by Dave Duncan
He'd persuaded Little Chicken to make the attempt, too. The goblin did not even need a long runway to build up speed. His occult strength let him take off from a crouch like an arrow leaving a bow; but it also enabled him to stop dead in his tracks when he wanted to, and of course the aversion spell made him want to. The advantage of his great speed had been completely canceled out. The path was gouged where he had dug in his heels, and he had come no nearer the invisible barricade than Rap had.
But possibly his heart had not been in it. He had not seemed very convinced by Rap's explanations, preferring to believe his own conclusion that the magic merely stopped him from going more than a certain distance from the hut. He thought in terms of a tether, not a fence. That was very logical, Rap supposed, if you didn't have farsight. It might even be true, and the aversion spell might be quite unrelated to the shielding. It might just increase in power indefinitely as the distance from the hut increased. He couldn't prove matters either way, because he couldn't tell if the aversion spell extended outside the shielding . . .
Oh, yes he could!
With a yelp of triumph, Rap went racing back to the hut to waken the goblin.
Rap's mother had firmly maintained that all cats were gray in the dark. Goblins in moonlight, likewise, lost any hint of being green. But they could still look dangerously surly at having been roused from a sound sleep. What dreams a goblin might enjoy did not bear thinking about.
Little Chicken stood on the path, scratching, slapping bugs, and showing his teeth in a fearsome scowl. His angular eyes glinted crossly as he listened to Rap's proposal. He nodded agreement. "Easy."
"You'll do it?"
"No. Then you leave the island? Leave me? You think again, Flat Nose. Find better idea."
He turned on his heel, intent on returning to his hammock. Rap grabbed his shoulder. Little Chicken spun around, knocking Rap's arm away with a blow so hard that for a moment Rap thought the bones were broken.
Never let him save your life . . .
Facing a hate-filled glare, he wondered if he was about to die at once. The goblin had not mentioned the subject of trash since Rap had come to the jail. He had spoken very little, spending most of the afternoon just eyeing Rap like a cat eyeing a bird. He might now consider that his diversionary attack on the soldiers had relieved him of any further obligation to his former master. In that case, Little Chicken was now free to pursue his life's ambition. The only thing that could be restraining him was the flimsy hope that he might one day drag his victim back to Raven Totem to enjoy the faun in relaxed family surroundings. If he ever discarded that hope, then he could start work anytime. Like now.
"I'll get you out, too!" Rap protested, gingerly rubbing his bruise.
Even the silvery trail of moonlight was enough to show the goblin's skepticism. "How?"
"I'll go and get a horse and a rope. I know where the stables are."
Little Chicken scowled. "Two horses, maybe?"
He thought he could outwrestle a horse? He might be right, although he knew little about horses.
"Isn't room on the path for two," Rap said. "I'll toss the rope in to you. You tie it around yourself and turn your back. When the horse moves, you won't have time to undo the knots."
Giant goblin teeth showed in a sneer. "Break rope!"
"I'll yank you out before you have time to break the rope! What's the matter, you scared?"
"Don't trust you." Again he moved as if headed for bed.
"I'm sorry," Rap said. "I thought we were friends and buddies right now, or I wouldn't have asked to be put in your cage. You won't trust my word that I'll come back for you?"
The goblin was still standing there, his back turned. "No."
"I'll have a lot more chance of escaping from the island if you're still helping me. You must see that!"
Silence. Obviously Little Chicken was tempted.
"I'm going to try to stow away on a ship. If I can reach the mainland, then I'll head for Zark, to find Inos. But you might be able to knock me on the head and carry me off to the northlands. You never know your luck. You certainly can't do that here in Faerie."
Slowly the goblin turned around. He stared hard at Rap. "You promise to come back with horse and get me out?"
"I swear."
Little Chicken grunted. "Suppose I try what you want. Suppose you break both legs, and the spell isn't thin, like you said. Suppose you land in it, not through it?"
