A Handful of Men: The Complete Series

by Dave Duncan

  “The legate would put it that way!” She squeezed him tighter. “Hawk’s risking his life for you, delaying that dispatch. That’s something Hardgraa won’t have thought of!”

  “Mutiny? Young idiot! You’re right.” Ylo grinned devilishly. “Know something funny? That son he mentioned? It could be mine. The timing would be right.”

  Eshiala released him and turned her back. “Pretty, is she, his Anlya?”

  “Er… Well, I thought she was dazzling. Since I’ve met you I know she was a squint-eyed, flabby, poxy dwarf.” Now he tried to put his arms around her and she stepped away.

  “So this shortcut could be a trap? Hawk and his friends?”

  Ylo gulped audibly and she turned.

  He shook his head. “No. Hawk’s too impulsive! If he even suspected that, he’d have ridden me down, or run me through right here. He wouldn’t set traps, it’s not his way. Anlya told me how — well, never mind. If he says we can bypass Pinebridge, then we can bypass Pinebridge. We can skip Gaaze and head east, to Castino or Angot…”

  She laughed sadly. “Oh, Ylo, Ylo, my darling! One of these days some husband’s going to come after you with a gang of thugs and —”

  “Not any more. I’m trying to tell you —”

  “But if you think this shortcut’s a good idea, then I suppose we don’t have anything much to —”

  “Eshiala, will you listen to me a moment?”

  “I am listening. Hawk won’t be able to give us —”

  “No you’re not. We ought to separate, really, because it’s me the men of the XIIth know, not you, and —”

  “No!” she shouted.

  “I’m a rake.”

  “I know that, darling. Just now I’m the one being, er, raked, and I love—”

  “I’m landless and penniless and the only skill I’ve got is seduction. I’m a liar—”

  “I know that, too.” She doubted that he had ever told her one untrue word. She wanted to hold him, kiss him — anything. She could barely keep her hands off him when they were alone, but they ought to be on their way, not standing here jabbering like a pair of parrots.

  “I don’t lie to the Gods, though.”

  “We must — What do you mean?”

  “Eshiala, my darling, will… Will you marry me?”

  “Ylo! You don’t mean that?”

  He shrugged. “Well, I was just hoping. Not just because it’ll make Hardgraa’s job harder. Not only that. I mean, I’m crazily in love with you, like I’ve never been with any woman.”

  “Ylo!”

  Wonder in his eyes… “I just realized now — when Hawk said… I just thought of them separating us, and knew I couldn’t bear the thought of ever losing you, but you would be crazy to trust me, and —”

  Her mouth was on his. Then his arms were around her, crushing her to him.

  Maya came running over and pounded fists on them, wanting to be included. When she began to scream, Ylo broke off the embrace to scoop her up. His face was as flushed as Eshiala knew her own must be, but the sunlight danced in his eyes.

  “That means yes?” he asked, clutching her with one arm and Maya with the other.

  “Oh, yes, yes!”

  Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes…

  2

  The sun was setting in Guwush.

  The previous evening, Inos had thought that Highscarp was a horrid little place, ugly and squalid. Now she knew that Yugg was much worse — smaller, uglier, and squalider. The post inn was a hovel of timber and sagging thatch, its stableyard a morass of filth. Yugg looked like it sounded. It smelled even more so.

  She thought she would always remember it with love. It was full of birdsong and rainbows for her. Rap was alive!

  Grumbling passengers were still climbing down from the stage. The baggage was being unloaded by innumerable gnomes of indiscernible age and sex, grotesque little figures in grimy rags swarming over the carriage like ants. They bore off the booty in streams, four or five to a heavy valise and seven or eight under a trunk, running through the mire, splashing it around gleefully with their bare feet and piping excitedly in high-pitched voices. Whatever their faults, whatever their circumstances, gnomes were usually content.

