by Allan Cole
The king rose from the throne and with Beemus scampering at his side strode down the steps to view us more closely. Janos and I tensed, thinking we would be the first to be examined. Instead, the king strolled casually around the formation. "What a sturdy group of men," he boomed in admiration. "You can see why they made it. And none the worse for wear, to boot."
"A little lean, perhaps," Raveline quarreled. "And battered a bit."
"Who wouldn't be," Domas replied, "after coming so far to find us?" He looked down at Beemus. "Are you still thinking?" Beemus said he was. "Good," the king said. "Make it nice and sharp and wounding, please."
More studying and nodding followed. Then Domas suddenly whirled and waved to the chamber, shouting: "Friends! Friends! Your attention, please." His bellow filled the great chamber and rolled back without the aid of magick. Others took up the cry, quite unnecessarily, saying: "The King is speaking! The King is speaking!" The crowd looked up expectantly.
"I want you all to meet these fellows," the king bellowed. "You've probably heard I'm interested in them, and here they are in flesh. They're all brave adventurers. And what adventure it's been! They've come all the way from far Orissa. Daring deserts and bandits, and all sorts of other terrors." Domas resumed his stroll, talking to the crowd as he went, with patient Beemus trotting at his side. "Let's talk to a few, shall we? And see what makes such spirit." He paused, hurling a great stone of a frown at the crowd. "A spirit many of you sadly lack." Then he returned his attention to us and a smile replaced the frown. His smile was quite unlike his brother's: it was wide and generous and its path was smooth from much use.
The king looked us over again, until his gaze fell on Sergeant Maeen. "You, sir," the king roared, pointing. "Tell us your name."
Maeen purpled with embarrassment. The purple deepened as confusion caught him between a salute and a bow he recalled had been forbidden. Domas rescued him with a commander's salute for a soldier. Dilemma solved, Maeen snapped his best brisk reply, saying: "Sir! I am Sergeant Maeen! Sir!"
The king shouted to the crowd: "Did you hear that? Sergeant Maeen, he says. I guessed his rank. You can see by the cut of him that he's a sergeant."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Maeen said.
"Tell us, good sergeant, what do you think of us now that you're here? How do you find Vacaan?"
Maeen's features glowed, and struggled mightily for the proper response. Finally, he blurted: "Marvelous, Your Majesty! It's just marvelous!"
Domas roared laughter. "Do you hear that?" he bawled. "He thinks we're... Marvelous!" More laughter. Then: "Good plain soldier's talk. We need more of that around here." Maeen blushed.
Then the king asked: "Is there anything you don't like? That isn't... marvelous?"
Maeen gave it his honest consideration, puzzling until he found a small blight. "It's the food, sir," he said.
"The food?" Domas thundered. "What don't you like about our food?"
"Oh, I like it fine, Your Majesty," Maeen said. "But, begging your pardon, sometimes I think it's somewhat... rich."
Domas was absolutely delighted with this. "I think so too, sergeant," he said. "They're always putting glop on nice fresh stuff and ruining it. Next time, tell them to scrape it off. Of course, I do that all the time, and it does me no good. And I'm their damned king!"
Prince Raveline broke in: "I think you have found a friend in my brother, sergeant," he said. "And I can see why. You're just his style of fellow."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Maeen said.
Domas held up a hand. "You shouldn't call him your majesty," he admonished. "It's like confusing officers with sergeants. Only kings are majestic. My brother's a prince. And princes are..." He paused, searching, and a sudden glow lit his features. He shouted for all to hear: "Princes are... LESS MAJESTIC." Then he laughed until the tears flowed, the crowd laughing with him. Raveline made his smile that was a sneer. Beemus whispered to Domas, who nodded, then said: "It was clever, wasn't. But you keep thinking, Beemus. I'll be needing more soon enough." He shot his brother a look, and snorted: "Good old Less Majestic."
Still laughing, he thanked Maeen, and strolled on; picking out several more of our men, introducing them to his subjects and praising each in turn. Finally, he came back to the front where we stood.
