by Dave Duncan
“Quite a way, apparently. The villa up ahead is Casfrel, but there’s a trail goes on beyond. The army built it a couple of decades ago.” Andor flashed white teeth at Rap and adjusted his hat to a slightly more rakish angle. His finery would have looked stolen on Thinal, but Andor had style. He was one of those superb horsemen who could make their mounts seem mere extensions of themselves.
“Been doing a little research?” Rap inquired. He hadn’t let Andor out of his farsight, so when could he have? … Oh-last night, obviously. Or the night before.
“Just a little. Dear girl was one of those talky ones, so I guided her into productive channels. You do know about the escaped trolls, of course?”
“Acopulo gave me some names of places. Frelket Valley was one of them.”
“It was Casfrel,” Andor agreed. “Little more’n a year ago, a half dozen ‘agricultural workers’ went missing. Presumably they escaped up the river and into the mountains. The army went after them, but found no trace. “
“With dogs?”
“Probably. It’s quite a racket, isn’t it?”
“Slavery is illegal. I don’t know how they manage to keep it secret.” Rap did know that Shandie disapproved strongly-so strongly that he had not explained very well.
Andor shrugged. “Casfrel is a big plantation, owned by some senator back in Hub. A troll is a sort of semi-intelligent ox, very valuable help around that sort of place. The army rounds them up on one pretext or another and collects the money. Helps pay the garrisoning bills. Political favors count, too. ” He eyed Rap thoughtfully. “Who cares about trolls?”
“Shandie does. I do. Remember Ballast, on Stormdancer?” “Frankly, no. I was traveling first class, you will recall.” Rap hesitated, then returned the smile. “Yes, I remember. “
“Rap …” For once Andor seemed at a loss for words. “Look, I won’t say I’m sorry, because you wouldn’t believe me. But I am glad things turned out the way they did. Name of Evil! You were only a stableboy, and you had no idea how valuable that word of yours was, or what it would mean to me. And I didn’t just get you in a corner and call Darad to work you over, as I could have-I really did try to help you. Now, didn’t I? I helped you with your job and your education, and so on. Sure, I was trying to pry your word of power out of you, but who wouldn’t?”
Lots of people, Rap thought, but apparently Andor was trying to apologize. It was ancient history, almost a childhood memory for him, although to Andor it would seem more recent, only four or five years ago.
“It wasn’t what you did to me I minded. It was Inos.”
“But I was going to marry her! Gods, man! That’s the only time in my entire life I’ve ever offered to marry a girl and meant it.”
He’d tried the other way first, though, and he wasn’t saying how long he’d planned to stay married. Andor’s moral vision was sadly defective. He shot Rap a worried frown, then grinned. “And I appreciate what you did for the five of us, when you could. You kept your word. And right now, I admit, I’m enjoying myself hugely. You know how I like traveling! I never seem to get out of Hub anymore. Anytime I’ve tried in the past few years, or Darad’s tried, Thinal or Sagorn has gone right back home again.”
“You’re offering to help, you mean?”
“I want to help. I think you’re on a noble cause.”
He truly believed the words coming out of his own mouth at the moment, which meant nothing, because he would lie to himself as much as anyone. All the same, cooperation was better than opposition.
“Then I’m glad to have your help,” Rap said. “Gods know, I need all the help I can get! And, since we’re baring souls now, I’d better confess that my premonition is beginning to itch. There may be trouble ahead. “
Andor’s radiant smile faltered. “What sort of trouble?”
“I don’t know. It’s vague. Maybe nothing. Maybe death.”
“I have just remembered I left a toothpick back in Ysarth.”
“I also have a hunch that says the risk is worth taking. It’s not much of a guarantee, and it won’t apply to you anyway. “
“Oh, I just love your attitude! Well, it won’t be the first time we’ve been through danger together, will it Rappie-boy?”
God of Villains! Only Andor had ever called him that, but who was the youngster now? “No, it won’t.”
“So if we’re going to be allies, you wouldn’t mind telling me what you’re up to, would you?”