"Then I'll probably go insane. You'll be able to listen to my screams all night long."
"Real men don't scream!" The goblin stepped forward and grasped the back of Rap's belt. "Feet first, faceup?"
"Good a way as any," Rap said, and was immediately hoisted into the air. Fingers like ropes tightened around his left ankle.
He held himself rigid. He watched treetops rush by against the moon-washed sky. Little Chicken hurtled along the path, bearing Rap overhead like a javelin. When the aversion spell stopped him, he threw, and Rap went soaring onward, feet first.
He felt a spasm of unspeakable horror, but he was through the magic before he could even cry out.
He did not break his legs, although he did twist an ankle, the same one he had injured before. He also collected an assortment of scrapes and bruises while rolling to a stop in a bush. He rose, dusted himself off, and tried a few steps to make sure he could walk. Then he looked back at the goblin, who had retreated away from the barrier.
"Thanks!" Rap said. "Guess it worked. I'll be back, I promise."
One way or the other . . .
Limping as fast as he could bear, he headed for the stables he had seen near the main gate. Proconsul Oothiana, the dwarf Raspnex, the warlock himself . . . and there might be many other sorcerers around the palace grounds, Zinixo's votaries.
He shunned the paths, cutting across-country, staying close to patches of woodland whenever possible, and also close to the many shielded buildings because what blocked his farsight must block sorcerers' farsight, too. The wind was rising, and clouds scudded through the moonlit sky. Far off to his right lay the town of Milflor, its dying cooking fires a scattering of fallen stars. To his left was the hogback of the headland. Beyond that lay the ocean, and the mainland, and Zark. And Inos.
He was only one man, moving in darkness in a very large area. He thought he would reach the stables safely, but they might well be guarded, and to steal one horse in the middle of the night would panic all the others unless he used mastery. Mastery might be detected if there was another sorcerer awake somewhere. Even if he could pull off the horsethievery, he would then have to cross the palace grounds again, back to the jail. Only when he had done all that would he be able to make tracks for the harbor.
Common sense said he should forget the goblin and head straight for the docks. He resisted the temptation. He planned to live to an extreme old age, and that meant he must live with his conscience for a long time yet. He had promised to return.
It was a very long shot, and yet he was beginning to feel hopeful again. A word of power made its owner lucky, Sagorn had said. His luck was holding so far, for he was almost at the stables. He came around the corner of a shielded building, heard a voice, and dropped flat in the grass.
Farsight found no one to explain the voice, but it did tell him that there was a local circle of shielding a short way in front of the building. The sound seemed to be coming from there, at the edge of one of the major roads. After a moment, when there was no outcry, he raised his head cautiously and took a look. As he suspected, the speaker was Proconsul Oothiana, her white robe glimmering in the moonlight.
She was standing on a grass verge between the pavement and an ornamental flower bed. She had her back to him, and she was speaking in low, rapid tones to a man. All Rap could see of the man was that he was tall, and wearing a military helmet, and holding a spear.
Oothiana could not detect Rap with farsight while she was inside that shielding. He certainly ought to vanish before she emerged, but . . .
&nb
sp; But why would these two hold their conversation out here in the middle of the night, and why had the sorceress cast an occult shield around them? It overlapped half the width of the roadway, but it enclosed nothing except the two people.
A word of power made its owner lucky. Was this curious opportunity somehow important?
The moon sailed majestically into a cloud, the parkland sank into darkness. Faunish common sense went down to abject defeat before a harebrained nosiness that would have shamed an imp—Rap began to wriggle forward through the dewy grass. He aimed for some of the shrubbery on his side of the road, across from the sorceress. When he reached it, he rose on hands and knees in the dark and crawled around until he was as close as he could get to the strange conversation. He lay down and watched, straining his ears to catch the words.
She was talking about him! Describing how she had caught him. He had not expected that. It made him realize that he was eavesdropping on a private conversation. He felt even worse when she made some nonsensical comments about his manners and his courage. And then the moon found a gap in the clouds, the darkness lifted, and Rap's hair rose on his scalp. Proconsul Oothiana was speaking to a statue.
