Quicksilver's Knight

by Christopher Stasheff

  He had to know where the fruit was coming from, of course. He began with those he knew best—the stalls in the market in Runnymede—then moved on to the orchards on the southern coast of Gramarye. He had only seen one or two such, but they were more than enough for the current purpose. He wanted a dozen oranges for each person in Aunriddy, and he got them.

  Each orange appeared with a gunshot crack of displaced air; each penny disappeared with a pop. It sounded as though he had lit a string of firecrackers—a very long string, and it brought the village children running out to watch with eyes that grew rounder and rounder as the fruit began to pile up. Their mothers came running after to protect their babes from the strangers, and froze, staring at the warlock and the pile of fruit that seemed to boil up from the ground before him.

  At last he nodded, satisfied, and turned to them. "Take a dozen oranges for each person in your family—mother, father, children, and old folk. Each person eat one a day, no more."

  The women clutched their children to them and stared out of eyes that had become a little wild.

  "Do not fear—'tis real fruit, not made of air or brimstone," Geoffrey said impatiently. "I have not conjured it up, really, but brought it to you from the farms where it grows."

  Still they did not move, and Geoffrey suddenly realized that most of them had probably never seen an orange. Tomatoes, yes—though it never occurred to him that neither fruit had been known in medieval Northern Europe, or that his ancestors had performed one of their many improvements on history by bringing citrus fruit to Gramarye. He only knew that these were inland people, whereas oranges grew on the southern coast. If Aunriddy had seen the fruit at all, it would have been as rare treats provided by the lord on festival days—and from the little he knew of their lord, he doubted the Count would have given his peasants anything he could avoid.

  He took an orange from the pile, slit the rind with his thumbnail, then peeled it back and tossed it away. He broke off a section, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed it with every evidence of enjoyment. Then he stepped over to a young woman with three very skinny toddlers and held out a section. Her face creased with the tension between longing and fear, but longing won out; she took the slice, put it in her mouth, and chewed.

  Her eyes went round with the wonder of it.

  Carefully and slowly, Geoffrey sat down on his heels, separating three more sections and holding them out on his palm. The toddlers snatched them up. Their mother gave a little cry of alarm, reaching to knock the fruit out of their hands, then caught herself and watched, trembling, as they ate.

  Geoffrey stood and stepped back, gesturing toward the fruit. The women ran to gather it up. He watched them, seething with anger at the bandits who had made them so fearful, then turned away to another part of the common, flung down more coppers, and began to think of vegetables.

  He had just finished conjuring up a heap of string beans when one woman cried, "A witch!"

  "No, a warlock!" Geoffrey said impatiently, turning to her. "Can you not tell the difference between..."

  But she was pointing up into the sky, and the mothers and children were already running for the shelter of their huts.

  Geoffrey looked, then looked again. He had expected the broomstick, but had not anticipated seeing two people astride it.

  The broom curved in for a landing, and Cordelia hopped off to run to him, leaving her passenger to pick up the stick. "How now, brother! Have you turned grocer?"

  "Nay, only merchant!" Geoffrey grinned with pleasure at seeing her. "And I offer these folk quite a bargain—in truth, 'tis a steal!"

  "What, do you not pay for what you take?" asked the tall, broad-shouldered blond young man who came up behind Cordelia.

  "Of course I do, but I doubt I'll have luck even giving it away." Geoffrey clasped his future brother-in-law by the hand and forearm with a broad smile. "How good it is to see you, Alain, and how good of you to come to our aid! But we must not put the Crown Prince in jeopardy."

  "'Tis you who showed me the folly of that notion, Geoffrey," Alain said, returning the clasp. "When I am king, I shall have to lead armies; I must accustom myself to the trick of surviving battles ere that time comes." Then, to Cordelia, "You did not tell me there would be fighting here."

  "I did not know it." She set her fists on her hips, glaring up at Geoffrey. "Though I should have guessed it, since you were here! Do you mean to fight these bandits, then?"

  "Aye," said a voice behind her, "and to beat them into the ground!"

