Emperor and Clown

by Dave Duncan

  With her head back on the cushion like this it was hard to keep his face in focus. Hard to keep anything in focus. The warmth was drugging her.

  "And the words are more than just words in other ways, like not showing up to magic." He rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. "They don't even like to be talked about."

  She didn't want his lecture. She wanted him to hold her and stay with her always.

  "And of course they are hard to say." Rap rose to his feet and straightened. "Except that they don't want to be lost. When I thought I was dying in Azak's jail, one of my words got very agitated in case it was going to be forgotten. I think I would have found it easy to tell that word to someone then."

  Inos was going to ask a question and she had forgotten what it was and she wasn't sure her mouth would work very well just now.

  "So sometimes the words behave almost as if they're alive themselves." Rap took a deep breath, and she realized foggily that he was having trouble telling her all this.

  Pain? Painful to talk? Painful to tell a word?

  "What about five words?" she murmured. "Explain what happened to Rasha, and almost happened to you."

  Rap opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head. "Sorry!" He turned to stare out the window at the winter sunshine. "Someone told me once that Zinixo was the most powerful sorcerer since Thraine. I bested him! But I can't . . ."

  "Olybino said that what happened was impossible."

  "It damned nearly was. The dwarf was a pushover compared to that. But I was mad then. I couldn't have . . . done what I did . . . if I hadn't been so mad at the dwarf. I hated him so much . . ."

  She gave up. "And you won't tell me why you're going away."

  He spoke to the window pane. "Inos . . . When two people are in love . . . They like to hold hands, and hug each other, and kiss, and . . . Well, be affectionate in all sort of intimate ways."

  "You astonish me." She yawned enormously. Very vulgar.

  "One thing leads to another. I'm sorry if this shocks you, but I'm a sorcerer, and I can see through walls, and, well, I'm afraid I've seen what happens . . ."

  "I've been told all about it."

  "You have?" He sounded surprised. "Well . . . that's why I'm going away. I don't trust myself not to go totally out of control."

  For a moment the absurdity cut through her fog. "Rap! Oh, Rap! I want you to go totally out of control! The sooner the better!"

  He turned and stared at her, shaking his head. "I don't mean that exactly. Well, I do. Of course I do. But I might not be able to control what else . . ."

  Again she wondered why he was having so much trouble in saying what he wanted to say.

  "Sorcerers can marry," she protested weakly.

  "They don't marry sorceresses."

  "Inisso was married. Olliola was his wife's name."

  "But they didn't know more than . . . " He groaned and stopped.

  "You'll come back, though? Soon?"

  He hesitated and she said, "Promise!"

  "All right. I promise. Before winter."

  "Sooner!"

  "No. Oh, Inos! It isn't you, love!" he said huskily. "Believe me, it isn't you! And it isn't Krasnegar. We've seen a lot of the world, haven't we, between us? And I know I haven't found anywhere I like better than dowdy little Krasnegar. It's dull, but it's honest and it's friendly. It has no wars or injustice or oppression. You must feel that way, too, don't you?"

  She nodded wearily.

  He had moved. He was kneeling by her chair, but his whisper came from a long way off. "Inos . . . If I said you could come with me; if I said we could go and live together always in a wonderful place and never have any worries ever again . . . What would you say to that, Inos?"

  "Duty?" she murmured. Silly question! She felt a very soft touch on her forehead . . . Then Kade was shaking her shoulder and saying her bath was ready, and Rap had gone.

  4

  Slowly the days began to lengthen. Slowly Inos's life shaped itself into a routine. Slowly her reforms began to show results.

  The lumber expedition was successful beyond her dreams, and three others followed. Apparently no one had ever thought of sledges before. The wood was green, of course, but there was plenty of it. Either the goblins did not notice this new activity, or they did not care, and the only injuries were a few toes lost to a combination of frostbite and inexperience. The wear and tear on the horses was more worrisome, but Inos had shown even the elders that new ways could be better, and her reputation suffered no harm.

