Nightlord: Sunset

by Garon Whited

  It’s working; I lose fairly regularly. Before sundown, anyway. I haven’t tried sparring with anyone at night. I’m a little afraid to try; I’m stronger than I was before the dragon, as well as faster. I don’t want to accidentally break anyone.

  What else, what else…

  I’m slowly rebuilding my accustomed size; I eat everything in sight during the day and drink the rest at night. My trousers don’t threaten to fall down if I don’t have a tight-cinched belt. I’m disproportionally pleased with that. Forever ago, when I was always alive, I was considering a diet to deal with a starter set of stomach. Now I’m trying like hell to gain weight. I should be more careful what I wish for.

  Yesterday, I bought another wagon, specifically for Tamara and Hellas; it’s a lot like a gata wagon. Anyone who winds up on the binnacle list gets to ride, but this wagon is specifically for these two ladies—and me; I always wanted a mobile home. Bronze is very understanding about hauling it. We’ll get more horses as soon as we can. Someday, I’ll get a great big chain and hitch all the wagons to it to let Bronze try and pull them all, like a locomotive hauling cars. Someone will have to steer each wagon, I think, but it would free up the other horses for riders… we might make better time.

  The scary thing is I think Bronze can do it. So does she.

  On another note, I had an idea about finding students and teachers and people who would generally love my school. The Calling can be used to summon people who match whatever criteria I want to sort for. Divining magic can be used to find individuals with certain qualities. So I invented magical radar. Low-powered radar, to be sure; I don’t want to spend more power than I have to. Tossing big spells can attract attention.

  Remember my rock-in-a-pond metaphor? Well, the spell is a lot like that. I use a Calling framework to define the qualities of the person I want—a deep-seated curiosity, a desire to know, and a general willingness to work well with others—and use it like a divination. The “ripples” go out from me to cover a whole village or town; they pass through everyone and everything except for the people who match. Those reflect the “ripples” and I see the person appear to glow in my vision. Also, the spell attracts their attention toward me—people with these qualities can’t help but notice me.

  With some modification, I think I have the makings of a good bug zapper. But that’s another story.

  I found Kerrin with my curiosity-radar. He’s an older man with a distinct lack of hair and enough wrinkles to keep a dry cleaner busy for weeks. He was dressed in rags and scribbling in the dirt of a town square when he wasn’t begging for food.

  He used to be a merchant; he got lost in the math, though, and let business slip. I never knew anyone could get addicted to numbers.

  When I found him, he was trying to work out the relationships of the various sides of triangles. He hadn’t reinvented trigonometry, but he was trying. He has developed the Pythagorean Theorem all on his own; I’m not sure if that’s a product of genius or obsession. Right now, he’s in the back of a wagon, hopefully eating something, and blissfully playing with an abacus. It took me a while to remember how to make one, but it was worth it. I don’t have charcoal marks all over every flat surface, now.

  I must invest the time to re-invent the pencil and the slipstick.

  There are a few others like him, but not as many as I might have hoped. Curiosity seems to be at a low ebb around here. Most of the curious ones don’t care to leave with a traveling troupe of strangers, no matter how appealing their charismatic and charming leader happens to be. They prefer the security of the business/farm/job. I can’t really blame them. Getting The Next Meal is high on the list of priorities for any lowborn in this kind of society. Altogether, our numbers have swelled by an overwhelming eight.

  Still, it hasn’t been that long. We still have a long way to go.

  Tamara is about four months along, now; we had a little crying session the other morning when she tried to wear a skirt and it wouldn’t fit around her middle. It was sort of a mixed weeping, both in despair that she’s horribly fat and looks like a cow, and joy at the evidence that she’s going to have babies. She believes me when I tell her she’s beautiful, but doesn’t believe it for long. I keep telling her.

