The Honorable Barbarian

by L. Sprague De Camp

  "How often comes this to pass?"

  "Belike once a year. His last visit was but three months past, so expect him not for a long time hence. Look not so stricken, boy; I shall find plenty, of chores to keep you occupied."

  "A good, healthy existence, I doubt not; but it is not my ambition to pass my life thus," mused Kerin. "Could I build mine own boat, think you?"

  "I doubt that. With palm trunks and bamboo stalks you could assemble nought better than a raft, which one good blow would demolish. Nor could you, alone, conn such a craft out of sight of land, or in contrary winds, or whilst asleep.

  "Nay, my son, give up that fancy. You will be safe and comfortable here, and free of worldly temptations. I shall make you my holy disciple, or chela as they say in Mulvan. And now let me explain my theory of the variations in sea level. . . ."

  Kerin listened with the best grace he could muster. When the old man ran down, Kerin asked: "Sir, if you were a genuine wizard, why brought you not some of your powers and instruments with you, to defend yourself?"

  Pwana shrugged. "One or two nicknacks, such as a tarncap. But I have forsworn the serious practice of magic during my penance. I have dismissed my familiars, albeit I perceive that you have one."

  "That was—" Kerin began to explain Belinka's presence but thought he had better not. Instead, he asked: "Your pardon, but what's a tarncap?"

  "A cap of invisibility. It loses its charge and after a number of usages must needs be recharged with an extensive spell.

  "Now, young man, take this bag and this pole and go along the beach, knocking ripe coconuts off their palms and gathering them. Be sure to return ere dark."

  He handed Kerin an eight-foot length of bamboo and a large string bag.

  When Kerin was out of hearing of the hut, he murmured: "Belinka!"

  "Aye, Master Kerin?" The dancing blue light flickered into view against the evening sky.

  "What in the seven frigid hells shall we do now? We must not linger here for months, awaiting Captain Bakattan's arrival."

  "Couldst not lay a signal fire away from Doctor Pwana's demesne and, when you see a ship upon the horizon, touch it off?"

  "How about pirates?"

  "Canst tell a pirate ship from that of an honest merchant?"

  "I might, if I could see it close. Pirates, my brother tells me, are a disorderly lot. Their ships are filthy, and their garb mingles dirty rags and looted finery. But if I were near enough to discern the difference, they would also see me and add me to their plunder."

  Belinka: "Methinks in Pwana's hut I witnessed one of those brazen tubes you Westerners use to peer at distant things."

  "A spyglass, like those they make in Iraz? How is it that I saw it not?"

  "You were looking for certain things and ignored the rest. If Pwana hath this instrument, you could climb one of these slanting trees and sight your ship through the glass."

  "That's an idea," said Kerin dubiously. "All I need do is borrow the glass without the good Doctor's knowledge. Methinks it more expedient to use you as my eyes, to fly out over the water for a closer look."

  For several days, Kerin was busy with chores for Pwana. Not that the old man was idle; he kept busy, with rests few and far between. To survive alone, even in this mild climate, Kerin found, required constant activity: gathering food and firewood, fetching fresh water from a distant spring, tending the fire, patching the house, mending equipment, and cultivating the garden. When Kerin's nose became painfully sunburned, Pwana lent him a large straw hat, which the exile had woven of grass stems. Kerin also began a calendar by cutting notches in a length of driftwood.

  Evenings he had to listen to Pwana's monologues. The hermit had theories on everything, including the origin of the planets, the movement of continents, the evolution of life, the rise of civilization, and the growth of mankind's morals and ethics. Although Kerin's brother Jorian intermittently journeyed to the University of Othomae to work as an instructor, Kerin had not been exposed to higher education. Hence he could not judge whether Pwana's ideas were sound or insubstantial moonbeams like his tale of the wicked Emperor Ajunya.

  Kerin was sure that some at least of Pwana's theories were mere wind, because they often seemed to contradict what Pwana had maintained a few nights previously. Kerin resolved, if he returned whole to Kortoli, to remedy this lack in his training, in hopes of being able to sort out the true from the false.Kerin found Pwana a mercurial character, one day gloomily speculating on the punishments for his sins awaiting him in his next life; the next, irascible and arrogantly dictatorial; or again, amiable and slyly charming. He told endless tales of his adventures; although, as with his theories, some stories flatly contradicted others. He even told alternative versions of how he came to go into exile. Kerin noticed that whatever tale Pwana told, no matter how flagrantly inconsistent with his other stories, the hermit spoke with such intense conviction and sincerity that it was all Kerin could do to keep from believing him.