  Babies began arriving, and most of them were accepted and loved as they expected to be. Neither they nor their mothers could be blamed for their existence, and life was a precious thing in the bleak north. Krasnegarians rallied together to welcome and cherish the smelly little darlings.

  Tea parties with Kade became a regular part of Inos's life, and a wonderful relaxation. Kade, having organized Kinvale to her satisfaction, was available to help in other ways, also. Her shrewd common sense was worth a dozen councils.

  "This," Inos explained one sunny afternoon in her aunt's parlor, "is List Number One."

  Elegant in a rose cambric tea gown, Kade accepted the scroll with a well-manicured hand. "Adzes, awls, bishop . . . A bishop? Really, Inos! A bishop in a shopping list?"

  "And at least two chaplains. That's just the repair-and-restore list, to get us back to where we were. Now here's List Number Two, stuff we need to replace the land traffic the goblins have blocked. It's mostly salt and some foodstuffs, but we do need fresh livestock to build up the herds, and the sailors won't like that."

  Kade pursed her lips, and then tried List Number Three.

  "That's an Inos-innovation list," Inos said airily, waving a hand that was decidedly not manicured. "Books and teachers and things, and furniture for the palace."

  "Musical instruments? Five hundred pairs of dancing shoes?"

  "Well, they're not all necessities, I admit. And of course all three lists come after the usual trade that comes every year, like grain and medicine and spices and dyes and sponge iron —"

  "What's sponge iron? Well, never mind, dear. I don't suppose I should be any happier for knowing. Have some of this sponge cake instead."

  Bored by lack of respectable company during the official mourning for Ekka, Kade was delighted to act as Krasnegar's business agent. She called in the merchants and collected bids, she chartered the ships, and finally she insisted on paying for everything out of Kinvale's ample revenues. Ekka had caused much of Krasnegar's troubles, she said, and her estate should make recompense. Rap's gold would not last forever. Besides, how was Krasnegar going to survive in future if the goblins stopped trading their furs?

  Inos had not even thought of that problem. She inquired and learned that the goblins had not shown up the previous summer. No one seemed very worried, but she asked Foronod to work out the figures for her, and he soon discovered that Krasnegar depended on goblin trade even more than on trade with Nordland. The Queen and factor agreed to suppress that worrying information, keeping it even from the council — queen and factor were developing a reluctant respect for each other.

  Spring came early, and the causeway cleared sooner than expected. The herds departed, the boats were made ready. Life went on.

  Slowly Inos reestablished friendships and made new ones. Her crown set her apart, though, and she had to accept that subjects, no matter how loyal, could never be true intimates. Even at parties, she was alone. The old stories of Inisso had been revived, and it was generally assumed that she had inherited his magical powers. Odd packages of things like nails and medicines turning up from time to time around the castle did nothing to dispel such rumors. She guarded the secret of the portal to Kinvale; she thought that without that magical escape, she would have gone mad.

  The ice cleared the harbor and the southern fleet arrived. The citizens were astonished by the number of ships that came that year, and how many needed items were suddenly available.

  Foronod
continued as factor, but he was no longer capable of the infinitely detailed supervision for which he had been renowned. Inos herself spent weeks on the mainland, looking over his shoulder, watching, studying, and eventually almost superseding him. An adept could learn to do anything.

  The goblins did come, although they now inexplicably refused to cross the causeway and insisted on doing their bartering on the mainland. Queen and factor were very relieved to see the first party arrive, and the bundles of stinking skins the women carried. On impulse, Inos offered swords in trade, and the male goblins were overjoyed to accept. She had plenty of swords and no use for them.

  Only after that first party had gone did it occur to her to read over her treaty with the Impire. She discovered that it forbade her to sell arms to goblins. Dear Emshandar!

  The nights grew longer. The harvest was gathered into the town, and that great task was completed earlier than anyone could recall.

  Every day now Inos hoped for Rap. He had promised to return before winter, and she knew he would keep his word.

