by Simon Hawke
"How nice for you," said Sandy. "It so happens I have one, as well. See?" She pulled her dagger out.
"Aye, but there's three of us," the first alleyman said.
"I'm astonished you can count that high," Sandy replied wryly.
"Look, lady, what the bloody hell's the matter with ye? Ye don't want to get hurt, do ye?"
"No. Do you?"
The three alleymen glanced at one another, perplexed. "Ain't ye even a little bit afraid?" their leader said.
"Not really," Sandy said. "I am getting a bit impatient, though. If you're going to do something, I wish you would just get on with it. I have other things to do."
"I don't get it," the second alleyman said uncertainly, looking to the leader of the trio. "She ain't afraid. Why ain't she afraid?"
"I think she's bluffing."
"Maybe she's an assassin?" said the third alleyman.
"Don't be stupid," said the leader. "There ain't any female assassins in the Guild."
"Well, maybe she's a mercenary?" said the second alley-man.
"She don't look like no mercenary. Mercenaries carry swords. And she ain't got a sword."
"Well then, maybe she's-"
Sandy rolled her eyes in exasperation and gestured at the three men, mumbling a spell under her breath. The three alleymen froze as if rooted to the spot and she simply walked past them.
"... a sorceress," the third alleyman finished. "She's a bloody sorceress!"
"Shut up!" the leader said as Sandy walked away.
"She could've turned us into toadstools, ye damn fool!"
"Who're ye calling a damn fool?"
"I'm calling you a damn fool!"
"Shut up, or else I'll bust yer face in!"
"Can ye move?"
"No, I can't bloody well move! Does it look like I can move?"
"Fool, fool, fool!"
"Shut up!"
Sandy left them arguing, frozen into immobility in the middle of the street behind her. They would remain frozen until morning, at which point they would recover their mobility with no ill effects, except possibly sore joints, assuming no one would do anything to them if they were found that way during the night. However, that wasn't Sandy's responsibility. They had brought it on themselves, and all things considered, they had gotten off easy. If Sandy were a sorceress, they might easily have been turned into toadstools, or something worse, but she wasn't a sorceress. If she were, then she would have been a member of the guild and both Warrick and her husband would have known she had ability with magic. They didn't, and she preferred to keep it that way, because she was a witch.
Now, there were two kinds of witches in the twenty-seven kingdoms, licensed wi.tches and unlicensed witches. Licensed witches were registered with the Sorcerers and Adepts Guild, but they weren't really full members because they had not formally apprenticed with a sorcerer, only paid half dues, and had no voting privileges. They were found primarily in the larger towns and cities, where they operated small businesses out of garish storefronts with signs advertising such things as psychic readings, palmistry, phrenology, astrological forecasts, tarot fortune telling, crystal therapy and past life regressions. They usually adopted fanciful names, such as Lady Starfire, Dame Isis, or if it was a male witch, something like Lord Woodchuck Dragonlance. They often formed groups with ranking systems, sold mail order courses in witchcraft, and taught classes at the local extended university.
Unlicensed witches, like Sandy, could be found almost anywhere, but it was difficult to tell who they were, because they looked and acted pretty much like anybody else. Most of them practiced witchcraft quietly as a religion, some practiced it as a system of ethical philosophy. Some met in small groups, others followed a solitary practice, but none of them made a commercial activity of what they called "the Craft." They shared their beliefs only with those who were honest and sincere in their desire to learn, refused to perform spells that would cause harm to any living being, and never charged money for anything they did. As a result, all the licensed witches claimed that they weren't real witches at all, and denounced them in their newsletters when they weren't busy denouncing one another. And since unlicensed witches were not registered with the guild, they were technically in violation of the law each time they practiced magic.
