by Dave Duncan
Moreover, once he'd reached the level of the main cellars he was working with masonry instead of solid rock, and he had to be careful to thin the stones without shifting them or collapsing a wall. And his far-sight was telling him that the exit was going to put him in a crowded courtyard, so he was working on the shaft and the ladder at the same time as he began to wonder about making himself invisible. He was also rippling the ambience horribly. Probably he could develop a smoother touch with practice, but every time he added one more rung to the ladder, he seemed to shake the palace like a tambourine. Amazing that no one else noticed! . . . everyone ought to be falling down and shouting earthquake. Lucky the whole palace had a shield around it, although it wasn't a very good one, and it bulged oddly in places, but it would probably be enough to mask his activities from any sorcerer outside. Gods! They'd feel him in Krasnegar otherwise. Lith'rian had made a few ripples, but Rap was creating tidal waves. Rookie!
Twinges of pain told him not to forget his own body. Now there was another sort of sorcery: healing. If he took his mind off himself now, then he'd snap back to almost the same near corpse he'd been before. He was keeping himself whole with magic, but he was also encouraging his natural healing. Maybe that natural healing was a sorcery the Gods did, but he could certainly feel the mending going on at a deeper, slower level, another sort of occult. Even as an adept he'd been able to speed up his natural healing. He thought that now he'd be able to do it for other people, as well. Like Inos. Burns? Yes, he thought he could.
Of course a full sorcerer would be able to do an instant, total cure with the creation magic, but a mere mage would just have to be patient and keep his occult bandages in place until his healing was complete. He'd also have to be careful where he slept for a few nights; someplace where a whiff of gangrene wouldn't bother anyone. He could put a sleep spell on himself, couldn't he? . . .
Removing his beard and the bloodstains — that had been yet another sort of magic, a go-away magic. That was permanent, he thought. No time to work it out . . .
The original opening had been a very small grille, high in the wall of the building. Rap opened a new one at ground level, with an inattention anticharisma around it, and he scrambled out onto the courtyard flagstones, hot already from the early-morning sun. He kept his eyes closed against the glare while he gazed around at the blue sky and the kites floating up there. Flowers and fountains and fine horses, and the occult wall around the palace blocking any farther view. The djinns were going frantic down in the cellars and the dungeon . . . far too many of them in the dungeon; they were passing out from lack of air.
A troop of mounted guards went right by him without a glance at the new opening in the wall, or the naked . . . Whoops!
Now he was pushing his ability to dangerous limits, juggling too many hatchets, keeping himself healthy and clothed, and the shaft open and the ladder in existence, and everyone else distracted, and an eye on the princess and Jalon . . . Jalon? . . . making their way up to the surface. And he mustn't forget about his mind, either. Too much calm and he'd fade out and drop some of the hatchets. Too little and he'd have to deal with the crazy boy in there who'd been bent to breaking point by fear and agony and just wanted to scream and scream . . . that was another healing that was going to take patience. Nights were going to be tricky, certainly.
Then he took the princess's hand and helped her out; she was blinded by the sunlight. And then Jalon, and it was good to see the little jotunn, and give him a hug and thump on the back. He'd shaved and cleaned up since Rap had last seen him as their boat sailed into the bay; but he still smelled strongly of salt water. And Jalon seemed absurdly glad to be able to hug Rap, trying to keep his eyes closed against the light and weep with them at the same time, mumbling nonsense.
Rap let go of the shift and it began to shrink at once. The guards weren't through the bricked-up doorway yet, and when they arrived, both ladder and shift would have vanished. Let the red horrors chew on that problem!
Inos's Aunt Kade was staring at the squad of brown-clad family men approaching. They went striding blindly by her. She glanced down at her filthy, gory robe, then at Rap. Then Jalon. She pushed back her wild-flying white hair, and her fingers discovered the bloodstains even there . . .
"Can you escort us safely back to my quarters, Master Rap?"
