Emperor and Clown

by Dave Duncan

  To tell a word weakened it. To broadcast it to hundreds or thousands of listeners would reduce it to nothing at all.

  Rap would not have believed it was physically possible. He was not surprised that Inos had collapsed completely at the end. The council had been summoned, but then Hononin had gone off to gather some horses and bedding; he had caught the morning tide with minutes to spare.

  And that was why there had been a fire and food and dry blankets waiting for the exhausted traveler. And until the tide allowed him to go to Inos, Rap had nothing better to do than enjoy them.

  As his eyelids began to droop, he realized that he was free of pain at last; he was actually going to sleep, for the first time since before Winterfest.

  He would never taste his mother's chicken dumplings again.

  Hononin had undoubtedly saved Rap's life by being at the cottages in the night; in the morning Rap returned the favor. A full winter blizzard howled over Krasnegar, and only his farsight let the two men find their way across the causeway. Rap's mastery kept the horses under control, but as soon as the travelers reached the dock, Rap left his companion and rode hard to the castle.

  The first person he met in the stable was Lin. He had grown taller, but mostly plumper. Behind a misty mustache, Lin was a very typical imp.

  "Rap!" He stared as if seeing a ghost.

  Rap sprang from Evil's saddle. "Where's Inos?"

  "She's not well. But, Rap, where in the world —"

  Rap took him by the throat. "Where's Inos?"

  "In the P-p-presence Chamber," Lin stuttered, eyes bulging.

  "Look after my horse!" Rap roared, and sprinted out the door.

  Now he dared not even try to cross the bailey on foot; he raced around the long way, staying indoors. He met dozens of people, in twos and threes. They backed out of his way with startling eyes. Shouts of "Rap!" pursued him. One or two tried to stop him, and he pushed them aside and kept on running.

  He crossed the Great Hall while many of the staff were sitting down to their lunch. Snow had coated the windows, the fires burned bright in the gloom, fogging the air with a haze of fragrant peat smoke. Nevertheless he was recognized, for he had been the only faun in the kingdom. Cheerful chatter died away, and heads turned. He ran to the Throne Room, heading for the stair. And there his way was blocked by Kratharkran, just descending. Tall and barley-haired, he was so like the young raider Vurjuk that Rap recoiled.

  "Krath!"

  "Rap!"

  Krath, Rap recalled, had been appointed a member of the Council — Inos had told him. "How is Inos?"

  A dark frown came over the big man's boyish face. "Not good. Where did you come from, Rap?"

  "Never mind! I must see Inos!"

  The smith shifted his feet so that he blocked the doorway — all of the doorway. He folded his arms. Yesterday Rap could have blasted him to Zark. Today he could not force his way past Krath with a sledgehammer.

  "She's resting!" the jotunn said, regarding the stranger with deep suspicion.

  "But is she conscious?"

  "No, she's not. The doctors are planning to bleed her, if you must know."

  "Bleed her?" God of Fools! Krasnegar had never been renowned for the quality of its medicine. Holindarn had sent to Hub for a doctor when he fell sick.

  There would be much better doctors in Kinvale.

  Rap took a deep breath and forced his wits to work. Guile was what was needed here. Fortunately, Krath had always been a trusting sort of fellow.

  "Krath," he said, "she's my wife."

  9

  "He says he's her husband," Krath squeaked.

  Inos lay on a makeshift bed in the Presence Chamber, one floor above the Throne Room. Her face was pale, her eyes closed, her hair a flood of golden honey on the snowdrift pillow. Tall candelabra had been gathered around the bed to give light, and the medics were hunched around her like vultures. Six or eight others stood around watching, making the room dark and crowded, and the only one Rap recognized was Foronod — the strangely aged Foronod with the eye-patch, leaning stoop-shouldered on his cane.

  The covers were up to Inos's chin, so the leeches had not started yet. Kinvale was beyond the magic portal, six floors higher up the tower.

  Foronod made a scoffing noise. "That's the first I've heard of a husband. Can you prove it?"

