A Man of His Word

by The Complete Series 01-04 (epub)

  A word of power made its owner lucky. Was this curious opportunity somehow important?

  The moon sailed majestically into a cloud, the parkland sank into darkness. Faunish common sense went down to abject defeat before a harebrained nosiness that would have shamed an imp—Rap began to wriggle forward through the dewy grass. He aimed for some of the shrubbery on his side of the road, across from the sorceress. When he reached it, he rose on hands and knees in the dark and crawled around until he was as close as he could get to the strange conversation. He lay down and watched, straining his ears to catch the words.

  She was talking about him! Describing how she had caught him. He had not expected that. It made him realize that he was eavesdropping on a private conversation. He felt even worse when she made some nonsensical comments about his manners and his courage. And then the moon found a gap in the clouds, the darkness lifted, and Rap’s hair rose on his scalp. Proconsul Oothiana was speaking to a statue.

  It represented a warrior leaning on a spear, and the helmet Rap had noticed earlier was all it was wearing. One arm was raised high to clutch the spear; its head was bowed, its shoulders drooped in a stance of weariness and defeat. That was curious, because all the others Rap had bothered to look at had depicted arrogance and triumph. They had all been set on high stone pedestals, while this one stood on a low plinth, no higher than a herring box; and only this one had occult shielding around it.

  Why should a sorceress be telling a statue about Rap? Andor had mentioned talking statues that would predict the future, just as magic casements and preflecting pools did.

  Then the lady got to the part about Bright Water. Somebody whistled in astonishment, and scorpions danced on Rap’s skin.

  “I bet that upset the mole!” said a deep male voice.

  “He was almost too furious to be scared, I think!”

  “That would be historic!”

  “He thinks she’s in league with the other two, ganging up on him.”

  “Ha!” the statue said. “Our esteemed master thinks everyone is ganging up on him.”

  “But why would she have sent them to Faerie? That’s trespass!”

  “I don’t know.” The statue straightened, suddenly tall, rubbing its back with its free hand as if it ached.

  Rap dropped his face into the grass. Oothiana still had her back to him, but the statue was staring over her head in his direction—assuming that talking statues could see, of course.

  “Can’t you think of anything?” Oothiana cried. “If you can come up with some good ideas, then he’ll realize that you’re valuable to him—”

  “Goose droppings! I’m more valuable to him here. You know that! Why doesn’t he just ask her?”

  “That’s what I suggested,” the sorceress said sadly. “I think he will. But it gets him involved in the Krasnegar thing, you see? And now he wants the girl.”

  Rap’s head lifted of its own accord. What girl?

  “What girl?” the statue asked. It had slumped back into its former slouch, but perhaps it was just looking down at the sorceress. If it was supposed to represent an imp, it was a little larger than life size, and it stood on a plinth. Oothiana was on the ground, and lower.

  “The princess, or queen. Inosolan.”

  “I thought East promised to produce her for the imperor?”

  “But he hasn’t. Not yet. And now it seems that whoever stole her away wasn’t one of his votaries!”

  “Whose, then?”

  “Don’t now. Maybe no one’s. The faun says she was a djinn, named Rasha.”

  “Mm?” the statue said. “A wild card? Well, why does the dwarf want her, this Inosolan?”

  “Who knows? Just because the others do, maybe. She seems to be important.”

  The statue grunted. “Can he find her?”

  “I don’t know! That’s what I have to do next … Oh, Gods—the time! I must go, love! I have to find out if the faun knows where this Rasha woman took her.”

  Again insects crawled on Rap’s skin. He had told the lady about Rasha and he’d said she was a djinn, but perhaps he hadn’t mentioned Arakkaran. He laid his head down on the damp, earth-scented grass and shivered. If Oothiana went looking for him and discovered his absence, then the chase would be on at once. Now he dare not go back to rescue Little Chicken. For Inos’s sake, he must escape now, or else kill himself before they caught him.

  Silence.

  The moon was sliding behind another cloud. He sneaked a quick look as the light faded. Oothiana had stepped up on the plinth and was embracing the statue, kissing it. Its free arm was around her, holding her tight.

