The Far Kingdoms

by Allan Cole

  He laughed again and slapped my face. Once, twice, then once more. Hard, stinging blows, that did me no real bother. Except he was building his rage for what was to come next.

  Behind him, in the mouth of a dark alley, I saw a large, dark figure making water on the side of a building. One of Leego's thugs I thought, pausing to empty his bladder before he joined the fun.

  "The only reason I haven't killed you yet, young sir," Leego continued, "is that I am torn between revenge and profit. What you did to Melina has cost me many a fat purse. I'll have to send her far away now. And spend a fortune curing her of the effects of that potion."

  "Piss on your money, Leego," I said. "You have taken more than enough from me these last months. And I've seen nothing in return."

  Leego slapped me again. "That's what happens to a boy, who comes to play a man's game," he snarled. "You keep thinking you have some choice in this matter," he said. "You don't. The choices are mine. If I decide to favor profit, you shall provide me with all the money I require. What would the Council of Evocators say if I reported this matter? Feeding a love potion to a hetaera is a great crime. I can imagine well how happy it would make the Evocators to have an Antero in their power."

  "I have no money, Leego," I said, weary. "You and Melina have taken it all."

  "Your father will provide, young sir," Leego laughed. "He wouldn't want his little darling in the hands of the Evocators."

  "Then you might as well kill me," I answered. "For I will not ask my father for even a tenth of a coin. And if he tries to give it to me just the same, I shall refuse it."

  "Oh, I don't think it would work out quite that way," Leego said. "I know men. Especially rich men. Still... Profit is not necessarily my motive in this. For I despise you and your kind, Amalric Antero. You and your soft, spoiled ways. Thinking you're better than other men, just because you were born in a fine bed." His blade slashed across my chest. My jerkin and shirt fell away, baring tender flesh. "Killing would be so much more pleasurable," he said, drawing his blade across that flesh. I felt blood streaming down. "A nice, slow death. Then I'll cut off your face and that red hair. Your cock and balls as well. No one will even know it is you."

  My temper got the better of me again. I spat in his face. He reeled back, a great gob of spit hanging on the spider totem. Then he shrieked and leaped forward, his knife plunging at my breast. Before he could strike, the dark figure by the alley bounded to us, and knocked Leego aside with a powerful blow.

  "Begone, jackals," the man thundered, and I saw a long sweeping flash of steel as he drew his sword.

  One of my captors released his hold, and I bent, dropping to my knees. One man sailed over my head. The other jumped away and grabbed for steel. He slashed at my rescuer, who parried the blade with ease, then struck back to spill the man's guts in the muck. I scrabbled for my rapier in the filth, and came up with it just as a man thrust at me. I ducked under his guard and skewered him through the throat.

  Then I was up on my feet, shoulder to shoulder with my rescuer, as our enemies reformed and came at us. There was no sound but the clash of steel, harsh breathing, and gasps of effort. Leego leaped up, urging his men on. For a moment, we were almost overwhelmed. Then my new friend drew a long knife, and charged, sword and dagger cutting this way and that. Someone got behind him, but I speared that man through the back and I heard the whistle of lungs emptying. Suddenly the men were running, bowling Leego over in their panic to escape my demon rescuer.

  I started after them, but my friend stuck out his foot and I tumbled face forward into the mud.

  By the time I rose the man had Leego pinned to the ground with a heavy boot across his throat. I plucked fire beads from my pocket, held them high and whispered the enchantment that brought them to life. "Bring them closer, lad," the man said. "I need some light on my work."

  I could see him clearly, now. He was a soldier, I noted, an officer. He was quite tall, heavily muscled and darkly handsome, with a jagged scar above his beard marring those good looks. His teeth glittered as brightly as his sword.

  "Please, sir," Leego begged, "there's only a small misunderstanding. I'm sure I can make it right." He squealed as my friend trod harder against his windpipe.

  "What's his name?" the soldier asked.

  "Leego," I answered. "He's a Procurer."