He caught my red hair first. "You, sir. Don't tell me your name, I know it. It's..." He frowned as it escaped him. Beemus whispered, and Domas grinned. "Antero, that's it... Amalric Antero."
"I am honored, Your Majesty," I said.
Domas puzzled at me for a moment, then he said: "You're the merchant?" I said I was. "Merchants aren't usually the daring sort. All they care about is profit." I told him that profit was certainly not my goal. The king studied me further, and I could see he believed me. He tapped Beemus. "I want to speak with him further," he said. "Make a bit of time in the next day or so." This request drew a furious bout of whispering from Beemus. "I know, I know," the king said. "But do it for me anyway, and there's a good fellow."
That done with, he turned to Janos. "I know your name right off," he said. "It's Janos Greycloak, soldier and wizard."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Janos said.
"Which are you the most of, Greycloak, soldier or wizard?"
"It was both that helped get us here, Your Majesty," Janos answered.
The king was impatient. "No avoidance now. I've made this court an open court. All are commanded to speak their minds. I do. So does my... Less Majestic brother." He chuckled in memory of his fun.
Janos braced up, even firmer than before. "I have been a soldier all my life," he said. "But during that time, there was only one banner that drew me. The Far Kingdoms have been my dream, sir. Now I am here, if you will permit it, the study of magick is what interests me most."
Domas eyed him, gave a slow nod, and said: "Why not?" He turned to the crowd, shouting: "That's enough. I want some privacy now. You all go back to whatever you were doing. Wasting my money, I suppose. Oh, yes. These fellows will be visiting awhile, and I want you to show them the utmost courtesy. Is that understood?" Rumbles from the crowd and friendly faces showed it was. Then the crowd turned away as he'd demanded, and Domas went back to his throne.
He thought for a moment, then: "I said before, I liked your looks. I liked them better when I looked closer. But only time can tell how right... or wrong, I am. So here is what I am going to do. Beemus, here, will find you places to stay. As honored guests, I suppose he'll come up with a palace for Antero and Greycloak. And something... not so rich... " he grinned at Maeen, "... for the rest of you. Now, if I've forgotten anything, or you have trouble of any kind, ask Beemus and he'll take care of it."
We murmured our thanks; the king nodded, accepting them. "Now, here's the rules. Be on your good behavior, but not so good you spoil your fun. Besides, I want to see what you're really like, and I can tell you now, I don't like tightarsed fellows."
He looked at Janos. "You, sir, wish to study our magick. I'll see if any of my wizards will take you under their wing." He shook a warning finger at Janos. "But don't go dabbling with the black sort. There's no demons allowed in my realm. And I intend to keep it that way."
Janos dipped his head in acceptance; his eyes were alight with pleasure. Just then, Raveline stepped forward. "I'd be glad to take him on, brother," he said. "I hear he has amazing talent."
"I thought you might," Domas said. "And that is fine with me." He looked back at Janos. "Prince Raveline is my chief wizard. Damned good one, too. Although not as good as he thinks. Fact is, I could best him with a little practice, but wizardry and ruling do not go together in Vacaan. We've kept them separate from the start and always shall in the future."
"I also do his dirty work for him," Raveline laughed.
"And you're damned good at that as well," Domas said. "Too bad you enjoy it so much." Then, to us: "I know he practices the black arts in that palace of his. And he knows that I know, and all that circular rot. Unfortunately it's a necessary evil. We
have many enemies outside. With only his filthy work to keep them at bay."
"Such admiration, brother dear, is overwhelming," Raveline said.
The king ignored him. "So there's no confusion, you ought to know what all my subjects know: I dislike my brother intensely. As much as he hates me. The only reason we haven't killed each other, as everyone in Vacaan also knows, is that it was forbidden from the beginning. If one of royal blood kill another, or causes one of our subjects to kill, then our dynasty is ended."
The king chortled. "My Less Majestic brother has greater need to kill me. You see, he wants more than anything to be king, but I have ten royal children in line for the throne." He laughed again at his brother. "You'll be dead ten times over, Oh, Less Majestic one."
