by Dave Duncan
“Dance.”
Light gleamed on the oiled leather of the thongs. Shivering, unable to take her eyes off that awful threat, Inos clambered to her feet.
Rap put a strong arm around her and became visible.
5
Inos wondered afterward why the shock did not kill her on the spot, but it didn’t. She grabbed him in a bear hug — tight, ever so tight, burying her face against his neck. Rap! Solid, breathing Rap! His clothes were still cold from the wind outside, and he smelled faintly of horse. He was panting.
“Oh, Rap! Darling! Rap! Rap! Rap!” She mumbled incoherently into his collar, only gradually becoming aware of the fire in her shoulder.
“It’s all right,” he said hoarsely. “Safe now.”
Safe? Sorcery? Wondering, she stole a look at Azak. He was frowning, peering around the big tent as if he had lost something or forgotten something, but he was clearly oblivious of her and Rap.
“He can’t hear us?” she whispered. Obviously he couldn’t.
Rap did not answer. He was shaking convulsively. She looked up at his face.
The gray eyes were unfocused, his lips white and curled back from his teeth. She had seen that expression often enough in Krasnegar, that kill-crazy jotunn look. Rap was half jotunn. That explained the trembling and the odd breathing. He was a hound straining on a leash. Oh, Gods! His left arm was clasping her, but his right was between them, and she guessed that he was holding the hilt of a sword.
Die, Azak! You die now, you bastard! No? Why not?
Azak heaved his great bulk to a sitting position. He fumbled with his fingers, muttering angrily.
“I want to kill him,” Rap croaked. His eyes bulged. “I’ve got to kill him. Promised I wouldn’t. I must kill him! I want to cut him in slices! Wretch! Scum! How can I kill him, Inos? Tell me how I can kill him!” He was almost sobbing.
“What do you mean?”
“He can’t see me!”
God of Madness! Suddenly Inos saw worse things than Azak. Rap could not kill a man who couldn’t see him. Must not be allowed to kill a man who couldn’t see him! The memory would drive him crazy. In a fair fight, yes. Even an execution. But to stab a blind man was murder, and cowardice. A jotunn could not kill like that, and Rap could not. After so many years she knew her man. He would never be able to live with his guilt if he violated his own ethics. It was from Rap that Kadie had inherited all her romantic notions, not from her mother.
Gods have mercy! Inos would have to break the news, tell Rap about Kadie and the goblins… Well, Rap himself was the immediate problem, still crazy-trembling in an agony of frustration. His teeth were chattering. She must stop him.
She must somehow save Azak, whom she wanted to die.
Ask for the sword? Do it herself? No, she couldn’t do it now, either. Simple death was too good for Azak. He must know how and why he died.
But Rap was here and nothing else really mattered. She hugged him even tighter and kissed his cheek.
“Oh, my darling! How did you ever find me?”
Staring hatred at the caliph. Rap licked his lips. “Didn’t. Just luck. C-c-came here… t-t-talk with that slime!”
Azak lurched to his feet. Rap hauled Inos aside, and the huge djinn stormed past them without a glance. At the end of the tent he ripped aside the drape that concealed the privy. Baffled, he wheeled around and strode back again, grinding his teeth. He seemed to know that he had lost his victim, but not how.
Suddenly Rap’s grip tightened and his eyes searched Inos’s face urgently. “He hasn’t… I did get here in time, didn’t I?” Fury quivered on the brink of explosion again.
“Just in time!” she said quickly. Just in time this time. The truth could wait. “You came to talk with him?”
“Get’m to turn back.”
“Why?”
Rap opened his mouth and closed it. Then he glanced sideways at her, and she saw that something was distracting the bloodlust.
“Better not say here. The results might be dramatic.”
Again Azak stamped by, again fumbling with his fingers.
Eek! “Rap! Those rings! He has magic rings. One of them will summon Furkar! His sorcerer.” She had seen the truth ring in action and the women had mentioned the other. Perhaps there were more tricks, too.
“Let him!” Rap snarled. “Sorcerers won’t — Ah!”
