Three young men stranded on a beach … Oppressed by the sticky warmth after the brittle chill of Krasnegar, they had all stripped off their heavy clothes. Imp and faun sat with arms on knees; the goblin was stretched out on his back. They had established that they had nothing—no money and no weapon except Little Chicken’s stone dagger. They had no idea where they were.
Rap had just finished telling Thinal of his two earlier encounters with Bright Water, witch of the north. He was certain that it had been the voice of the old goblin woman that had summoned Little Chicken to the casement and thus brought all three of them here—wherever here was.
Thinal made a shivery noise. “She’s not around now, though, is she? I mean, you can’t farsee her?”
“No. But she doesn’t always show to my farsight, even when my eyes can see her.” Rap brooded a moment, and then said, “Is it true she’s mad?”
Thinal squealed. “Don’t say such things!” He whimpered.
“Why not? She’s either not here or she’s spying on us, and that’s not polite.”
“Polite? Rap, witches and warlocks don’t give a spit about polite!”
“But do sorcerers lose their power as they grow old? If she’s three hundred years old and she’s been one of the Four for … how long?”
“Dunno.” Thinal had turned surly, hunched very small. “You wanna talk that sort of thing, then I’ll call Sagorn.”
“No!”
They sat for a while, staring at the ever-rolling waves.
Little Chicken must have been following at least some of the story, for he muttered sleepily, “Why Bright Water call me, not you?”
“I don’t know,” Rap said. “It’s certainly you she’s watching over. She keeps warning me not to hurt you.”
Little Chicken chuckled softly, raising goosebumps on Rap’s skin, despite the sticky heat.
But Rap could not deny that being magicked to Zark was preferable to being chopped up by a platoon of angry imps.
When there was enough light for the others to see, then they all must go in search of something to eat. He was impatient to be on his way, angry with himself for feeling so concerned about food and sleep when he had more important worries. His failure to aid Inos was maddening—he would never forgive himself. She had cried out to him, and he had stupidly fallen over, flat on his back like a moron, helpless in the sorceress’s entrancement. It was easy enough for Thinal to say that no man could have resisted such a spell, but that was small comfort to Rap. He had failed Inos, his lawful queen, his friend, his … his queen.
“Tell me about Zark, Thinal. Have any of you ever been here?”
The thief brooded in silence for a while and then muttered, “I hope this is Zark.”
Rap grunted.
“Rap, I was wrong. Don’t be mad at me, Rap?”
“You said palm trees meant djinns, and djinns meant Zark!”
“Yes, but not those palms.”
Rap glanced up, with eyes and with farsight, to where the frondy trees were clearly visible now, dancing in a pewter sky. A wide belt of them flanked the edge of the sand as far as he could scan in both directions. The jungle growth behind them was different: matted, denser. “What about them?”
“There are two sorts of palm trees. These are coconut.”
“So?”
“The djinn type grows dates. They’re very alike, Rap, and it was dark! I couldn’t help it!”
Just when you think things are bad, they always get worse. “Then where are we?”
“Hear the birdsong? The dawn chorus?”
Rap could hardly avoid hearing it, even over the rush of the surf. It was glorious, still increasing as new entrants added layer after layer of song to the symphony. One of the innkeepers in Krasnegar had owned a canary and there had been larks in the hills. Ravens croaked, geese honked, and seagulls cried, but this was birdsong on a scale he had never dreamed of. Inos would love it. “You’ve heard it before?”
“Sagorn did,” Thinal said. “Once. Long ago. I mean, there’s lots of places where birds sing …”
“But not like this? Where?”
“Faerie. It has to be Faerie. Sounds right. Even smells right.”
Faerie was an island, Rap knew, and there was something mysterious about it. “Andor’s been there.”
“Andor!” Thinal spat. “No, he hasn’t. It was Sagorn, when he was much younger. A lot of those stories that Andor told you were really of the others. We share memories, remember.”
Rap growled angrily at the thought of Andor and his lies.
