The Ninth Talisman

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “I would,” Sword said, “except that word would get back to the Wizard Lord, wouldn’t it? I don’t think that would be . . .”

  “I can take care of that,” the Leader interrupted.

  Sword looked at her. “You can?”

  “Yes. My magic. I can make sure nobody remembers talking to us, or sees any reason to mention it to anyone.”

  “Oh. Oh, yes. Farash mentioned that last summer,” Sword said.

  Boss suddenly went very still. “Farash? Farash inith Kerra das Bik abba Terrul? The Old Boss? You spoke to him?”

  “Yes,” Sword said, startled by her reaction. “We spoke last year, and he said that he’d been able to do that when he was the Leader, make people forget things.”

  “Did he? And you spoke to him about this last year, not when you were fighting the Dark Lord of the Galbek Hills?”

  “Yes, when I came to see the Wizard Lord,” Sword said, still puzzled.

  “He was here? In Winterhome?”

  “Yes, of course,” Sword said. “He’s the Wizard Lord’s chief advisor. He was in the Winter Palace when I first came here, and went up to the Summer Palace with the rest of the court. I assume he’s up there now.”

  “He . . .” The Leader was trembling; Sword stared at her in amazement. “Chief advisor?” she demanded. “Farash inith Kerra is the Wizard Lord’s chief advisor?”

  “Yes. The Wizard Lord thought his experience as the Leader might be useful. Boss, how do you know . . . ”

  “Do you know,” she said, cutting Sword off, “what he did?”

  Sword blinked. “I know several things he did,” he said, dropping any pretense of ignorance. “Which one do you know about?”

  “I’m from Doublefall,” Boss said through gritted teeth. “Do you know what he did there?”

  “Some of it,” Sword said, comprehension slowly dawning. He glanced around at the other Chosen, who clearly had no idea what he and Boss were talking about. “The palace, the harem, and so on. I never saw it, just heard about it.”

  “I lived it,” Boss said, clearly struggling not to shout. “I was in his harem. He took me from my parents when I was fourteen, and none of us saw anything wrong with that! We thought it was an honor!”

  Sword stared at her in astonished horror. “But. . . but then why would he . . . why did he choose you . . . ?”

  “He thought it was funny,” Boss shouted, giving up the struggle. “He thought it was just hysterically funny, choosing the smallest, youngest, weakest girl in his harem to be the next Leader of the Chosen. It was a little bit of revenge on you, Sword, and Beauty and Bow and Babble and Lore, giving you the most useless and ineffectual person he could find as your new Boss!”

  “But you aren’t ineffectual,” the Seer protested.

  Boss whirled to face her. “You’re right, Azir, I’m not! I swore I wouldn’t be. I swore that I’d prove him wrong, that I’d be the best Chosen Leader ever, to get my little bit of vengeance for what he did to me!”

  For a moment everyone sat or stood in stunned silence; then Boss swallowed and forced herself into the appearance of calm.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s no need for me to shout.”

  “Shout if you like,” Beauty said. “But I don’t understand what this is about. Old Boss had a harem?”

  “Yes,” Boss said.

  “And you knew about it?” Snatcher asked Sword.

  “Yes,” Sword admitted. “That’s why I insisted he give up his role as Leader of the Chosen. He’d used his magic to enslave the entire town of Doublefall.”

  “Not just enslave,” Boss said bitterly. “We weren’t just slaves. We all loved him. We adored him. We thought we were doing everything to please him because we wanted to. He persuaded us, with his magic, that catering to his every whim, no matter how sordid or perverse, was natural and right. I spent months stark naked, begging to be his plaything. When he went off to meet with the Chosen I wept that I couldn’t go with him.”

  “I had no idea,” Beauty said quietly. “His magic could do that?”

  “It hardly seemed as if he had any magic,” Bow said.

  “He was hiding it,” Sword said. “I think most of us might have more powerful magic than we realize.”

  “Why would he hide it?” Bow asked.