“Thought you knew.” Rap was trying to read a road marker ahead. It looked like a boundary stone, and there was a subtle change in the fields beyond it, a hint of more prosperity, more fertility. This might be the start of the Casfrel estate that Andor had mentioned.
“The Mosweep Mountains are about five hundred leagues long and Gods know how wide,” Andor said impatiently, “mostly covered with jungle so thick you can’t see your hand behind your back. You expect to find sorcery in that mess? Really, truly? How? That’s what I want to know. “
Rap had already been over this, but Andor could not recognize the truth when he heard it. He expected every man to be as devious as he was.
“There’s no great secret.” Rap tried to look as innocent as possible, and thereby provoke the greatest possible suspicion. “I want to talk to trolls. When I’ve done that, I’ll go and appeal to the anthropophagi. I’ll try not to seem too appealing to the anth-“
“Wild trolls or tame trolls?”
“Both or either. “
Andor looked exasperated. “Wild trolls are as solitary as comets and about as hard to catch. You could spend a lifetime rummaging that haystack and never prick your fingers once. So you must be planning to use sorcery, and yet you insist that the Covin will hear you if you do!”
“Hunch, remember?”
“Bah! The Covin’s back in Hub, isn’t it?”
“The Covin is probably just about everywhere now,” Rap admitted. “Zinixo must have caught most of Bright Water’s votaries, and she had ‘em scattered all over. He won’t collect all his forces into Hub, because that would be a risk. He must have agents in place just about everywhere, spying for him. The more he knows, the more he’ll suspect he doesn’t know, of course.” Andor was not happy to hear that, and still not trusting.
“I think you’re holding back on me, Rap! You can’t hope to find a wild troll in your lifetime, and the brute wouldn’t know its next-door neighbor anyway, let alone the address of the nearest sorcerer. “
“Which leaves tame trolls.”
“What can they know? Even if there is an escape conspiracy working, and even if it does employ sorcery, why would the present slaves know anything about it? If they did, they’d be gone!”
“Maybe,” Rap admitted. “But now’s the time to find out. Look there!”
Far off across the fields, a wagon was moving through the spring mud. There were no oxen or horses between the shafts, and no driver. The motive power was a human being.
“A troll? ” Andor said, peering against the sun.
“Must be.” Rap was confident enough that he did not risk using farsight.
“So what are you planning to do?”
“Go and talk to him. See if he knows anything about the ones who escaped-who helped them, especially. “
“Rap, Rap!” Andor shook his head pityingly. “What do you expect to learn?”
“Trolls are a lot smarter than they like to make out!”
“Even if they are, this is an illegal conspiracy you’re talking about. You just ride out from town in your fancy clothes, and he tells you all about it?”
“Er, good point,” Rap agreed. Of course a sorcerer could apply compulsion to win answers. If the Covin had agents in the district, that use of power might be detected. Worse, though, it would require Rap to apply the sort of people mastery he so despised in Andor. “What are you suggesting?”
Andor’s brilliant smile could make the icy Mosweeps look in need of polishing. “Start at the top, of course. Those roofs above th
e trees there are probably Casfrel itself, right? Let’s go and accept their eager offers of hospitality. If the manager doesn’t know a lot more than his slaves do, I’ll eat my hat-feather and all.”
He did want to help, apparently. Rap risked a quick glance of farsight. The troll pulling the wagon was a pubescent girl. “It’s worth a try,” he agreed.
“Come on, then!” Andor kicked his horse into a canter.
2
Casfrel was an extensive and prosperous plantation, and its station was as large as a village. Andor rode brashly in through the main gate, with a debonair wave to the astonished legionary standing guard. The road wound uphill between barns and cottages, barracks and storage sheds, until it arrived at the main villa, which was an imposing, sprawling mansion. There he dismounted and flipped the reins to a servant.
“Inform Tribune Uoslope that Prince Rapiboy and Sir Andor have arrived,” he said, and strode up the steps with an amused faun at his heels.