Raveline returned his laughter. "Then I shall have to be happy with my dirty work," he said. More words were fired back and forth, and we tried not to show discomfort at this display of long and bitter rivalry nor show signs of taking sides; although I easily chose mine. I studied Raveline as the two royals engaged one another. Utorian had said the prince was the younger brother. I would have guessed otherwise: while Domas seemed to be in the early part of his fourth decade, Raveline had the look of a man knocking hard on the door of his fifth.
His forehead above and below the crown was deeply channeled; his eyes were pouched and edged with fishnets of long conspiracy; the lips were knowing and sensuous from practiced decadence. I heard his laugh again: it was rich and deep, but it came too easily and was touched with the love of mockery. His brother the king roared laughter in reply, but this mirthful boom rang sincere. Domas was a man who relished the very act of laughter - even when it jeered.
My dislike for Raveline did not grow slowly from the bitter ground of later experience; it rooted and leaped to full maturity at first sight. If I had written his description a minute after we met, my quill would still have lusted for poisonous ink. His description, I realize, paints a man with masked features that hid sorcerous connivance and twisted purpose. In reality, he worked hard to match his brother, keeping his face open and allowing emotion to do as it pleased with position and complexion. He made his speech blunt, and he rode it down the short road to direct points. But I had my father's eye for sizing up a customer, and this was one I did not trust. However, distrust can catch a bargain as well as its pretty sister; so I made it into a coin for further use. I glanced at Janos and worried when I saw how he was weighing Raveline's every word. Ah, well, I thought, he's practiced in taking care. Besides, knowledge was his purpose now; and what harm can knowledge be?
The brothers ended their quarrel and I saw my chance. I caught the king's attention and asked: "If I may ask a question, Your Majesty?"
"Ask away," Domas said.
"That we have much to gain from this experience is obvious. But, I wonder, sir: what benefit are we to you?"
Domas was startled; he pulled his head back and peered at me for a long moment. Then he laughed and turned to Beemus. "Remember the time I asked you to set aside? So Antero and I could talk?" Beemus whispered that unfortunately, he did. Domas said: "Well, make it longer." He spread his hands apart quite wide." Much longer."
His broad face swiveled back to me. "I'll tell you then," he said.
With that, our audience ended.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
THE FIRST VEIL PARTS
A king's promise is not the same as other men's. My word must be my bond; only a fool would trade with me if it were not. But a king can renege when he pleases and suffer little, if at all. His business is unique: there is no other source for such promises; and if only one is granted out of ten, there will still be ten more supplicants elbowing through the crowd to win the king's favor.
Two weeks after King Domas had given his promise, we were still gnawing on that doubtful coin to test its worth. I had not heard from Beemus about that "time" the king had promised, and there had been no answers from the palace to my many queries. Janos was particularly worried, for he held the "Less Magnificent" promise of a prince; and his equally numerous messages to Raveline had also gone unanswered. Adding to Janos's woes, was Prince Raveline had done nothing at all beyond that first gesture; while Domas had made good on at least part of what he had promised. Our men were well-cared for, enjoying an easy life at a villa near the main docks, where there were many entertainments and awe-stricken women to beguile them. Janos and I had each been given a palace for quarters, and luxuries a plenty to soothe time's passage. But the abundant and glamorous present was perched on the crumbling edge of the future, and each second of our wait had become an agony.
"I almost wish Raveline had stayed out of it," Janos said one day. "With the prince claiming me as his student, no one with any real knowledge dares do more than wish me a good morrow."
My distrust of Raveline made me glad, but friendship prodded a sigh of sympathy. "Both our royal hosts have become as unreachable as that mountain," I said, indicating the holy summit that graced the view from my balcony. Actually, it was one of many balconies I could claim in the palace I had been given; but the great blue Holy Mountain reflecting in the river had made this one my favorite. "I keep telling myself to be patient," I continued, "but when patience is your only choice, such reminders are little help."
Janos gave his beard a tug and laughed. "You are a good friend, Amalric," he said. "But I am your good friend as well. So I know you hide your true feelings just now."