  "Yes," Rap said brashly, and strode forward with all the swagger and confidence he could muster. Why, oh, why had Inos not settled for nullifying three words and left him an adept?

  A portly black-clad doctor backed away reluctantly, and Rap went down on his knees by the bed.

  "Inos! It's me. Rap!"

  No reaction.

  "We are waiting for your evidence, Master Rap," Foronod snapped.

  Wits churning, Rap rose to his feet and glanced around. "If you will ask the others to leave for a moment, Factor, I shall be happy to explain."

  The old man's lip curled in a faint smile of contempt. "I don't see why a certificate of marriage need be so private. Produce it."

  "I liked you better in the blue doublet you wore at the Harvesthome Dance, Factor." Rap turned to Krath. "You drink a lot for a member of council, lad. You were the one who threw up behind the awards table."

  He had not made any friends with those remarks, but he had obviously sown some doubts. Their faces were infuriatingly opaque to him now, but even without insight he could see the hesitation and the old fear of sorcery. He had transformed Andor into Darad, he had guided wagons, he had mysteriously vanished from a locked room — now he had mysteriously reappeared. He had an uncanny reputation.

  A sudden odor of scorched hair caused him to move away from the nearest candlestick. He would not be a very convincing sorcerer if he set himself on fire.

  "The last time we met, you were all marked up as a goblin," Foronod said, his one eye glinting angrily. He thumped his cane on the floor.

  "And you accused me of stealing horses. I made some improbable statements on that occasion also, did I not? And I delivered my evidence. I showed you what Andor really was." Rap put on the most stubborn expression he could manage.

  Foronod glanced around the group, but he evidently decided that there was no one there he wished to consult. "Very well, I shall humor you." He limped to the stair that led up to the Robing Room and opened the door. "Come with me and I shall listen to whatever weird tale you have to recount this time. Mastersmith, you had better accompany —"

  "I am staying here," Rap said stolidly, "with my wife. You and Krath may remain. Everybody else — out!"

  "You have no authority —"

  "I have every authority. I am the queen's husband!"

  "A clerk? A herdboy?"

  "Krath," Rap said without turning, "who was Inos's closest friend?"

  A pause, and then Krath's high voice said, "You were, Rap. Always."

  "Close friend does not mean king!" Foronod snarled.

  "It does now."

  For a moment the issue swung like a weathercock. Perhaps it was because the factor had only one eye to glare with, or perhaps Rap still retained traces of a sorcerer's self-confidence, but he won the confrontation.

  "Excuse us a moment, ladies and gentlemen, please," the old man said, scowling mightily.

  The doctors scowled back, then trooped obediently to the door. The others reluctantly followed — most of them. One plump lady folded her arms and set her chins obstinately.

  "I do not leave her Majesty unchaperoned!" she proclaimed.

  "Mistress Meolorne," Rap said, gripping her elbow. "You did a splendid job up here on the night Inos returned to claim her kingdom. I saw how you comforted all those unfortunate girls, finding clothes and —"

  "You saw?" The haberdasher reluctantly moved her feet as Rap urged her to the door.

  "I saw. Now allow us a moment here and everything will be explained, I promise."

  She stopped and would budge no farther. "I shall not leave her Majesty with three men!"

  "Even when one of the
m is her husband?"

  "Prove it!" The flabby face stiffened, the deep-set eyes glowered at him.

  It would have to do, but he hoped she would not join in the violence. "All right," he said. He closed the door, surreptitiously sliding the bolt. "Now, come and see this, gentlemen."

  He moved back to the bed and lifted candelabra aside to make room. He bent over Inos, as if looking for something. Foronod hobbled forward on his cane, Krath lurched over with long strides, coming close.

  To fight any jotunn was foolhardy, and a jotunn blacksmith was a nightmare opponent. The matter must be settled with the first blow, for there would be no second. It was a despicable thing to do to a friend.

  "I love her, Krath," Rap said sadly. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else."

  "Do what, Rap?"

