Faery Lands Forlorn

by Dave Duncan

  Their shabby assortment of clothes would attract no comment, having been acquired locally by the greatest burglary team in all Pandemia—Thinal the scrounger and Rap, the dog's best friend. There had been no further work for the third member of the group, the troll-killing strong-arm man.

  Rap rose and went down the ladder to visit the bushes. He wondered where in his travels he had lost his conscience. At Raven totem, perhaps, when he had been driven by starvation to the larder? Or maybe it was still present and merely too ill-used to speak up; he hated this vagabond existence. He would have felt happier had Thinal confined his attentions to the rich in their grand plantation houses, but mostly he had preyed upon the humble. Those scrawny, overworked folk must be hard-put to feed even their own children without having to provide involuntary charity to a gang of robbers.

  By the time he returned, Thinal had scraped some of the stubble from his face and seemed content to keep the rest. Shaving made his acne bleed.

  "Ready?" he said, glancing around. "We can leave all this stuff. We'll buy better at the market."

  "Not ready," Rap said. "I think we ought to have a word with Sagorn first."

  Thinal considered that, his rodent eyes narrowing. "Not much point yet. Wait till we've got some money and decent clothes—that's what he'd tell us to do. Then we can see what he suggests." He leered. "Me, I'll go for a comfortable bed and a couple of girls, I think. Haven't had any of that since before you were born, laddie. You do realize I'm old enough to be your great-grandfather, don't you? No, Sagorn can wait. Let's go."

  He sprang up and headed for the ladder. Rap followed uneasily. Trekking through woods and jungle was over. Ahead lay Milflor—and ships—but he distrusted this new cockiness in the imp as much as he distrusted the goblin's amused disdain. No matter what his birthdate had been, Thinal was physically no older than Rap and now he was taking a juvenile pride in his new accomplishments as a woodsman, and also relishing a return to his accustomed city environment. If overconfidence led him into making an error in the town like the one he had made with the troll, then even Little Chicken would not be able to produce a miracle rescue.

  No, Rap's conscience was still there. It hadn't forgotten the troll.

  5

  As the sun was cowering low over the distant ranges, Azak led his troop northward along the coast from the dilapidated fishing village that had been its last stop. Inos was becoming worried, very worried. She had learned enough of the geography to know that the palace lay a long way from the sea. Obviously she was not going to be returned to the palace that evening. Azak never explained his plans and she would not inquire, but today's unusual interest in her company was beginning to seem very ominous. He had been paying her compliments, even if he had insulted her a few times, also. If he thought her beautiful when angry, then how angry—or frightened—did he plan to make her?

  Kade would be alarmed when Inos failed to return, and also scandalized. Kade worried about appearances. Inos cared more about realities, and the realities of this situation were becoming disturbing.

  The road had almost vanished, as the horses plodded wearily between sand dunes matted with coarse grass. The air was humid and salty. Nearby, but out of sight, waves fell on a beach with regular roars that were hypnotic after a long day's exertion. She ached from a long day in the saddle, her face burned from wind and sun.

  He broke the long silence. "So I have shown you the sights, Queen Inosolan. What do you think of them?"

  "I . . . I was thinking more of great buildings and scenery."

  "Buildings? Scenery? A kingdom is not made of those. A kingdom is people! Now answer. And be honest."

  Honest? "They are wretched—sick and overworked. Half starved, some of them." She waited for the earthquake.

  "Exactly."

  She blinked with astonishment. He was staring bleakly ahead, not looking at her.

  "Are the taxes really so high?" she asked, marveling at her own courage.

  "Obscenely high."

  "Why don't you reduce them?"

  "The taxes are needed to support the palace."

  She had guessed that. "All those princes?"

  "Parasites?" He sneered down at her. "Yes, princes are expensive and produce nothing. I should cut costs, you think?"

  Heart in mouth, Inos said, "Drastically."

  "Then I should be fortunate if the last thing I felt was merely Kar's fingers on my eyelid." He laughed at her expression. "I can't fight them all. I would not survive a week."