It represented a warrior leaning on a spear, and the helmet Rap had noticed earlier was all it was wearing. One arm was raised high to clutch the spear; its head was bowed, its shoulders drooped in a stance of weariness and defeat. That was curious, because all the others Rap had bothered to look at had depicted arrogance and triumph. They had all been set on high stone pedestals, while this one stood on a low plinth, no higher than a herring box; and only this one had occult shielding around it.
Why should a sorceress be telling a statue about Rap? Andor had mentioned talking statues that would predict the future, just as magic casements and preflecting pools did.
Then the lady got to the part about Bright Water. Somebody whistled in astonishment, and scorpions danced on Rap's skin.
"I bet that upset the mole!" said a deep male voice.
"He was almost too furious to be scared, I think!"
"That would be historic!"
"He thinks she's in league with the other two, ganging up on him."
"Ha!" the statue said. "Our esteemed master thinks everyone is ganging up on him."
"But why would she have sent them to Faerie? That's trespass!"
"I don't know." The statue straightened, suddenly tall, rubbing its back with its free hand as if it ached.
Rap dropped his face into the grass. Oothiana still had her back to him, but the statue was staring over her head in his direction—assuming that talking statues could see, of course.
"Can't you think of anything?" Oothiana cried. "If you can come up with some good ideas, then he'll realize that you're valuable to him—"
"Goose droppings! I'm more valuable to him here. You know that! Why doesn't he just ask her?"
"That's what I suggested," the sorceress said sadly. "I think he will. But it gets him involved in the Krasnegar thing, you see? And now he wants the girl."
Rap's head lifted of its own accord. What girl?
"What girl?" the statue asked. It had slumped back into its former slouch, but perhaps it was just looking down at the sorceress. If it was supposed to represent an imp, it was a little larger than life size, and it stood on a plinth. Oothiana was on the ground, and lower.
"The princess, or queen. Inosolan."
"I thought East promised to produce her for the imperor?"
"But he hasn't. Not yet. And now it seems that whoever stole her away wasn't one of his votaries!"
"Whose, then?"
"Don't now. Maybe no one's. The faun says she was a djinn, named Rasha."
"Mm?" the statue said. "A wild card? Well, why does the dwarf want her, this Inosolan?"
"Who knows? Just because the others do, maybe. She seems to be important."
The statue grunted. "Can he find her?"
"I don't know! That's what I have to do next . . . Oh, Gods—the time! I must go, love! I have to find out if the faun knows where this Rasha woman took her."
Again insects crawled on Rap's skin. He had told the lady about Rasha and he'd said she was a djinn, but perhaps he hadn't mentioned Arakkaran. He laid his head down on the damp, earth-scented grass and shivered. If Oothiana went looking for him and discovered his absence, then the chase would be on at once. Now he dare not go back to rescue Little Chicken. For Inos's sake, he must escape now, or else kill himself before they caught him.
Silence.
The moon was sliding behind another cloud. He sneaked a quick look as the light faded. Oothiana had stepped up on the plinth and was embracing the statue, kissing it. Its free arm was around her, holding her tight.
The kiss ended. She whispered something. The statue responded, equally quietly. Endearments. "I must go, my love," she said, and her voice cracked.
Rap started easing backward, planning to leave, but Oothiana jumped down to the ground then, and he froze. She set off at once, heading toward the building. When she left the circle of shielding she could have detected him with farsight, but either his stillness escaped her notice or she was too intent on her own troubles. As she vanished into the doorway, he relaxed and wiped his streaming forehead on the grass. Whew!
He began to move again.
The statue said, "You! Faun! Come here."
5
"Always did have good night vision," the statue said in a satisfied tone.
