by Dave Duncan
“You can forget that rot! No more omnipotences. It’s over! No more wardens, no more warlocks, no more witches. Why in the name of Evil didn’t you get out of town while you had the chance?” He stumped a few steps forward.
Ylo noticed that there was snow on his heavy boots. His tatty shirt looked wet. Why would a warlock, a preeminent sorcerer, go outdoors on a night like this? Why had he not at least stayed dry, as Lith’rian had stayed dry in the downpour on Nefer Moor?
“Flee, I told you!” the little man boomed. “But oh no! You had to come into this warren, on the one night in centuries when you would leave a trail through Hub that a blind toad could follow! Idiot!”
The imperor flushed darkly in the flickering candlelight.
Another dwarf followed the warlock in, closing the door with a ferocity just short of a slam. He was younger and beardless, although there was a shadow like lichen on his upper lip. His face had a juvenile softness to it—shale instead of slate—but the bovine shoulders were there already and the surly scowl. He wore his hair long, in a style currently favored by the youth of Hub, but its curls were an incongruous silvery-gray. His pants had been repeatedly patched.
Shandie glanced quickly around the company, but found no inspiration. “Tell us why you came. Sorcerer?”
“I’ll be buried if I know! Well, I suppose I came to appeal to him.” Raspnex pointed to Rap. “But I see now that I wasted my time. I’d hoped he could help, but he can’t.”
Rap shook his head slightly, making no move to greet the dwarf as he had earlier greeted everyone else. “Who’s your companion?” he said.
The warlock did not turn to look at the youth behind him. “Grimrix. He’s a votary. Don’t laugh at his hairstyle or he may turn you into a woolly caterpillar.”
The youngster scowled. A pink-granite glow warmed the sandstone gray of his cheeks. Ylo wondered if dwarves ever smiled.
“Well, imp, you didn’t listen to me!” The older dwarf shook his head sadly. “Who outside this room knows where you are?”
“No one except Legate Ugoatho.”
“Who’s he?”
“Head of the Praetorian Guard.”
Raspnex snorted. “They’ll have gotten him already, then. One of the first they’d go for. In fact, it’s amazing they’re not here yet.”
“The legate is utterly loyal!” Shandie snapped.
Teeth like quartz pebbles… “Not anymore.”
“Tell them the problem,” Rap said sadly.
“You tell them. I already tried. Seems they don’t heed me.”
Minutes ago King Rap had denied that he knew what the problem was. Now he just shrugged and looked to Shandie. “I’ll have to be quick, though. The problem is Zinixo. I’m sure you remember him.”
“Former warlock of the West.”
“Right. He tried to destroy me and I won…” The faun sighed and glanced at the two dwarf sorcerers. “A year ago the God told me that this mess was all my fault. That must be because I didn’t kill Zinixo when I had the chance and the excuse.”
“You did worse than that,” Raspnex said grimly. “Much worse. But carry on. Can you explain to these dumb mundanes what you did to my nephew?”
Rap scratched his head. “I can try. I wrapped him up in an unbreakable soap bubble that stopped magic. He still had his power then, but he couldn’t use it. Er, follow?”
“Like tar on a ship?” Sagorn asked. “Magic-proofing instead of waterproofing?”
Raspnex made a noise reminiscent of a chimney pot falling off a roof; it might have been intended as a chuckle. “You’ve got it! It was ingenious! Rap’s power was greater, so Zinixo couldn’t break the spell. No magic in or out. A fitting punishment!”
“So what happened?” the imperor demanded.
“Oh, he went totally insane. He’d always been unstable, even as a kid. He’d always been suspicious and timid. The greater his power grew, the more timorous he became. You believe that, imp?”
Shandie nodded grimly. “I’ve met people like that. They think the world is out to get them.”
All dwarves had the reputation of being cagey, untrusting people. Ylo wondered how bad this Zinixo had become before other dwarves began to notice. Raspnex was Zinixo’s uncle, of course; he must have known him for a long time.
“So he can’t use his magic,” the imperor said, frowning. “Why is he dangerous?”
“Because of Bright Water,” Rap said. “She couldn’t break my spell, either, but she must have taken pity on him. She gave him a sorcerer.”