  The man took this in, then leaned over my nemesis. "Look closely at my face, Leego," he said. "I want you to remember it well." Leego gurgled, and nodded. "My name is Janos Greycloak, you whore's son," he said. "Captain Greycloak, to be more precise. I overheard your conversation with this gentleman, so I am a witness to your threats."

  "No harm meant," Leego croaked. "It was only business, kind captain."

  "Well, if business includes blackmail," Janos said, "then let me warn you: If you accuse this man, I shall stand with him and humbug your every charge. If murder is your true intent, let me make myself clear. If anything happens to him, I shall find you, Leego, and you will beg for something so merciful as murder."

  "I shall not harm him, good sir," Leego shrieked. "I promise by all that is holy."

  "Don't blaspheme," Captain Greycloak said. He stepped back as if to let Leego rise. He sheathed his sword. As Leego came to his elbows, that boot crushed down again. The captain pinched Leego's ear between two strong fingers. Leego howled. "To make absolutely sure we have a bargain," the captain said, "I shall take something of yours."

  His knife slashed and Leego screamed. Captain Greycloak held Leego's ear in his hand, blood dripping across the spider face. The captain shook it, scattering more blood like rain. "If this young gentleman has trouble with you in the future," he said, "I shall give this stump to an old warty witch I know. She specializes in particularly odious curses. Do you understand my meaning?"

  "Yes, my lord," Leego whined.

  "Out of our sight, then," the captain said.

  Leego fled down the street without looking behind him. When he was gone the captain looked at the lump of bloody flesh in his hand. He laughed, hurled it away and wiped his fingers with odd fastidiousness on his breeches. "As if I had coin for witches," he said.

  "Captain Greycloak," I said, "I shall always be your service for this night's work."

  "I'm glad to hear that," he said, "for I have suddenly developed a powerful thirst." He clapped me on the shoulder and led me back to the tavern. "You would do me a great honor, gentle sir, if you would address me as a friend. And my friends - an unfortunate few, I fear, - call me Janos."

  "Then Janos, it is, sir," I said with fervor. "And you must call me Amalric. What's more, if I have any buttons left to trade with the tavern keeper, I will buy a river of brandy to bless this friendship." Lightheaded with relief, I trooped into the inn to make the rat-faced tavernkeep a richer man.

  We had finished one goblet of brandy and were well into a second. I had been musing I had just sent one man to his death, and most likely the one I'd lung-stabbed would not live out the night, yet felt neither guilt nor shame, unlike the ballads pretend. Thinking further on the brawl outside, honesty shamed me into confessing aloud I did not consider myself worthy of rescue.

  "The argument," I said, "was over a dishonorable act on my part. I did not deserve your interference."

  "Don't be so hasty in flailing yourself, my friend," Janos answered. "I know quite a little of men like Leego, and I strongly doubt at any moment in your dealings you ever had the upper hand."

  "I was a fool," I said. It felt cleansing to say those words aloud.

  Janos nodded. "I suspect you were," he said. "It usually happens when a man thinks with his cock instead of his brain." He laughed. "However, I did overhear one thing that intrigues me. Something about a love potion. Applied to his prize whore." His eyes sparkled with what I thought was amused interest. Later I learned his interest in these matters were far from casual.

  I blushed. "I fear what you heard is true. It was a terrible sin I committed, and I regret it deeply."

  "Oh, do
n't be a prudish fellow. What's there to regret? The doxy and Leego got their money's worth out of you, I'll warrant."

  I made a complete and full confession, starting with the moment Melina and I first met and ending with my flight from her bedchamber. Janos was a remarkably easy confessor. He was sympathetic, without being syrupy. He interrupted only to ask a detail - one that always seemed to bolster my side - or make a jest to lighten my spirits. It was like talking to a much older brother, although I realized he couldn't be much more than five years my senior. When I was done he poured the last of the brandy, then turned the bottle up to signal it would be our last.

  "In my unworthy opinion, Amalric," he said, "this is a tale that began sadly and ended happily. You learned a lesson most of us don't come to until a late age, if ever. Forget the woman. Forget your imagined humiliations. I assure you it will make a wonderful story to tell your sons when you are an old man. At least tonight, you acquitted yourself well. So be done with it."