"Certainly, ma'am."
"And then I do hope you both will join me for breakfast. We have much to discuss."
4
At the top of the long staircase, two very bored guards slouched outside the door to Kadolan's suite. They were not the gymnasts she had seen in the night, but they looked no older, nor any more impressed by their responsibilities. She could, of course, complain to Prince Kar about the quality of the protectors he had assigned to her — despite her fatigue, the absurdity of that whimsy made her chuckle. When Rap touched the door and the lock clicked, one of the youths looked around, vaguely puzzled, but he obviously did not register that three people were going in.
In her chamber, Kadolan changed back into her night attire and passed her soiled garments out to Rap, who promised that they would be seen no more. Then she wiped some stains from her hands and face and rang for her attendants. Astonishingly, the sun was not yet far above the horizon.
The housekeeper. Mistress Zuthrobe, had not impressed Kadolan even before the night's revelation of what her young wards were getting up to with the guards. Now Zuthrobe soared into panic when told that the sultan and sultana were expected for breakfast. She flew off without inquiring how Kadolan had received such a message unbeknownst to her staff. Intrigue was certainly catching, Kade decided, and it was endemic in Arakkaran.
This had been the hardest night of her life, but excitement was still buoying her up, and a warm tub refreshed her. Then she hurried out to her balcony to find a sumptuous meal already being demolished by a starving faun and . . . bother! . . . the imp guttersnipe, Thinal.
Rap jumped up when she approached, but the little thief just leered, displaying a mouthful of irregular and dirty teeth. He was wearing nothing but a ragged pair of shorts. He needed a shave, a haircut, and a very thorough washing.
Seeing that conversation would have to wait — and feeling pleasantly hungry after her night's exertions — Kadolan helped herself to some generous portions and joined in the feasting. No one spoke at all while the eating continued.
Able at last to study him properly, she was surprised at how large and — er — husky, Master Rap was. He was the only faun she had ever met, but she had always understood that fauns were one of the smaller races. Even allowing for the fact that he was sitting next to the puny Thinal, Rap seemed big, larger than most male imps, approaching jotunn or djinn size. Of course he was part jotunn — as was Inos, of course.
Off in the distance, troops of guards were hurrying to and fro, and she could guess that she had thrown the palace authorities into unprecedented turmoil. The thought was not unpleasant.
As her appetite waned she began to wish that Doctor Sagorn was present, to provide some cultured discourse, or even Andor, were he sober. Almost any of the five would be better than Thinal, who tended to stare at her with an appraising, avaricious gaze even as he chewed. He made her feel like a pet rabbit in the presence of something feral, and hungry. His eyes were red-rimmed and he yawned a lot, often when he had his mouth full.
His manners were atrocious, by any standards. Master Rap, on the other hand, was handling his skimpy cutlery — and when necessary his food — very well, much as she did herself. He might require less coaching than she had been anticipating, in order to turn him into a respectable consort for Inos. She wondered if he would consent to having his hair curled; obviously it would never lie flat.
Inos and Azak must have sailed by now, but a mage ought to be able to arrange good-quality transportation, and perhaps even speed its passage. Most ships stopped in at all the major ports along the coast. So she would pursue, with Master Rap's assistance, and at Brogogo, therefore, or Torka
g, they would intercept the sultan. Then Rap could cure Inos's injuries and use some occult persuasion on Azak to get the marriage annulled. It was still, of course, a marriage in name only.
Once Inos and the faun had been reunited under Kadolan's tutelage, they could all start giving some thought to the problem of Krasnegar. And if that was insoluble, then a comfortable estate within some pleasantly civilized corner of the Impire ought to be within reach of a mage. Just like one of the poet's romances — the lovers would find a happy ending!
Feeling extremely pleased with herself — and properly grateful to the Gods, of course — Kade selected another pomegranate. These tropical delicacies certainly helped to compensate for the absence of some of her more familiar favorites.