  "Is there nothing you can do? They are your people."

  "I know that, wench! Do you think I don't care? Yes, there is something I could do—if I can ever get the bitch sorceress out of my palace and be a free man again."

  For a moment conversation became impossible as they urged their mounts up a steep dune. Inos caught a glimpse of water to the west, also, and her fear grew markedly.

  "What would you do?" she asked, when she was able to reach his side again. "If you were rid of Rasha, what would you do?" Her neck was stiff with looking up at him so much.

  "Make war."

  Inos was both shocked and disappointed. She had thought better of him, somehow. "War? War never helps the people! Death and destruction and rape and . . ."

  "War on Shuggaran—the next kingdom north. They can endure the death and so on. It is a bigger land, although less fair."

  "Then they will smash you."

  He shrugged. "It is possible, but my people would still be better off, I think. The two kingdoms could be ruled as one, easily. Shuggaran's royal family is even more bloated than mine. I would extirpate them. Then twice as many peasants support half as many princes. Taxes could be cut."

  "They might extirpate you."

  "If I lost, that would be their right. The peasants gain either way. Besides, the bazaars hum with talk of an Imperial campaign in Zark. That would mean my war would have to wait. Buildings, you said?"

  He halted and sprang from his horse. Inos dismounted more circumspectly.

  They had come to the end of a headland, with water spread out in three directions. To the north, dhows were slipping in through the harbor mouth, wafted by the evening breeze. Eastward, with perfect timing, a full moon was rising huge from the sea. To the west lay the sparkling waters of the bay, and beyond that the city of Arakkaran clambered up the hillside on steps and ledges, shadowed already. At the high edge of the plateau, the domes and spiky towers of the palace stood dark against the sunset and the jagged outline of the desert range.

  For a moment sheer beauty left Inos speechless. Then she said, "Oh, Azak! It's gorgeous!"

  "Wait until dawn. Then you will see the glory of my city."

  "Where do we . . ."

  Azak pointed down to an encampment of silken tents on the beach facing the harbor. A small boat was unloading people at a decrepit old jetty, but already a fire crackled and smoked on the sand and she could identify a goat on the spit. This had all been very carefully arranged. Even to the moon, perhaps.

  "The small tent is yours, Inos." His eyes flickered in mockery and amusement. "Zana will take care of your needs."

  "Zana is here?"

  He chuckled then, a low and very masculine noise that she had not heard from him before. "You needn't worry about being royally raped."

  "I wasn't—"

  "You've been turning greener and greener for the last hour."

  "We must make a striking couple, Red Face!"

  He bellowed with laughter, and she felt herself blush, even as the knot of her anxiety fell loose. She ached, she was grubby and weary, and she felt wonderful.

  "Azak, it's been a marvelous day!"

  "And you hated most of it. Don't argue. I promised you a lesson in ruling, the seamier side of the business."

  He was not so very many years older than she, but in experience she was a child compared to him. She was a ruler in name but not in fact, and he in fact and not in name.

  One of the family men bowed and took the reins. As
the horses were led off down to the camp, Inos was left standing at Azak's side on the little hill. He turned to face the sea.

  "I love this place. A pity it has no water."

  His changes of mood baffled her, but overall he seemed to have mellowed since leaving the palace that morning. Was that a result of her civilizing conversation, or was it release from the constant peril of brothers and uncles? She stretched, aware that she also felt oddly content, despite her weariness. "I shall never forget this day. I am very grateful to you, Azak." She reached out a hand to him, but he began strolling seaward through the rough grass. She followed.

  "I love the sea," he remarked pensively. "It never gives up." He stopped and stared down at the patient, mindless waves following one another to destruction. "The bathing is good here. Go ahead. I will send Zana with towels."

  "Did you ever slide down sand dunes when you were a child?"

  He peered at her oddly. "No, never."

