by Bill McCurry
Gorlana eased me back into my body. She always was considerate that way. She was a marrow-sucking bitch in all other ways.
I used the claw on my right arm to create an identical claw on my left. Then I used the left claw to expand the right one into a perfectly formed and functional hand. I almost went ahead and finished healing the left hand, but instead, I decided to keep the energy for emergencies.
With a perfect right hand for my sword, and a malformed left claw for the door latch, I shoved open the door and rushed through it. I marked six men in the room, but four of them were sitting around a table holding bottles, mugs, and food. I lunged toward the closest standing man without thinking about how weak I was now. I fell short, and he almost killed me, which would have been a poor showing on my part. My next cut disabled him, and I killed two men from behind before they could get up and around their chairs.
The fellow across the table from me was unarmed, and he began flinging bottles at me. I dodged twice on my way around to slicing most of the way through his arm. The last two men struck at me from opposite sides. I killed one and twisted so that the other pierced me in my shoulder instead of my chest. I cut his throat before he pulled his sword out of the wound.
I was panting a lot heavier than was reasonable, thanks to my months in that cell. I listened for the best part of a minute, but no one appeared to have heard us. I patched my wound, congratulating myself for holding back some energy. Then I picked up a helmet, a pair of boots, and a better sword.
I stared at the two moaning, wounded men and wavered. One of them was sitting against a wall, and he shifted to stand up. I shoved him back down with my boot and touched his ear with my sword’s point. I traced a line all the way around his throat to the other ear, never drawing blood.
“Do you promise to be nice to your kids? And your wife, and… to dogs?”
He looked at me as if I were a troll about to tear off his head and drink his brains. “I’m not married.”
If he was too stupid to lie in this situation, he was too stupid to live. I pressed my sword against his throat.
“I have a dog! I’ll be nice to it! Don’t kill me!”
I wanted to kill him, but of course he was helpless and it would be good not to. It was nice to have a reason not to slice open his throat. It made things a little easier. “You just got mighty lucky, son. Think about doing something remarkable with your life. Don’t be a fisherman, or a drunk who dies of syphilis.”
The man’s comrade lay moaning near the far door. I stabbed him in the heart before I even wondered whether I should spare him. I stuck my head through the door into one of the main hallways on the keep’s ground floor. The design looked familiar. I had seen it during my battering journey from the audience chamber up to the Crows.
I would have loved to sneak through the keep right to wherever Ella and Pres were standing at just that moment, gather them up, and lead them off to safety without being seen by anybody. Unfortunately, I didn’t know where they were, I was never that stealthy to start with, and I smelled worse than a yak’s asshole. My chances for success were poor, and I had already decided not to attempt such a plan.
However, I did know how to get to Moris’s audience chamber, at least in principle. The hallway seemed sparsely traveled, so I pulled my helmet low and sheathed my sword. I strode down the passage toward the left, hoping to find something that looked familiar before anyone either looked closely or smelled me. Soon I spotted the stairway leading up to the Crows and knew where I was. I expect my success was due to my abnormally good luck rather than any skill on my part, because I had mostly been wandering the halls and hoping for the best.
Two soldiers stood sentry outside the audience chamber. I drew my sword and held it behind me as I strolled up to the closest soldier. Presenting the weapon’s hilt to him, I said, “Please tell His Majesty that the most dangerous man in the world would like to chat.”
Thirty
I guess Moris took this “most dangerous man in the world” bullshit seriously. A guard captain bound my wrists and told me I was going to the Red Room, so named for the blood of all the criminals and traitors who had been executed in it. He and three guards escorted me up one floor and into a modest room that was empty except for wooden benches along two walls.
“Hold him here,” the captain said. “He’s supposed to be dangerous, so don’t screw around.” He slammed the wooden door behind him when he left.
I looked at the three men guarding me. “Anyone get laid recently? Tell us what it’s like, I can’t remember.”
One of the guards grinned, but another whacked his arm. Discipline restored, they stared at me like I might burst into flames if they wavered.