As queen, Sandy had tried to use her influence to change things, not only for other witches like herself, but for all the downtrodden citizens of Pitt. However, it would have been unethical for her to cast a spell to make her husband change the laws. She had tried subtle persuasion, but soon found that subtlety was completely lost on Billy. And with Warrick as the royal wizard and Billy's crafty and ambitious brother, Waylon, as the Royal Sheriff, any direct action on her part would have been dangerous and quickly neutralized. So she had done the only other thing that she could do. She played her part as the aloof and pampered queen, while secretly being a member of the Underground.
Now, unlike the various underground, politically subversive groups in Earth's history, the members of this particular band were not guerrilla fighters. They were strictly nonviolent in their actions, and did what they could to embarrass King Billy's regime, thwart the activities of the Royal Sheriff, and support the downtrodden lower classes of the city, which included practically everybody. They published inflammatory manifestos, scrawled political graffiti on the walls, and tried to interpose themselves between the sheriff's deputies and anyone they attempted to arrest unjustly. In other words, they were a sort of medieval Greenpeace.
In the course of her clandestine activities with the Underground, Sandy had made a number of interesting and unusual acquaintances, not the least of which was Lady Donna, known simply as "La Donna" to the members of The Stealers Guild and as "The Lady" to the members of her local, the Sluts And Strumpets Sisterhood, or SASS for short. As Sandy came into The Stealers Tavern, she pulled her hood up around her face and quickly made her way toward the back, where La Donna was at her usual table in a secluded, candlelit booth. She was sitting with several of "her girls," as she referred to her sisters in the local that she headed, and with a tall and dapper-looking, dark-haired dandy who wore a rather threadbare doublet of faded green brocade and a brown velvet coat with worn-through elbows. He looked like an aristocrat who had fallen on hard times, but in fact, he was a low-born peasant named Gentlemanly Johnny, head of the Swindlers local of The Stealers Guild.
Now one might think that thieves, assassins, cutthroats, alleymen, pickpockets, and the other assorted criminals who made up the membership of The Stealers Guild would have more sense than to hang out in a bar known as The Stealers Tavern. It did seem a little bit obvious. However, the laws of Pitt were such that while it was illegal to commit a crime, it was not a crime to belong to a guild for criminals. (Don't ask me to explain it, I don't really understand it either. It has something to do with the complexities of labor negotiations and PAC funding.) Anyway, since the sheriff and his deputies all knew where The Stealers Guild hung out, they were always on the lookout for any crimes committed in The Stealers Tavern. As a result, The Stealers Tavern was at the same time the biggest hangout for criminals in Pitt and the safest bar in Pittsburgh.
"I need to speak with you," said Sandy as she approached La Donna's table.
Rumor had it that when she was young, La Donna was a svelte and sultry beauty who turned heads everywhere she went. But that was just a rumor, and as rumors often go, it happened to be false. La Donna started it herself. However, since La Donna was fairly advanced in age, to put it diplomatically (or to put it undiplomatically, she was a pretty old broad), no one recalled what she had looked like when she was young, so her secret was safe. As a girl, La Donna had been rather plain and very pudgy. Now, she was still plain, only she had grown from pudgy to immense. Despite her size, however, and her age, La Donna was extremely sexy. What made her sexy was the fact that she believed that she was sexy, and one's self-image has a great deal to do with how one is perceived. She looked up at Sandy and languidly raised o
ne eyebrow, then made a dismissive motion with her heavily beringed hand and her girls got up from the table and went off to mingle. Gentlemanly Johnny stayed, however.
"I need to speak with you," said Sandy.
"Sit down, then," said La Donna. "Have a drink."
"No, thank you," said Sandy, joining them at their table. They bent low over the table and put their heads together, speaking in low voices so as not to be overheard, which may have drawn attention to them because it made them look as if they were plotting something. However, in The Stealers Tavern, almost everybody sat that way. There was more complex plotting going on in The Stealers Tavern than in a dozen Agatha Christie novels.
