Falon laughed. “Can’t imagine why he doubted your powers.”
“Had me thrown right out of the city.”
“Well,” Falon said quietly, “if I’m your ‘pass’ in, Caissir, I want perfect behavior ... at least till we’re inside.”
Krirr and his fellow merchants were cleared to enter, and the guards Signaled Falon to approach. He looked at the grim-faced guards.
Though not armored, the guards wore flat dark blue uniforms and headgear that made their puffy, dull faces anything but inviting.
“Papers!” One of them barked.
Falon smiled, even as Ashre clutched his hand tight. “I bring a message for Lord Rhow, sent from the North by Plano, once counselor to the lord. These two are traveling with me.” He gestured at Caissir and Ashre.
The guard looked at him, then signaled to another, standing by a small wooden table. This new guard ambled over, a big fellow, Falon thought. He towered over all the other guards.
“You have ... a message ... for Lord Rhow?” Falon nodded. He could hear Caissir’s labored breathing.
“And just where is this message?”
Ashre gave a tug on his hand ... urging him to pull away.
“In this cape, given to me by—”
But he never had .a chance to finish his sentence. The oversize guard backed up and then, from just inside the massive wall, four soldiers dressed in a black material, with gleaming swords held in front of them, came out to Falon. They took his cape and expertly stripped them of their weapons.
“These personal soldiers of Lord Rhow will conduct you to his estate,” the large guard announced.
But the swords were pointed directly at Falon’s back, and at Ashre and Caissir.
Not the welcome Falon had expected at all. What happened to the swift trip to the lord’s castle, maybe a sumptuous dinner ... the rest of his gold, and then chance for a new life at Tizare?
All of a sudden he felt trapped.
“I tried to tell you,” Ashre said quietly.
Sure you did, kit ... sure….
He gave Ashre’s hand a squeeze.
“Move,” one of Rhow’s soldiers growled “To the left.”
“Perhaps you’d like to leave the group, eh, Caissir?”
“No talking,” another soldier ordered. Then he stuck the tip of his sword at the base of Falon’s back, just above the tail.
Normally such rudeness called for a challenge—a duel—
And you’d do so well with them, eh, Falon?... You just have a bit of trouble keeping from striking first. Just a bit too eager to lash out without thinking....
“I’m moving,” he answered dully.
He squeezed Ashre’s hand tight.
And together they marveled at the streets of Tizare as they were marched, at sword-point, to Lord Rhow.
Except that they weren’t taken directly to Lord Rhow.
No, they made their way through the narrow side streets of the city, past merchants and shops offering things of which Falon didn’t even know the purpose, let alone the names.
But even more than the shops; Falon was struck dumb by some of the more unusual ‘services’ offered. One alleyway offered a gallery of females on one side, and males on the other—all offering variations on the very act that Falon used to enjoy so much when he lived in the village,
Lately he had been subsisting on mere memories.
In fact, he had to admit, if he wasn’t engaged in a forced march he might have been tempted to linger along this exotic row.
It was Caissir who told him that a fee was required for any such pleasuring.
“No!” he said. “You are fooling me!”
It was Caissir’s turn to smile. “Maybe such sport is free where you come from, Falon, but here it’s merely one more item of merchandise to be bought or sold.”
Falon couldn’t believe it.
“But how do those females restrain themselves ... I mean, from their natural inclinations?”
Caissir laughed. “The power of the gold piece, my friend. It can move—”
“Quiet,” one of the guards ordered. He gave Falon another jab at the base of his spine, and Falon turned and looked at the guard.
The guard wore heavy throat armor, and his peaked helmet covered much of his face.
But he saw enough. And he held his glance a second, letting him know that he’d remember.
The highlanders had an expression: Till another time.
If there was another time.
They left the provocative alleyway, and crossed a courtyard lined with noisy inns and restaurants. Some offered tables just outside, and Falon found that he and his companions were providing a show for the patrons.
“I could leave,” Ashre said quietly.
Falon looked down at him. While still walking, they could talk. The hubbub was much too loud for them to be heard. “I could run—get away—” Ashre went on.
It might not be a bad idea, Falon thought. After all, he didn’t know what kind of mess he had gotten the kit into. Considering his diverse skills and prowess, Ashre would probably do just fine in the great city of Tizare.
“No,” he said. “Let’s see what’s in store for us. I’ve done the task assigned me, and I expect that this will all turn out all right.”
“And I hope to the All-Mother that you’re right,” Caissir said, leaning close to him.
They left the courtyard, and went down a street of stark, gray-stone buildings. There were heavy metal gates at the doorways, and the only sound was their march-like steps. The street widened, before ending at a plaza. A few trees girded by strings of flowering plants blocked a clear view of what was ahead. But Falon saw enough to know that they had reached their destination.
The guards walked them around the small park, and right up to the impressive entrance to Lord Rhow’s home.
It was a fortress. And it was a city within the city. It had its own wall, its own gate, its own army—who looked even more impressive than the soldiers of Tizare—and an absolutely beautiful castle. There were dozens of spires, one rising from another, higher and higher until Falon knew that it must be the highest structure in Tizare.