  We have our cuddle and nuzzle in our wagon; I have a rule—and Raeth enforces it—we don’t stop for anything short of a busted wheel. Tamara is going to add two more to our company in a few months; wherever we are, it better be a good spot. We won’t be going anywhere for a while once she spawns. I’d rather be at my mountain beforehand.

  I think I am in love. Tamara is intelligent, charming, tolerant, and understanding. She’s also beautiful, especially so with a swelling belly—even if she doesn’t see it that way. And she’s getting more beautiful. She’s also frisky in bed; I’m wondering if that’s normal for a woman as far along as she is, or if it’s just her, or if all fire-witches are like that.

  She’s also a priestess of a very apparent and powerful goddess, and everyone—I say again, everyone—in our expedition has converted. Even me, although I have less of a devotion and more of an acknowledgement. I don’t actively adore her goddess, but I do know She exists. I met Her, after all. Evidence doesn’t do much for faith, I’ve discovered.

  Besides, a certain shape-shifting goddess has been on my mind. I don’t even know her name.

  Other notes…

  I’m exceptionally pleased at Raeth and Bouger. These two are competent officers and able lieutenants. I shudder to think what sort of disaster this trip would be without them. This is no time for on-the-job training; I’m just watching and learning. Everyone in the group acknowledges me as their lord. Given. But I’d be swamped with requests, questions, and pleas if it weren’t for these two. I’ve heard them use a lot of phrases over and over:

  “He’s not to be disturbed.”

  “You want to bother him with that?”

  “He’s in with her ladyship. Are you sure you want to interrupt him?”

  “He told me to handle anything of that sort.”

  “I hate to tell you to shut up—but that won’t stop me. Shut up.”

  “Because I say so. If you want to hear him say so, I’ll send you in to wake him up and a dozen men to gather wood for your pyre.”

  I love these two. The only thing that would make this trip better would be Travis.

  I’m off to get double-double-teamed again; more later.

  TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 14TH

  Valentine’s Day. They don’t have it here, at least not by that name nor on this date. I bought a pendant in city called Chavi two days ago. I like it; it’s about eighteen to twenty inches of light gold chain with an orange gem in a simple setting. It was expensive, but I defrayed part of the cost with a couple of spells for the shopkeeper.

  Tamara loved it. I suspect she’d have loved it if I’d tied a rock to a piece of string and called it a pendant; she’s like that. I felt suitably rewarded when she untied her top and insisted I put the pendant on her. She’s well aware of my libido, and since I had just told her I found her beautiful, she was feeling beautiful. I have the strangest effect on her. And, come to think of it, she on me.

  I’m looking forward to spring. She tells me that Planting Moon is a lot like St. Valentine’s Day; agriculturally, it’s time to start getting seed in the ground. Socially, people exchange love-tokens, declare betrothals, and spend a lot of time making merry and making babies. I’m promised she’ll have something special for me.

  Curiosity is killing me.

  Apparently the women gossip around the campfires while the men beat on each other. A couple of them have joined in the weapon practice, mainly because I encourage it, but the vast majority don’t seem to have much interest.

  Hellas has recovered from her weakness and I’m glad; it pains me to think about her coming so close to dying, and then being ill for so long. I owe her.

  She was up and about when we camped for the evening; she accosted me after dinner.

  “Lo
rd?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am told that today is a day for the exchange of lovers’ tokens.”

  “In my homeland, yes,” I admitted.

  She took a deep breath and blushed furiously. “Lord… may I ask a favor?”

  I felt a little apprehensive. Everyone knows Tamara is “her ladyship,” and that she and I are together. But I think Hellas has had a crush on me since the night we met. I was really afraid I was going to have to turn her down and break her heart. It wouldn’t do mine any good, either; I like her and don’t want to hurt her.

  “Of course you may ask. What do you wish?”

  “I would like to… give someone a gift.”

  Oh, yes. I was definitely starting to worry. I wondered what Tamara would say. I wondered if Tamara knew. Surely she did, she had to. Didn’t she? I mean, they talked to each other a lot, girl talk, while they rode in the wagon together. It had to come out at some point. Right?