  Inos stood in the mud and stench with Shandie and the warlock, hearing hardly half of what the dwarf was saying. Dragons burning up legions, goblins ripped apart, Olybino dead… It was all horrible, yet little of it registered. Olybino had named Rap as the leader of the resistance and the usurper had not denied it, so Rap had certainly not been caught by the Covin and must be assumed to be still at large as far as Zinixo was aware. Rap was alive!

  So perhaps one day they would meet again? Back home in distant little Krasnegar, king and queen together once more? That seemed so horribly impossible still, and if it happened she would have to tell him how she had blundered, how she had lost their son and daughter — Gath off adventuring into mortal danger in Nordland and Kadie abducted by goblins. A God had warned him he must lose a child, and Inos had crazily lost two. Even Holi and Eva, back in Krasnegar, might be in danger or even dead for all she knew now. Much as she wanted Rap, could she ever bring herself to look him in the eye again?

  Gath might yet survive, but Kadie… Oh, Gods! She thought back to what Raspnex had said about the goblins’ fate. Not dragons, at least. That had been the legions. Anything would be better than dragons.

  “Sorcery?” she said, interrupting him. “What did you say happened to the goblins?”

  He peered up angrily under his broad-brimmed hat, an aging human nail keg, eyes like gray agates above a beard of iron turnings. Then his glare softened. “Just naked power, ma’am. I couldn’t tell much at this distance. I mean, I don’t know if it was specifically directed at the greenies or would destroy… Sorry, Inos. I just don’t know.”

  “You all right?” Shandie demanded.

  Of course she was not all right! “I’m fine,” she said. Oh, Kadie, Kadie!

  Shandie glanced at the inn and pulled a face. “We should go get you a stiff drink.” He did not move, though. This open yard was a safer place to talk than anywhere indoors would be. He looked down at the dwarf. “Anything else?”

  “Isn’t that enough? Slag, what a day!” Raspnex scowled, and even for him it was a vicious grimace. “Who’s going to believe in us when we pass up an opportunity like that? We let East get blasted and did nothing! Why didn’t Rap sound the charge? Why didn’t I?”

  The imperor shrugged. “Well, why didn’t you?”

  “Mostly because the dragons were still in the sky. If the Covin had released its hold on them, they’d have run amok.”

  The imperor nodded. “Then I expect that’s why Rap didn’t.”

  The dwarf nodded and stuffed his big hands in his pockets. He stared down at his boots, seeming oddly childlike for an elderly, tough-as-rocks sorcerer. “So now what?” he growled. “We don’t have to spread the news anymore. The word’s out, may the Gods cherish his soul.”

  Shandie flashed a meaningful glance at Inos over the crown of the dwarf’s hat. The two warlocks had not been friends. From Raspnex, that had been a rare and precious tribute to a dead hero.

  “Amen.”

  The warlock kicked at a lump of filth. “You don’t need to bother with gnomish rebels now. We don’t have to stay on in this pigpen, thank the Powers. Leave tomorrow.”

  Shandie drew a deep breath and almost gagged in consequence. “Well, I’ll admit that’s a relief. For both reasons. Let’s think about it.” He turned again to face the inn. “Do you suppose they charge by the bed or by the bug?”

  Inos thought, Kadie! and squared her shoulders. Kadie might have been dead for months; she could well have died in some much more horrible way than just being blasted by sorcery. She must not dwell on that. Likely she would never know what had happened to her daughter. The Gods would… Her hand found something.

  She pulled a thin tube from the pocket of her cloak and frowned at it.

  “What’s that?” S
handie demanded. Very little escaped him.

  “I don’t know.” The paper had a gnomish look to it, tattered and soiled. She unrolled it.

  I have no quarrel with

  Krasnegar and offer safe

  conduct to your friend who

  wishes to meet with me. The

  two of you must come at once to

  the temple, unaccompanied. You

  will be security for his good

  conduct. He knows my hand.

  “Someone must have just put it there,” she said, passing it to Shandie. She glanced around, but the infestation of gnomes had dispersed. The yard was almost empty. Deft little fingers going by could easily have slipped the paper in her pocket without her noticing; She had been in a daze anyway.