Standing within the shielding, Rap had farsight now to confirm what his eyes had been refusing to believe. Furthermore, the moon had come out again. The statue was only partly a statue. Feet and legs of solid marble supported a torso of . . . meat, a living man. His right hand, the one held high to grip the spear, was stone also, almost to the elbow. That was what was holding him upright His left arm seemed unaffected. So far.
"I'm Rap," Rap said hoarsely, mostly to see if he was capable of speaking without throwing up.
"Yodello, legate of the army in Faerie, retired."
He had been a burly, well-built man, big for an imp. Even now, with pain and horror shining out of half-mad eyes, he retained some trace of his former authority.
"How'd you get out, prisoner?"
Rap started to back away, and his feet froze as firmly as Yodello's. His mouth spoke without his wanting it to. "I was caged with the goblin. He has a word of power, and it's made him inhumanly strong. He threw me through the aversion spell."
Yodello chortled harshly. "And how did he know to try that? And what do you know about aversion spells?"
"I have a word, also. I have farsight, so I could see the shielding, and I met an aversion spell in Inisso's castle."
"In Krasnegar?"
"Yes, sir."
"A faun in the far north? And do you know where this Inosolan is?"
Rap tried to bite his tongue, but again his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "The sorceress said she was from somewhere called Arakkaran. You're a mage!" Rap added quickly. That was why he also was rooted to the spot.
"My, my! You know a lot! For a mere genius, that is."
"You killed the fairies. Three of them. The lady told me that the man who did that was being punished." But Rap found it hard to believe that even three murders justified this ghastly death, a creeping petrification. How long had this wretch endured his public torment?
"Not punished by her!" said the half-man.
"Please, sir, let me go? I have to escape, to save Inos! I must find a ship to hide in." Surely this Yodello could never be on Zinixo's side?
The soldier shook his head, and moonlight flashed from his bronze helmet "They'd search all the ships with a looking glass. If you go somewhere else, you might manage to elude Oothie for a while, but the dwarf could track you like a bloodhound, if he was upset enough to come after you himself. Or his uncle might, even. He has others. No one escapes from a sorcerer, Master Rap."
And Little Chicken had been present in the chamber when Rasha appeared. He, too, ha
d heard the name of Arakkaran. Rap sank down on the grass in despair. His ankle throbbed painfully, but worse was the sudden horror eating into his heart like an arctic chill. Inos! For a moment there was silence, then he said, "You're a mage? You could help me."
"You could help me."
"Me?" Rap peered up at the man's face, silver in the moonlight. He wasn't sure if the soldier was joking, or mocking him, or had just been driven mad by his ordeal. It must be at least a month, maybe two, since the attack on the fairy village. Had Yodello been suffering here all that time? Every day his former subordinates would go marching past. Someone must have to feed him, clean him.
"How can I possibly help you?"
"Scratch my left ankle. It's driving me crazy."
"Very funny," Rap said. "If I can do anything to help, I will, but if I can't, then I'd like to go now."
"But I never have anyone to talk to! You can keep me company for a while. Talk to me. Kill me."
"What?"
"Yes!" The soldier sighed and rubbed his ribs with his elbow, as if he had an itch there. "You can, of course. That's how you can help me, see? There's a shed around the back. You go find a shovel. They might even have an ax. Then you can cut my throat. You can put me out of my misery."
"I couldn't do that," Rap said with a very dry mouth.
"Sure you could!" Yodello sounded jovial, fatherly. He might have been encouraging a nervous recruit. "Very good opportunity for you. A man never knows what he is until he's killed someone. Ready?"
"No!" Rap slithered backward on the grass. He felt the edge of the roadway under one elbow. Behead a man with a shovel?
"But you answered my call, Master Rap! You came within the shield. Then I had you. I'm a mage. Not as much a mage as I was, but I can still control a boy with only one word of power."
"Once I'm outside the shielding again you can't!" Rap protested. What an idiot he had been! He should have run away when Yodello summoned him, but he'd thought the statue might shout loud enough to bring the lady back.