  They all turned, to see Quicksilver striding toward them—and Geoffrey caught his breath, for she was dressed as a bride, in village finery and with a wreath in her hair. For a moment, he stood stunned, feeling the eldritch prickling of precognition enveloping his skin; was he looking at his own future? He felt a kind of desire he had never known before, a covetousness to have and to hold the woman entire.

  Then he noticed the flash of her calves through the slits she had made in the sides of the skirt, saw the broadsword in her hand, and jolted back to the present; she had made sure the bridal gown did not restrict her ability to fight. Still, she cut a magnificent figure, Geoffrey thought, with her split skirt whipping about her, her long legs showing through, her auburn hair swirling about her shoulders, glinting here and there with gold where the sunlight touched it.

  Then he realized there was tension in the air, a growing rivalry, emanating from the two women as each saw a potential rival. He moved quickly to resolve it. "Quicksilver, this is my sister Cordelia, and her fiance Alain." Somehow, it seemed politic to drop the word "prince."

  Geoffrey realized that Quicksilver's gaze was lingering on Alain's handsome, open face and broad shoulders, and was astounded to feel a stab of jealousy. To hide it, he hurried to finish the introductions. "Cordelia, Alain—this is Quicksilver, chieftain of the bandits of County Laeg."

  "And his prisoner, though he seems to be too gallant to tell you that." Quicksilver did not hold out a hand; in fact, the chip on her shoulder seemed to grow. "It is good of you to come, milady, but we are like to see battle here, and I would advise you not to stay."

  "Why, I have seen battle before." Cordelia smiled, amused. "I shall take a hand, if I see a need." Quicksilver turned on Geoffrey with a frown. "I cannot direct a battle when a woman may upset my plans with her own notions of what will aid!"

  "Do you think I know nothing of warfare?" Cordelia countered. "Nay, I will stay aloft, watching for your men who may become too sorely beset, and lend a hand only when I see they are about to be overcome."

  "Well, that would aid," Quicksilver admitted, though with great reluctance—and it came to Geoffrey that she did not expect any of her men to be in any such danger.

  But Alain picked up on something the others missed. "What men are these whom you will command, Chieftain Quicksilver?"

  "Why, the bandits of County Laeg," Geoffrey said slowly, "or half of them."

  Quicksilver turned to him in surprise and anger. "You knew!"

  "Their steps are, silent," Geoffrey told her, "but their thoughts are noisy. Then, too, when I hear an owl hoot after dawn, I discover suspicions—but the more so when you answer it, and it answers you."

  Quicksilver's eyes narrowed. "You are perhaps too quick-witted for my own good."

  "Oh, I would not be overly concerned about that," Cordelia said with a smile.

  Quicksilver turned to her in surprise, and some secret, silent communication seemed to pass between them, for Quicksilver smiled a little, too. "Perhaps, but I am not his sister."

  "Praise Heaven for that," Geoffrey breathed, and Cordelia glanced at him in irritation. "No, she is your prisoner."

  "'Tis a rare prisoner who bears a broadsword," Alain noted.

  "He has just now given it back to me," Quicksilver retorted, "which he must, if he wishes my aid against these bandits."

  "And when the fight is done?" Alain demanded. "Will you give it back to him, then?"

  "Will he demand it?" Quicksilve
r countered.

  "Let us win the battle before we deal with the peace," Geoffrey said quickly. "Cordelia has come to heal these villagers, Quicksilver."

  The bandit chief frowned. "How are they ill?"

  "From poor food," Cordelia told her. "My brother has given them enough to remedy that—if we can persuade the wives to take in that heap of string beans before the crows come for it."

  "There is no trouble in that," Quicksilver snapped, and turned toward the huts. "Ho! Wives of the village! Come to Quicksilver! At once!"

  The women emerged, wavered for a second, then came hurrying to the chieftain.

  "She is not tremendously tactful," Cordelia pointed out in a low voice.

  "No," Geoffrey agreed, "but she achieves results." Cordelia glanced at him keenly. "Brother, do not seek results that you should not!"

  "No fear," Geoffrey said softly. "This one is different."

  "I had not noticed," Cordelia said drily.

  "Had you not? She is magnetic, she is a very dynamo, she is..."