The tent flap rose and fell.
The young man who had entered was tall and sinister in a trailing black kibr. A black kaffiyeh framed his face, and red djinn eyes gleamed in its shadow. He glanced around the tent without registering Rap or Inos, and then inclined his head perfunctorily in the direction of the fuming caliph.
“You summoned me. Majesty?”
“I did! I tried calling you earlier, too. Where were you?”
The newcomer must be the sorcerer himself, Furkar, if only because anyone else would be cringing in terror before the caliph’s rage. He was showing no expression at all. “I was inspecting the route we must take out of here tomorrow.”
“That is my job. You handle the sorcery and I’ll do the rest.” Azak stalked over to the two wooden chests and sat down.
The sorcerer remained undaunted. “This place makes me uneasy. And I warned you not to use that summoning while the Covin may be listening.”
Azak glared. “This is important. Did you see the dispatches?”
“No.”
“Trouble in Shuggaran. And other places.”
The younger man had not moved since he entered. He still stood just inside the door. He was a talking pillar. “As soon as your back is turned? Only to be expected. I trust you are not feeling faint-hearted?”
Azak’s face turned even redder than usual. “No. But I was a fool to leave the Prisoner alive. He is a risk. I want you to go back and kill him.”
Furkar raised coppery eyebrows. “And how am I to travel to Dreag?”
Azak ground his teeth. “The dwarf still watches?”
“Day and night. I remind you that it is not you that interests the Covin. It is me and my associates. I would have to travel by horse, so you might better send one of your assassins. He would go faster.”
“I just may do that, then.”
“And if you persist in using those sorcerous trinkets I shall either take them from you or gather up my votaries and depart.” A faint hint of a sneer curled Furkar’s lip, but his tone remained deadly calm.
“I don’t think he’s lying,” Rap muttered. “Looks like the Covin hasn’t got him yet.”
Azak choked, growled, and beat his fists on his knees.
“Will there be anything more, your Majesty?” Furkar inquired sweetly.
“Yes. That jotunn woman was here. She must have escaped when my back was turned. Have the camp searched for her.”
“I hear and obey, Mightiness.” The sneer became more pronounced.
“Doesn’t like being ordered around like a flunky, does he?” Rap remarked cheerfully.
Azak stood up. “Go! And tell Nurkeen to send me another. One of the fat ones.”
Furkar turned and disappeared out the flap without even a pretence of a bow. Azak stood up and cursed at length.
“Any idea what all that was about?” Rap inquired loudly.
Inos felt a wash of relief. The killer glare had faded. Rap was still enraged, extremely dangerous, but he was rational.
“Yes,” she said. “Did you say you wanted Azak to go back home to Zark?”
The caliph had been rummaging in one of the chests. He slammed down the lid and sat on it to begin pawing through a tangled sheaf of documents.
Watching him intently. Rap growled low in his throat “I want him dead! But I can’t just kill him. Yes, back to Zark.”
“The sash is the answer!” Inos said. “The Prisoner they mentioned is his son Krandaraz. The women talk of him. He almost overthrew Azak some years ago. He’s supposedly being held in secret somewhere, to be released if Azak dies. That’s how he keeps his other sons
in line.”
Rap’s gray eyes had turned to her as she spoke. Now they began to gleam, seeing where her logic led. “Krandaraz must be quite a lad!”
She would have given half her kingdom for that smile. “He must be. The others daren’t move as long as he is alive.”
With a muttered Gath, Azak threw his papers over his shoulder in a blizzard. He unfastened his emerald sash and tossed it on top of the other chest.
“How obliging!” Rap murmured. He urged Inos forward and they approached the caliph.
Azak pulled off his turban, revealing a hedge of red and white hair around a bald crown. He set to work on his shirt.
“Getting ready for the fat one,” Inos said. “I think I’m flattered, but I’m not sure.” She was babbling. The sight of the caliph’s bulging, red-furred torso was bringing back nightmares.
“Any idea where this Dreag is?” Rap asked, edging closer to the glittering baldric on the chest.
“No.”
