Voidfarer

by Sean McMullen

  "Sir!" said Riellen and I together.

  "Not you, Inspector, stay behind—and close the door on your way out, Constable Riellen."

  The directant stood up and gestured to his desk. I walked around and sat behind it, and he placed a field writing kit and service reedpaper before me.

  "You will now rewrite the pages of your report as we agreed, and will not leave this room until the work is done."

  "I shall also include the separate report on Constable Riellen."

  "And I shall have it taken straight down to the kitchen and dropped into a fire. Why bother?" "So that I shall have submitted it, sir." "Suit yourself." The work took several hours, by which time the afternoon

  had very nearly become evening. At last I stood before the desk again. The directant resumed his seat.

  "All in order, Inspector, very well done," he said smoothly. "Now then, when the report reaches me that Pelmore is dancing his last jig, I shall be writing out an authorization transferring you to the Inquisition, where you will have the rank of inspector marshal—except that they call it inquisitor marshal. Should you wish to modify your recollections of Pelmore's and Riellen's actions before the transfer, do get back to me. Consider yourself on leave until then."

  "I do not find that acceptable, sir. I shall resign."

  "If you resign, it will be from a commission ordered by the regent himself. That will be taken as a direct insult to the regent, and that will get you into a lot more trouble."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "THE BANKS OF THE ALBER"

  With my meeting with the Directant of Wayfarers at an end, I collected my pack from the porter, then walked out into what remained of the day's sunshine. Once I was on the towpath beside the river, I took off my medal and flung it into the water. I wondered if Halland's medal might be at the bottom of the river too, and about what Roval and Lavenci might have done with theirs. I walked very slowly along the tow path. I had lost everything, that thought kept pounding through my mind. I had so little, yet even that was all gone. And for what? Justice? Well, yes. Pelmore was a killer and a danger to others, so he deserved to die. Riellen? That was personal, and carried with it a very strong sense of betrayal. The sun was down by the time I reached the Lamplighter, and I sat quietly in the taproom for a

  time, drinking ale and listening to a pair of quite talented rebec players. One began playing an unfamiliar but haunting tune. I could not recall ever hearing the tune before. My memory with music is not at all bad, yet the tune seemed neither very old or very new. Suddenly a girl began to sing, and the conversation in the taproom died away.

  "As I wandered out, by the banks of the Alber, I spied a brave Wayfarer, handsome and clever. His arm bore a wound, there were none that were braver. Let us drink a good health, to the Wayfarers bold.

  His hair it was black, and his face it was comely. He stood by himself, and his eyes they were lonely His company was dead. None lived but he only. Let us drink a good health, to the Wayfarers bold.

  I bound up the wound that his arm it did carry, Then I said unto him, and I never did tarry, 'Lie with me tonight, maybe some day we'll marry.' Let us drink a good health, to the Wayfarers bold.

  'If I dare for to love you,' says he, 'you may sorrow, 'I may die on my journeys, so grieving will follow, 'So I'll not take your heart, on the highway tomorrow.' Let us drink a good health, to the Wayfarers bold.

  'Oh I never shall marry, I'll lie alone burning, 'If suitors do come, all of them I'll be spurning, 'Unless once again, my brave love you're returning.'

  Let us drink a good health, to the Wayfarers bold."

  I got up and walked over to the girl while the company was still clapping.

  "What was the song, miss?" I asked. "It was quite lovely." 'Thank you, Inspector," she said with a little laugh of embarrassment. "Is it very old?"

  "Oh no, sir," she replied, "a lady sung it here, maybe three, four weeks ago." Three or four weeks. That was highly significant. Lavenci was still in Alberin then.

  "Did you see her? What did she look like?"

  "Eyes like coals, hair like snow. Very comely, she was. All admired her. She said that she wrote it for her lad, who was away with the Wayfarers. It's funny, you know. She's been here a lot over the months past. I asked if she was at the tavern to find some company until her lad returned, but she said no, she wanted to learn what us lassies talked about while courting. Wasn't that strange?"