  Shandie’s face was as wooden as a log pile.

  “Is it his writing?” Raspnex demanded. He had not been shown the paper. He was a sorcerer.

  “Could be. It’s been a long time.” The imperor shook his head as if to clear it. “Son of a mule! What matters is that whoever wrote this knows I have seen Oshpoo’s hand.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Brazen cheek!”

  “How do you know his handwriting?” Inos asked. She had never considered the idea that gnomes might read and write, and discovering that blatant prejudice in herself annoyed her considerably. Why shouldn’t gnomes read and write?

  “After Highscarp he sent me a letter congratulating me on my success.” Shandie was being much too casual.

  “And?”

  “And promising to get even.” He smiled wryly, passed the letter back to Inos. “Looks like he may have found his chance.”

  “You’re out of your mind!” Raspnex snapped. “I just told you — you don’t have to go talk with mundane leaders anymore. All the sorcerous know about the new protocol now.”

  “But there are other things I might discuss with that gentleman. I use the word loosely.” Shandie was regarding Inos. His dark eyes smoldered with an intensity that she had seen in them only rarely. She thought of that as his imperor look. It was the only thing that would ever make him stand out in a crowd. He was asking if she was willing to put her head in the noose with his.

  Right now, more than anything, she would enjoy a hot bath, but that would not likely be obtainable in Yugg’s sole hostelry. Besides, the bath would be more appropriate after meeting with gnomes, not before. And if Emshandar V by the grace of the Gods et cetera thought he could outdare Inosolan of Krasnegar, longtime bird’s-nest raiding champion of the North Face, then he was due for a shock.

  So what if it was dangerous? Right now danger would be a welcome distraction from brooding. She nodded. The imperor removed his sword and scabbard and handed them to the dwarf.

  “Madness!” Raspnex muttered.

  “You’ll keep an occult eye on us, though?”

  “Why bother? Can’t do much. Given the choice, which do you want — gnomes or the Covin? Your Oshpoo must have sorcerers of his own, to know who you are.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Shandie said. “Much more! Work it out. Inos, I’m grateful!” He offered his arm as if they were about to enter a ballroom. She smiled and accepted. Together they left the yard and emerged on the main street, which was also the Imperial highway across Guwush. Left led to the stockade of the fort, right to the temple, whose rickety little spire was the only thing in town taller than the cottage chimneys. They turned right.

  A bugle called faintly from the fort. She did not ask Shandie what it signified. Chow, perhaps? The sky was growing dark, draining color from the world, and yet few windows showed lights. A dog was barking somewhere. The street did seem deserted, but tiny shadows moved in the corners of the alleys and in the corner of her eye. She was quite certain that the two strangers were being watched as they strode along.

  “The Yugg Valley is one of the principal sources of spider silk,” Shandie remarked, intent on making casual conversation. He did not even seem to be looking out for danger.

  He was behaving very oddly. The previous evening he had warned her against taking an innocent evening stroll in Highscarp, and now he was leading her out without a sword to meet a sworn enemy. His personal courage was unquestioned — the Senate had passed resolutions reprimanding him for it — but she would not have expected him to be quite this foolhardy. He must have some powerful reason for wanting to meet the rebel chief, and she could not imagine what it might be.

  Even more curious, perhaps, was the way he had allowed Inos herself to be dragged into an affair where she clearly did not belong. That did not fit with his attitude toward women and their irrelevancy in warfare, danger, and all other serious business.

  Yet, come to think of it, Shandie’s attitude toward women had not been putting quite such a strain on her tooth enamel recently as it had when she had first met him. She could not recall the last time she had ground or gritted at one of his remarks. Could he possibly have changed his opinions in the past few months? A few houses farther along the road, she came to the conclusion that he definitely must have changed them. She wondered what in the world could have caused such a conversion in anyone as obdurate as Shandie.

  They were almost at the temple. He was still talking aimlessly about silk. As they passed a gap between two houses, somebody whistled. There was just enough light to make out a small figure beckoning.