  The kiss ended. She whispered something. The statue responded, equally quietly. Endearments. “I must go, my love,” she said, and her voice cracked.

  Rap started easing backward, planning to leave, but Oothiana jumped down to the ground then, and he froze. She set off at once, heading toward the building. When she left the circle of shielding she could have detected him with farsight, but either his stillness escaped her notice or she was too intent on her own troubles. As she vanished into the doorway, he relaxed and wiped his streaming forehead on the grass. Whew!

  He began to move again.

  The statue said, “You! Faun! Come here.”

  5

  “Always did have good night vision,” the statue said in a satisfied tone.

  Standing within the shielding, Rap had farsight now to confirm what his eyes had been refusing to believe. Furthermore, the moon had come out again. The statue was only partly a statue. Feet and legs of solid marble supported a torso of … meat, a living man. His right hand, the one held high to grip the spear, was stone also, almost to the elbow. That was what was holding him upright His left arm seemed unaffected. So far.

  “I’m Rap,” Rap said hoarsely, mostly to see if he was capable of speaking without throwing up.

  “Yodello, legate of the army in Faerie, retired.”

  He had been a burly, well-built man, big for an imp. Even now, with pain and horror shining out of half-mad eyes, he retained some trace of his former authority.

  “How’d you get out, prisoner?”

  Rap started to back away, and his feet froze as firmly as Yodello’s. His mouth spoke without his wanting it to. “I was caged with the goblin. He has a word of power, and it’s made him inhumanly strong. He threw me through the aversion spell.”

  Yodello chortled harshly. “And how did he know to try that? And what do you know about aversion spells?”

  “I have a word, also. I have farsight, so I could see the shielding, and I met an aversion spell in Inisso’s castle.”

  “In Krasnegar?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “A faun in the far north? And do you know where this Inosolan is?”

  Rap tried to bite his tongue, but again his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. “The sorceress said she was from somewhere called Arakkaran. You’re a mage!” Rap added quickly. That was why he also was rooted to the spot.

  “My, my! You know a lot! For a mere genius, that is.”

  “You killed the fairies. Three of them. The lady told me that the man who did that was being punished.” But Rap found it hard to believe that even three murders justified this ghastly death, a creeping petrification. How long had this wretch endured his public torment?

  “Not punished by her!” said the half-man.

  “Please, sir, let me go? I have to escape, to save Inos! I must find a ship to hide in.” Surely this Yodello could never be on Zinixo’s side?

  The soldier shook his head, and moonlight flashed from his bronze helmet. “They’d search all the ships with a looking glass. If you go somewhere else, you might manage to elude Oothie for a while, but the dwarf could track you like a bloodhound, if he was upset enough to come after you himself. Or his uncle might, even. He has others. No one escapes from a sorcerer, Master Rap.”

  And Little Chicken had been present in the chamber when Rasha appeared. He, too, had heard the name
of Arakkaran. Rap sank down on the grass in despair. His ankle throbbed painfully, but worse was the sudden horror eating into his heart like an arctic chill. Inos! For a moment there was silence, then he said, “You’re a mage? You could help me.”

  “You could help me.”

  “Me?” Rap peered up at the man’s face, silver in the moonlight. He wasn’t sure if the soldier was joking, or mocking him, or had just been driven mad by his ordeal. It must be at least a month, maybe two, since the attack on the fairy village. Had Yodello been suffering here all that time? Every day his former subordinates would go marching past. Someone must have to feed him, clean him.

  “How can I possibly help you?”

  “Scratch my left ankle. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “Very funny,” Rap said. “If I can do anything to help, I will, but if I can’t, then I’d like to go now.”

  “But I never have anyone to talk to! You can keep me company for a while. Talk to me. Kill me.”

  “What?”

  “Yes!” The soldier sighed and rubbed his ribs with his elbow, as if he had an itch there. “You can, of course. That’s how you can help me, see? There’s a shed around the back. You go find a shovel. They might even have an ax. Then you can cut my throat. You can put me out of my misery.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” Rap said with a very dry mouth.