  "Perhaps not as strange as you might think," I said, more to myself than her.

  "Do you remember anything else about her?"

  "She danced, I remember that. Funny thing was that she only danced with those lads who had a girl. Those as was alone had not a chance with her."

  "Thank you, miss, thank you so much."

  I returned to my table and thought about the song for a long time. Lavenci had esteemed me sufficiently to write it, the evidence for that was as clear as any examining magistrate could wish to see. She had been keeping her affections to herself, that was obvious as well. It was almost as if Lavenci were being faithful to me, pining for me, and learning to do the things that I liked. She also wanted to learn what girls talked about while courting. That left me really puzzled. Girls talked a load of rubbish, just like their lads. Perhaps she had been trying to change herself, perhaps she really was studying to become romantic. I had once changed myself deliberately. Had I slighted her for being what she was trying to escape from?

  The wave of guilt that clutched at my stomach very nearly had my ale returned all over the table. There had been a moment like this, four years ago, when I had fought in the focus of a six-on-one training melee. I had killed two of my sparring masters, so wild had been the action, but I was a prince, and princes do not have to apologize for such things. Nevertheless, their deaths had wounded my soul.

  A hand thudded onto my back, a full tankard was set down in front of me, and a voice asked:

  "What's a famous man like you doing in a place like this?" I looked up to see two other Wayfarers. "Andry, Costiger!" I exclaimed, standing up at once.

  "Andry, how is your wife?" "Baby girl, three weeks ago." "And the boy?"

  "He can walk, but he can't understand orders yet."

  "Sounds ideal for the Wayfarers."

  "Into everything, and raising hell."

  "Oh ho, officer material, no less."

  'Takes after 'is dad," laughed Costiger.

  At this point we were joined by a man who looked familiar, yet who I could not quite place. His head was shaved, and he looked to be somewhere in his thirties. Suddenly I realized that it was Roval, looking the way he was when I had met him, three years earlier.

  "Danolarian, I hear you played the sun down on Alpindrak," said Andry.

  "That I did, lad," I said, still staring at Roval.

  "I was in something of a mess when you saw me last," said my constable, responding to my stare.

  The most senior surviving member of the Special Warrior Service was neatly dressed, shaven clean, and actually seemed alert and sharp.

  "So, no girl as yet, Danol?" asked Andry.

  "Well, I've seen what a couple of women did to you," I replied noncommittally.

  "Oh no, no, no, that's what the wrong sorts of women will do to you," said Andry hastily. "Now, take my Merrial."

  "Oh no, you'd punch me in the face!" I laughed, elbowing him in the ribs.

  "She's a shipwright's daughter, but she's steady as the day is long, sharper than a fox with training in law, yet with more love in her than every other woman I've met put together. Speaking of women, how's Riellen? I hear she got a medal too."

  "Yes, and a posting to somewhere far away, as an envoy," I replied.

  "Bet it was Vindic," said Andry.

  "I'd like to go to Vindic," said Costiger. "Lots of dancing girls."

  "You could go as Riellen's bodyguard," Andry suggested.

  "Don't want to go that much," replied Costiger.

  'Three years on the road together, and yo
u didn't kill her!" laughed Andry. "I lost ten florins when she got through one year of service with you, yet her neck remained unbroken."

  "I'm a patient lad," I replied.

  Andry, Costiger, and I had served as mercenaries in Sargol, then had deserted together to Alberin. Andry had decided to become a gendeman, and had worked his way up from common sailor to the lower nobility before deciding mat one can be gentlemanly in whatever class one chooses to be part of. The huge and brawny Costiger still lacked direction, however, and relied on Andry, Essen, or myself whenever he had to make a decision.

  Andry leaned over the table, glanced about, and raised an eyebrow.

  "So what's the true story with these Lupanians?" he asked. "Did you really slaughter three score of them?"

  "Pah, I helped to kill one. They're tougher than a glass dragon. Commander Halland from Gatrov got two, but that was by surprise. It won't happen again. They learn quickly, and never make the same mistake twice."