“Gave him?”
Raspnex snorted and snapped his fingers. Young Grimrix stepped forward to stand beside him, scowling as any normal adolescent would at such a summons. “Sir?”
“Tell them how you feel about me, sonny.”
The boy looked down at his boots and this time his blush was obvious. “I love you,” he muttered.
“There! See? He’s a votary. I’ve laid a loyalty spell on him. He’ll do anything to help me.” Raspnex glanced at the kid, showing his pebble teeth again. “He’d die for me! Actually his power’s greater than mine. It took three of us to hobble him—me and two of my other votaries. Now do you understand?”
Ylo shivered, looking around the circle of shadowed faces, watching the distaste spread as they worked it out. Only Eshiala, with her stoic self-control, was managing to seem unmoved.
The warlock slapped his young companion on the shoulder in a friendly gesture that would have shattered flagstones. “Go and scout. See if anything’s happening outside.”
The boy nodded—and faded out of existence. Lady Eigaze gasped and put a hand over her mouth. A moment later the bells rang louder briefly as the front door opened.
Why, Ylo thought, why, why, why had he ever turned down that dukedom and gotten himself involved in this?
“Bright Water was mad as a shampooed cat,” Rap said sadly. “She gave Zinixo one of her votaries—Kraza, a female dwarf. Kraza wasn’t especially powerful, but Zinixo knew the names of a lot of sorcerers. He set Kraza to imprinting them, starting with the weakest, of course. But two or three weak sorcerers can overpower a stronger.”
“He’s been at it for almost twenty years,” Raspnex added in his abrasive rumble. “He’s got an army of them now, all loyal to the death. We call it the Covin.”
Shandie sat down again on the arm of his wife’s chair. His face was taut. “Why did nobody stop him?”
“Because nobody knew!” the dwarf snarled. “Except maybe Bright Water, and she was too crazy to care. I think he was extra careful with her brood, anyway—he made his compulsion secondary to hers, to take effect after she died. So she didn’t mind. Now he’s cornered all of the sorcery in Pandemia!”
The crowded room fell silent as the mundanes struggled to comprehend the disaster. Old Sagorn moaned and sat down on his chair again, shaking his head.
“So although he has no real sorcery of his own,” Shandie muttered, “he controls an army of sorcerers? How many?”
“Scores, maybe hundreds. All eager to help. And the little snit may have his own sorcery back too now, if the Covin’s been able to break Rap’s spell.”
“Surely it was the wardens’ duty to prevent such an abomination?”
“It was, but they didn’t know it was happening until Bright Water died.” Raspnex’s eyes were hard as agates. “They brought me in as the new North in the hope I could stop him, because I knew him and how he thinks. But it was too late.”
The imperor looked to Sir Acopulo, as if inviting him to comment. Nothing happened.
“What does he want?” Shandie asked.
The dwarf snorted. “Everything! I told you—the greater his power, the more fearful he is! He knew he’d become a threat to the Four, so he feared the Four, because they were the only power that could threaten him. That’s how he thinks.”
“That was why you came to the Rotunda today?”
“Of course it was! Why are you so stupid? We expected him to strike when
we answered your summons at the enthronement, so he could swat all four of us at the same time. Probably he’d have blasted us as he blasted Ag-an, years ago. Grunth and I got the jump on him. We made you imperor, sonny, but it isn’t going to do you any good.”
Shandie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And why destroy the thrones? Did Zinixo do that?”
“No! I did!”
“The four thrones were occult,” Rap said quietly. “They were portals into the wardens’ palaces. He could have forced entry through them.”
“I thought you didn’t know all this?” the imperor said.
“I didn’t, earlier,” Rap explained from his place by the mantel. “Partly I’m working it out as I go along, from what Raspnex told me as he came in—you weren’t privy to that conversation, is all. He hasn’t used sorcery on me yet, although he could. And you’ll have to take our word on that. You can’t trust anyone now, your Majesty. Once Zinixo’s votaries pin a man down, he’s theirs. As Raspnex says. Legate Ugoatho would be a logical first choice. He’ll serve Zinixo from then on, to the death. They all will.”