  “You think he wanted any of us to know what he’d done to Doublefall?” Sword asked. “Remember, we’re immune to it—he couldn’t make us think it was a good thing that he’d taken over a town.”

  “How did you find out?” Boss demanded.

  “He told me, in the Dark Lord’s tower,” Sword said. “He offered to let me share it. I refused.” He considered, for a moment, whether or not he should reveal the whole truth, that Farash had betrayed the Chosen entirely.

  As yet, it did not seem necessary to go that far.

  “You refused,” Boss said, staring at him. “But you didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

  “No.” Sword thought he was going to say more, that he would explain that he hadn’t known Farash could hide the truth, that he had been drained and weary after killing the Dark Lord, but then he stopped.

  He hadn’t said anything. The reasons didn’t really matter.

  “Sword made him give up his talisman,” Beauty said. “None of us knew why; we thought it was very strange.”

  “He made the Thief and the Seer give up theirs, as well,” Bow pointed out. “They didn’t enslave anyone, did they?” He glanced at Sword. “Did they?”

  Sword shook his head.

  “No,” Beauty said. “But we knew how they had failed us. We never knew what Old Boss had done in the tower.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone,” Boss repeated. “And you let him live.”

  “I don’t like killing,” Sword said. “I’d had my fill, killing the Dark Lord.”

  “You’re the Swordsman; killing is your job.”

  “My job is to defend Barokan from Dark Lords. Killing anyone else isn’t my responsibility.”

  “But you could have told someone!”

  “Yes, I could,” Sword agreed. “I probably should have—but I didn’t know he could hide it. I didn’t know he could erase memories. I hadn’t realized how much we didn’t know about his magic. And who would I tell? The Council of Immortals didn’t care; they ignored everything I told them. The other Chosen were tired and just wanted to go home. I was tired and just wanted to go home. Who would I tell? The new Wizard Lord couldn’t harm him; he was the Chosen Leader, and the Wizard Lord is forbidden to harm the Chosen. Really, who could I have told? I thought the truth would come out soon enough, and the people of Doublefall would deal with him. I didn’t know until last summer that he’d been able to conceal what he’d done.”

  “How did he conceal it?” Snatcher asked. “I don’t understand that part.”

  “Oh, that was easy,” Boss said. “While he still had his magic, before he told the wizards he’d found his replacement, he simply told everyone in Doublefall to forget anything he’d ever done wrong, to remember only the good things he’d done. He told them his palace was the village meeting hall and the temple of the town’s ler, that he had lived humbly there among us. It worked; we all believed it. We remembered that he’d lived there, that we had made him comfortable, but all the details were just gone. I couldn’t remember what he’d done to me any more than I can remember suckling at my mother’s breast.”

  “But you remember it now,” Snatcher said.

  “Oh, yes. Oh, yes! Because he chose me as his successor, and the wizards came, and the ritual was performed, and I became the new Leader, and then of course I was immune to the magic of the Chosen, including his magic. My memory came back, all of it, the moment my talisman came alive. I remembered the feel of his hands on me, and how he’d laughed at the joke of making a little girl the new Leader, and how I’d stood naked before him displaying myself as if I were a merchant showing her wares, and how he had made my father give me away as if I were a bit of bread handed t
o a hungry guest, and the pain I felt when he used me but that I wouldn’t admit I’d felt, even to myself. I remembered all of it.”

  The Seer whimpered. Sword glanced at her, then quickly looked away, embarrassed—she had her eyes tightly closed, with tears leaking out. She obviously understood all too well what Boss was talking about.

  It suddenly struck him as very odd that two of the new Chosen were abused young women, but one had been selected in an act of kindness, to save her from a horrible death, and the other had been picked in an act of cruelty and petty revenge. How could such opposite motives lead to such similar results?

  “But by the time I recovered from the transferral,” Boss continued, “by the time I could walk and see and talk again, he was gone, and he never came back to Doublefall.”

  “Could you have reversed his magic?” Beauty asked. “Could you have made everyone remember, as you did?”