  "Then try it now! Come on!" She ran to the edge and launched herself down the shadowed slope on her seat, starting an avalanche of sand. There had been dunes near Krasnegar, but this sand was still so hot it almost burned through her jodhpurs. Stilt-legged birds on the beach ran and then took flight, low over the water.

  She came to a halt when the angle lessened, her feet buried. In a moment Azak went sliding past. He stopped a little way lower and turned to grin at her, suddenly looking almost boyish.

  "Yes, that's fun! I shall declare it a royal prerogative, and behead any commoner who tries it!"

  She laughed—this was a much pleasanter Azak than the tyrant of the hunt. If the water was as hot as she suspected, a dip would be heavenly. He was right, this was a glorious spot. It was a great relief just to be out of the sun.

  Azak had risen to his knees. Although he was lower than she, their eyes were level—the size of the lad! His face was curiously solemn, but Inos was not feeling solemn. She felt weary, but also glad the long day was over at last, and happy to be away from the eternal crowding of dozens of men; especially glad to be away from the confines of the palace. He must be feeling the same, of course, and more so. Here he need not fear the hidden archer or the poisoned flask.

  She pulled off her headcloth and unfastened her hair, shaking it loose to fall heavy on her shoulders. She stretched and lay back against the slope, gazing up at pink wisps of cloud, running sand through her fingers, listening to the surf pounding on the beach below. "How many wives do you have, anyway?" she asked dreamily.

  "None," Azak said, very softly. "I have many women in my household, and many men, also. I don't know how many. Not all the women are designated for the sort of personal service that bothers you so much. Cleaners, cooks, seamstresses . . . Dancers, singers, glovemakers."

  Inos snorted to indicate disbelief. "And when did you start . . . collecting?"

  "At my coming of age, my thirteenth birthday. A boy's education is completed by a woman. She was much older than I, of course, but not too old, as I demonstrated."

  Maybe! That could have been faked, whether he knew about it or not. "But you never have queens regnant. What is a sultana?"

  "The wife of a sultan. One day, when I am free of the odious sorceress, I shall marry—one of my women, or a royal daughter from elsewhere, to seal a treaty. She will be sultana and have charge of the palace. At the moment I have sisters to look after those things."

  "Only one wife?"

  "Only one. And she may be spawn of prince or peasant, as I choose."

  "But you still keep all the others, just for fun."

  "And for sons."

  She sighed and dribbled more sand through her fingers.

  "Inosolan!" His voice was suddenly harsh. "You honor me greatly—but I can't!"

  Can't what? Inos lifted her head to look at him. He had not moved. Then she read in his eyes what he was thinking. Horrified, she sat up and hugged her knees tightly, stammering as she sought words. Of course he had assumed . . .

  They were completely alone on this warm sand, with nothing but distant fishing boats to overlook them, and certainly none of the palace staff would interrupt. She felt her face blaze hotter than the desert sands. Blatant provocation! "Come on!" she had said—her idea, her invitation! She had led him here and then started babbling about wives and concubines. He was the ultimate arrogant male, so of course he would think she had meant—

  Inos, what have you started?

  The last ruddy blush of the sunset showed his face, yet the expression on it looked more like fury than passion.

  "I thought women gossiped more," Azak said. "There is another curse on me. Everyone must know of it. Has no one told you?"

  Inos swallowed and could find no words. She shook her head in frightened silence. No more games! she had vowed, and here she was, playing in the sand with a barbarian killer. She had forgotten politics, put them aside to relax, but Azak would never relax. Even procreation was politics to a royal stallion.

  "I cannot touch a woman."

  "What? But—"

  "It is one of Rasha's torments. I would burn you like hot iron. A mare, a falcon, a bitch, any female animal, but not a woman."

  The humiliation on his face was an agony, but he was keeping his eyes on hers, steady as nailheads. "I tried to have one of my women comb my hair. It scorched her fingers. From the oldest crone in the kingdom to my tiniest daughter, if her flesh touches mine, she will be blistered and burned."

  With one exception, of course?