“To what purpose?” Shandie demanded grimly.
Rap shrugged. “He’s mad, he sees danger everywhere. The imperor is powerful, so he must be loyal to Zinixo—everyone must, who has any sort of power at all. He’d make everyone in the world love him, if he could.”
“Where are the Four?”
Rap looked to Raspnex.
“Gone,” the dwarf said. “Most of their votaries have been stolen from them. Lith’rian panicked first and fled to Ilrane. Olybino was next. He’s just vanished. Can you imagine what Zinixo will do to those two when he gets his hands on them? No, you can’t possibly imagine. Even I can’t. But it will be long and nasty—that I do know.” He pulled a face. “And I’m not on his friendship list, either.”
“And Grunth?”
The dwarf shrugged.
Ylo could feel worms of fear crawling around his insides. Umpily was chewing his knuckles, eyes white in the shadows. Eshiala had taken a firmer hold on her child.
The old jotunn was probably the smartest man in the room, and he was the most obviously scared, his face pallid and drawn, his hands clenched on his knees.
“So Zinixo will imprint me with a loyally spell?” Shandie asked.
“Of course. It will be easier than proclaiming himself imperor. The Impire is just too big for him to ensorcel everyone, and a dwarf imperor would not be acceptable—he would always be frightened of revolution, see? But you will reign for his benefit. You will serve him loyally to the end of your days.” Raspnex pointed a thick finger at the child asleep on Eshiala’s lap. “And so will she and her children after her! You know how long sorcerers live.”
“No!” Shandie bellowed. “I won’t have it!”
Dwarves did smile, Ylo saw. It was not a pleasant sight.
“And your so-beautiful wife? My nephew is oddly partial to female imps… Now don’t you wish you’d taken my advice?”
Shandie laid his arm on Eshiala’s shoulders, as if that gesture might reassure her. “What is your advice now?”
Again the dwarf shrugged his massive shoulders. “I may be able to get us out of here. May, I said. He’s so suspicious that he tends to be too cautious. He may not commit his real strength quickly enough to block me.”
“If I can escape…” Shandie said. “If we can… If you can get us out of here, what then?”
“Retire. Hide. You can’t hope to win your impire back, you know. Just go into hiding and maybe, in a couple of centuries, your descendants can come forward to claim their inheritance.”
Then the dwarf turned to look up thoughtfully at the king of Krasnegar. Ylo wondered what silent messages they were passing, words mundanes could not hear. He wondered also if the faun was truly his own man anymore, or if the warlock had imprinted him already. Trust no one!
“Zinixo’s here, in Hub?” the king asked aloud.
“Maybe. More likely not, not yet. But he’s sent his minions. I could smell ’em.”
“So could I. And I’m not exactly his best friend, either, am I?”
Raspnex guffawed. Ylo had never heard a dwarf laugh before—and he never wanted to hear that noise again. It sounded like a wall collapsing.
“Not much, you’re not! You and your kingdom. Your wife and children. I bet the little turd has dreamed of you every night for twenty years, your Majesty!”
Grim-faced, the faun thumped the mantel a couple of times with his fist. “Why did none of you warn me?” he shouted.
“Because we thought you knew! Because we thought you were laying low—and because we thought you could handle the matter when you got around to it!”
The big man paled in shock. “You mean you were all relying on me? Waiting on me to do something? Fools!”
“That’s obvious now, but we didn’t know that, did we?” the dwarf snarled.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t come after me already.”
“He didn’t know, either! But it won’t be long now. And he couldn’t try to settle with you earlier without alerting the wardens. Once they’re out of the way… you’re next, I’m sure.”
“Suppose he does seize the throne,” Sagorn whispered hoarsely, “the Imperial throne, I mean, not Krasnegar—either in his own name or through a puppet—then what?”
Raspnex looked at him with scorn. “He will wipe out any threat, any threat at all. Any hint of disloyalty, any loose talk.”
“But it will be his Impire then, won’t it? So any threat to the Impire will be a threat to the Living God? The caliph, for example.”