  I thanked him, although I was not convinced my sins could so easily be washed away.

  Janos raised his goblet in a toast: "To the new Amalric Antero. May his future adventures be half as sweet." Our goblets chinked together and we drank.

  As we lowered our glasses I caught Janos eyeing me thoughtfully across the table. "I think my own fortunes changed this night, Amalric," he said, quite sincerely. "For did I not meet a red headed man? And is that not one of the luckiest signs the seers can find in their crystals?"

  "For your sake," I said, "I hope so. It is not so lucky for its possessor, I fear."

  Janos laughed, that rich boom of a laugh I spoke of before. "Now that is a riddle worthy of the greatest Evocator," he said. "Much more so than how many demons can gambol on the head of a pin. If the Omen portends well, does it follow that the Omen will also end well?"

  Even writing from this distance, with all the events that have passed since we first met, I still do not know the answer to that riddle. I doubt I will until the night the Dark Seeker comes to carry off my soul.

  My spirits lifted as I pondered his riddle. At long last, a friend with wit. Then, defeated, I shook my head. "Even if it were not late," I said, "I doubt I could unravel your puzzle. Indeed, it is a riddle whose answer may be as impossible to divine as..." I searched for comparisons, and one popped up like a light, "...as finding the Far Kingdoms."

  I laughed, but I laughed alone. Janos was staring at me, excitement in his eyes.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Why did you say that?" he asked.

  I was confused. "You mean...about the Far Kingdoms?"

  "Yes." His voice was abrupt, prodding.

  "I... really can't say. Except it was on my mind just before Leego's boys arrived." Janos peered closer, and I suddenly felt rather stupid. "It's that kind of silliness on my brain that's kept me from my responsibilities," I said, a bit hot. "Forgive my babbling."

  "If you knew me," Janos said, "you would realize when it comes to aimless chatter, there is no man the master of Janos Greycloak."

  I laughed as he drew me toward the door. "We'd best go quickly, my friend," he said, "or we'll soon be wrecked on the shoals of more brandy and babbling."

  We went out into the night. Down the street I saw a torch flare, and thought once more of the Far Kingdoms.

  Then the thought was gone and only night remained.

  * * *

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE FINDING

  I woke the next morning feeling bleary; my mind stuck like a dying fly in the dregs of last night's wine. Then I smelled the clean sharpness of the spring wind whispering in my chamber's window, and the haze vanished. With some surprise I also realized that for the first time in many days I had not been troubled with the terrible dream of the one-eyed man. I went from my bedchamber to the ante room, washed, then knelt and whispered the ritual prayer to the hearthgod. The hand mirror - no matter how close I held it - told me I would not need to be shaved this day; so I began to put on the clothes laid out for me.

  Then I caught myself. "Eanes!" He entered the chamber soundlessly, his face carefully made up in polite, if only slightly interested concern: the expression I later understood to be the mask body slaves quickly learn to wear for survival. I indicated the clothes he had laid out: the shirt was plain; the breeches were of a sober color; the jerkin was of poor quality; and the cap could have been worn by an elder. "Is this what you think happened?"

  A smile flickered, then vanished. "I think nothing, m'lord. But since you said my presence would not be required when you went out last evening; and you returned escorted by two soldiers not far from dawn; and I found wine and earth stains on your clothes, which were scattered as if the Month of Winds had begun prematurely in your chambers; and--"

  "Enough!"

  "As you wish, sir."

  "I had some unexpected encounters was all."

  "I have never heard Her called that, before."

  I chose to ignore his words: My teachers had repeatedly cautioned me from childhood that I was overly familiar with slaves or the lower classes - just as I was guilty of showing insufficient respect to my elders and superiors. But it is impossible for anyone with bowels to play the lordling to a small, balding slave whose first service was carrying you from your father's arms to the waiting Evocator at the naming ritual.

