Emperor and Clown

by Dave Duncan

  Rap said, "I asked her if she had married of her own free will. She said she had. She was not lying, ma'am! I can detect lies; I could even then. It was her choice."

  "But . . . But . . . But she thought you were dead! She had seen your ghost, she thought!"

  He shivered, very slightly. "And I saw her . . . But she knew I was alive when I asked the question." A trace of pain showed, and vanished again. "Has Inos ever said she loved me?"

  Probably her face was telling him no before she could open her mouth. "Well, she spoke often of your childhood. She was very upset by your death."

  "And she was very angry at me for interrupting her wedding."

  This was awful! "Of course Inos was upset! It was a disaster! She had not had time to think, to remember the God's words, to work out the implications."

  He did not comment, just looked at her.

  "Free will is a nebulous term, Master Rap! Under the circumstances, she had no real choice but to marry the sultan. It is often easier to lie to oneself than to admit unpleasant truths."

  "She did not lie to me, ma'am. I am certain of that."

  Horrors! This was not at all what Kadolan had expected!

  "And she stayed silent when the sultan ordered me thrown in jail."

  "That was for your good!"

  Thinal guffawed.

  "I mean," Kadolan said stiffly, "he is insanely jealous! Anything she said would have only made him angrier."

  Rap shrugged, slightly.

  God of Love!

  "And you? How do you feel about her?"

  "With respect, your Highness, that is not relevant."

  Kade wrung her hands, searching for an argument, an excuse, an explanation.

  "I beg you. Master Rap! I beg you to rescue my niece from an inappropriate and unwanted marriage!"

  "She is a married woman!" Rap exclaimed, shocked. "Your Highness, you cannot mean that!"

  "You must see — "

  "No I don't! I won't even consider it!" He set his jaw.

  "You are being very difficult!"

  "You are making improper suggestions."

  "But —"

  "I won't listen!"

  "Stubbornness is not an attractive trait."

  "So Inos always told me."

  Thinal snickered. Doubtless he also was recalling what Sagorn had said about this mulish faun. Kadolan stopped drumming fingers on the table and composed herself. "I think you must ask her again . . . er . . . sir. About free will."

  Again he shrugged slightly, and again moved as if to rise.

  "Now," she said hastily, "Inosolan and the sultan have not long sailed. If we hurry down to the harbor — the three of us and your other friend, if you wish — then surely we can find a ship heading west? If money is a problem, I have some brooches and things I can sell. Then we can overtake them at the next port, or even chase them all the way to Qoble, if necessary."

  Rap shook his head.

  No? "Then what do you plan to do?"

  The big gray eyes studied her. "I plan to remain in this palace for some time. A week, at least, perhaps longer. With your permission, these quarters would be good, or I can find others. I need to complete my healing. I must also learn to control my powers — here, where I am shielded. Otherwise I shall just give myself away to some warlock or sorcerer and be enslaved. Also, my friends need time to rest, all six of them."

  Reluctantly she concluded that it was not an unreasonable request. She nodded. "You are most welcome here, and they also, if you can hide them."

  Thinal snorted. "I wouldn't rest here. Pickings're too good. Got my eye on a well-stocked little whorehouse down by the docks."

  Kadolan regarded him with distaste, but the technique that worked so well on underlings at Kinvale and Krasnegar seemed to be ineffective on him. She turned her attention back to the mage. "And when you are ready, you will take me with you when you go after Inos?" She heard an unpleasant whine in her voice, but now she was wondering if he might just desert her, and the prospect was terrifying. The rest of her life in Arakkaran?

  "I will not abandon you, ma'am. Not after what you did for me."

  How deeply was he prying into her thoughts? "I am very grateful for that promise, Master Rap."

  His eyes seemed to go out of focus, staring at the space above her left shoulder. "But . . . I do not go after Inos."

  "What? But —"

  "Qoble is in South's sector."

  "You fear Warlock Lith'rian?"

  "Or he fears me."

  She did not ask what that cryptic remark meant. Thinal seemed as puzzled as she.