  "Your Majesty! That's—I have never heard of anything so cruel."

  "Nor I. But she will never break me!"

  Aghast, Inos hugged her knees tighter, then hid her face on them. She was appalled at the sorceress' vindictiveness, but even more appalled at her own sense of relief, and at the narrowness of her escape. This was not the Impire, and she no longer had Kade hiding behind every bush. Idiot! Her heart was still pounding as she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. "I assure you, that was not what I had in mind, your Majesty. But I deplore such evil sorcery. It is foul and wicked, and I despise the sorceress for it."

  He frowned at her, as if puzzled.

  The swift desert twilight was fading into night. She had finally achieved what she had been seeking for weeks, a private chat with Azak. She tried to collect her wits.

  "Let us talk about Rasha now."

  He shrugged. "Why not? Of course, she may be spying on us. Or she may wait until we return tomorrow and then just ask, but at least no one else can hear. Speak, Queen Inosolan!" He turned around and made himself comfortable, sitting slightly downhill from her and leaning back to face the sea, elbows against the slope.

  She began to talk and he kept cutting her off, saying he knew that, as if every word she or Kade had spoken in the palace had been repeated to him, the whole Krasnegar story. But when she came to the meeting with Olybino, Azak fell silent, staring out at the waves, motionless as a tree until she had finished.

  Even then, he seemed to speak to the sea and the huge bright moon. "I have never seen a goblin. Are they as bad as gnomes?"

  "I don't know gnomes."

  He stretched out and rolled over to lie on his belly and look up at her. "You seek another choice, but if you are forced to that one, will you marry a goblin to win back your kingdom?"

  That question had haunted her for two nights now. "If it came to that, the choice would not likely be mine to make."

  He grunted. "Good! Never answer hypothetical questions. What do you want me to do?"

  "Help me!"

  "Why?"

  He had not asked How! Inos felt an upsurge of hope. This big, deadly young man might have a trick or two she had not thought of.

  "Because: My enemy's enemy is my friend."

  "Not necessarily! Who are your enemies? Both Rasha and the warlock were willing to put you on your throne. It's not their objective you dislike, it's their price."

  "No! They were not going to put me on my throne. They were willing to send me home, but not as a qu
een, not a real queen."

  Azak bought troops of young girls and ordered them shipped to the palace like livestock. He would not view her problem as she did.

  "True." He stirred sand with his finger, seemingly thinking. "And my enemies? Rasha, certainly. Should the warlock of the east enslave her and make her a—what was the word, votary?—then that might rid me of her. But the warden of the east can never be my friend, because he is occult preserver of the legions, and the Impire must be about due to invade us again. They are a generation behind their usual schedule. War growls in the long grass. I told you."

  After a moment he added, "We do not share the same enemies, you and I."

  She fought the tightening tentacles of his logic. "They are certainly not my friends, those two! They want to use me as a token, a coin!"

  Azak leaned his chin on one hand and gazed up at her, studying her face in the moon's light, his own face shadowed. "In any market, the coins outnumber the traders. You object?"

  "Of course I object! Rasha promised to help me, and now seeks to use me for her own ends." She would not add any remarks about helpless women, but she had never felt more helpless.

  "Help usually has a price."

  "I was hoping for advice, not aphorisms."

  "They are more dependable. You want to escape? And go where? Back to your kingdom? Assuming you can elude the sorceress, it will take you at least a year to cross Pandemia, being realistic. And you will have to hire an army—and ships, also, as you say the land route is closed. Have you any money?"

  Inos had already thought about this, the brute-force solution. "I have rich relatives within the Impire, but I know the Impire doesn't allow private armies. And who could I ever hire to fight an army of jotnar?"

  Azak grunted thoughtfully. "Other jotnar? So you would head north to Nordland, to hire your mercenaries?"

  And ten to one she would at once be raped, robbed, and find herself cooking fish in some thrall's hovel for the rest of her days. Jotnar would not follow a female leader anyway, and how would she get rid of them afterward?