  He had not faded in her memory, and no other strong lad had taken his place — or, rather, the place that should have been his. She had spent long hours pondering the inexplicable change that sorcery had produced in him, the hints he had dropped, the curious glimpses she had caught once or twice of something in him maddeningly just out of reach of understanding. Now she had a theory. It was far-fetched, but it matched her skimpy evidence.

  She also had a plan.

  Inosolan was not yet ready to admit defeat.

  5

  A full moon was creeping over the horizon as Rap rode down to the shore. The air was nippy and the ground hard, but there was no snow lying around yet. The God of Winter had been neglecting Their duties. The tang of weed and fish, the strident gull calls — it was all heart-rendingly familiar to him. Three wagons were waiting on the tide, anonymous black shapes below the overcast sky. With a broad border of ruddy sunset on one side and the silver stain of moonrise on the other, earth and sea were melding into gray. The waves, though, bore heraldic trim of gules-on-argent.

  Few people still lingered amid the shoreline cottages, and they paid small heed to the stranger on the big black horse. One or two nodded in a friendly fashion and then went about their business. He was being immemorable, and they would barely recall seeing him, nor notice that he rode without bit or bridle.

  Little remained to be transported: some hides, bones, and a few casks of salted horsemeat to feed the dogs. In bad years the people ate the horsemeat, of course, and sometimes the dogs, also, but this would be a good year. Foronod was missing, which was proof in itself that the town was stocked up for the winter. There was still plenty of peat heaped around. Krasnegar could never have enough of that. As long as the weather permitted, the wagons would continue to haul peat.

  Inos had done well. Rap had checked on her progress — often at the beginning, less frequently as he saw that she was coping. She herself had usually been inside the castle, and hence shielded from him, but he had seen the happiness in the streets. Krasnegar was going to survive. He would not have come back had he not promised. He need not stay long. This would be the last time.

  He noted the new winter stables with surprise, and casually made them goblin-proof as he rode by. Times were achanging, even in Krasnegar.

  He trotted past the lead wagon with a nod to Jik, who returned the nod, then frowned to himself as if annoyed by a failing memory.

  Evil flickered his ears at the ripples washing the shingle; occultly reassured, he ventured to splash his big hooves into the water. Fleabag sniffed suspiciously and tried a taste of this unfamiliar, restless fluid. He took more persuading than Evil, but he followed, growling briefly.

  The gaps were narrow, now that the tide was near the ebb and the causeway higher than it used to be. Soon Evil was trotting over Big Island and the big dog loping ahead again. The road was curving in to shore, and Rap finally allowed himself a scan of the docks ahead. It was all heartbreakingly as he had expected — humble folk going cheerfully about their business, fishing nets hanging on their racks, many of the boats already out of the water and being made ready for their long rest. Peace and friendly dullness and security. An empty wagon was just starting its outward journey, its driver having seen a horseman crossing.

  And Inos! She was riding Lightning along the dock road; coming to watch the crossing, doubtless. Not much would escape Inos, Rap thought. She would be as good a ruler as Krasnegar had ever had. But he had always known that. He blinked away a tear and laughed aloud at the thought of a sorcerer weeping. What reason could a sorcerer ever have to weep?

  He saw that she was peering at the lone rider, shielding her eyes from the sunset. He lifted his occult veil for her. Her instant reaction made her mount shy, but Inos brought it under control at once and kicked it into a gallop. Evil splashed through the last traces of Big Damp, and the two horses met on the slope beyond.

  "Rap! Oh, Rap!"

  God of Fools! The stupid child had tears streaming down her cheeks. He would never have come had he not promised.

  "Hello, Inos." He was glad he had farsight, because his eyes were going blurry in sympathy. Not a child. Beautiful, gorgeous woman.

  "That's Evil! And Fleabag? You've been to Arak-karan?"

  "I've been all over the place. Good to be home." Liar!

  She choked back a question — about Azak, of course — and then took a harder look at Rap himself. He cursed under his breath; he should have done something about his appearance.