I shrugged and laughed with him. I had told Janos my poor opinion of the prince and he had brushed it off as sheer speculation; which it was. "When I speak to the king," I said, "I will be sure to press him for a... shall I say... more available tutor."
"If you speak to the king," Janos said, the laughter quickly gone.
I sighed again, this time, heartfelt. "Yes... If! I have grown to despise that word. Whenever I have a thought there is always an If leaping out to trip me. If only I could see the king. And if once I saw him: if only he would listen. And if he listened: if only he would find favor with my proposals. And if he finds favor: if only-"
"I take the point," Janos said, dryly. "Too well, in fact. The word will haunt my dreams... if I should ever sleep again."
Laughter returned to lighten our worry. I eased back in my soft, gilded pillows and wondered again at the Holy Mountain. I thought of the altars of the Old Ones Utorian had mentioned, and the ceremonies they once held to honor the wisest of their Evocators after the Dark Seeker had taken his due. For a moment I imagined the smoke rising from their ashes on the flaming stone; and I imagined the wind carrying the smoke away. To the east, Utorian had said. "Why to the east?" I murmured.
"East of what?" Janos asked.
"Nothing," I said, embarrassed by my rude reverie. "A bit of silliness, which forced idleness seems to encourage."
Janos had other things on his mind as well. He waved at the river, which flowed past in commanded peacefulness and beauty. "They think they are such a superior people," he said, "and show us grand marvels, such as that tame river, to prove it."
"It seems a marvel to me," I said.
Janos snorted. "Only the scale is a marvel. The principle is as plain as honest soap. We routinely calm small areas about our own ships, when conditions are right, just as we call winds from bags we buy on the market to fill our sails. It is only a bit of wind, but there is no difference between the logic applied to that wind, and what they surely must do to bend the weather to their will."
"Could you do it?" I asked.
Janos shrugged. "With experiment, yes, I could crack their methods. But I would also have to figure out where they get all the energy required. Even with a thousand Evocators focusing all their powers on a single purpose, only a tenth of the energy needed would be produced."
"But our Evocators are weaklings next to theirs," I said.
"Nonsense," Janos replied. "Oh, I admit these fellows have more knowledge; and a few, such as Raveline, possess great natural power of their own
. But I have as much as he, and am capable of far more." I knew he was not boasting, but making a statement of fact. "Still, even if all of their wizards were as great as Raveline, the power would still be lacking. Therefore, they must get it elsewhere. And when I know where, so shall I."
"But we have seen more than river and weather," I said. "There is wondrous magic wherever we look."
"Toys and tavern tricks," Janos scoffed. "Once again on a larger scale. There are written rules for all the spells we have seen. If - that damned word again - I am allowed to see the scrolls of the ancient wizards, I will perform those tricks as well."
"Is there nothing that impresses you?" I asked Janos.
"Oh, to be sure," he said. "Otherwise I would despair. I have seen many things that I ache for knowledge of. To name one: did you know they can transmute common elements into gold?"
I laughed. "What do you care? Gold never been something you fancied, except as a means to an end."
Janos remained serious. "Forget the value. Although any ordinary element will do, they make it from sand, as that substance is the most plentiful; and they do it with such ease and in such quantities they use gold in common construction. They even prefer jewelry of gold alloy, which they can only get from manufacture, because it is not so soft. It is the doing that excites my interest."
"I saw you change a scorpion into a mouse once," I said. "And Mortacious made the mouse a gold plate. Why is sand to gold a greater feat?"
Janos thought for a moment, searching for a means to explain a complicated thing to a man who was less than a novice. "I did not change that scorpion into a mouse," he said at last. "I put the scorpion away. Into another... place, is the only word I can think of to describe it. I did not see that place, but I felt it with my mind. And with my mind I fingered an opening, then... put the scorpion through that opening. I got the mouse the same way. Although it was not from the same place. Perhaps it was in Mortacious's kitchen, poor thing. Or perhaps, it wasn't even of this... world." He looked at me to see if I understood. I was ignorant enough to think I did, and nodded.