  “How can I help?” I asked.

  “I cannot… I do not have much, lord.”

  I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You have my gratitude and my friendship. That is more than you may suspect. Name your desire.”

  She drew in her breath, held it for a second, and then blurted, “Muldo.”

  I think I stared at her. She blushed harder and looked down. I was intensely relieved and maybe just a little pinked in the ego. There I go, assuming again.

  “You said…” she offered, trailing off. “You said to name…”

  “So I did. But I promised him his freedom when Tamara has her babies.”

  She nodded. “I know, lord. He has spoken of it often… but I would not have him as my slave.”

  “Then what would you have me do?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she admitted. “I love him, my lord.”

  I didn’t see that coming. Interesting wrinkle.

  “Very well. Go tell him I want to talk to him. Quickly, please; nightfall will not wait.”

  She hurried to find him and bring him back. I sat on the end of a cargo wagon and waited, much like I might have waited on the tailgate of a pickup truck. They both came up at a run, Muldo looking worried and Hellas looking flushed.

  “Lord?” Muldo asked, going to his knees. “You have summoned me and I have come. What is your will?”

  I got to my feet and looked down at him. He looked up at me; I’d insisted on that. I wasn’t happy with him for being on his knees again, but he’d been a slave since he was six, when his father sold him. Habit. At least he didn’t have the downcast eyes anymore.

  “Hellas, go find Tamara and wait with her until I send for you.” She gulped at that, then went wordlessly. I continued to regard Muldo. Normally, whenever he goes to his knees I tell him to get on his feet. I let him stay kneeling in the snow for a while.

  “Muldo, tell me what you know of Hellas.”

  He thought for a second, then said, “She was born at Crag Keep, a whore and a whore’s daughter, lord. Until you took her as a servant, her life was very hard. She is grateful that you found her and she loves you. She bore her son early and nearly died of him. She has had no other child since and fears she cannot.” He paused to think. “She is clever and quick, but is always afraid to be laughed at and made sport of, so she is often silent. Um… She hates her face and body; she would be beautiful if she could. She envies Tamara for having you, but loves her ladyship too well to keep that a secret. Ah, Tamara knows and understands, or so I am told by Hellas.”

  “Hellas confides in you, then?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “How do you feel about her?”

  He shrugged and looked at my boots. “I like her, my lord. She is sweet and she is kind to me.”

  “Would it surprise you to find she likes you?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “No, my lord.”

  “Would it please you to know such?”

  “Yes. Yes, lord, it would. But nothing may come of it until the birth of your heirs; I am a slave.”

  “That was the agreement, was it not?” I mused. “Well, I am changing the deal.”

  He looked shocked. “Lord?”

  “Lift your chin.”

  He did so, his eyes brimming. He was sure I was going to snap a chain onto the ring in his collar; I could see it in his face. Instead, I unlocked it. It creaked horribly as I swung the halves open. I closed it, locked it again, and handed both the key and the collar to him.

  “I said I would remove this collar with my own hands. I promised it. And so I have. You’re free now, Muldo Freeman. From now on, if you kneel to me, go only to one knee—never both—or it will go hard with you. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, lord,” he whispered, staring at the collar in his hands.

  “Good.” I headed back to the wagon to tell Hellas. Tamara and I cuddled up once she was gone; it’s nice to have someone to hold. I hoped Muldo and Hellas thought so too.

  WEDNESDAY,

  FEBRUARY 15TH

  Timing is everything. I’m glad I gave Tamara her present—and Hellas hers—yesterday.

  We rolled through a little place called Veddul a little after noon; it’s a village of maybe two dozen people about one day’s hard march from a small town called Krethmore. We stopped for a hot meal, a little more fodder, and to get another wagon wheel—we broke one crossing some nameless ford I’d like to forget.