"So, what can I do for the Underground?" asked La Donna. She did not recognize Sandy, of course, and did not even know her name. One would hardly expect to find the queen visiting The Stealers Tavern, much less being a member of the Underground, and commoners never got close enough to the queen to recognize her. Granted, her face was stamped on all the coins, along with King Billy's, but it was a very poor likeness. It looked a great deal like King Billy, in fact, which was not surprising because the mint used the same stamping for them both as a cost-cutting measure.
"I cautioned you that your people were going too far, inciting riots," Sandy said. "I told you that violence is not the way. Now the army is mobilizing. The call has gone out for mercenaries to augment the troops and they have already started arriving in the city."
"With all due respect, my dear," said Gentlemanly Johnny, without suspecting whom he was addressing, "your concerns are groundless. The troops are not being recruited to put down the revolution, but to march against the outlaw sorcerer in Brigantium."
"Brigantium?" asked Sandy, frowning. "What is Brigantium? My information was that the outlaw sorcerer was in Darn, in a town known as Brigand's Roost."
"Then your information is somewhat out of date," said La Donna. She pulled out one of Harlan's flyers. "They have broken off from Darn and created the Kingdom of Brigantium, forming an alliance with King Durwin. It is against them that King Billy sends his army."
"And as for the mercenaries," added Johnny, "only the dregs have been answering King Billy's summons. All the best ones are going to Brigantium, because they are offering much better pay."
"Be that as it may," said Sandy, "once the troops defeat the outlaw wizard of Brigantium, they will be returning home, rich with plunder and seasoned from battle. And then they shall make short work of your revolution."
"Oh, I think not," said Gentlemanly Johnny with a smile. "For one thing, you are assuming the Army of Pitt will be victorious, and that is by no means a certain thing. For another, this war could not come at a better time. While King Billy sends his troops against Brigantium, there will be only the sheriff's deputies and the palace guard remaining behind, with perhaps a squad or two of archers. It will be the perfect time to stage an assault upon the palace."
"And assuming you succeed, what then?" asked Sandy. "You will have captured the palace, and perhaps the king and queen, though they will doubtless have ample time to escape while the deputies and the palace guard repel your assault, and then you will only be in possession of the palace. The army will return and displace you easily. Meanwhile, the revolution's leaders will have been revealed, and they shall hunt you down."
"Oh, not us," said Gentlemanly Johnny. "You think we are the leaders of the revolution?"
Sandy frowned. "The Stealers Guild has been behind all of the riots that have taken place."
"To be sure," La Donna said. "But we are not fools. We have merely provided the spark to light the powder trail. We have not taken credit for any of our actions. By now, the revolution has gathered its own momentum among the people of the city, and they have chosen their own leaders. We are privy to their plans, of course, because our members do attend the secret meetings, but none of us are among the actual leaders. We merely work behind the scenes, so to speak. It is much safer that way."
"I see," said Sandy dryly. "So if the revolution fails, all of you are safe, because they will arrest the leaders. And if it succeeds, then you shall benefit."
"We benefit either way," said Gentlemanly Johnny. "Think of all the opportunities that will arise when the revolution starts. We are expecting record profits."
"So then you don't care about the people at all," said Sandy. "You don't care about ridding the kingdom of corruption. All you care about is money."
"That's not true," La Donna said. "King Billy might not be a bad ruler if he had good people to advise him, but he has Warrick the White and Sheriff Waylon and their cronies. If we are rid of them, then life in the kingdom will improve for everyone. We would like to see the revolution succeed, for everybody's sake."
"But if it should fail," Johnny added, "then is that any reason why we cannot make some money on the venture?"
"I see I have wasted my time," said Sandy, getting up. "The Underground has been struggling to improve life for the people of the kingdom. But you are only going to doom them."
"A word of caution, my dear," said Gentlemanly Johnny. "We would welcome the support of the Underground. However, if you are not with us, then we must assume you are against us."
"Is that a threat?" asked Sandy.
"Consider it a word of sage advice," said Johnny, giving her a level stare. "If you will not support us, then stay out of our way. Interference is something that will not be tolerated."