  Rap swung around and put his fist with all the strength he could muster into the young giant's most vulnerable spot. Doubled over, Krath hit the floor with a howl of agony and a clamor of many candlesticks, even as Rap turned the other way and slammed a blow on the factor's jaw, pulling the punch more than he had intended — to strike a cripple was even worse. Foronod went down over a table, in a shattering of glasses. Mistress Meolorne's scream shattered others. Rap ripped the bedclothes away from Inos and stooped.

  He had lifted her and was heading for the far door before Meolorne reacted. She charged at him, claws out, and he rammed into her with Inos. The fat woman recoiled and sat down heavily on the rug. Foronod was yelling and struggling to rise. Krath was retching.

  Rap staggered up the stairs with Inos a dead weight in his arms. He fumbled awkwardly with the handle and stumbled into the Robing Room. He kicked the door shut, reeled off balance for a moment, then managed to turn around and grope for the bolt with hands he could not see below his burden. It slid with a satisfying click.

  Thereafter he felt as if he were enacting a bizarre replay of another flight up this same tower, when he and Inos and the others had been pursued by the impish army. He was dismayed at how weak he felt and how heavy Inos soon became. He could feel the warmth of her through her nightgown; should have brought blankets in this cold. His heart was pounding as if about to explode, his breath was coming in harsh gasps, making white clouds in the icy air. His body streamed with sweat and there was a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Antechamber . . .

  All the doors had long since been repaired and fitted with shiny new bolts. The metal was so cold it stuck to his sweaty fingers. He had time, though, because it would take a while for the pursuers to find axes and enough strong men — Krath at least would not be participating.

  Rap's next meeting with friend Kratharkran was going to be a painful experience.

  Well, it was worth it if he could save Inos — and he felt tremendous satisfaction in pulling this off without the aid of any despicable sorcery at all!

  The stairs were dark, the rooms gloomy, all the casements caked with snow.

  Withdrawing Room . . . more stairs . . .

  He still had his farsight. He could watch the pursuit. Oh, Gods! The new doors were flimsy, shoddy affairs compared to the old. And jotnar were not imps. Two enraged young giants had just shattered the first one with benches.

  Dressing Room . . .

  Another door collapsed into splinters without a struggle. They had thrown away the benches and taken to using feet and shoulders. Would even a stone wall stop a really mad jotunn? They were gaining on him!

  The Royal Bedchamber . . .

  He was at the limits of his strength. His head throbbed and dark patches swam before his eyes. He must rest or he would faint. With legs like strips of hot dough, he wobbled over to the bed and dumped Inos down on it.

  He sprawled unexpectedly on top of her, his breath rasping like a saw.

  There was an arm around his neck.

  He raised his head and peered into the only truly green eyes in Krasnegar.

  "You stink like a stable," she said quietly.

  Rap said, "Awrrk," or thereabouts.

  "I do think you might have washed or something first."

  "Inos! Oh, Inos!"

  "Husband!" she murmured. Her eyes had closed again.

  Rap made another incoherent noise. "You were awake?"

  "I heard some of it," she said sleepily. "That was a very romantic way to carry me to my bridal bed, but was it wise?"

  He tried to get up, and the arm tightened like a saddle girth.

  "Kiss me."

  "I smell like a horse."

  "Kiss like a horse, then. But kiss me."

  He kissed her — gently, tentatively, excitedly, joyfully, wildly, passionately . . . prolongedly.

  Joy! Inos! Love!

  "My!" she said at last. "I didn't know you cared." Then she opened her eyes in astonishment. "You're weeping!"

  "Of course I'm weeping, you crazy, idiotic, headstrong nincompoop!"

  "Oh, you do care!" Sudden anxiety . . . "You don't mind what I did?"

  "No, no! It's wonderful. I never wanted to be a sorcerer, darling!"

  Relief! "Darling! To hear you say . . . What is that confounded racket?" Inos was no longer an adept, but the royal glamour was still there, and the green eyes flashed with regal annoyance.

  "Foronod and the rest of your loyal subjects. They think you're being raped. They're just breaking into the Dressing Room."

  She smiled contentedly and closed her eyes again. "Then we just have time for another kiss before I send them all away and it happens."

  "You're all right?"

