next husband must be of noble blood, an issue that she took with utmost seriousness; and he was just a plain citizen of the Commonwealth. Even if she accepted, she was too arrogant and aggressive to make an endurable wife. She would insist that he move out of the barracks, buy a house, and hire servants; and away would go whatever money he might still save for his advanced studies.
Her candid confession of unchastity also bothered him. He had long assumed that he would marry a virgin and that they would explore the mysteries of love together. This was still the common, socially accepted pattern of behavior in Rhaetia, where Doctor Mersius' contraceptive spell was not yet widely known. If many Rhaetians failed to live up to it, enough others adhered to it to make such behavior no cause for remark.
Thorolf was not much surprised by Yvette's candid admissions; he had long heard tales of the Carinthian nobility. But even if he overlooked this matter, the straitlaced Zurshnitters were cold to brides with colorful pasts. Marriage to Yvette, even in the wildly improbable case she would have him, had as favorable a prospect as a wrestling match with one of the fifty-foot serpents of Thither Ethiopia.
His first task was to get her away intact, in her proper form. This done, he thought that, from her free-and-easy ways in such matters, she might permit him some nights of lechery despite his lowly social standing on her scale. He avidly desired such a union, however ephemeral. But, inexperienced as he was, he doubted that he could so please her as to change her basic nature, which was too firmly set in the aristocratic mold.
Still, no matter how much he berated himself as a sentimental fool, Thorolf still loitered in the Street of Clockmakers, pretending an avid interest in clocks while stealing sidelong glances at the bodeful battlements above. At the end of a week, he could stand the suspense no longer. He trudged up the path to the castle and told a mailed guard:
"Kindly take a message to Doctor Orlandus. I am Sergeant Thorolf, and I wish to know the state of the patient I left in his care."
When the guard departed, the other guard said: "Bean't ye he who last week brought some gigantical bug to the castle?"
"You may call it that." said Thorolf.
The guard returned, accompanied by a stout, scowling, red-haired man in a red robe. In no ingratiating tones, the redhead said: "Sergeant, the Master remembers you; but he cannot take time from his world-saving work to answer idle queries. Your Countess shall receive you on the day appointed, a sennight hence. Good day, sir."
The man walked away. The sight of smiles on the faces of the two guards infuriated Thorolf; but he held himself in check. A fight would do no good and, more likely, harm. Instead, he bent his steps toward the headquarters building of the Constabulary.
-
Gray-haired Chief Constable Lodar said: "The reason these wights roam abroad with swords unwired. Sergeant, is that I have a command from above to turn a blind eye to their venial offenses."
"What's 'above'?" demanded Thorolf. "My esteemed father?"
"Now, now, I would not mingle in a family dispute. Let's say that it came from those superior to me in the government."
"Have the Sophonomists infiltrated the Constabulary?"
"Not to my definite knowledge. Suspecting these men of ambitions inconsistent with proper duty, I have rejected applications when I was certain of such affiliation. But I doubt not that we have some amongst us, as a consequence of the death of Master Eberolf."
"What befell him?" asked Thorolf.
The Chief Constable looked about and lowered his voice. "He was a former Sophonomist who turned against the Order. He went about denouncing them and warning of their ambition to seize the rule of Rhaetia. Well, one morn he was found in an alley, strangled. I assigned Constable Hasding to investigate. He said he was making progress; but one day he fell, or was pushed, from high in the Temple of Irpo and slain. I sought the file of information Hasding had gathered on the death of Eberolf; and lo, 'twas missing! I suspect that someone in the corps extracted it. Other papers, too, are not where they should be in the files."
"If Orlandus be so great a mage," said Thorolf, "what needs he with planting spies in your midst to filch papers? Why could he not effect his desires by spells?"
"Imprimus, I doubt he's so puissant a wizard as he pretends; that tale of having studied the wisdom of the East in Serica is surely false. At the time he claimed to be so occupied, he was a petty thief in Letitia. Secondly, to make doubly sure that he cast no witchery upon us, I caused old Doctor Bardi to set up a protective spell on all the Constabulary, to render us proof against illusions, transformations, demonic possessions, and similar japes."
"If Orlandus plant spies amongst your men, why canst not do the same with him? His guards are ordinary men, unlike those delta-possessed diaphanes."
Lodar smiled quietly. "If we had such nameless informers at work, think ye we'd admit to it?"
Acknowledging the hint with a smile and a nod, Thorolf asked: "Hast heard what befell the Countess of Grintz, when at her behest Bardi tried to cast upon her an illusion spell?"
"I heard it made her into an eight-headed dragon; but I set that aside as mere rumor. We have had no reports of such a monster gobbling our citizens; not that some do not deserve that fate. What, then, did happen?"
Thorolf told his tale, adding: "As you see, dear old Bardi's work is not always to be depended upon."
"It seems to have worked for us," said Lodar. "We tested it, importing a wizard from Tzenric to cast the fellest spells in his armory upon Constable Prisco, who had volunteered."
"I'm happy not to have been in Prisco's boots. What befell?"
"The spell shed the wizard's attacks as featly as good plate armor sheds stones. The old fellow may not be so keen as a razor of the best trollish steel; but this time he was in the gold. We've sought to persuade the government to hire a first-rank wizard full-time, to protect us and the army; but the Senate hath balked at the expense."
"Gramercy for your news," said Thorolf. "Me-thinks I could use such a protective spell for dealing with Sophonomists."
-
Next day, Thorolf went to Bardi's house. When the last of Bardi's regular patients had departed, Thorolf told the iatromage:
"Doctor, I would that you gave me the same immunity spell that you cast upon the Constabulary. In six days I must needs fetch Yvette from Castle Zurshnitt. and you know what that may entail."
"Dear me!" Bardi mumbled. "I were glad to, my son, at my usual fee; but there's a difficulty."
"What is that?"
"I no longer have the spell to hand. 'Twas from a book—not one of mine, but one in the Horgus College Library. I copied it out on a paper, and anon I stowed this sheet betwixt the pages of one of those." A sweep of Bardi's bony hand indicated the disorderly rows of books on the sagging shelves.
"Well, why can't you simply take it out of the book in question?"
"Alas, I have forgotten which volume I placed it in."
Thorolf counted ten and then spoke with poorly concealed exasperation: "Then tell me which volume in the college library you took it from, and I'll make my own copy."
"Dear, dear, I have forgotten that, too!*'
"Well, you can go through every one of your own volumes until you come to it, can you not?"
"But that would wa
ste days, and I could not afford the time, with the rent due in a week. Let me be for a few days; the title of one book or t'other will surely pop into mind."
Thorolf sighed. "Oh, well, let's go to dinner at Vas-co's."
"Gramercy, albeit ye must not detain me there over-long. There is some reason why I must return to my house this even, but I cannot recall what it is."
"Ere we go," said Thorolf. "make sure your head be securely fastened, lest you forget it."
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