  “Sure you could!” Yodello sounded jovial, fatherly. He might have been encouraging a nervous recruit. “Very good opportunity for you. A man never knows what he is until he’s killed someone. Ready?”

  “No!” Rap slithered backward on the grass. He felt the edge of the roadway under one elbow. Behead a man with a shovel?

  “But you answered my call, Master Rap! You came within the shield. Then I had you. I’m a mage. Not as much a mage as I was, but I can still control a boy with only one word of power.”

  “Once I’m outside the shielding again you can’t!” Rap protested. What an idiot he had been! He should have run away when Yodello summoned him, but he’d thought the statue might shout loud enough to bring the lady back.

  “Oh, but I can!” Yodello smiled grimly and dropped his voice to a confidential whisper. “Stand up. Master Rap. Right. Now, Master Rap, you’re going to go over to where you were eavesdropping and then come back here.”

  Rap’s legs spun him around so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. Without even favoring his sore ankle, he raced across the road, turned, and raced back again. Then he stood and scowled up at the soldier in baffled humiliation.

  Yodello was smiling happily. “See? I can make you do anything. It’s only magic, but it would last long enough for you to go and bring a shovel to kill me with.”

  “But you’re not going to,” Rap said. “You’re Zinixo’s votary, aren’t you? You’re bound to serve him, and he wouldn’t want you to die soon, because he enjoys watching you suffer. So you can’t make me kill you.”

  “Not bad. Good guess. Sit down. Let’s talk.”

  Rap sat, not sure whether he had a choice in the matter or not. He didn’t want to talk, but he wouldn’t mind listening. “I thought magic was temporary?” Oothiana had said that.

  “Sir.”

  “Sir! Beg pardon. Sir.”

  Yodello stretched painfully and rubbed his back again. Then he reached up to swat a bug on the living part of his raised arm. How could a mosquito possibly find any blood in an arm that had been held up like that for weeks? The mosquitoes must be a large part of the torture. His meat parts were speckled like sandpaper.

  “Yes, magic is temporary. I put a compulsion on you to make you go out and come back, but if I sent you into town and back, it might wear off before you returned. Lot o’ times it makes no difference. I could turn your head into an anvil. It would be a temporary anvil, but you’d be permanently dead.”

  Andor’s mastery had worn off with time, Rap recalled.

  The moon soared into silver-hemmed cloud again, and the light faded. Yodello slumped lower, hanging by his grip on the spear, his head sagging. He had closed his eyes, as if half asleep.

  “Why won’t you help me escape from the warlock?” Rap whispered.

  The soldier whispered back. “Same reason I can’t make you kill me. Same reason I’m going to send you back to your cell. Loyalty.”

  He wanted Rap to kill him, though, and it would certainly be an act of mercy. Was Rap man enough to do it, not because of a compulsion, but just out of pity?

  “I’ll try,” he said suddenly. “I can’t promise, but I’ll go and see what they have in the shed, and …”

  The tribune spoke to his own feet, not raising his head. “Thanks, lad, but it’s no go. Even if you found a sword, I’d have to stop you. Out of loyalty. A mage is never a match for any sorcerer. ’Specially the dwarf. He’s a giant!” Yodello chuckled softly.

  “Think I’m mad.” he added, “don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Doesn’t matter whether I am or not. In a week or so it’ll get to my plumbing. Then I burst, I suppose. I’m looking forward to it. I just wish he cared more.”

  Rap waited a puzzled moment and then said, “Wish who cared, sir?”

  “The dwarf!” the statue said angrily, “If he would just come and gloat, then I could defy him. I could show courage. I’m not afraid to die!” He thumped his free fist against a stone thigh. His voice rose. “I’m a soldier! I’ll die bravely! But he won’t give me the satisfaction. He never comes. He gave the orders, so here I am, on view. I’m washed, fed, and shaved. It’s all done as he said, every day. Every day the stone creeps higher up my legs. The centuries march by here every day and see, but he never does. He doesn’t care! Whether I’m brave or not doesn’t matter at all. He’s probably forgotten all about me. I’m an example, that’s all. A human poster.” His voice trailed away in despair.