A few minutes later, the door opened again, but instead of the captain, Ella and Pres walked in unescorted. Pres even wore a sword, which I suppose showed how much Moris trusted him. They both stared until finally Ella ran toward me. One of the guards stepped out to snatch her. She left him on the floor gagging and holding his throat, and then she flung herself to embrace me.
I knew Ella was strong, but it still surprised me when a couple of my joints popped. I almost hugged her back, but I didn’t want to test my bonds yet. I opened my mouth to say something that would surely have been stupid, but she kissed me before I made a sound. That went on for a while, and I wondered whether Gorlana might’ve been joking about giving Ella up.
Ella grabbed both sides of my head and smiled like a maniac. “I thought you were dead!”
“No. Harik showed up to claim me, took a whiff, and told me I was too nasty for hell.”
“Yes, you smell repugnant! Like a dead beggar’s armpit!” She gave me another long kiss. “Don’t die anymore!”
Pres had stepped between Ella and the other guards, hand on his sword like he meant to cut off their balls and make a necklace. The guards kept back a couple of steps.
Ella took a breath and kissed me some more. I figured kissing her back would be more rewarding than telling her I didn’t plan to die anymore. When we stopped again for air, she leaned back and said, “I want to know everything, but not now. Things have occurred.”
“I didn’t expect that the world froze in place just because I was farting around in jail.”
“Prestwick’s father perished during the siege. More properly, his horse kicked him to death. The next day, his cousin lifted the siege and returned home.”
“I guess Pres’s life didn’t matter so much to his cousin. He probably prefers a dead Crown Prince.”
“I always hated him,” Pres said. He’d grown at least three inches. “He used to grab my ear and shake me while he laughed, like it was the best joke ever told. I’m off to kill him as soon as I can steal some horses and food.”
Ella nodded. “King Moris has awarded Pres asylum on the condition that he remain here. Moris intends to march on Glass when clement weather returns. He says he will put the entire kingdom to the torch.”
“Like hell he will,” Pres said.
“Ella, how long have I been gone?”
“You disappeared last spring, and winter is fading now. Most of a year. The fever has destroyed uncounted Denzmen this winter.”
I might have told her I was going to fix all that, and that it would make me so damn heroic she should prepare to start loving me even more. Then I reminded myself that Gorlana had made me give Ella up for that cure.
I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Where are the guards who beat you? I want them.”
“Since they didn’t kill me, Moris declined to execute them. He imprisoned them for six months.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“They’re beyond your reach. All three expired within a month of their release. On different nights. Stabbed to death in perilous, isolated locations. Terribly sad.”
I kissed her neck and smiled.
Ella leaned back to see my face. “Vintan professed ignorance about your disappearance. I felt certain he’d murdered you.”
; “He came near to it.”
“The king ennobled him. The viscount perished in a fall from the battlements, and Moris made Vintan viscount of the Eastern Gateway as reward for kidnapping Pres.”
“I doubt the viscount fell. Nor would it surprise me if Vintan paid the horse to kick Pres’s father.”
The captain returned to our waiting room, and he narrowed his eyes at everyone, especially the guard massaging his throat. “Step back there,” he said to Ella, waving her away. Instead of stepping back, she gave me another long kiss and then joined Pres. The captain shook his head. “Bring them.”
After a brief march down the hallway, the captain opened a beautifully detailed brass door. Two guards shoved me into a room big enough for a village dance. I assumed it was the Red Room, since red tapestries hung everywhere and I stumbled on one of the red rugs that dotted the floor like ticks.
“Don’t abuse the man, not at all,” Moris said, sitting on a hard-looking raised chair across the room. “This most dangerous man in the world may slaughter every one of us, maybe with his feet, who knows?”
“I’d never do such a thing, Your Majesty. I have a bunion. It would hurt worse than my first love breaking my heart.”