  "I sail," he said softly, as if not speaking to anyone. "I sail . . . but north. Yes, a big port on a big river."

  Ghostly fingernails scratched at her skin. The mage was using some sort of occult power she had not met before. Foresight? The imp seemed to have the same odd foreboding she did, for he drew back his lips in a snarl. But Ollion was another possible way to the capital.

  "And then?" she whispered.

  Beads of sweat showed on the faun's forehead. "Then," he whispered, "then . . . Hub, I think. It must be Hub. The palaces?"

  All the world's problems came to Hub eventually. She herself had often said that the Krasnegar question would be settled there. Perhaps it had been settled already — or perhaps that was yet to come. She began to feel a surge of hope. Hub!

  "And there, Master Rap? What happens in Hub?"

  For a moment there was no answer. The gray eyes widened . . .

  Then Rap screamed and covered his face with his hands.

  Best-laid scheme

  But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,*

  In proving foresight may be vain:

  The best-laid schemes o'mice an' men,

  Gang aft a-gley,**

  An' lae'e us naught but grief and pain,

  For promised joy.

  Burns, To a Mouse

  *no thy lane: = not alone

  **a-gley: = awry (Ed.)

  FOUR

  Several ways

  1

  As always, Inos took longer than anyone else aboard to find her sea legs, but by the time Star of Delight had called in at Brogogo and then rounded the Corner of Zark into the Summer Seas, she was well enough to sit up and start taking stock of her companions.

  Kar, of course, had stayed behind to hold off the jackals. Who came next on Azak's loyalty list?

  Zana's presence was less surprising than it first seemed. A sultan could hardly take his wife traveling without some female companionship, and if there was any woman in the world whom Azak trusted, it was the older half sister who had reared him. He had spoken of her briefly once or twice in the desert, and those had been the only glimpses he had ever revealed to Inos of his youth or childhood. He would probably have been willing to die for the old woman, and most certainly willing to kill for her. From Inos's own point of view, although Zana was not Kade, she was as acceptable a lady's companion as anyone who could have been found in the court, even granting that Zana's own loyalty would put Azak's well-being ahead of anyone else's by several leagues.

  Apart from Azak himself, there were nineteen men in the party. Only one of them she recognized as a prince, and that was the massive and aging Gutturaz. He, too, seemed a surprising choice, but any brother of Azak's who managed to reach middle age must have demonstrated both a gift for survival and a rare lack of ambition.

  The other eighteen were youngish family men, a bloodcurdling collection behind their red whiskers. But facial hair was not worn in the Impire; without comment, Azak shaved off his beard at Torkag, and every one of his followers was clean shaven before Star of Delight sailed on the next tide. Somehow their ruddy faces looked even more deadly than before.

  And there was Azak himself, who shared her kennel-size cabin. Of course they had shared a tent for months in the desert, but Kade had always been there, also. Then, too, he had been occupied much of the time in being first lionslayer, usually coming to bed after Inos had been magicked
asleep by the mage and often departing before she awoke in the morning. And they had never been both there in daylight.

  Two days out of Torkag, Star of Delight was becalmed. The sun blazed overhead, the sails hung still as icicles, and there was nothing to do but fall down and melt. With men all over the deck, Inos retired to her cabin. So did Azak.

  They each had a narrow bunk, on opposite walls, but hardly a cubit apart. She lay under a sheet. He had stripped down to a cloth she would have described as being on the narrow side of skimpy. Perhaps he was letting her satisfy her maidenly curiosity about the male physique. Perhaps he was bragging, although Azak never really bragged about anything — he merely stated the obvious. Or perhaps he was trying to make the best of an impossible situation, staying as close as possible to normal married behavior.

  He was too long for the bunk and almost too wide for it, a shiny copper giant, everything a girl could dream of. Poor Azak! The scorpion had been scotched but the sting remained in the wound. And the hideous burns on her face still hurt. They were oozing now — she might never smile again. Azak's lifelong infallibility seemed to falter when Inos was around.

  He felt her scrutiny and turned his head lazily. "My love?"