  Kerin thought long and hard about escaping from the island and from its dubious overlord. Recovered from his sunburn, he was more careful about exposing his skin to sunlight.

  One hot, sticky day, when he was chopping firewood, he shed his everyday shirt, thinking himself now brown enough to withstand the tropical sun for a while. As he resumed his chopping, Pwana tottered up, saying:

  "What is that, Master Kerin?"

  "What's what?"

  "That thing hung from your neck."

  "Oh, that." Kerin pulled off the chain holding the package of oiled silk. "A paper of some sort, borne by a young fellow who started the voyage with me. He fell into misfortune and begged me to carry out his mission."

  "Hm. And this mission?"

  "To give it to the authorities of Kuromon, if I ever get there."

  "What is in this paper?"

  "I know not; it's sealed and in Mulvani, which I read not. My erstwhile shipmate opened it, showed it to me, and resealed it."

  "I read all civilized tongues. May I see this package?"

  Kerin handed Pwana the package. The hermit turned it over, saying: "It is some sort of paper, folded many times in a silken envelope and secured by a waxen seal. Pray, fetch my sewing kit and reading glass from the hut."

  "What mean you to do?"

  "I shall remove the seal and read the document."

  "But—but that was given to me confidentially. . . ."

  "Oh, trouble not your little head! I shall replace the seal so that none shall know.''

  "Well—ah . . ."

  "Come now, young man, art not curious? Suppose it hold the message to slay the messenger forthwith? Such things have happened. Therefore it behooves you to know what the paper contain."

  "Oh, very well," said Kerin doubtfully. But he fetched the articles from the hut. Pwana got a needle from the kit, heated it in the smoldering fire, and adroitly pried off the seal. He unfolded the long strip of paper.

  With the magnifier, Pwana frowned at the tiny writing. "It seems to be some sort of spell. 'Before thou enter the circle, perfume it with musk, amber, aloes-wood, and incense. Take care that thou have fire whenever thou make invocation, and fumigate only in the name of the spirit whom thou wouldst call. When placing perfume on the fire, thou sayest: I burn this—' I know not the name that follows; something like unto 'Silichar.' Then it goes on: '. . . and in the name and to the honor of—' That name again; doubtless some demon. 'When thou invoke, thou holdest the invocation in thy left hand, having the rod of elder in thy right, whilst the ladle and the knife should be at thy feet. . . .'

  "It goes on interminably like that. Wouldst that I read all? I know not that my aged voice will hold out."

  "Nay, Doctor; but could you give me some idea of what it's about?"

  Grumbling, Pwana ran his glass down the lines. He said: "Meseems it be a formula for making a kind of magical fan."

  "What were the use for a magical fan?"

  Pwana shrugged. "I know not. I am told that in Kuromon, they make fa
ns with outer ribs in the form of iron blades, for cutting an enemy's throat."

  Kerin laughed. "I see. One is invited to a grand feast. One sees one's foe across the room, swilling wine or whatever they drink there. One approaches, fanning oneself against the heat. One hails one's victim with a pleasant greeting, and when he looks up, khlt!" Kerin drew a finger across his throat.

  "I doubt the host were pleased," said Pwana. "More likely the fan be used as a parrying device for the left hand, whilst the right wields a sword. How comes the firewood?"

  While patrolling the beach for edibles, Kerin came upon the Dragonet's boat, sitting above the high-tide mark. It struck him that someone might make off with the boat, so he hauled it back among the palms. Knowing somewhat of the ways of boats, he took the bucket, which still reposed in the bottom, filled it with water, and emptied it into the hull.

  "What dost, Master Kerin?" asked Belinka. "When we fled the Dragonet, you had much ado to scoop water out of this craft; but now you put water in. Wherefore?"

  "If the boat dry out here in the sun, the boards will shrink. Then, when I launch it again, 'twill leak."