The dwarf nodded, with a trace more respect. “Exactly. The caliph is a threat to the Impire, so the caliph will have to go. The goblins are about ready to launch their big attack—Zinixo will smash them. Of course he’ll go after Lith’rian and the elves first.”
Sagorn snapped his teeth shut with a click. “He will rule the world,” he muttered.
“In a year or two, yes.”
Ylo shivered. Like all imps, he had always dreamed of a universal Impire, of bringing everybody into the fold and extending to all races the benefits of imperial rule. He knew that the other races had never appreciated those benefits properly. But his mind rejected the idea violently if it was to be all for the benefit of a mad dwarf.
“Is there nothing we can do to prevent this obscenity?” said a quiet voice. Everyone looked around in surprise at Count Ionfeu, who had barely spoken since he arrived. He was elderly and frail and his head stuck forward like a turtle’s, but there was a grim determination showing on that wrinkled face.
For a moment no one answered. Then the king of Krasnegar said, “There might be. It’s an Evilish long shot, but we could try, if Zinixo hasn’t beaten us to it.”
Raspnex looked startled. “You’ll get yourself eaten if you try that!”
“I’d rather have my flesh eaten than my mind, I think.” The faun sighed. “And it was all my fault.” Now Ylo was certain the two sorcerers had exchanged more words than had been spoken aloud.
“Yes it was,” Raspnex said.
The impress spoke next, softly. “Why was it? What did you do, your Majesty?”
“I cut off the supply of magic. I can’t tell you all the details now, but I went back to Faerie…” He winced. “Never mind. I did it and it’s done.”
“And you can’t undo it now, can you?” the dwarf shouted. “Your stupid, blundering good intentions! Where did you put the fairies?”
Rap shook his head, his face twisted as if in pain. “I can’t even tell you. And no, I can’t ever undo it. I used every scrap of power I possessed. It’s done now. Forever. Unless the Gods take pity on us.”
He turned his back and put his hands on the mantel, staring at the wall. Wife and children and kingdom… King Rap probably had more to fear from the vengeful Zinixo than anyone, even Shandie.
“I don’t understand!” Acopulo bleated.
“He cut off the supply of magic!” Raspnex gro
wled. “The Protocol was set up to prevent exactly this sort of happening! The supply of magic was the prerogative of the warlock of the west. If any one sorcerer ever tried to build a sorcerous army and make himself paramount, West could create an opposing army! As a last resort. That’s why it’s never been done before, although Ulien’ came close in the War of the Five Warlocks.”
Sagorn made a choking noise. “A safety net!”
“And your faunish friend cut it down!”
King Rap spun around again, eyes suddenly bright. “Ulien’, you said? War of the Five Warlocks? Thume! There’s another hope, then!”
Raspnex flinched. “You’re crazy!”
“Maybe! But craziness is all we’ve got left, isn’t it?”
The door downstairs opened briefly to admit a sorrowful cry of bells. An instant later a column of air in the center of the room shimmered and solidified into the young dwarf Grimrix. His pebbly eyes gleamed with excitement.
“They’re here, sir! Hussars, all around the house. All three streets.”
“Any occults?”
“Didn’t stay around to look, but if you’ll let me go down there again and thump ass, I can find out!” He bared a mouthful of shiny quartz in eagerness.
The half-size stripling was offering to take on a platoon of the finest troops in the impire single-handed. The room fell silent.
Ylo was almost surprised to hear his own voice. “Can’t we leave the same way as Master Jalon did?”
The old jotunn snorted. “Quite impossible!”
“You seem very certain of that,” Hardgraa said dangerously.
The faun king chuckled. “He’s right, though!” What did he know about that incident? “And we’d leave tracks in this snow, wouldn’t we? Raspnex, got any ideas?”
“I can try. I’ll try to move us all to my palace.”
“But the house is shielded.”
The warlock scratched his chin noisily. “It won’t be in a minute. Grimmy, can you lift this shield by yourself?”
The younger dwarf hesitated, frowning. Then he smiled again. “Easy, sir.”
“Don’t be too sure—some of these old spells have been renewed a lot of times. Watch out for underlying layers. When I push, lift it. Then slam it back fast! You’ve got to stay and cover for us.”