The two youths ate much faster than she did, but all three seemed to reach their capacity at about the same time. Thinal belched and pushed his chair back. He set to work paring his toenails with a fruit knife. Kadolan dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. Rap poured her another cup of coffee, and one for himself.
Then he glanced at the door and frowned. "You have a visitor, ma'am. I think I can keep us unobserved."
That seemed likely, after their unremarked return across the palace complex. Before Kadolan could ask what sort of visitor, Mistress Zuthrobe came hurrying in, veiled and wide-eyed with fright.
"His Highness Prince Kar, ma'am!"
Again Kadolan opened her mouth but was prevented from speaking. Without waiting for her invitation, Kar strode out onto the balcony, shadowed by two of the fearsome family men. He came right to her chair and stared down at her with a sinister little smile, as if he were a teacher and she an errant pupil.
She had met the baby-faced chief of security a couple of times at the wedding rehearsals, but even those brief, formal encounters had explained why Inosolan found him so intimidating. The presence of two obvious interlopers at Kadolan's table was no help in this instance, even if Kar did not seem to notice them.
He turned to regard the Zuthrobe woman, who was fidgeting in the background with the apparent intent of chaperoning the unorthodox interview. He did not need to speak — his expression alone was enough to send her fleeing back indoors. Then he resumed his baleful inspection of Kadolan.
"You are expecting company, I understand?"
She plied him with her most innocent smile, "Well, Inosolan called on me last night. I am aware that she has departed."
"And?" A smile so thin on Kar implied a scowl.
From the corner of her eye, Kadolan could tell that the invisible Thinal was making obscene gestures at Kar, causing Rap to grin faintly.
"And I understand that the departure is to be kept secret as long as possible. I thought I could start a rumor that they had eaten breakfast here, muddy the waters a little."
His eyes were chips of pink granite. "His Majesty is touring the northlands this morning."
"Oh!" Kadolan said. "Well, that's nice. Then I have provided a secondary alibi?"
"You have weakened a cover story that cost enormous preparation. You did not eat all that by yourself."
Beginning to feel flustered, she waved a hand at the empty air beyond the balcony. "Of course not, your Highness."
Now his smile would have frozen the marrow of her bones had she not had a mage within reach. "I feel that these quarters are inadequate, ma'am. We may be able to find you something more appropriate and more easily guarded."
"These are quite satisfactory. I find the antiques fascinating. Something is wrong?"
"Intruders are prowling the palace. Guards have been murdered — and the faun has escaped!"
"I am delighted to hear it," she said calmly. "If you think I am hiding him, then I grant you leave to search my quarters."
"My men already did." Kar spun on his heel and strode out, his spurs jingling. His flunkies followed.
Thinal grinned and cocked a final snoot at his back. Rap frowned.
"Well!" Kadolan said, annoyed to find that her heart was beating faster than was seemly. "I thank you, Master Rap. Your powers are a welcome reinforcement in Arakkaran!"
The youth smiled faintly, but he was still keeping his true feelings masked.
"Perhaps," she suggested, "we should now compare notes and make some plans?"
He nodded. "First I must escort Thinal down to the gates and see him safely on his way. It would not be fair to keep Gathmor in suspense any longer."
"Gathmor?"
"Another friend. A good friend. A sailor. You saw him once."
"I did?" The conversation was already slipping away from the path she had planned.
"In the magic casement. He was the third man present when Sagorn and I met the dragon."
Gods! "The prophecy was fulfilled?"
"The first one . . . " The faun frowned suddenly. Looking very uneasy, he added, "And now I suspect that makes the other two inevitable."
A duel with the infamous Kalkor? Torture in the goblin lodge? Horror-struck, she said, "Surely not! Why?"
"Because obviously the casement was working correctly. Why did I not see that earlier?" He shook his head, puzzled. "Some things are very clear to me now, things I never knew before."