  Kerin poured several more bucketfiuls into the hull and resumed his trek. He came to where he had been building a hearth on the edge of the beach and paused to add a few more lumps of coral to the hearth and pieces of dead palm frond to his fuel supply. Belinka said:

  "Master Kerin, you have not yet obtained Doctor Pwana's spyglass. If you see a ship, how couldst run to the hut, procure the glass without the old man's knowledge, and get back here in time to accomplish aught?"

  "I know not. Belike I can persuade him to let me carry the instrument, to have it ever ready."

  "Meseems—oh, oh, Master Kerin! It looks as if the time for such stratagems were past!"

  "Eh? What meanst?"

  The tiny voice came from overhead. "Here comes a ship now!"

  "What!" Kerin dashed to the water's edge. Around a bend in the shore came a vessel of a size and rig much like those of Captain Huvraka's Dragonet, two or three bowshots from shore.

  "Belinka!" said Kerin. "Canst flit out yonder and see what manner of ship it be? I must warn Pwana!"

  Kerin ran back towards the hut. He arrived out of breath, to find the hermit sitting with his back to the hut and his eyes closed.

  "Master Kerin!" squeaked Belinka above him. "I have visited the ship; but I cannot say what sort of persons man it. You said that pirates were clad in rags and looted finery, but all these men are naked, with no garb to judge by."

  " 'Tis this heat," muttered Kerin. "I must rouse the Doctor—"

  "I am awake," drawled Pwana, opening his eyes and stretching. "I did but meditate. I infer from your aura that something has stirred you?"

  Kerin told of the ship. With a groan, Pwana climbed to his feet. He ducked into the hut and emerged in a wrap-around skirt or sarong. Then he hobbled across the beach, shading his eyes with a hand as the ship dropped anchor and launched its ship's boat. Following him, Kerin said:

  "Hadn't we better flee into the brush?"

  "That were wise for you, since you are just the sort of hale young man they are fain to capture for sale. But I shall remain. I can convince them by logic that they have nought to gain by seizing me. Imprimus, I have no property worth stealing; secundus, no sane slave buyer would give a clipped copper for such a scrawny oldster. So get you hence! Run, ere they sight you!"

  With a last glance at the approaching boat, Kerin dashed to the hut, retrieved his sword, and made off into the brush. But he did not go far. He hovered just beyond the line of scrub that formed a barrier between the beach and the more open palm forest beyond. Crouching behind this screen, he watched through chinks in the fronds as the boat rowed in and beached. This boat was much larger than the Dragonet's. It must, he thought, hold nearly a score.

  These men debarked in the shallows and hauled the boat up from the surf. All now wore a sarong or a loincloth of some sort. All were armed, either with tulwars like Huvraka's or with straight blades of a curious wavyedged pattern, which Kerin had never seen.

  Kerin blinked as he realized that one of those disembarking was a woman. Like many of the men, she wore only a wrap-around skirt. At the distance Kerin could not discern her age or comeliness; but she had the same deep-brown Salimorese skin as the men. A cord was tied around her wrist, with the other end in the fist of a man; she was patently a captive.

  The men approached Pwana, who stood like a mahogany statue waiting. For a while the hermit engaged three pirates, for Kerin was now sure that so they were, in a low-voiced dialogue. Then one of the trio, a big, stout, scarfaced man with more beard than most Salimorese, shouted in accented Salimorese:"Seize him! He denies he has hidden treasure, but I know better. This is Pwana, the wizard and prophet of some god, who fled Salimor when his thieveries became too great to be hidden!"

  Several pirates sprang upon Pwana, who did not resist as they bound his wrists, pushed him roughly to where the others were setting up camp and building a fire, and threw him down upon the sand. The boat, manned by two men, was on its way back to the ship.

  Kerin heard a buzz of conversation, much of which he missed through unfamiliarity with the language. The sun was subsiding when the boat returned with bags of food and a couple of casks. An argument raged on how best to persuade Pwana to reveal the place of his hoard. The fire crackled and sent a pillar of blue-gray smoke aloft to the banded sky. At last the stout man, evidently the leader, roared:

  "Nay, I say his feet shall be pushed into the fire, little by little! I have always found that effective."

  A pirate said: "Captain Malgo, can we bugger him first?"