Four guards escorted me to the middle of the room. Two more directed Ella and Pres to the side and then went to stand at a side door, while two guards flanked the main door. Ten big guards wearing scowls formed a half-circle in front of the king.
Moris said, “Still, no call to antagonize you. Hold up your hands. Higher. Too high. Now, when I saw you last, you were less two hands—that is, Viscount Vintan had whacked them off, which was rude, but it’s finished now. Finished. Or not. Not, I’d say. You seem to have grown back a hand and a half.”
“It was boring in your dungeon. I had to pass the time somehow.”
“Put your arms down. You look like you might fall over. For a dangerous man, you certainly try hard to be funny, which I guess you are a little bit, but none of the dangerous men I’ve met could tell a joke worth a damn. Not funny, definitively not. And I’ve met a lot of them, but then, most weren’t sorcerers like you, Bib the Sorcerer. I guess you can be funny and slay armies at the same time, assuming you want to do that. You might. Perhaps I should kill you right now, but it seems hasty and also rude. By Krak it would be rude, wouldn’t it? Although I guess Krak is as rude as any being in existence, but who would say it to his face?”
The guard captain whispered something to Moris. The king pointed at Ella and said, “Governess, I approve of love—I like it myself. It’s even acceptable just before the dying happens—maybe that’s the best time for it, really. It’s nice that you can see this man while he lives, even for a few minutes, at least that much. Governess, do please stay there beside His Highness, stay there, and don’t dart around smashing any of my guards in the throat. Don’t kill them—they’re good boys—but if you want to maim one or two inattentive ones that come near you, go right ahead. Good lesson for everybody.”
Ella smirked as she nodded at the king.
I said, “I bring you a gift, Your Majesty, which as you know is a lie. No one gives a gift to a king without—”
“Oh, shit. Just shut up.” He lifted a book from a small table next to his chair and began reading silently, as if he were sitting up in bed alone.
The audience was either going magnificently, or I was about to be killed, and I couldn’t tell which. Moris was a fantastic king.
Before too long, Vintan hurried in through the side door. He stared at me. “Your Majesty, I insist you chain him instead of binding him with rope!”
“You’ve taken to insisting quite a bit lately, my Lord Viscount, quite a lot in fact. I know this is your stronghold, true, and can you guess how I know that? I know that because I gave it to you, my Lord, so remember that. Remember, because I can take it the hell away if you don’t stop behaving like a twat! The twat of a recumbent whore, may I add! Now we have that straight, which we do, do we not?”
Vintan nodded.
I said, “Your Majesty—”
“Be quiet! Can you do that? Can you? Quiet? Yes? Dandy.” Moris beckoned to Vintan. “Now, attend me.”
Vintan walked over and stood at the king’s left hand. The king should have listened to him. When they bound my arms, I had immediately rotted the ropes so that a solid pull would snap them.
“Now, Bib the Sorcerer, what’s this gift that’s not a gift that you want to give me but not give me?”
“I can cure the Northmen fever.”
Moris rapped the arm of his throne with his knuckle. “Well, that’s a damn fine thing, I’m sure, but since there are many thousands of Denzmen and only one of you, that makes you a rather parsimonious benefactor, or a goddamn stingy gift-giver, as we say at the stables, stingy. I’m king of all the Denzmen and not just the ones crowded around you. What kind of king walks around with a magical cure for himself while his people die like minnows in a drought? A shitty king, I tell you, damn shitty. I’d stab a king like that in the face myself. I don’t want to stab my own face, would you? So, to hell with you and your gift.”
“Your Majesty, I spoke like a grunting fool and wasn’t clear at all. I can teach anybody to cure the fever. Easily. You can cure everybody as quick as horses can run to bring a message.”
“The hell you say. Imprisonment must have driven you insane. Are you insane? You sound insane. If you knew this last spring, why in the name of Lutigan’s boils didn’t you say anything? If you held back, that’s the same as murdering the thousands of my people who have died since then. My people. I wouldn’t trade one of them for a hundred like you. In fact, I wouldn’t trade a dead rat for you if you were made of diamonds. I may not kill you. I may torture you, and then kill you. I should make you torture that sweet young woman, and then make her torture you and kill you.”