  “Probably,” Boss said. “But why should I? What good would it do? They’re happy; why make them remember all the pain and humiliation?” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t make anyone else remember anything. I left Doublefall instead, and I haven’t been back since. I couldn’t stand being among my own people, watching them smile fondly at their memories of that lying monster, and think of his rule as the best years of their lives. That’s why I was wandering along the coast, heading ever farther away from Doublefall.” She shook her head. “I have no home anymore.”

  “I wonder whether he knew you would remember,” Sword said. “I don’t think he did, or he wouldn’t have done it. It can’t benefit him to have someone who hates him be the Leader of the Chosen.”

  “I don’t care whether he knew it,” Boss replied. “I want him to pay for what he did to my town, and you, Sword, you let him get away with it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sword said. “I didn’t know.”

  “And now he’s the Wizard Lord’s chief advisor, and you let him do that? You still didn’t tell anyone?”

  “I told the Wizard Lord,” Sword said quietly. “Last year.”

  For a moment the room was silent as everyone absorbed that.

  “And Old Boss is still his chief advisor?” Beauty asked.

  Sword nodded.

  “Suddenly I like this Wizard Lord much less than I thought,” Snatcher said.

  “Farash claims to be trying to atone for what he did,” Sword said.

  “Do you believe him?” Boss demanded.

  “No,” Sword said. “But I’m not certain enough of my disbelief to condemn him. He asked me to keep his secrets, but made no threats or offers. I thought the Wizard Lord needed to know, so I told him, and I told Lore, as part of a private conversation, but otherwise I have said nothing until now. I’ve been giving Old Boss his chance to redeem himself—but only one chance.”

  “Well, what harm can he do now, with no magic?” Bow asked.

  “He has the Wizard Lord’s ear,” Boss said. “That may be magic enough.”

  “Do you think he was the one who suggested killing the wizards?” Beauty asked.

  “I don’t know whether anyone needed to suggest that,” Boss said. “I don’t even know whether it happened, whether any wizards are really dead. That’s what we intend to find out. Tomorrow I’ll talk to some of the soldiers in the Winter Palace about it.”

  “Just you?” Sword asked.

  “No, now that you mention it, you’re coming with me,” she replied. “Another set of ears, another person thinking of questions to ask, and someone to watch my back. Someone who knows Old Boss and Lore and the Wizard Lord. Not to mention that having a man along will make it less likely that anyone will take me for a whore come to service the soldiers. Will that suit you, then?”

  “Completely,” Sword said.

  “Good.” She rose, brushing a bit of fireplace ash from her skirt. “And tonight you’ll write that letter to Lore, and tomorrow we’ll get that on its way up the cliff. For now I think it’s time we all had some supper. Beauty, whose help do you need?”

  And with that, the meeting broke up.

  [ 19 ]

  Sword and the Seer had been sitting by the hearth trading jokes when Boss returned from sending a messenger up to the Summer Palace. They had begun simply by exchanging greetings, but when Sword called her “Seer” instead of “Azir” she had replied with a sarcastic retort, he had responded in kind, and they had quickly found themselves laughing and telling jokes.

  When the door opened to admit Boss and a curl of morning mist they fell silent and turned to look at her.

  “Your letter’s on its way to the Summer Palace,” Boss said. “Which means, Sword, that it’s time for us to go talk to a few soldiers.”

  Sword nodded, and rose. He took the Seer’s hand for a moment and said, “It’s been a delightful start to the morning, Azir shi Azir.”

  She seemed startled, and only managed a whispered, “Yes,” before Boss took Sword’s arm and led him away.

  A moment later Boss and Sword were strolling south down the street, trying to look like an ordinary pair of Host People; Boss wore the billowing, all-encompassing black robe and scarf, while Sword wore black tunic and trousers, with snug garters at wrist and ankle. The sun was still at least an hour short of topping the cliffs, and Winterhome lay in deep shadow, but the sky overhead and to the west was bright blue strewn with wisps of white cloud.