  "But I thought," Eanes continued, "you might wish your dress for this day to be... shall we say of a hue that would not offend an eye that is bleeding, nor a parent still below stairs who heard the clatter as you reeled in?"

  Eanes might have been surprised I did not pale; but I had need of my father today: there was a debt to repay, and thanks to Melina and my own foolishness, I did not have the means. I walked into the wardrobe and carefully chose my costume: breeches of green, with a matching flat cap worked with gold threads; a flower-embroidered belted tunic; ankle boots, since the weather appeared balmy; and a short cloak. Remembering last night's embarrassment, I chose a simple rapier, one without curlicued quillons, slung it from a baldric set with the family seal, and considered myself in a mirror: my image was just as I wished to appear - a sober young heir, but not one in mourning; a young man who, though sprightly in his air, was not the type to consort with whores of any pricing, nor their pimps.

  "I see," Eanes said. "So she left you empty-pursed once again. And you are planning to go out and about. I assume you will not require my presence."

  "I may not have paid much mind to my tutors, but I recollect the one - I disremember if it was the fellow who somehow fell into the harbor or the one whose robes ended up mysteriously on fire - who told me the story of the savant who prided himself on the excellence of his predictions; and while boasting to his students of this talent one day, he kept walking along a cliff edge some yards after the solid land had come to an end. And so the babbler died, to the great cheers and relief of his tortured students. The reality is I shall be infinitely pleased to have your company, even if I fear senility is setting in. We will be going out shortly."

  "Yes, noble Amalric, my never-to-be-sufficiently-praised owner. I will be ready. Although I must add - you were correct when you said you paid little heed to your teachings. Consider the fable whose moral you so twisted. In truth, after the tragic death of that poor wise man, several of his students killed themselves, despairing that they would no longer benefit from his guidance. And, considering the day looks as if it threatens rain and storm, and I have more than a hint of chill - caused by my waiting up deep into the night, worrying about my poor master, stumbling drunkenly through some filth-strewn alley, and stalked by evil cut-throats - you should learn from the shamed suicides of those students, and meditate long that I shall not be with you forever."

  As usual, the end-scoring favored Eanes.

  * * *

  Fountains flashed in the gardens in the center of our villa, and our tame birds' rainbow colors from limb to limb of budding trees. My father was sitting at a long table, a plate of fruit and a glass of well
-watered wine for breakfast beside him. He was surrounded by his factotum, Tegry, plus an array of scrolls, tablets, minions and lackeys. I seated myself at the far end of the table and waited. Father noticed me, but let me sit without greeting for several long minutes. He pressed his signet to a document and its bearer left. Father held up his hand and the next man respectfully waited a few yards away.

  "Have you eaten?" he asked me.

  "I have not."

  "No doubt you have no appetite."

  "Nossir. I mean, yes, I do."

  "Hmm. I would have guessed from the commotion I was told you produced, arriving home in the last turning of the glass, that all you could stomach would be a brandy and milk." He did not let me answer. "I assume you want something. And I further assume I can predict what it will be, even given my slender powers for prognostication." I looked down at the table, then nodded.

  "This will be the third time--" Tegry began.

  "I think l am aware of my son's requests and can even remember the quantities. I have no intention either one of us should waste time listening to another plea for gold that will be wasted gilding some strum...." My father stopped himself. In spite of his feelings, which I saw then as anger but now realize was closer to disappointment, he would not shame me in front of a slave. "Amalric, I feel you should consider further before making your request."

  I looked up at him. "The money is not for... her. But to repay a debt."

  Tegry looked at me. "A money-lender, Lord Antero."

  My ears burned. "A debt of honor, Tegry. Perhaps you will have the word translated into a tongue you understand." Shutters dropped over Tegry's face an instant before my father scowled at him.

  "A debt of honor," my father said slowly. "Very well. I will not disgrace the request - nor you for asking. Tegry! See to it."

  "Thank you, Father."

  "Don't get up. You have not eaten yet. Learn a bit of wisdom - every meal you miss now, your body will remind you of many times in years to come."