The staff needed some time to locate the manager, and when he at last appeared he scowled suspiciously at these unexpected visitors. He was a stocky man with gray hair and a prominent paunch, a typical retired soldier, distrustful of well-dressed civilians from Hub and scornful of royal fauns. His broad physique was combined with narrow views. He glowered at Rap as if assessing his ability to muck out stables. If he expected a Sysanassoan accent, he would be disappointed; Rap could not fake that without using sorcery.
Faint tremors of power rippled the ambience before Andor even opened his mouth. “… truly cannot understand why our letters did not arrive, Tribune … of course the capital is still in a ferment over the imperor’s death-never saw such confusion! Even the High Command itself … not as well organized as it used to be, I’m afraid … told you were the man to help us … The countess sends her warmest regards, naturally … Had our business not been so urgent …”
It was a magnificent lesson in virtuoso chicanery. Rap could not tell how much information his accomplice had obtained in advance from his pillow-talk espionage and how much he was ad-libbing on the strength of his host’s reactions, like a charlatan fortune-teller. Whatever his secret, it worked. Tantalizing glimpses of gossip from the capital, rumors of scandal looming in the army, hints that the futures markets in agricultural produce were heading for a sharp readjustment … Andor promoted himself into the minor nobility and Rap to an obscure royal house in Sysanasso-traveling incognito, of course.
Uoslope melted before their eyes. In minutes he was beaming and gruffly making statements that always seemed to turn into questions: “Casfrel’s got a reputation for hospitality, right? Better than those fleapit hostelries, mm? Daresay you’ll appreciate a hot tub after your journey, what?” He asked for confirmation that the road was in terrible condition, that the evilish speculators were ruining the farming business, and that he did not know what the world was coming to.
On that point, Rap thought, he was certainly correct. Hot water in a marble tub was undoubtedly welcome.
The guest rooms were airy dreams of silk, polished wood, downy pillows, and arched windows displaying breathtaking vistas.
As the setting sun tinted the mountains peach and salmon, Rap found himself sitting on a terrace, nursing a goblet of chilled elvish wine. The gibbous moon silhouetted spiky cactusy shrubs on the hills. Closer, whitewashed walls still radiated heat from the day, tame pigeons strutted on the flagstones and red-tile roofs, while a small orchestra played out of sight nearby. This farmer lived in much greater luxury than the king of Krasnegar did.
Andor was still demonstrating the quintessence of guile and duplicity. The scoundrel’s motives were visible now even to a dumb rustic faun-Tribune Uoslope’s two daughters were striking beauties. Their dark hair shone like stars, they had donned their best white dresses in honor of the visitors. They were luscious and virginal, but they wore far too much jewelry. They were overdressed rural innocents, spellbound by this urbane gentleman who had dropped into their sheltered lives from the highest circles of Imperial society. That was the idea.
Neither of them was much older than Kadie. Watching Andor’s maneuvering, Rap felt depressingly fatherly and protective. It seemed very unfair that life involved growing old.
The sixth member of the group was Mistress Ainopple, the tribune’s wife. She was a withered, mousy creature, who seemed to live in terror of her husband. Apparently the senator who owned Casfrel was her uncle, which explained a few things.
Once in a while Andor would turn his charisma on her, oozing compliments on her household and beautiful daughters. She became flustered, stuttering as she tried to simper. “So hard to bring up Nya and Puo properly in such a remote situation … Must try to take them to Hub soon … “
“Indeed you must, ma’am,” Andor responded. “For if word of such beauties ever reaches the capital, then half the eligible young men of the Impire will be flocking here to call on them.” Blushes all round.
“But if your musicians are up to strumming a dance tune after dinner, ma’am, then I shall certainly insist on the honor of treading a measure with each of them, for I never dreamed that this remote land would hide ladies who outshine anything I have ever seen in the palace itself.”
It was sickening. It was as effective as a battle ax to the skull. Andor’s mastery worked on men as well as it did on women, and he had extracted Tribune Uoslope’s fangs completely. The brusque overseer who had greeted the visitors with surly suspicion was fawning like a kitten over them now. Rap could have done as much himself, easily. Ironically, he would probably have had to use a lot more power to produce the same effect, because his heart would not have been in it. Hypocrisy came naturally to Andor.