  "Those two in the cage seem harmless."

  "Don't you believe it."

  "Roval said they feed on captives," said Andry. "Aye, I've seen them doing it," I replied. "They eats us?" gasped Costiger.

  "That they do. Their sorcerer-kavelars move about in walking towers a hundred feet high, and their weapons are castings hotter than a glass dragon's breath. They can do this at one mile."

  I showed then a sample of the glazed rock from the tower. They were impressed.

  "So what's to do?" asked Andry. "I have a wife and family. Should I put them on the first ship out of here?"

  "Yes!"

  "But surely we can fight back!" insisted Andry. "You said three have been killed."

  "Four. One died on the flight across the void from Lupan."

  "Two per voidship, and ten voidships, that's one in five of their number gone already."

  "I doubt that any more will die so easily," I assured him. "Remember, they learn fast."

  "So do we," said Andry.

  "Do we really? Remember Commander Halland of the Gatrov Town Militia, the man who killed two Lupanians? Has he been put in charge of the Alberinese army?"

  "Er, no. But we heard that Duke Lestor died while defending Gatrov. We heard he destroyed a Lupanian siege tower with a single arrow, so they can't be so very powerful."

  "Bollix. Duke Lestor was eaten. I saw it happen. Halland is the only real chance for Alberin."

  "Halland, good man," said Roval, nodding but holding the expression on his face neutral. "I knew him in the SWS."

  "Halland was in the Special Warrior Service?" I exclaimed.

  "Yes, until he was brought low by a woman, demoted to kavelar, and sent to Gatrov. Could you come outside for a moment, lad? Special message." Out in the street, Roval told me that the Palace Guard was combing the city for me. There was a briefing being held in the Metrologan temple, for the benefit of the regent's courtiers, nobles of the military, and senior Metrologans and Skepticals. Halland was to speak, and so was I. Being scholars of magic, but not sorcerers, the Metrologans had been spared by the Inquisition. Just as well, as it happened.

  Roval and I passed the ruins of Cedar Hall on the way to the Metrologan temple. Ashes, bones, and partly melted bits of magical paraphernalia were being shoveled onto carts by torchlight, so that the daytime crowds did not see the scale of the deaths and get squeamish. An occasional burst of etheric energy crackled amid the debris. At the entrance to the temple we were met by a deaconess who took us to a tiered lecture hall that was packed with important-looking people, many of whom were awake. A young nobleman, Laron, the man I referred to as the master, was speaking. "So in conclusion, a study of reports from travelers, bargemen, and even carrier birds shows that the Lupanians have destroyed eleven towns, these marked by the red crosses." He pointed to a large map hanging on the wall behind him. "They have also conquered seven cities and eighty towns without a fight. Their tactic is to go into an area and make an example of one town, thus frightening those round about into surrendering. Any questions?" There was a vaguely restless muttering and stirring. A few hands went up.

  "You say there are no more than twelve of them, so far," Duke Magnisseran of the Imperial Light Cavalry pointed out. "How can they control three dozen provinces?"

  "They can speak our language, using some sort of magical casting, and they have been recruiting followers in droves. Remember, they say that they are the Gods of the Moonworlds, appearing in solid form."

  "And people believe it?"

  "Oh yes," said Halland earnestly. "The Lupanians are cruel, arbitrary, overwhelmingly powerful, and rather impressive to look at. They demand human sacrifices, too. People seem to like all that in a god."

  "Then we are doomed," I whispered to Roval. "If our people will not fight, who will? The grass gnomes?"

  He put a finger to his lips and pointed. Justiva, Elder of Metrologans, stood up to field the question.

  "We Metrologans have influence with the glass dragons," she announced.

  "Messages have been sent, requesting help."

  "And?" Lord Wallengtor asked.

  "And we are now waiting. There are no more powerful beings in all the world than glass dragons. If anyone can save us, it will be them. They can command energies of a similar intensity to those of the Lupanians." In the silence that followed, various knowing looks, winks, nods, frowns, and grins were exchanged.