“They … we … can’t help it,” Thinal said, whining as he did if Rap so much as frowned at him. “I mean … Well, he remembers Sagorn being here, so when he talks about it, he would say it was him.” He fell silent for a while, then added, “It doesn’t make any difference, really.”
It did make a sort of sense, though. Sagorn had spent a lifetime in search of magic, seeking to understand the workings of the words of power. If Faerie had a reputation for being somehow uncanny, then he might very well have decided to visit it. “How far is Faerie from Zark?”
Silence.
“Thinal,” Rap said gently, “I’m not going to bite you. I won’t even shout. But I do need your help! You know so much more than I do.”
Thinal was flattered. “Well … Faerie’s ’way west. Krasnegar’s north. And Zark’s east … and south, I think.”
After a minute he whimpered, “Sorry, Rap.”
“Not your fault. We didn’t have much choice, anyway, did we?”
“But I should have known. Where Inos went there was daylight, wasn’t there? And here was still dark. So she went east and we went west.”
“Huh?” Rap was only an ignorant clerk, a glorified stableboy. He wondered if Thinal could read and write, and reminded himself that there was probably more to the little thief than he showed, or perhaps believed himself. His despicable whimpering was pure habit, part of his professional expertise.
“Pandemia’s very big, see?” Thinal sighed. “Dawn doesn’t come at the same time everywhere. Must get to Zark long before it gets to Faerie.”
Much worse! So the problem was not just how to find Inos and help her. The problem was how to get to Zark, and then find Inos and help her. So now there was no great urgency, and Rap was furious to discover that just knowing that made him feel much sleepier. Waves fell and rushed up the gleaming sand and died with a tiny hiss. Then the next … It was hypnotic, soporific.
“But why would Bright Water have brought me here?” he demanded.
But it had been Little Chicken the goblin witch had rescued; Thinal and Rap had merely come along for the ride.
“How should I know?” Thinal sniffed. “I’m dumb, Rap. Just a dumb cutpurse. A city slicker, an alley thief … useless in the wilds. You wanna talk smart stuff, I’ll call Sagorn.”
“No, don’t! I don’t trust Sagorn.”
The surprise on Thinal’s face was visible even to mundane vision now—a nondescript imp face, young and unpleasantly spotted with acne; a pinched face; ratty and worried. His ribs stuck out. He was skinny as a ferret, but what would a professional thief know of honest labor? He was as puny beside Rap as Rap was beside the husky goblin.
“You can trust Sagorn! The king told Inos that. Andor’s a twister, and Darad would tear you apart. But Sagorn has honor.”
“No!” Rap shouted. Lack of sleep was making him short-tempered, and that sudden insight made him angrier still. He lowered his voice. “Maybe the king could trust Sagorn. They were old friends. Maybe Sagorn wouldn’t cheat Inos, for her father’s sake—but he’s got no scruples about me.”
Thinal mused for a moment. “No, he hasn’t. Sorry, Rap. I didn’t think. I’m a fool.”
When Sagorn had been in Krasnegar, ministering to the sick king, Andor had been there, also, alternatively. Andor had been cultivating Rap, befriending him in the hope of wheedling his word of power out of him. Sagorn must have known what Andor had been doing when he
was present, yet Sagorn had kept on calling him back.
“Besides,” Rap said, “you have Sagorn’s memories, don’t you? So you know what he knows.”
“It don’t work like that,” Thinal said glumly. “He’s a lot smarter’n me, a whole lot smarter. He understands more.”
“I don’t see why.”
The skeletal shoulders shrugged. “Well, I can remember all the years he spent sniffing around libraries. But the books themselves I can’t recall like he can. They don’t make sense to me. Think of Jalon. I hear a tune whistled or sung—I don’t remember it much. No more’n you would. But Jalon would know it, and be able to sing it next time he’s around. He’d ring changes on it and craft a great ballad out of it. We each have our own tricks. Like the djinn said, we’re a matched set—artist, scholar, lover, and fighter. All you’ve got is me is a common dip, and there’s small pickings hereabouts.”