  "Geoffrey," Alain said softly, "your sister is being sarcastic again."

  Geoffrey looked at Cordelia in surprise, then gave her a sheepish grin. "I ride my hobbyhorse, do I not?"

  "You do not," Cordelia snapped, "and you had best not!"

  The women were hurrying back to their huts, each with an apronful of string beans, and Quicksilver strode back to them. "I have made them swear not to cook them until the bandits have come and gone." She glared at Geoffrey. "How did you bring it here, warlock?"

  "Why," he answered, "you should know, witch."

  "Is she really?" Cordelia seemed very interested. "But one untutored, no doubt."

  "Aye," Quicksilver said reluctantly, "if by that you mean I have had to learn the usage of my powers by myself."

  "I did. Know, then, proud lady, that warlocks can move things from one place to another in an instant, merely by thinking of it; we call that 'teleportation.' "

  Quicksilver stared in indignation. "Men can, but we cannot? 'Tis quite unfair!"

  "Aye," Cordelia said in a soothing tone, "but they cannot make objects fly just by thinking at them—save themselves."

  "Your brother can."

  "All my brothers can," Cordelia answered. "They alone among all the warlocks of Gramarye, and 'tis even as you have said—it is quite unfair."

  Alain suddenly lifted his head. "I hear the clash of harness."

  Everyone fell silent for a few seconds. Then Quicksilver said, "You have good ears—I cannot hear a shred of it. But I hear their thoughts. You have the right of it—the bandits come." She turned to Geoffrey. "Do you take the eastern side of this common, and your sister's betrothed with you, to guard your back."

  Geoffrey almost retorted that he did not need anyone to guard his back, then realized that it was a way for him to protect Alain without the Prince being aware of it. He wondered if Quicksilver had been thinking of that, then was quite sure she had.

  "Aloft, damsel!" Quicksilver commanded. "I must go sit as bait." And she turned away, to stride to a low stool that stood in the middle of the little common.

  Cordelia watched her go with a small smile, then turned away to her broomstick. Alain and Geoffrey were on their way to hide among the huts, and Quicksilver was hiding her sword in the grass at her side. The bandits were in for quite a surprise.

  CHAPTER 10

  The bandits came riding out of the trees, between the huts, and into the village common.

  These are wealthy for brigands, Geoffrey thought. Their clothes are rich, and decked with ornaments.

  But their lace is filthy, and their velvet doublets soiled and slashed, Fess pointed out.

  They are slovenly, Cordelia put in from her vantage point above. Wealthy slovens, but slovens nonetheless. The biggest bandit rode at the front and reined in ten feet from Quicksilver. "Ho! What beauty have we here? They have been saving the best till now!"

  Quicksilver made her eyes huge and round. "What men are you?"

  "Why, I am the bandit Maul, and these are my men." The chief grinned, showing stained teeth with several gaps. "Bandit?" Quicksilver cried, aghast. "They told me their lord would come to woo me for his bride!"

  Maul threw back his head and laughed. His men echoed him. "Why, you have been duped," he said, wiping his eyes. "What are you—some traveller who was passing, and was beguiled into taking the place of the maid I demanded?"

  "You! Are you their lord?"

  "In some measure," Maul said, relishing her evident fear. "Not their legal lord, no—he is a craven who will not fight me, so I lord it over this village to my heart's content, and they pay me tribute in food, wine, and women. If they do not, I shall burn their village to the ground, aye, and all their men and old women as well!"

  "I am betrayed!" Quicksilver cried, shrinking in on herself.

  Geoffrey knew the fear was a pretense, but even so, his blood raged within him, and he ached to feel Maul's throat between his fingers.

  "Aye, betrayed, but their lie had some truth in it." Maul swung down off his horse and came toward her. "I am their lord, in a fashion, as I've said—and I do come to woo, though not for marriage." He reached out for her ...

  Quicksilver moved so fast that she was almost a blur. She reached down into the grass beside her, then thrust upward, right into Maul's groin.

  Brother, came Cordelia's thought, are you sure you wish to travel with this woman?