The resemblance between him and young Signifer Ylo was striking, but the contrasts were interesting, too. In his spare time, Ylo went in for heroics and hard work. Andor shunned both to the very best of his ability. Both men were unscrupulous libertines, but there was an innocence about Ylo that Andor must have lost years ago, if he had ever had it. However much Ylo enjoyed women, he would always expect them to have fun, also. He believed quite honestly that he was doing them a good turn. With his word of power to aid him, Andor was a much more calculating hunter. He knew the damage his seductions might cause. Not only would he care little about hurting his victims, he probably enjoyed that, also. There was a difference between amorality and immorality-not much of one, but some.
The luxuriant valley was growing dim, stars twinkled in the velvet sky. Listening with half an ear to the conversation, Rap was also scanning the whole great compound. He had noted the silver and crystal laid out on the dining table, awaiting his dining pleasure. He had observed the many cooks scurrying about the hot kitchens, preparing the feast. Satisfied that the villa itself contained no unpleasant surprises, he was now studying the barns where the workers lived, and the grim repast awaiting them. A platoon of legionaries was doing a little better in a small barracks-it would be interesting, but probably depressing, to know how those men’s upkeep was recorded in the army’s rolls.
He had located many imps, and a few fauns, and even a heap of gnomes, only now starting to waken. Eventually he observed three trolls being herded homeward, a big male and two girls. The quarters they were heading for were obviously new, and built strong enough to hold a dragon. Now that was an interesting
Ripple!
He started to full alertness. Where had that come from? He could not tell. It had been very brief, and very slight. It had not been Andor-he was emitting a low hiss of sorcery, a faint, barely detectable glow. Somewhere close, someone had used a needle of power, a tiny flash.
Chillingly, Rap decided that someone had just scanned him. It might even have been the tribune himself, or one of his womenfolk. If so, the perpetrator was close enough to have detected Rap’s farsight at work as well as Andor’s use of mastery. God of Fools!
It was too late to caution Andor now, or tell him to stop.
Nevertheless, the next time those beguiling dark ey
es turned in his direction, Rap risked a warning frown. Andor read the message instantly. He dropped his narrative in midsentence and slapped at his arm. “Mosquitoes? Early for bugs, isn’t it?”
With his power cut off, the spell was broken. The listeners seemed to rouse themselves.
“Oh, we do get a few at any time of the year,” Mistress Ainopple murmured apologetically, looking guilty, as if the bugs were her fault. “We, er, should perhaps be thinking about dinnerQ” She shot her husband a worried glance. He would be the sort of husband who would delay a meal for hours and then complain that it did not meet his standards.
Uoslope himself scratched his lower chin as if puzzled. “Tell me again your purpose in journeying through these parts, Sir Andor?”
Andor had not mentioned the subject at all. “Just a guide for my friend here. ” He waved languidly in Rap’s direction. “I was asked to escort him by … by certain influential persons. His homeland is having some problems in certain branches of agriculture, and he is on a fact-finding mission.” He beamed at Rap, inviting him to explain.
Caught unaware, Rap made a mental note to get even at the first opportunity. How to proceed? A moment ago he would have been more circumspect, but if there was sorcery around, then he should grab for whatever information he could find in preparation for a very fast retreat.
“We are experiencing a shortage of agricultural laborers, Tribune. Recently the supply of felons seems to have dried up.” The listeners all stiffened in shock, even the two girls. “What sort of laborers, Highness?” Uoslope demanded angrily, his rubicund face darkening.
“I am talking of my homeland, remember, ” Rap said brightly. “In Sysanasso we do not have the same milksop scruples as some of the bleeding hearts in your country. “
“Er, quite, what?”
If there was an illicit trade in slaves between the Impire and Sysanasso-which there might well be-then Rap had no knowledge of it. But Uoslope would not, either, and it was certainly a plausible theory.