"I will pass on the message," Sandy said. She turned on her heel and left.
Gentlemanly Johnny made a small hand signal to a large man sitting at the bar. He glanced up as Ferret Phil, the leader of the Burglars local, came over to the table. "Follow her," said Johnny. "Find out who she is and where she lives, and who her friends are. And be discreet."
"I always am," said Ferret Phil with an ugly grin. "Consider it done." And he hurried off on Sandy's trail.
Eight
If Brewster had thought his courtyard was a place of frenetic activity before, then it was in absolute pandemonium now. Bloody Bob had pulled all the workers off their other construction jobs to work full-time on the palace of Brigantium, and since none of the laborers were unionized, Brewster was amazed at how quickly things got done. Harlan had offered Bloody Bob a bonus for each day they came in under the construction deadline, and as a result, the huge work force labored literally around the clock, toiling through the night by torchlight to get the job done.
It was the home improvement project to end all home improvement projects. The spam rendering operation had been moved out of the courtyard to a forest clearing several miles away, until it could be moved to Franktown, and now what used to be the courtyard was rapidly shaping up as the new palace of Brigantium. Having worked as a top-rank mercenary for much of his life, Bloody Bob had seen his share of royal palaces, and with Brewster's help, he had drawn up a complete set of plans to ensure that the palace of Brigantium would outshine every other he had seen. The sprawling courtyard in front of the keep was going to be the new great hall of the palace, and the ruins of the outer walls had been knocked down to make room for the new walls of the palace, which would be surrounded by an inner and an outer bailey. There would be a well fortified barbican and drawbridge, crenellated towers with cruciform loopholes, sally ports, hoardings, and machicolations and all sorts of neat medieval stuff. It was going to be really cool.
The walls of the outer and the inner bailey were going up rapidly, because fortifications were the most important part of any castle. After studying some of Bloody Bob's designs, Brewster had made some modifications, so that the outer and the inner bailey were not simply square or circular, but star-shaped. Initially, Bob thought there could be some magical significance to this, but Brewster had explained how the points of the star, with fortified towers and walkways at the top, enabled the walls to be better defended by affording a much wider field of fire. Any assault force attacking the walls would be vulnerable not only from the front, but on their flanks, as well. Bloody B
ob was deeply impressed. He was puzzled by the large embrasures Brewster added for the cannon, because he did not know what a cannon was. Brewster tried explaining the concept to him, then finally gave up and realized that nothing short of a scale model demonstration would suffice.
With Mick's help, he had forged a small cannon that he christened the "water gun." Actually, the name was something of a misnomer, because the gun did not use water. The design was meant to use the highly explosive peregrine wine as a propellant. When Brewster set it off for the first time, the explosion, even for a small model, was deafening, and the range of the tiny cannon balls he'd made was truly impressive.
"Now, imagine the same thing," he'd said, "only about ten tunes this size, with one emplaced at each embrasure on the walls, facing every possible avenue of approach."
" 'Strewth!" said Bob. "The castle would be impregnable! No army would even dare approach the walls!"
"Oh, they might get close," said Brewster, "but it would cost them. Still, in case we should be attacked by a large enough force where the commanders wouldn't mind significant casualties, I've come up with another idea that should help, if we can get them built in time."
He took Bloody Bob, Pikestaff Pat, Harlan, Mac, and Shannon down to Mick's shop, where Mick and his apprentices had been hard at work producing a crude internal combustion engine from sand castings Brewster had designed.
"I had initially envisioned this engine driving a sort of steamroller," Brewster explained, "so that we could pave the streets, but then it occurred to me that it could just as easily drive a tank."
The tank itself was not yet finished, but the frame was ready with the engine mounted. Brewster fired it up, using the peregrine wine as fuel. The noise alone would have been enough to rout an army, but when he shifted into drive and the tank rolled out across the meadow on crude but effective iron caterpillar treads, their reaction was one of pure astonishment.