  Maul froze, staring down horrified at the unbelievable gout of blood pumping from him as Quicksilver yanked her sword free. But his anguish lasted only seconds; she leaped to her feet and lunged, stabbing deep into his chest as she screamed, "Havoc!"

  The sound broke the trance of horror that held Maul's bandits. They were men of violence and brutality, and hardened to the sight of bloody horrors. With one massive shout, they charged down upon the lone woman.

  But she was alone no longer; the second she had shouted "Havoc!" Geoffrey had kicked his horse, breaking from the cover of the huts to her side, with Alain right behind him on Quicksilver's mount. They stood now to either hand, swords at the ready.

  Her own bandits were just as quick, though unmounted. They burst from the huts all around, from the trees behind. But the bandits in front were too crazed with anger to pay attention. They rode straight for Quicksilver, swords high...

  The swords twisted in their hands and stabbed down at them.

  The front rank recoiled with howls of superstitious fear, even as their horses reached Quicksilver.

  Fess leaped forward, shouldering one stallion aside, and Geoffrey stabbed without compunction, though he did aim for the shoulder, not the heart. The man slumped in his saddle, howling, even as Geoffrey turned to stab the man on his left. He was aware of hoarse shrieks of pain, of outlaws swinging their shields up above their heads to ward off a rain of rocks—and of the quarterstaves that thrust up at them from below. But more than anything else, he was aware of the burning need to keep any of these brutes from coming near Quicksilver. He parried and slashed, working his way along the line, praying that Fess would not have a seizure ...

  Suddenly, the great black horse jolted to a stop, legs stiff, its head swinging down between its fetlocks. Geoffrey barely managed to keep from being thrown by sheer momentum, but he turned at bay, blocking blades that rained at him from every side. In the back of his mind, he rejoiced that if Fess had had to have a seizure, he I had waited until he was directly in front of Quicksilver. On her other side, Alain was hewing mightily about him with sword and dagger. He was already bleeding in two places, but before him was a heap of crumpled outlaws, and their horses were running wild back into the press of their fellows, creating more confusion than Quicksilver's men.

  "Will you leave me none for my anger?" Quicksilver cried in frustration. "Nay, then, step aside!" And she leaped past Geoffrey, sword flashing and thrusting, a veritable whirlwind of death in embroidered skirt and bodice, the flower ring still holding to her hair even as her white blouse
sprouted stains of her enemies' blood.

  "They call for quarter, Quicksilver!" Minerva cried. "Give them the quarter they gave the villagers!" Quicksilver raged.

  "No quarter!" Minerva cried. "No mercy!"

  "Nay, save one!" Alain called. "Save one at least! One for the King's judgement!"

  "The King?" Quicksilver cried, outraged.

  Then, suddenly, it was all over. A score of outlaws stood with their hands high, devoid of weapons, either on horseback or a-foot, and Quicksilver's men and women hovered with swords and spears at their throats and chests, each thinking that perhaps this was the one who should be saved for the King.

  "The King?" Quicksilver turned on Alain in fury. "What service has the King ever done us, that we should thank him? Has he protected us from rape or despoiling? No! Has he protected us from the banditry of Count Laeg? No! Has he enforced the poor man's share of his own crops? No! All we have had from the King is an increase in taxes, so that he may take his share!"

  Cordelia landed behind Alain and stepped up beside him, but Quicksilver showed no sign of having noticed. "We owe the King nothing!" she said. "No, nothing, and least of all one of these cattle we have just taken by the might of our own arms, not his!"

  Alain took it well, standing against the blast of her anger. "Then save one for Duke Loguire's justice."

  "Duke Loguire! The King is Duke Loguire! Which is to say, there has been no Duke Loguire since the King's father died! Oh, I will own the poor man was safe whiles the old Duke lived, and such villainy as old Count Laeg did, he had to do secretly, so that only we peasants knew of virgins debauched and poachers flogged to their deathsbut not these last twenty years!"

  Alain frowned. "There were the Crown's reeves!"

  "Aye, each living in fear of Count Laeg, or taking his coin! Nay, if the King had cared for us as he should have, I would not be an outlaw today!"