It all looked very festive, as if a great party was in progress.
But the guards escorted them through the entrance, with perfunctory nod to the soldiers who opened the heavy metal gate. And, just as quickly, they took them around to the back of the castle.
Fewer lights ... less inviting.
The gates clanged shut behind them.
“Sorry, Ashre ... I may have been wrong.”
“Me, too. I should have let that Rar chew my tail up.” Another jab brought silence to Falon and his company.
Not good, he thought. Though the mountains were cold and lonely, they offered a sense of security and routine. This adventure was beginning to look like a bad decision.
It grew even darker before he could see a small grid of light. There was a door, of sorts. Someone opened it up, with great creaking and squealing, at the sound of the guards’ approach.
The smell that greeted him was incredible.
Like herd-beast offal, or the carcass of a dead mynt that had been lying in the sun too long.
“I think that you have the wrong idea,” Falon said, attempting to stop the party on the first of what he imagined were many steps down. He turned to the guards. “Fact is, I have a very important message for your lord. So important that he will be most distressed to discover your rude treatment of us.”
He thought he heard one of the guards snicker. That was before one of them kicked him just above the kneecap and he went tumbling down the first four steps.
“They’re all yours,” the guards said, laughing.
Falon looked up to see his new keeper.
He looked like a new species of mrem. About twice as
big, with a head like the biggest grabble from the fall harvest. Even in the murky light the ugly fellow’s teeth gleamed, and they looked as though they had been neatly filed.
“Get up!” the monster barked, giving Falon a solid kick to the head.
Another one for my list, Falon thought feebly. Though maybe this brute should be left till I have my own army.
Ashre had rushed to him, quickly raising his head off the damp stone.
“Get up,” the keeper barked again. “Or this time I’ll smash the kit.”
Falon got to his knees, then stood up ... dwarfed by the creature.
“Welcome to Lord Rhow’s dungeon!” His laugh echoed, down, down, who knew, Falon thought, how far down.
•
“What—is this?” he asked.
Caissir snorted. “It’s called a cell.”
“I know, but why have they locked us up?”
It was dismal here, worse even than the mountains during the cold season. A hole in the corner; a tray of water ... on the ground! Other prisoners were moaning out of boredom or agony, or just from habit.
“Ashre ... are you all right?”
They had put the kit in his own cell. Falon had expected the kit to complain, to fight to keep them together. But he went along rather complacently.
“Sure,” he answered. “I’m just hungry.”
“I’ll second that,” Caissir said.
Falon went to the bars. They were chunky, heavy things that didn’t even allow him to fit his hand through them.
He could see through them, and the keys to the cells were hanging from a big spike, dozens of keys on a big, black ring.
“So close ...” he said quietly. It was, he figured, time to stop relying on the good intentions of Lord Rhow.
He turned to face Caissir. The fat wizard, who so far had been miserly in his display of his magical abilities, was squatting in the corner, grooming himself.
“It occurs to me,” Falon said, “that you keep hoping that hooking up with me will help you. And it hasn’t quite turned out that way.”
“Tell me about it, Falon.” Caissir looked up at him, his full face seeming angry for the first time in their friendship. “You’ve been used, friend. Maybe you were sent as a threat to Rhow—some clever, ‘inside’ message. Whatever it was, you are expendable.”
Falon nodded.
Then, he heard something. A rattle. The slight shift of metal scraping against stone.
“What the—” Caissir started to stay.
Falon raised a hand.
More rattling and scraping, and then a great crash.
“The keys,” he hissed to Caissir.
Was the guard back so quickly ... perhaps with a nice tray of warm food?
Or, more likely, had the lord decided how he wanted to dispose of the interlopers?
But there were no footsteps! Just the eerie sound of the ring ... sliding across the floor.
He looked out of the cell.
And sure enough the key ring was inching its way across the floor, almost like some wounded rodent dragging a dozen legs behind it. Moving, sleepily, right towards Ashre’s cell.
He knew right away what was going on. Maybe, he thought, he even had suspected it. Back at the gate, when
Ashre seemed to know, really know, that something wasn’t quite right.
Poor kit, he thought. Probably didn’t know what to think about himself. A secret that he shared only with the herdbeasts.
The keys were almost at his cell.
“Ashre ...” he said quietly, looking for the word to reassure the kit that his secret was safe with him. “I—” Now he heard footsteps.
Caissir stood up, and came over beside him. “Who is it?” he asked. “Someone’s coming.”
“No fooling.” He watched the keys stop. “No more, Ashre. Wait till—”
The heavy wood door opened, and someone entered still hidden by the shadows and the thick bars. The newcomer stopped. Falon could see the boots. Someone bent down … and a delicate hand picked up the key ring—
So close to Ashre’s celli
Whoever it was kept the keys and walked over to Falon’s cell.