“Well, I expect the — I mean, I expect certain friends of mine can find it. Thank you, dearest. You’ve solved the problem. Oh, yuuch! disgusting, isn’t he?”
Azak had removed his boots. Now he rose and dropped his pants, sitting down to pull them over his feet.
Rap felt Inos’ shiver and bared his teeth. “Hang on to my hand. It’s time to deal with this vermin. By the way, do you recognize the sword?”
As she stepped clear to give him room, he drew a slim rapier and flicked it a few times.
“No. Oh! Rap!”
“It’s Kadie’s. I borrowed it for the evening. She wasn’t any too willing to lend it to her dear papa!” His gray eyes were shining with pleasure now. “She’s safe, Inos.”
The tent swayed. The lanterns dimmed briefly.
“You all right?” Rap cried, steadying her.
She nodded. To faint now, after all this? Never! “Yes. Oh, yes! That’s wonderful!”
KadieKadieKadie! Kadie safe!
Rap started to turn to Azak and then looked back at her hesitantly. “Gath?”
“Gath went off on his own to the Nintor Moot.”
“Oh.” His face ran through a whole bazaar of emotions — surprise, disapproval, confusion, alarm, and then pride. “Well! Nintor? On his own? Did he just? Tell me later. Hang on.”
He reached out with the rapier and lifted the emerald sash of Arakkaran from the chest. It writhed, an angry snake of green light. Azak twisted around and stared blankly at the empty space. He gave the impression of a very puzzled man — not sure what he’d seen or what he should see or why it mattered.
“There! Always wanted one of these.” Rap draped the sash around his neck like a scarf. “Give Krasnegar a bit of class.” He bared his teeth. “Now… We’ll leave a note explaining that the sash has gone to Dreag. I plan to write it in blood — Azak’s blood. A fairly serious flesh wound is required, I think. Somewhere appropriate. You want to do it, or shall I?”
“You do it, darling,” Inos said. “Husband’s privilege. But give it an extra twist from me.”
6
After all the potent sorcery Rap had been throwing around, Inos expected the escape from the djinn camp to be a simple matter. Things did not happen quite that way.
Azak’s agonized screams brought a mob of guards pouring in. The big man roared like a camel as he stumbled to the door, clutching his groin and trickling blood between his fingers. He vanished into the horde of brown-clad family men in tumult and commotion. Revenge suddenly felt nauseating.
The first problem was the message. There was plenty of blood, but it soaked into the rugs and even the stains were not all within easy reach, especially as Rap was hampered by the need to stay in contact with Inos. By the time he had scrawled a few words with his finger on the back of a discarded dispatch, the guards were carrying Azak over to the bed, while still more men blocked the doorway. The racket suggested a huge crowd gathering outside.
A rapier had no cutting edge. Rap stabbed repeatedly at the side of the tent, cursing as it billowed, unable to make even a hand hole. One of the fearsome guards brushed against Inos and leaped back with a yell, reaching for his sword. Then he stood and gaped all around in bewilderment while his companions demanded to know what was wrong and he could not remember. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once, and Azak was still screaming.
Furkar had arrived, but he was standing back and watching with a cruel sneer, making no move to assist.
Inos made a fast grab for a dagger tucked in a guard’s sash. As she made contact, he caught a momentary glimpse of the intruders and in turn made a grab for her. She stabbed at his hand; he fell back, yelling in terror. She swung around and slit the fabric with one long slashing stroke.
Rap yelped gleefully and pushed her out through the gap. She caught her foot and pitched headlong, remembering just in time to throw the dagger away lest she fall on it. In consequence she crashed heavily onto the grass, wrenching her swollen shoulder. Pain flashed like red flame, driving every other thought from her mind. Icy panic followed. She had escaped from Azak’s tent, and Azak was injured, and what on earth was she going to do now? The hue and cry was in full spate already. There were tens of thousands of men all around her and they would all be hunting her. Yells from inside the tent told her that the gaping rent had been noticed.
Then strong hands grasped her to help her up and she remembered that Rap was here, also. Oh, good!