“Sagorn said that you were the leader.”
Thinal pouted and looked guilty. “Long ago! He meant I got the bunch of us into the mess; it was my idea to break into Orarinsagu’s house. Anyway, that was years ago. We were all kids. I still am.” He turned his face away.
After a moment, Rap said, “Why are you? I know—because you don’t exist as often, or as long. So you don’t age. But why’s that? Don’t the others call you?”
Thinal wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Sometimes. If one of them is hungry, or needs something that can be stolen, I’ll help out.”
“But you don’t stay around. You call him back in your place right away. Why?”
There was a long silence then, while Thinal stared at the sea, weedy chin resting on spindle arms. Finally he said softly, “ ’Cause I’m no good, Rap. That’s why.”
Rap’s head felt stuffed with feathers, but he knew he needed Thinal and must not let him disappear. “Bunk!” he said. “Right now, I’d much rather have you here than any of the others.”
Thinal’s eyes widened and he smiled shyly, showing teeth as crooked as a stork’s nest. “Really?”
“Really! I can’t trust any of them—not even Jalon, can I?”
Thinal sniggered. “He’d get lost in listening to the birds. And he might very well call Darad. Of all of us, he’s the most likely to call Darad. No, not even Jalon.”
That was a great pity. If Rap could only enlist the willing help of Thinal and his four optional replacements, then he would have a whole gang of useful helpers. Five specialists, strengthened by a word of power, a handful of men. He wondered if he dared offer a bargain, remembering how Sagorn had said that their one common purpose was to collect enough magic to be freed from the spell that bound them. They would do anything to learn another word of power, so Rap could offer to share his in return for theirs. It would be ironic if Thinal was the one to gain Rap’s word, after the other four had all tried to steal it without success. Now that Rap knew what his word was, he could share it if he wished.
Certainly he must keep Thinal friendly. “Well, then! So promise me, will you—promise that you’ll not call any of the others without warning me?”
Looking flattered, Thinal nodded and accepted Rap’s offer of a handshake. His fingers were unusually long, his palm soft.
Rap’s own attitude toward occult power had just changed. Up until now even his farsight and his mastery over animals had been more than he wanted, but with Inos in the clutches of a sorceress, new rules applied. The more magic the better now! Anyone who knew a single word of power was a genius at whatever his talent was. Knowing two words made a man an adept, a genius at anything. So Andor and Sagorn had said, but did he really trust either of them?
He was too fogged by weariness to decide now. He must not open any doors yet. An admitted thief like Thinal would just take Rap’s word and then not tell his own—the temptation would be irresistible. And even if he didn’t cheat, one day he or one of the others would certainly call Darad. Then the warrior would come after Rap and knot his neck, as he had killed the woman in Fal Dornin. Thus he could gain the rest of the power from both words, becoming a more powerful adept. Sharing with Thinal would be suicide.
Rap’s eyelids closed. Angrily he jumped to his feet and rubbed them open again. “It’s light enough!” he said. “Let’s go!”
The little imp shot him a scowl. “Go where?”
“Breakfast. We’ll starve here. North or south?”
Thinal didn’t know. Little Chicken wanted to go north, because it was homeward—his grasp of geography was even worse than Rap’s—but north was as likely as south to bring them to some sort of habitation. They ripped themselves loincloths from King Holindarn’s robe, and set off along the beach.
Thinal kept edging seaward. “You’re casing the jungle, I hope?” he asked Rap anxiously.
“There’s nothing there but birds and lizards and things. What did you expect? People?”
“Headhunters!” For a moment he showed the whites of his eyes. “And monsters: griffins and harpies and hippogriffs!”
“They’re not home at the moment.” The coming of daylight had revealed a wide, shallow bay, with beaches curving smoothly away north and south to headlands so distant that even the tall palm trees at the tips were barely visible. There were no signs of life, either human or monstrous. Nothing moved on land or sea, at the moment. Why would Bright Water have moved her precious Little Chicken to a refuge so isolated?