She was young, this late-night visitor to the dungeon. Young, with a light golden fur that glistened even in this dank place. Her nostrils were delicate, but her lips were full, sensuous.
She was the most beautiful mrem he had ever seen.
“You are Falon,” she said. He nodded. “And these two ... are your companions?”
“Only in my travels,” he offered.
She dangled the keys in front of the cell. “You are a magic user?”
He shook his head. Let the wizard take the blame for this one.
But she didn’t pursue the question. “I am Taline, and I’ve been sent to bring you to Lord Rhow.”
He heard Caissir let out his breath.
“We apologize for these ... measures. But treachery is everywhere. We choose to make no mistakes. Now that we have checked out the papers you have brought from Plano, Lord Rhow is ready to greet you.”
She found a key on the ring and opened the cell door. Then she let Ashre out. The young mrem ran to Falon’s side.
“My companions will come with me,” Falon said.
“Whatever ...” Taline said distractedly. “But we must hurry. Lord Rhow is not used to waiting.”
And I, Falon thought, am not used to dungeons.
But he said nothing, as he followed Taline out the door and up the massive stone steps.
SHE MOVED with the sleekness of a hunter around curving stone steps, then down dark halls that seemed to lead nowhere, until she led them to a small staircase that took them to the chambers of Lord Rhow himself.
All of a sudden the air smelled clean, with a hint of rich food and perfume. They were in a small anteroom, softly lit by candles on the wall. The two guards at the finely carved doors stood perfectly still, almost relaxed.
Taline stopped and turned to him.
“These two will have to wait here. At least until the lord is done questioning you.”
Falon turned back to Caissir and Ashre. “Go ahead,” Caissir said, waving his hand. He looked relieved to be out of the belly of Rhow’s dungeon. “I’ll keep Ashre occupied. This isn’t the first castle I’ve been invited to.”
“Very well,” Falon said. Taline’s eyes glistened in the soft yellow light. If she was a hunter, he wished that he could be her prey.
She opened the double doors, and led the way in. He followed, and a matching set of guards closed the door behind him.
The room was overwhelming in its beauty. The walls were a pure white, with a delicate pattern of filigree etched in gold. Paintings, all of them depicting great battles, lined the walls. There was a chair—more of a throne—and sitting upon it had to be Lord Rhow himself.
But it was a table to the side that caught his attention.
It was filled with the most incredible array of food: great slices of pink meat, a fowl bulging with a steamy stuffing that smelled irresistible, and piles of fruit, some unknown to him. Creamy cakes filled any open space left on the table.
Falon couldn’t help but inhale deeply.
“Hungry? Don’t worry. All of that,” Rhow indicated with a casual wave of his hand, “is for you.”
“My companions—”
“Yes, they will be able to eat their fill too.” He looked up, studying Falon for the first time. “After we’ve talked.”
Lord Rhow was something different from what he had imagined. He had expected some overstuffed noble, someone who enjoyed the fruits of his wealth without stirring too far from his own chambers, leading the wonderfully indolent life of the rich and the lazy.
The lord looked anything but indolent. Despite being well advanced in age, his body had the
suppleness of a young mrem. His eyes radiated an alertness that unsettled Falon. He felt exposed and defensive standing before this powerful figure.
“You found the message ... from Plano.”
Rhow laughed, and stood up, chuckling. He walked over to the table and poured two glasses of a purplish wine. He was still laughing gently when he brought the wine over to Falon.
“Yes, the message.” Rhow handed him a goblet, and clinked them together. “Here’s to the message.”
Falon took a sip. It was strong, almost bitter—not at all like the sweet wines made from the gradle berries. It made his tongue tingle.
Taline had moved next to Rhow’s chair.
Rhow came close to Falon, looked him in the eye.
“There was no message. We had to, er, detain you below until I could make sure you were who you said you were. All that you carried, actually, was a description of yourself. It didn’t, by the way, make any mention of traveling companions.”
“I met them on—”
Rhow raised a hand. “I’m sure they’re fine. Once I knew you were the same highlander sent by Plano, I had Taline bring you up quickly.”
He saw the lord glance at Taline. Were they lovers? She was certainly beautiful enough to be a noble’s consort. But her face revealed nothing.
“There was no message, Falon, because you were the message.” He made his way back to his chair.
“I don’t understand. ...”
“This is the beginning of the end—for the cities, for the highlanders, for all mrem. The way of life on our small planet is about to change forever. Either the Eastern Lords will succeed in their plans for conquest or we will slowly—and finally—wipe them out.”
“Excuse me, but I don’t understand. What you are saying may be true, but what does it have to do with me?”
“Heh, your highlander cousins ask much the same thing. The barbaric fools don’t see that the cities protect them, keep their families safe.”
Falon didn’t like the way Lord Rhow sneered at the mention of the highlanders. But then, the highlanders sneered at the dandies that lived in the clutter and filth of the cities. It all balanced out.
“Trust is a rare commodity in Tizare, Falon. Outside of Taline, there are none I’d really trust in my whole court.”
EXILED Wizard of Tizare Page 12