  Rap thought of the legionaries he’d seen running. Oothiana had called them examples. “Why an example? Why all this? Because you killed the fairies?”

  “Because I tried to steal from a dwarf,” Yodello said dully.

  Dwarves’ parsimony was legendary. Ask a man where he acquired something and, if he didn’t want to tell, he’d say, I stole it from a dwarf.

  “Inos?” Rap whispered. “What will he do with Inos if he finds her?”

  “Anything he fancies. He’s a warlock.” The imp opened his eyes, opened them very wide, and stared down at Rap. “Let this be a lesson for you, faun!”

  “Sir?” Rap felt his flesh creep as he tried to meet that tortured, crazy gaze.

  “Never tell people about your power, your word! It will get you into trouble.”

  Rap couldn’t see how he could possibly be in much worse trouble than he was in already. Then he saw the silent scream in Yodello’s sunken eyes and realized that he could be in much worse trouble. And mostly he’d gotten into this mess by refusing to learn more words, by refusing to become a mage and help Inos.

  “Oothie was a brainless bitch,” Yodello said, but softly. He raised his head, peered out into the scented dark of the Faerie night, and seemed to speak to ghosts. “I love her madly, always. She was never much of a sorceress, though. Got her words from Urlocksea, great-grandfather, not from fairies. Nice old fellow. Didn’t do much with his power except some healing, but Pian’doth found him anyway. Pian’ was East. When he died, the old guy got away before Olybino took over the gold palace. Died, too, soon after. Gave his words to Oothie. Warned her never to use them.”

  The soldier seemed to have forgotten Rap altogether and to be talking for his own sake. He must have been a remarkable man once. Mutilated, naked, close to a terrible death, he still wore some shreds of dignity. Splinters of authority still glimmered through his madness.

  “She didn’t do much. Fast promotion for her husband, easy labor for the second child, a few things like that. Tried to resist the little worm when he took a fancy to her—stupid bitch! As if I’d have cared! That was what gave her away. He had her anyway, of course.
Didn’t even make her his votary till morning … got to be warlock … made her proconsul …”

  Rap was struck by a sudden mad idea, a way both he and Yodello might escape. Dare he suggest it? Really, what did he have to lose?

  The imp’s voice grew loader. “But in the case of Faerie, it’s different, you see. The imperor appoints whomever West wants. The runt thought it’d be fun to make Emshandar send in Oothie’s name.”

  “You know three words!” Rap said, in a rush, “and I know one, so if I tell you mine, then you’ll be a sorcerer! You can break free of the loyalty spell and turn your legs back—couldn’t you? And maybe rescue Oothiana?”

  Chin high, the soldier spoke to a point above Rap’s head. “A female proconsul! Senators all had miscarriages over that, but they don’t argue with warlocks.”

  “If you promise to help me,” Rap said hoarsely, “I’ll make you a full sorcerer. So we can both escape.”

  “New proconsul appoints his own officers. Oothie picked the best soldier she knew as tribune.” The statue sighed. “And I was the best, too! But she made me loyal to her, instead of the dwarf.”

  Rap began to feel desperate. “Or you tell me your three words, and I promise I’ll do everything I can for you and your lady.”

  “It was an honest mistake. She meant no disloyalty. She couldn’t have meant to be disloyal. She was his votary.”

  Rap jumped up. On level footing, he would have been about the same height as the imp. Yet he still couldn’t meet those proud, sad eyes, for now they were looking past his head. He moved; they shifted. They gleamed, moonlight reflecting from haunted caves.

  “You can save her, sir! Save yourself, too, maybe! Let me tell you my word of power.”

  “You should have thought of that sooner,” said a new voice, a gravelly bass. Rap spun around.

  Arms akimbo, Raspnex stood on the road just outside the shielding like a stone pillar. He still wore the same disreputable work clothes, but now he had added a shapeless woolen cap. His iron-gray beard was bunched up in a dangerous scowl.

  “Wouldn’t have worked, anyway,” Yodello remarked sadly. “I’m loyal to him now. Aren’t I?”