  "Azak?"

  "Hot, isn't it?" He went back to staring at the ceiling.

  She had never heard him utter fatuous chit-chat before.

  After a moment she whispered, "I will say it when I can. It will mean more if you know it is honestly meant."

  He studied the overhead. "Were it not for the curse, I would have you babbling it by now — and meaning it."

  "I am sure you would. I wish you could." Did she? Did she really? My love. My darling. Beloved. Lover.

  Why not? Many a woman in Pandemia had learned how to love the husband fate had dealt her. Why should she be different? Very few would have such a husband to love.

  Trust in love!

  Footsteps sounded over her head. The ship barely rocked, and the usual creaking, squeaking noises were depressingly absent. Even the gulls were silent.

  She thought of Rap, pacing a cell back in Arakkaran. Honest, well-meaning, blundering Rap. Azak might be persuaded to write . . . No, give him a little longer to heal his pride. He was not truly vindictive, Azak. He might be deadly, but he usually had a logical purpose in what he did — apart from his insane jealousy, of course. After the disaster of the wedding-night kiss, he had blamed himself for not thinking of the danger; a lesser man would have blamed her, or the Gods, or even Rap . . .

  It was too hot to talk. It hurt too much to be silent. "Azak?"

  "Mmm?"

  "How do we travel? I mean, in the Impire? Am I to be Hathark again? And what name and station will you —"

  "I shall be Kar!" He chuckled at her surprise. "It is as good a name as any. My own might be recognized, as I am so memorable. We shall be sons of the Sultan of Shuggaran. The treacherous dog is something of an Imperial supporter, which may help."

  "But . . . what about your appeal to the Four?"

  Azak frowned at the planks above him. "There will be no appeal to the wardens. We travel merely as young princes seeking knowledge. It is not a Zarkian custom, but the imps will see nothing odd about rich young men jaunting around the world."

  Inos raised herself on one elbow to study him better. "If you wanted a harem girl, you should have brought a harem girl! I happen to have a brain, and now you have roused my curiosity."

  He rolled his head again and flickered one of his rare smiles. "I haven't beaten that out of you yet, have I? All right, my queen, just remember that none of the others know. Except Zana, of course. As far as my brother and the rabble are concerned at the moment, we are spying, and I brought you along to divert suspicion. You understand?"

  The smile had gone, and the red eyes were menacing.

  "Of course," she said. He had been gelded, and no shame could ever be worse for him. His court might have guessed, but the matter would never be discussed.

  Azak nodded and sighed. "I must find a sorcerer, and no sorcerer except a warden ever dares reveal his existence. So I must seek out one of the Four, a warlock. The witch of the north is not . . . No, a warlock."

  Why not Bright Water? Probably he could not bear the thought of begging for help from a woman. It would not help that the woman in question was supposedly three hundred years old.

  "Then who?" Inos asked. "Not Olybino, obviously." East was the occult backer of the imperor's legions.

  "Nor Lith'rian, obviously."

  "Why not Lith' . . . Oh, you mean because he sent Rap?" Despite the heat, she shivered then at Azak's glare.

  "Exactly. That leaves Zinixo — obviously. He is only a youngster, they say. He should be sympathetic."

  Poor Azak! There were no words to say. She wished she could grip one of those big hands and squeeze it. She lay back to avoid his gaze and considered. How maddening not to know more about these mysterious wardens!

  "And isn't he supposed to be Olybino's enemy?"

  "So the gossip says. When the legions make war, historically the other wardens tend to oppose East. East supports the army, and the imperor does, also, of course. That's two out of the five, so the other three are inclined to balk. It isn't much to go on, but it is all we have."

  Inos wiped her streaming brow and adjusted the sticky sheet. They would all be cooked before they ever reached land again, and that would solve all their problems.

  "Azak," she said cautiously, "why are you so reluctant to make a formal appeal to the Four? It would give you some sort of legal status on the journey — the Impire ought to grant you safe passage."