  "Rap! What's wrong? Are you ill?"

  "No, no. Just a little tired, is all." You're breaking my heart, girl. That's what's wrong.

  "You look terrible! What's the matter? Gods!"

  Of course! "You look great, Inos. And I know you've been doing a great job in the monarching business."

  She gave him the sort of suspicious stare his mother had given him any time he hadn't wanted seconds. Then she faked a smile over it. "And you've come for the Harvesthome Dance!"

  He had quite forgotten the Harvesthome Dance. "Of course," he said.

  He stayed three days and he almost went crazy.

  At times he wished he'd just turned up as his old self, but then he'd have had to answer the same questions over and over, and people would have seen the way Inos looked at him and tried to hang on to him, and she would have had difficult explanations to make when he disappeared again.

  So he stayed immemorable, but that meant he couldn't talk with his old friends. He would nod to them and they would react as Jik had — familiar face, can't place it. Boyhood pals had become tall men. Gith, and Krath, and Lin. Some had beards. All the girls were mothers now. Ufio, Fan . . . He met them all at one time or another, mostly while Inos was dragging him around the town, showing him what had been accomplished and what was left to do, talking excitedly all the time and pretending her heart wasn't as sore and sick as his. He saw how the people smiled when they saw her, and how eagerly they saluted and hoped for her answering smile. They were proud of their young queen. Imps had always cherished romantic ideas about beautiful princesses and impresses, but here in Krasnegar the feeling had become universal. To tease one of the local jotnar about having a female ruler would be very unhealthy.

  Just once Rap saw Inos meet resistance. An aged carpenter began disputing her newfangled ideas on furniture. Green eyes flashed, the ambience shivered very slightly, and the old man's feet and tongue began stumbling in unison as he tried to bow and apologize and flee, all at the same time. Apart from that one occasion, Rap never detected her regal glamour in use or even being needed. It was a lovely piece of work, though, almost undetectable; best spell he'd ever made.

  He met just about everyone again at the Harvesthome Dance, but no one met him. The Great Hall was strung with ribbons and jammed with people, and filled with noise and laughter and music.

  It was sort-of music, for Krasnegar was not Hub; nobody cared about beat or key too much, as long as it was l
oud and cheerful. He danced twice with Inos, but the rest of the time he insisted she dance with some of those loyal subjects hovering hopefully around her. She hadn't found a lover yet, that was obvious. She could have had hundreds, that was equally obvious. They all loved her, and every young man in town was crazy over her.

  He could make her fall in love with one of them if he wanted. Then she would be happy, wouldn't she? He stood in the shadows and wrestled with his conscience. He'd once told the imperor that he just wanted Inos to be happy. He could make her happy with sorcery. So why didn't he? He must think hard about that before he departed.

  They talked a lot, or at least Inos did. She was proud of what she'd accomplished, and with good reason, and he let her explain everything over and over, although he'd seen it all within the first few minutes. Much of it he'd seen from far away, too.

  He talked less, but he told her how he'd gone to Arakkaran to fetch his dog, and how terrified Azak and Kar had been when he showed up. When he described the feast they had put on for him, with jugglers and belly dancers and goats' eyes, and the tricks he'd played when they took him hunting, then she laughed till she cried.

  "So you rescued Fleabag? How about the panther?" she asked.

  "I left the panther. I never was a cat person."

  "And Azak gave you Evil?"

  "I took Evil. I thought Azak owed me that much." And he told her a little of his other travels — in Faerie and Dragon Reach, and Durthing.

  "Not Thume?" she asked.

  No, he said, he had not been to Thume.

  They talked all around their private problem, and never mentioned it. He had tried to tell her once, and the words had not let him. Or perhaps that compulsion had come from higher authority than the words — he wasn't sure.

  Inos was plotting something. He'd known that from the moment they met on the shore. He could have worked it out, or pried it out, but he didn't. He turned off his insight so he couldn't read her face at all; which was unpleasant for him, but then the whole visit was one unbearable agony.