“Faerie’s an island?”
Thinal hesitated. “Andor probably told you more than I can remember, Rap. He’s the tourist. I’m the lifter.”
“He said something about a town. Only one, I think. Mil-something?”
“Milflor!” Thinal grinned at this triumph.
“We can get on a ship there?”
Thinal frowned warily. “I dunno. Certainly you can get on a ship. The trouble would be getting off. Where’re you thinking of going?”
“Zark, of course.”
Thinal trudged over the sand in silence for a moment. Then he burst out, “It’ll take months, Rap! Probably years. You got any idea how big Pandemia is? And that djinn sorceress may magic Inos right back to Krasnegar by lunchtime.”
Rap’s heart sank. “What else can I do? I must try to help her!”
“Go to Hub, maybe? Hub knows everything, and it’s in the middle. You can find out there where Inos is and from Hub you can go anywhere. You can call on the imperor, or the witch of the north, if she’s a friend of yours.” He sniggered. “Or ask the imperial marshal why his legions marched on Krasnegar?”
“Queen Rasha used occult power on the legionaries!”
Thinal sucked his teeth loudly. “So she did! You think that’ll rouse the wardens? Treading on East’s turf?”
Certainly that seemed possible to Rap, but almost any schoolboy in Hub would understand occult politics better than he did. And would the Four care enough about Inos even to rescue her, let alone put her on her throne? The wardens—three warlocks and one witch—were the occult guardians of all Pandemia. What sort of people were they? What were their real motives?
At that moment, the sun hooked a fiery finger over the horizon. The sky had unobtrusively turned itself blue.
“Go to Krasnegar!” Little Chicken growled. “Find woman back there.” His khaki-hued skin was slick with sweat already.
“You’d like a good roll in the snow, wouldn’t you?”
The goblin grunted. Rap went back to prying information out of the imp.
“How about the fairyfolk? Andor said he didn’t meet any. He meant Sagorn, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. They’re rare now.” Thinal halted and peered all around, shielding his eyes from the sun with a skinny hand. The first two fingers on it were of equal length. He evidently found nothing and began to walk again. “And dangerous, too. Head-hunters, it’s said.” He stopped, frowning. “Lots of troops in Milflor …”
“What’s wrong?” Rap asked.
“Just … something odd …”
“Faerie, you mean?
What sort of odd?”
Thinal scratched his unkempt mop of hair vigorously. “I don’t know. Why would the Impire guard Faerie so closely just because it’s dangerous to visit? Why post troops to protect tourists from monsters and natives? There’s no guards around Dragon Reach.”
Rap felt suspicious. “Odd? What sort of odd? Whose idea is that? Sagorn’s? Andor never mentioned that.”
Thinal’s feral features were suddenly completely blank. “Nothing. Just a city boy jumpy in the jungle.”
“Out with it!”
“Nothing, Rap.”
“I thought we were partners? We shook hands.”
“Yeah. Sorry, Rap! But it’s really nothing. I just get sneaky instincts when I see something being guarded.” He smiled shamedly. “I’m a thief, see?”
“So?”
Thinal laughed uneasily. “I getta sorta itch when I’m near something worth lifting. I nearly went batty when Andor called me to Kinvale. He needed me to thieve a special brooch, but I wanted to loot buckets, and—”
“What,” Rap demanded, “is worth stealing here?”
The lump in the thief’s scrawny throat jumped. “Nothing I can see! Maybe i’m just going weird. Scary!”
He didn’t look scared, though—he looked excited. Had he sensed that Rap’s word of power was available in a way it had not been earlier? Rap could think of nothing else around that was worth any more than one stone dagger. He shrugged and kept walking.
“Thirsty!” Little Chicken complained, glaring sideways at Rap as if it were his fault.
“Coconuts?” Apparently Thinal understood some of his dialect, but of course Darad had spent time among the goblins. “You can get milk out of green coconuts. The dagger’ll open them. Not the ones on the ground. Them up there.”
A Man of His Word Page 41