Rap set off at a run, dragging her through a darkness full of trees. She stumbled barefoot over the rough and prickly ground. Her garments were nothing to keep out the cold of the night, and the undergrowth seemed determined to strip even those from her. The camp was in an uproar, men running everywhere, and the only light came from the stars and the camp-fires.
“Had a pony,” Rap shouted. “Can’t get to it. Can hear horses over here somewhere.” He was swinging the rapier like a cane, striking men out of his way like weeds and leaving a trail of near hysteria. He was also blundering through a multitude of branches and shrubs, cursing continuously. Gauze tugged and ripped as she followed.
“You can’t see?” Inos said. “Can you do something about my shoulder? Why don’t you just zap us out of here?”
He did not seem to hear her, but in a moment he came to a halt and lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.
“Have you still got the dagger?”
“No.” She was panting. She was too old for this wild adventuring.
“Then hang on to me. Don’t want you to get lost.”
In the dark her fingers fumbled at his neck. She felt the prickly coldness of the emerald baldric. A fortune in itself, it was also the title deed to one of the richest states in Zark, and Azak had redefined it as the symbol of the caliphate. As loot, it was a fair start for a career in theft. She felt she had earned it, though. Her feet were slashed to ribbons and her shoulder was lashing her with sickening waves of pain.
What was Rap doing? He was bent over something, muttering angrily.
“Can’t you see?” she asked again, shivering as her sweaty skin cooled.
“No. Daren’t use sorcery.”
“By the Powers! What have you been doing all night, then?”
“That’s different. Not me.”
What was the use of having a sorcerer for a husband if he couldn’t even see in the dark? Then the huge dark shape right in front of her uttered an ear-splitting whinny and she realized that Rap was fumbling with the tether.
“Got it!” he said. “Up!” He lifted her onto the horse’s back. Hooves clumped the pebbles. He tried to scramble up after her and almost pulled her off.
“Who’s there?” demanded a harsh voice close by.
“No one,” Rap said. “Umph!” He was aboard. “Lie flat!”
Either he used occult mastery on the horse, or else his faun gift for animals was enough by itself. The beast took off through the night like an arrow, as if the Evil itself were after it, hooves thumping up the valley. Inos sprawled forward, head alongs
ide its neck, clutching its mane with both hands and trying to favor her bad arm. Rap was on top of her, crushing her, clinging madly. Half the jeweled sash was between them, and with every bounce his weight drove it into her back. Branches caught in her hair and slashed at her legs. It was the wildest ride she had ever known; wilder even than the time she had demonstrated her riding skills for Azak and the princes, long ago in Arakkaran. Time and again she thought they were both about to slide off and crash to the ground. Time and again their steed stumbled and recovered, whinnying with terror. Whatever Azak had been planning for her could hardly have been worse than this.
Fires rushed by. Men were shouting everywhere, and camels roaring. The horse could not understand that it was invisible and silent — it was past caring anyway. Unsuspecting soldiers were smashed aside like puffballs as it thundered through the camp. Then the woods were dark and deserted. The exhausted mount began to slow.
With no warning the trees ended, the slope reversed, and the horse clattered and slithered down a shingled incline. It came to a shivering halt.
Rap straightened. Inos straightened. She felt as if she had been dragged behind on a rope, the whole way. Her shins and feet had been whipped raw. Overhead whirled the stars, and before her — more stars. For a bewildering moment she thought the world ended there, until she realized that they stood on the verge of a huge dark lake, reflecting the sky.
Rap slid to the ground and helped her down and held her. She would have fallen without that support.
“All right?”
“No, I am not all right!”
“Fussy! Never satisfied. What’s bothering you now?”
“Let’s start with my jewel-encrusted spine.”
He chuckled and hugged her tighter, even as he applied sorcery. Her pains eased and were gone. She sensed her tattered veils solidifying into warmer, more modest wear, soft wool. Shoes clutched her feet. Relief! Wonderful, wonderful sorcery!
She clung to him, hearts beating together. “Oh, Rap! Lad, I have never been so glad to see anyone as I was to see you tonight.”
“I should hope not!”