  "They had better flap over in a hurry, else it will be too late," joked some baron, who was wearing ermine-trimmed robes in spite of the heat.

  "Nobody tells the glass dragons what to do," warned Justiva in turn. "They will want to know that we are worthy of their help."

  "Worthy of their help?" I hissed to Roval, suddenly exasperated by all the profound musings of important and knowledgeable people. "And if we are not, what will they say? Oi, that's a nasty hole in the humans' end of the ship, lucky it's not in ours."

  "Try to moderate your tone a little if you want to be taken seriously," replied Roval sofdy as Laron took another question. "You are speaking next." As Laron finished his next reply, Roval walked forward with both arms raised and stood before the podium.

  "Lords, learned ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that the next speaker has arrived," he announced. "Wayfarer Inspector Danolarian Scryverin of the West Quadrant has survived four encounters with the Lupanians, and was on Captain Danzar's ballista team when they brought down a tower and killed its Lupanian glass walker. Before he speaks, however, I wish to announce that a demand for Alberin's surrender arrived with an envoy from one of the conquered cities within the hour past. Lancington, I'm led to believe."

  "That's barely fifty miles away," said Duke Magnisseran.

  "Fifty-one, by a good road. The envoy's detached head was sent back by way of reply. In view of the successes of Commander Halland and his forces against the Lupanians, the regent feels that Alberin's warriors and heroes are more than adequate to meet any threat to the city."

  Warriors and heroes? I thought as I closed my eyes and put a hand to my face. Us?

  "I now call upon Inspector Danolarian to address the meeting on his encounters with the Lupanians."

  I kept my address as brief as possible, but it still stretched out over another three-quarters of an hour. My account of the speed with which the baron and his force had been annihilated caused some skeptical mutterings, as did my impressions of the demise of Duke Lestor's river marines. I was dreading the questions at the end, but to my relief Halland was called up as soon as I was finished.

  As Halland outlined his experiences fighting the Lupanians, I noticed that Norellie was in the audience, was paying particular attention, taking notes at what I considered to be all the appropriate places, and even giggling at his occasional jokes. Rather than try to meet the bored, vacant eyes of the nobles, or the piercing, attentive stares of the scholars, he gave her his attention.

  As the questions were dying away, Justiva raised her hand

  'The Metrologans and the armed forces
of Alberin have been granted unlimited resources to lead the fight against the Lupanians," she said as she stood up, thrusting her breasts out to astonishing effect. "How do you think all that might best be used? Think carefully now, we need an honest answer, not words that you think we want to hear."

  An honest answer, I thought. Well ladyship, you asked for it, . and he might give it.

  "With respect, Learned Elder, that is like being handed a bag of gold by the master of a sinking ship," Halland replied.

  Silence greeted these words. Whether it was stunned silence or bored silence, I cannot tell. By now my impression was that few in the audience were taking the threat seriously.

  "Well then, what would you advise the people of Alberin to do, were you in charge?" asked the elder.

  "Pack their belongings and some food onto a fast horse and ride for the mountains, before the Lupanians set eyes on the severed head of their envoy." These words brought laughter from everyone, as I had both feared and suspected they might. There were no more questions, so Duke Magnisseran concluded the proceedings for the night with words about the wisdom of the regent and the military preparedness of Alberin. Norellie went over to speak with Halland as he left the podium, and I walked over to join them.

  "Inspector, the commander has been speaking of the Lupanians to me all afternoon," she said brightly as I arrived. "What a pity you were not there."

  "My apologies, madame. Wayfarer business."

  "We should like to examine your private journal," said Justiva as she joined us. "Do you have it easily to hand?"

  "Indeed I do, Elder. It's here, in my pack."

  "Oh splendid! Would you be willing to go through it with myself, Commander Halland, and some of our specialists in the cold and etheric sciences?"

  "Indeed I would, Learned Elder, but I have little knowledge of scholarship."

  "Splendid, that means you will have no preconceptions about what you saw. We may also have questions on points that you did not think to put on paper. When is convenient for you?"