“Your Majesty, if I’d known all this last spring, I would’ve said so. I just learned it from the Goddess of Mercy today. Not an hour ago. When I found out how to make the cure, I came straight here.”
I waited while the king rubbed his nose and scowled. As I glanced around, I spotted a familiar-looking guard standing at the side door. He was the man Desh had based his disguise on. The guard caught my eye and scowled at me with comic intensity. After a moment, I realized he was Desh. I gave him a tiny nod, and he returned it.
The king said, “Vintan? My Lord? Is this thing he’s describing possible?”
Vintan shook his head in time with his steps as he walked toward Moris. “It is impossible. This man was destroyed as a sorcerer. The God of Death himself assured me that none of the gods would even speak to him. The idea that the Goddess of Mercy would waste her time on him is beyond ridiculous. He is lying without shame.”
The king pointed at me. “What about his hands? Did he grow those by wishing hard and holding his mouth just right? That seems unlikely. If he did, then I should keep him around so he can teach me that trick. How did he grow them, Vintan? You’re a sorcerer. Describe the process for me—you can do that. You’re a smart man, and I’m not an idiot.”
I said, “Right, Vintan, tell us how I did it. Act it out for us.”
Vintan said, “Another sorcerer must have helped him.”
“You let strange sorcerers traipse around in your dungeon?” I asked. “That’s mighty careless, Vintan. Your Majesty, I didn’t have help, and I didn’t need help. Old Vintan there knows that, and he’s scared of me for it. Chopping off my hands, throwing me in dungeons, getting all pissy about putting chains on me. He himself said how dangerous I am. So, I make you this offer, and you can test the truth of it right away. Let me teach somebody to make the cure, and then send them out to cure some of your people. If it works, I’m giving a legitimate gift. If it doesn’t, tortures all around.”
Moris scratched his chin. “You can’t say fairer than that, I suppose. We’ll give you a chance.” He nodded at a guard. “Bring my physician in here.” The guard trotted away, and I grinned at that walking slop-p
ool Vintan. “We’ve saved Pres, Vintan. Give up now, or I’ll kill the crap out of you.”
Vintan shook his head. “You know I can’t, you one-handed moron.” He stood straight and raised his chin. “Bib, thank you for your fidelity. To Pres, and my king, and everyone else I’ve failed.”
“What are you two blibber-blabbering about?” Moris slammed his hand down onto his throne’s arm.
Then everything went to hell.
Eighteen guards were standing around the Red Room holding weapons. Ten weapons disappeared in an instant, obliterated by Vintan. Most of the men around the king lost their swords, and Desh lost his weapon too. I had to assume that Vintan was leaving just his own men armed.
I snapped the rope that held me just as Vintan and two guards ran toward Pres. Unless something outrageous occurred, the prince was about to get rescued, and Vintan knew it. He had to kill Pres before it happened. Pres drew his sword while I threw one of the guards beside me onto the ground and took his weapon. When I looked up, I found three more guards between Pres and me.
For the next few moments, most everything happened around Pres and Ella. She tackled a guard, and Desh charged in to knock Vintan aside. Pres thrust at a guard, who blocked and then swung a powerful cut that chopped off the prince’s hand above the wrist. His hand and his sword rolled across the floor toward me while he screamed and dropped to his knees. I knocked down one of my three guards and stabbed him on the floor, then rushed on to the remaining two.
Vintan grabbed Desh by the arm and threw him out of the way. Ella came up with one of the guards’ swords and swung at the man who had wounded Pres, striking him hard on the side of the head. The remaining guard swung at her just as Vintan darted around her and stabbed Pres deep in the chest. The boy stared down at the blade in his chest and tried to grab it with both hands, even though he just had one hand now. Vintan groaned as he yanked the sword free, slicing Pres’s palm. The boy fell sideways onto a red rug.