"The words bring wisdom?" She took a shaky sip of coffee. "Then perhaps you can explain something that is puzzling me, Master Rap. My word of power never seemed to make much different to me, nor to my sister-in-law, when she was alive. I assumed that it had very little strength, as it were . . . that it had been diluted in the remote past by too many sharings, or that it was wearing out. Yet it has produced extraordinary abilities in you. Surely you were not capable of all this yesterday?"
Again he shook his head, his gray eyes unreadable. After a moment he said, "I do know more about that! It . . . it isn't easy to explain."
"Oh, we have lots of time."
"We don't, not at the moment. But it isn't that. I mean, I feel a strong urge not to talk about such things. The words are secretive by nature!" He glanced at Thinal's ratty eyes. "This must be why nosy mundanes like Sagorn have so much trouble finding out!"
The thief nodded and smirked.
"I'll try, though." Rap took a deep breath. "There seem to be three things involved, ma'am. First, of course, is the mere number of words. One makes a genius, two an adept. Then mage and sorcerer. All are different. Rarely a genius will have occult power, as I did, but not often — and so on. The number of words is important in itself. Everyone knows that."
"Like the number of wheels on a coach."
"Yes! A wheelbarrow, or a chaise, or . . . " He smiled his diffident little smile. "I don't know anything with three wheels! Or a wagon — all different. But the number of words matters most. My farsight, for instance, is much stronger than it was, but mainly I have skills now that I never had before. Mage skills. And then the words themselves can be weakened by sharing. We knew that."
"I'm not as good as I was," Thinal muttered, looking resentful.
"You're still the best!" Rap said quickly. He wiped his forehead, as if feeling a strain. "That sort of comparison is all right when you compare one person's power before he tells a word, or after he gets more of the same word . . . but it doesn't mean much when you compare one person with another. What's more important then is . . . the third thing . . . I never realized . . . " He paused.
"What third thing?" Thinal demanded.
"It's a sort of native talent." Rap stared unseeing for a moment, a young man wrestling with great problems. "When I was only an adept I could feel the ripples. Lith'rian didn't like that!"
"Ripples?" Kadolan said, confused. Did he mean Warlock Lith'rian?
"It's like a vibration. The world shimmers. I thought I was going to shake my own teeth out making that ladder. I expect I'll develop a gentler touch, when I've had some practice. Hope so! I can't tell within the palace, but I think I could sense sorcery a great way off now."
"Sheik Elkarath is a mage, and he said he couldn't. Not at all, he said."
Rap nodded, then slumped back in h
is chair, breathing hard. "Then I'm better than him. It may be our words, but more likely, it's this third thing — us, ourselves. I'm just more . . . responsive. That's the way I see it."
Some people had innate musical ability and could learn to sing, or play any instrument they chose. Others, like Kadolan herself, had a stone ear for music. So this nondescript stableboy had another sort of inborn ability, a gift for magic, something she did not. She felt mildly resentful about that. It explained Inos, though. Perhaps Inos had no gift at all, or very little, so her word of power was of no use to her. That seemed most unfair! And there were the tales of the legendary great warlocks of the past, like Thrane — who had left no notable successor, so far as she could recall.
She wondered why the servants were not coming to clear the table, and realized that the faun might be keeping them away.
Then he roused himself and glanced inquiringly at the imp, as if ready to leave.
"What about Inos?" Kadolan said quickly.
Rap leaned back and studied her unwinkingly. "What about her?"
"Her accident. The burns?"
He nodded glumly. "I was responsible for that, I suppose, in that I killed the sorceress. If I can find Inos, I shall try to repair the damage. The curse on the sultan must be a sorcery, though, and I can't do anything about that."
"And her marriage?"
"What about her marriage?" the faun asked coldly.
Suddenly concerned, Kadolan said, "It was all a terrible mistake!"
His face was so infuriatingly wooden!