  Changing a tire is never fun, and doing it in knee-deep water even less so, especially when a half-dozen strong men are the only thing you have for a jack. Lucky for us the riverbed was mostly rocks; it gave me something solid to stand on while I took most of the weight. At least we’re far enough south now that the water wasn’t frozen, just freezing cold.

  I then wasted an hour of our travel time by having the rocky hole responsible for the busted wheel filled in. We had to get some gravel and clay from elsewhere in the creek packed into the hole; it took some time. No more busted wheels in this ford, dammit! The King needs to hire a road crew.

  Or I need to invent the steel-belted radial. I wonder if I can get one of those gates and set up an import business? Nah. Too much work for one load of tires. But profitable; people would pay in gold. I’ll definitely get a reference library if I ever have the chance.

  On the way out of town, a man on horseback started to follow us. Since he was wearing split robes for riding, I assumed he was a wizard. Nobody wears robes on horseback unless they’re a magic-worker. Even the clergy break over and wear trousers. He didn’t seem to be a magician; he had a plain staff, plain robes, and simple gear. Magicians also don’t get out much, I understand; too fond of time in their towers, studying and practicing.

  He waved when we spotted him, so I dropped back to greet him. He drew alongside and pulled back his hood; I didn’t recognize him. He was about my height and a little heavier, with dark hair, a wide smile, and ears that might have tended to be ever so slightly pointed. We kept after my group at a walk.

  “Good day,” he offered. “I am Meryth.”

  “Good day,” I returned. “I am Sir Halar.”

  His eyes widened. “The one of whom the stories are told?”

  “Well… yes.”

  “Then it is an honor to meet you,” he said, and bowed in the saddle. “We have a mutual friend.”

  “The bard?” I guessed.

  “No,” he chuckled, “although I was most impressed with his musical accompaniment. No, I refer to a magician who spoke with you some months ago. About mutual favors and possible alliances.”

  I thought back to that night by the campfire.

  “I’m listening.”

  “We have been looking for you ourselves,” he continued, quietly. “Many of us have been lurking in towns and villages, hoping to catch sight of you that we might speak.

  “It has become apparent that your ire with the Church is great,” he went on, “but we must implore you to cease your assaults on the senior clergy. Tobias grows ever more influential with each riva
l who falls to your fangs.”

  I stared at him. I what? I stared at him so long he grew uncomfortable.

  “I am sorry if I have offended,” he said, cautiously. “I am merely relaying a request, sir.”

  “I appreciate that,” I returned. “Unfortunately, I have absolutely no clue what you’re talking about. Someone is killing off the senior clergy?”

  Meryth looked at me sharply. “You deny your part in these deaths?”

  “If I had a part in it, I’d admit it. I don’t know anything about it. I’ve been with these people for a month or two, traveling. What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

  Now it was Meryth’s turn to stare at me. “Twin holes in their necks, about the width of a man’s mouth,” he answered. “Not a drop of blood left in the bodies, and none to be seen on the floor. All were slain in the dead of night, and none have survived an attack save only the Lord of the Hand. He drove you from his chambers with the power of his faith—or claims it is so.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know where his chambers are—although I’d like to. I wouldn’t go into them; I’d just shoot him.”

  Meryth looked at me keenly. “I see you speak the truth.”

  That reminded me of Brennick, the magician for the Duke Ganelon. He could do that, too.

  “How do you do that?” I asked. “I have a spell that keeps people out of my mind.”

  Meryth nodded. “I see it. It is most formidable, if unsophisticated.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “So how do you do it?”

  “It is certainly proof against any probe I might make upon it,” he answered, “but it does not shield the lights of your heart. My spells allow me to dimly see your soul and to know that you believe what you say.”

  A spell of vampire eyes! I marveled. Well, I will be damned!

  “I see. Yes, I do see. That makes a lot of sense—hey! What do you mean ‘unsophisticated’?”