  "No! With war coming, I dare not risk falling into East's clutches. And what sort of argument do I have now, with Rasha dead? She can't meddle in politics now." His voice had gone very harsh and forbidding.

  She persisted, gently. "A monarch needs heirs —"

  "No!"

  Pride? An appeal to the Four would be a much more public affair than a private audience with one of them.

  She let the silence hold for a moment, then said, "How about me? I have been abducted from my kingdom by sorcery. I still have cause to appeal. And you escort me . . ."

  He swung himself up, dropping his long legs to the floor, and humped over in a crouch as he reached for his clothes. He was inflamed with sudden anger. "I said 'No!'"

  She turned her face away, guessing the rest.

  The Krasnegar matter was supposedly all settled now, or so they had been told. Azak would not risk unsettling it again. Finding a ruler for Arakkaran was easy — much too easy — whereas she might yet seem like a uniquely acceptable answer for Krasnegar.

  If the Four did give Inos back her kingdom, then they would expect her to rule it. Once Azak had promised to go and live there at her side. Obviously that promise was no longer relevant.

  There would be no appeal to the Four if he could help it.

  2

  A year ago he'd been content to be Thorie. Now he wanted to be called by his full name, Emthoro, and Shandie didn't like that, because it had been Dad's name. So they settled on Thorog, which was the name of the hero of a book Cousin-Thorog had been reading until Aunt Orosea had found it and taken it away. The Book-Thorog was always visiting ladies' chambers, and Cousin-Thorog told Shandie about some of the things he had done to, for, and with the ladies and — even more unlikely — some of the things the ladies had done to him.

  It all sounded rather sick-making and boring, but Shandie didn't say so. He knew what grown-ups did on a bed, and most of it seemed to be just the same thing every night, and pretty stupid. None of the things Book-Thorog had done.

  Cousin-Thorog was thirteen, and hence thought he knew a great deal more than Shandie did. He probably didn't know quite as much as he was hinting, though, because Shandie was sure no girl in the Impire would ever want to kiss anyone with that many pimples or such funny-shaped eyes, even if Thorog was tall, like his father, the Duke of Leesoft. And Shandie, while he had yet to understand the
merits of kissing and that sort of stuff, had seen a lot of that sort of stuff going on sometimes when he was supposed to be asleep.

  Rather to his astonishment, Shandie had discovered himself alone with his cousin — no grown-ups around at all! He tried to remember the last time this had happened. He had wondered, with a shiver of panic, if he even knew how to speak to anyone not-grown-up anymore, but apparently Thorog hadn't noticed anything wrong with his talk. Of course, Thorog was doing most of the talking.

  They were in Thorog's room, and Thorog was just finishing dressing himself. He didn't have a valet of his own yet . . . Shandie did! The wedding called for formal dress, of course, but not court formal, so that was all right. Formal was only a hundred years out of date, instead of thousands. No togas.

  Thorog wanted to get back to Leesoft quickly, although he had just arrived in Hub. This was hunting season, he said.

  "You'll stay for my birthday, day after tomorrow?" Shandie said hopefully.

  "No. I mean, I'm here to represent the family at the wedding today. Dad said I can come home anytime I like as soon as it's over, and I don't want to miss his big stag hunt."

  "It's raining!" Shandie glanced at the streaming panes and thought wistfully of going on a stag hunt, or even being able to sit on a horse again. As long as he behaved himself at the wedding, he thought he would get a birthday party, though. Ythbane and Moms ought to be in a good mood, after all. He wondered if he'd know any of the boys who'd be invited.

  "Won't be raining at home! Rains more in Hub than at Leesoft."

  "How d'you know?"

  "Dad says so."

  Shandie retreated from that battle and tried again. "What else d'you hunt?" he asked wistfully. And after the list ran out; "You ride every day?"

  Thorog was taken by surprise, busily hauling on a stocking. His legs were much longer than Shandie's, but not much thicker, and Shandie was rather ashamed of his arrow-thin calves. But at least Thorog wasn't getting dressed up in a toga. Even to look at a toga made Shandie shake now.

  "Don't you?" Thorog demanded.