  “Whistling!” Shandie said, changing direction. Mud squelched underfoot as soon as they left the paved highway. “Now I am whistled up like a dog?” He sounded amused — slightly.

  They entered the alley. A tiny shadow flitted ahead, barely visible even when moving, vanishing whenever it stopped to wait for them.

  “All we need now,” Inos said, “is for a bunch of horsemen to leave the stockade and ride along the street. That’d do it!”

  “Less than that, I expect. A bugle call might be enough, if the man himself is really here in person.”

  There was barely room for the two of them to walk side by side. The little guide hurried through a muddle of cottages like a maze. There were no organized roads and the footing was treacherous. Yugg was larger than Inos had thought. Suddenly they came to the end of it Ahead lay brush and trees, and fresh air. Their mysterious guide was still beckoning.

  A few steps into the wood, Inos stumbled. Shandie steadied her and stopped.

  “We need light!” he called.

  Tiny fingers gripped her hand and she jumped. Shandie grunted angrily, and she saw that vague little shapes had materialized beside each of them.

  “We shall guide you,” said a shrill, thin voice, more like birdsong than human speech.

  “Lead on, then.”

  Shandie went first, Inos followed. In a moment she pulled free of the gnome’s grasp and put a hand on her — or his — shoulder. That worked better. She raised an arm to keep branches out of her face. They plodded through the forest, following an invisible path, and eventually a glimmer of light came into view. A small fire smoldered in a hollow. A solitary gnome sat cross-legged at the far side.

  The greasy little shoulder twisted away from her and the guides vanished as mysteriously and silently as they had come. Shandie and Inos picked their way down the slope and settled on the ground, facing the gnome.

  At first glance he was a pot-bellied, very filthy child. A second look discovered the wrinkles and flabby skin under the caked dirt. The color of his hair and beard were indeterminate. He wore a rag of the same gray as himself; his feet were bare. Like all gnomes, he had very little nose. He stared at the newcomers in silence, black-button eyes shining bright in the firelight.

  Inos thought the beating of her heart must be audible for leagues. The woods all around were silent, but she was certain that they were filled with watchers. What had possessed her to come here? This was not her business. Rap would call her an idiot.

  “You are older than I expected,” Shandie said.

  “I am not Leader. I must make sure that it is safe for Leader to come here.”

  “It i
s safe as far as I am concerned.”

  The gnome scratched busily. “You are Imperor? This is Queen, from Krasnegar?”

  “Yes. We were invited here.”

  The tiny old man ignored that. He studied Inos for a moment. “You have gnomes in your land?”

  She had half expected that question and had her answer ready. “At the last count there were six, but I expect there are eight now. Pish, Tush, Heug, Phewf, and their children.”

  “Ah! You know their names?”

  “They are the royal rat catchers.”

  The gnome chuckled hoarsely, obviously pleased.

  “They are there by invitation,” Inos said.

  He nodded. “That sounds like Rap.”

  Her heart jumped. She thought she knew who this ancient was, then. Shandie made an irritated noise, but she ignored him.

  “You have met my husband, sir?”

  “Please do not give me titles. Yes, I met Rap once, long ago. He stands out of the light.”

  “I do not quite follow that… Ishist?”

  “It is a gnomish saying. Most people cannot see the world for their own shadows.”

  There was a lump in her throat. “That describes him very well.”

  The old man picked up a stick and poked at the fire. Sparks rushed upward into the night. “He sees what is and does what he should.”

  “Yes, he does.” It was Rap exactly.

  “And you, Imperor? Why wouldst you speak with Leader?”

  “You eavesdropped on her Majesty and myself last night in Highscarp,” Shandie said. “When we spoke, at the door of the inn.”

  Ishist cackled. “I did not. Others did.”

  There was a pause. Inos wished she could pass a note to Shandie, warning of sorcery. “May I inquire how your wife is, Ishist?”

  “She is well. She is visiting with her father at the moment.”

  Inos flipped a mental coin and decided to press on, aware that she was on dangerous ground. “They are reconciled?”