  The plaza was already crowded, despite the morning gloom; merchants were setting up their displays, opening out doors and unfolding tables from their wagons. Early customers were strolling about, looking at the goods offered, but few were buying yet; the time to spend their money, or trade their own goods and services for what they needed, would come later. Sword and Boss made their way through without stopping, but without visibly rushing, either.

  There were guards at the doors of the Winter Palace, as always—though since the Wizard Lord wasn’t there, Sword was not entirely sure why. Today only one guard stood by each door, while there were usually two when the Wizard Lord was there, so at least there was some acknowledgment of his absence.

  Together, the two Chosen ambled casually up to the nearest guard. They stood silently beside him for a moment, until they were certain he had seen them and decided they were harmless. Then Boss said, “So is it a good life, being one of the Wizard Lord’s soldiers?”

  The soldier glanced at her. “It’s all right,” he said.

  “My brother was thinking about joining up,” Boss said.

  The guard looked at Sword, and Boss snorted. “Not him,” she said. “Look at the size of him! You think a tiny thing like me would have a brother that big? No, he’s a friend; my brother’s back home.”

  The guard’s mouth quirked into a half-smile; he glanced at Sword, then turned his attention back to Boss. “He’s a big fellow, yeah. Your brother isn’t?”

  “Midway between us, I’d say.”

  “Well, size helps if he wants to join the guards, but he doesn’t need to be as big as your friend here.”

  “I’ve seen that some of the guards aren’t all that big,” Boss agreed. “You aren’t as big as Erren, after all. My brother’s almost your height, not as broad in the shoulders.”

  “Should be big enough, then.”

  “Good. So what’s it like, being a soldier?”

  The guard shrugged. “It’s not bad. We eat regularly, the food’s pretty good, the pay is less than I might like but I get by.”

  “Is it exciting?”

  He snorted. “No,” he said. “I mostly just get to stand around all day looking dangerous.”

  “Oh, but you soldiers go other places, I’ve seen you!”

  “Well, some do,” the guard said, “but I’m not one of them. I’ve been stationed right here in Winterhome ever since I finished my training.”

  “Really? I’m sure I saw a group of soldiers marching somewhere—at least a dozen of them. I wondered where they were going; some of them had bows and spears, but they weren’t just hunting, were they?”r />
  “I don’t know anything about that, I’m afraid.”

  “Is there someone here who does? Because I was very curious about it.”

  “I’m sorry, but I . . . ” He stopped.

  Sword felt something, though he couldn’t have said what, or where he felt it. It was something immaterial, something numinous.

  Ler. He knew he was sensing ler doing something.

  The Leader’s magic, he realized.

  “I’d really like to know,” Boss said, in a tone like nothing Sword had heard from her before, a rich but somehow demanding voice that reminded him slightly of the Beauty’s. “Surely, you can find me someone who might know more?”

  To him, as the Chosen Swordsman, her voice was attractive, slightly compelling, but hardly irresistible. To the guard it was obviously far more.

  “I’m forbidden to leave my post,” he said, “but I can fetch the sergeant of the guard; perhaps he can tell you more.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  “Hold on.” With that, the guard turned, opened the door he was guarding, and called inside, “Sir! There’s someone here you need to speak with!”

  He and the two Chosen waited, and a moment later another guard appeared. “Yes?” he said.

  “We had a question or two about the guard’s actions,” Boss said.

  “Oh?” The sergeant glanced at the door guard, obviously wondering why this pair had been deemed worthy of his attention.

  “If we could come in and speak to you for a moment?” Sword said. He had observed that people were beginning to notice their conversation, and preferred to take it out of the public eye.

  The sergeant looked at the door guard, who half-nodded, half-shrugged.

  “All right,” the sergeant said. “Come into the wardroom, then.” He beckoned.

  A minute later the three of them were seated around a small table in a small room, lit by a single small window. A rack of spears hung on one wall.

  “Now,” said the sergeant, “what’s this about?”

  “We saw a group of soldiers marching out into the southern hills,” Boss said, her voice more or less returned to normal. “We wanted to know what they were doing.”