  "One more kiss should do it."

  "But —"

  "I suppose we shall have to slip down to Kinvale in a day or two and make this wedding official," she mused. "But that can be our little secret."

  A stableboy? A wagon driver? A horsethief?

  A flat-nosed, ugly faun?

  The royal glare was switched on again as she looked at him. "I distinctly remember ordering you to kiss me."

  "But —"

  But she was queen. The glamour was still there.

  He obeyed.

  They would all obey, always. She was the queen.

  Alteration find:

  Let me not to the marriage of true minds

  Admit impediments. Love is not love

  Which alters when it alteration finds,

  Or bends with the remover to remove.

  . . .

  If this be error, and upon me proved,

  I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

  Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI

  EPILOGUE

  Irksome words

  "Charming!" Kadolan said. "No, you look much more than charming! Beautiful! Ravishing!"

  "Gods, Aunt! Is that an appropriate expression for a bride on her wedding day?" Without turning, Inos grinned mischievously from the dressing-table mirror.

  "You know what I mean! You look absolutely divine!"

  Inos's happy smile faltered slightly; she shivered. "Not that, either!" Then she laughed. "But I accept the compliment. In fact, I agree wholeheartedly. Considering the short notice, I think I've done not badly. Even Eigaze would approve. And it's fortunate Tiffy isn't here — he'd certainly find a well to jump into."

  "Tiffy's married, dear. And expecting. Didn't I tell you about Eigaze's letter?"

  "Mm? Perhaps you did. The marriage doesn't surprise me, and I think I know what you mean otherwise." Inos poked thoughtfully at the heap of pearls before her. "One string, do you think? Or two?"

  "None. You make them look dull and lusterless."

  "My!" Inos murmured, pleased. "That sounds like one of Andor's lines. Just the tiara, then? After all, it was a present from Rap." She chuckled softly. "The only present he's given me since a nest of quail eggs he found on ... no, that's not true! He gave me my kingdom."

  Kadolan muttered agreement. Truth be told, she was seeing her gorgeous niece as a blur of emerald silk. It had been common knowledge for years around Kinvale that one infallible cure for drought was to invite Princess Kadolan
to a wedding; she invariably wept enough at a wedding to irrigate every farm for leagues. Already she needed her handkerchief, and soon.

  "It's almost sunset," she said hastily. "Why don't I go and see if the other half of the ceremony has arrived?" She headed for the door.

  Dabbing her eyes, she proceeded along the corridor. The groom and the best man were supposed to come at sunset, and she realized that she had completely forgotten to ask who was going to be best man. Probably some castle flunky she had never met. She sighed wistfully, thinking that the most appropriate choice would have been Captain Gathmor. Or Minstrel Jalon, maybe.

  At least it would not be that terrible goblin!

  Planning a wedding had always been one of her favorite occupations, and she felt cheated at having been allowed only three days to arrange this one. Yet that was not so surprising. Of all the young ladies she had introduced to matrimony in her years at Kinvale, none had proved so difficult to bring to the altar as her niece.

  Because of Rap's lie to Foronod, this must be a very intimate affair; a secret wedding, really. And that was a shame, too. Kadolan had many happy memories of Holindarn's wedding, when all Krasnegar had rejoiced and partied for days. Still, it was fortunate that Marshal Ithy happened to be visiting Kinvale at the moment, returning from his inspection of the Pondague lines. He had happily agreed to give away the bride.

  And Inos had decided to hold a full-scale coronation in the summer. She had never been formally crowned, and now Krasnegar had a king to crown also. Kadolan certainly intended to be present for that. She would sneak in through the magic portal, which still remained a close-guarded state secret, and pretend that she had come by ship. She reminded herself that Rap knew nothing of those plans yet, so she must be careful not to mention them this evening.

  But a formal wedding would have been nice. The imperor would have sent a representative, and royal gifts. And what was the use of having so many relatives if you couldn't summon them all to lavish affairs like weddings? Even Eigaze and Epoxague might have come to a Kinvale wedding, but they could hardly be invited to Krasnegar. Some distant relatives were just too distant!