  "Forget it," said the captain. "Business before pleasure."

  "We had better start soon," said another. "If he be a wizard, he may have magic to counter pain or extinguish the fire."

  The name "Malgo" stirred a buried memory in Kerin's mind. He was sure he had heard it but knew not when or where. Moreover, the man looked like a Novarian. He was bigger than any of his crew, and the rugged features on his scar-crossed visage distinguished him from the glabrous faces and almond eyes of the Salimorese.

  "Right!" said Captain Malgo. "Tubanko, you and Bantal haul him to the fire."

  Two pirates seized Pwana's ankles and pulled until his feet were close to the crimson blaze. Malgo stood over him, growling: "Now, my fine wizard, wilt talk?"

  "I have told you I have no such treasure," came the thin, high voice of the hermit. "Burn me, flay me, or slay me, it makes no difference. I cannot give what I possess not."

  Kerin gathered his feet beneath him, preparatory to rising. "Master Kerin!" said Belinka's voice. "What folly is this? Keep out of sight!"

  Kerin knew the advice was sound. Even his intrepid brother, who had survived such desperate adventures, would have told Kerin to stay under cover, at least until dark. But Kerin could not help himself. Even as he sternly told himself not to be a fool, an irresistible urge impelled him to rise and draw his sword. He pushed through the fringe of scrub and walked, with an air of more confidence than he felt, to where the pirates were clustered around Pwana. He said:

  "Captain Malgo!"

  The massive pirate spun around. "Whence in the seven hells came you? Who art, and what would you?"

  "Kerin of Ardamai, at your service. Are you brave?"

  "Some have thought so. Why?"

  "Then I will fight you for the lives of Doctor Pwana and the young woman. If I kill you, your men shall depart, leaving us unmolested. If you slay me, then of course you will do as you list."

  "Of all the crazy—" began Malgo. But one of his men cried out:

  "Take him up, Captain! You'll chop him into gobbets, giving us rare sport." Others took up the cry.

  "Novarian, aren't you?" said Malgo.

  "Aye, sir. Will you fight?"

  "Anon. What's this nonsense about leaving Princess Nogiri and the hermit with you? Think you we're daft, to give up a handsome ransom and a chance at his
treasure, on a whim? My men will let you go if you win, agreed; but forget the princess and the hermit. They're ours."

  "But Captain, consider—"

  "Enough chatter!" shouted Malgo. "Have at you, silly boy!"

  The captain had drawn a scabbarded sword from his sash. Now he whipped out the sword, a long weapon with a wavy, serpentine blade like those of some of the other pirates. He held the scabbard in his left hand against his forearm and raised the arm to guard with. Then he rushed upon Kerin, who had barely time to get his guard up when the pirate leader caught his blade in a prise, whirled it around, and sent it spinning out of Kerin's grasp into the scrub.

  Malgo roared with laughter. "Anyone can see you're a tyro at swordplay, youngling. Seize him! He shall give us rare pleasure ere we let him die."

  Kerin turned to run. But a pirate tripped him, another landed on his back, and others bound his wrists and ankles.

  "Good!'' cried a pirate. "A real man would rather bugger a well-thewed youth than futter a mere woman any day!"

  Captain Malgo stood over the recumbent Kerin, saying: "What said you your name was?"

  "Kerin of Ardamai, or Kerin Evor's son."

  "Ha! Hast a brother named Jorian?"

  "Aye." Then it occurred to Kerin that he had been disastrously indiscreet. This Malgo must be he who had once been Jorian's fellow recruit in the Othomaean army and later his jailer. Jorian had told how, wrongly blaming Jorian for loss of his post, Malgo had tried to murder Jorian. The man had been subdued and, with the help of Jorian's friend the sorceress Goania, Jorian had put upon Malgo a geas to take ship for the Far East. To reveal himself as kin to one whom Malgo viewed as a mortal foe was the abyssal depth of folly.

  A pirate said: "When we are done with him, we'll hang his head from the bowsprit, to show what happens to those who vex us!"

  "Nay!" said Malgo. "I have mine own plans for this head. His kin are mine enemies; so I will pack the head in a cask of salt and send it to them. I only regret I shan't be there when they open the cask." He kicked Kerin.