by K. B. Bogen
“I was beginning to wonder where they kept them,” Erwyn commented. “From the description I was given, I almost expected them to be kept in cages.”
“They probably are, when they’re not working.” Devydd replied seriously. “Say, kid, are we going to just stand here dripping, or are we going to get out of this pit?” He eyed the river wistfully.
Looking down at his legs, now knee-deep in slime, Erwyn commented, “Lords, I could use a bath.” But he wasn’t sure it was a smart idea to try with the women so close.
Especially since at least a few of them had ventured that far up river at some point in time. The sewer opening was partially blocked by a very carefully constructed dam of stones and mud. The same sort of stones the women were using to do their laundry.
“What’s the point of building a dam, when you’ve got a filter spell to clean the water and a garbage pixie to handle everything else?”
There was a loud splash ahead of him, and Erwyn realized he had been talking to the air. Forgetting about the dam, he plunged into the water after the young thief. Together, they swam a short way upstream and around a bend in the river.
It felt so good to get completely clean again! He had never particularly liked water for the purpose of drinking, but his experience in the sewer gave him a new appreciation of water as a beverage. He rinsed his mouth, then gulped some of the cool liquid.
Finally, Erwyn stood in a shallow spot in the river, letting the water flow past him. After removing his cloak and tunic, he washed them carefully. Then, barefoot, wearing only his trousers, he dug his toes into the soft sand. It was wonderful, reminding him of the springs back home.
Not far away, Devydd had washed himself and the remains of his clothing. Now he sat in the shallows, just staring up into the sky, watching puffs of clouds float past.
“How long were you locked up in there?” Erwyn asked as he waded closer.
“Five, maybe six weeks.”
Strange. Erwyn had gotten the impression from the Marlians that their thief had been holed up in Perbellum for only a few days. Maybe he was wrong. Then again ...
Shouts sounded from downstream. Angry shouts. And they were getting closer.
Erwyn ran onto the sand, with Devydd close behind. He looked around for somewhere to hide. He was out of luck. A screen of brush protected them from being sighted immediately, but there was nothing which would serve for a hiding place. And no place to run.
Finally, their pursuers stormed through the bushes. Fifteen or twenty of them. And all of them very, very angry
Escaping’s a Drag
No Apron Strings Attached
“WHEN LEAVING THE AREA, BE SURE YOU’VE REMEMBERED TO PACK EVERYTHING YOU BROUGHT.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Four: On How to Have a Safe Trip
“What do you mean by polluting our river?” The first woman was taller than Erwyn, and weighed more than he and Devydd together. “Why the hell do you think we blocked off that damn sewer, anyway?”
“I was wondering that, myself.” Erwyn backed up a little, just to be on the safe side. “Especially since you’ve got a filter spell at the end of the tunnels.”
“True. But ever since the menfolk pissed off Carruthers, the garbage pixie, we’ve had to take extra precautions.”
“They’re not from ‘bellum, Mommy.” That was from a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old, as she peeked out from behind the large woman’s apron. She had big blue eyes, curly red hair, and a dirty finger in her mouth.
“No, we’re not.” Erwyn smiled. He had forgotten little girls could be cute. Even when they were dirty and wearing crude gray shifts, instead of silks and satins.
“Where you boys from?” A thin older woman with three youngsters clinging to her stepped out of the crowd.
“I’m from the kingdom of Veridan, milady.” Erwyn gave the woman a slight bow. “It’s across the mountains, to the east.”
A loud murmur rose from the group. For a moment, Erwyn was worried. Then the large woman spoke again.
“You don’t talk as though you come from around here. No man would talk like that to a woman, if he lived around here. Not these days.” She made a curse of the word “man,” just like Kerissa’s crew.
“I’d heard how the men here treat their women, but I didn’t really believe it. I mean,” Erwyn paused, “well, women are people, too.”
Several of the younger women were watching him. And Devydd. Erwyn suddenly became aware of how he was dressed. Or, rather, not dressed.
“They don’t look much like the men from around here, either. They’re clean.”
“Uh, yeah.” Erwyn felt himself blushing. “That’s how we got your river dirty. We were bathing.”
“Where’d you come from, that you got that dirty?”
“Well ... ” Erwyn looked toward Devydd.
“You’re doing fine, kid. Keep it up.”
The thief wasn’t much help. He sounded like Chesric. The same rousing, but completely ineffective, pep talks.
“We sort of escaped from your jail.” Erwyn backed up a little more, preparing to run, if necessary.
“You escaped? How?”
“We, uh, jumped into the sewer and just floated out of town.”
For a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then ...
“What are you laughing at?”
She wasn’t the only one. It made Erwyn a little nervous, after the incident at the sandcastle when he’d nearly broiled Chesric. But, fortunately, nothing happened.
“I wish I’d been there to see their faces. Their precious, impregnable, escape-proof jail. Phamstall must have been livid.”
“Phamstall? That’s the Lord-Mayor, right?”
“Right. Lord-Mayor, Chief Judge, Executioner, and Head Slimeball. He’s also my husband.”
“Your husband!”
“Yeah. Disgusting, isn’t it?”
“How do you stand it? Why do you stay?”
“Where would we go? Perbellum is our home.”
“But the men here treat you like property, at least that’s what I’ve been told. The streets are as bad as the sewers. Worse, maybe. The houses are decrepit. And the men are pigs. No offense intended.”
“None taken.”
“But you’re all clean and fairly neat. Sure, you don’t wear fancy clothes and jewelry, but you seem to have some pride in your appearance. I don’t understand. What’s the deal?”
“We don’t know,” she replied, sadly.
“You don’t ... ?” Erwyn paused, confused. He seemed to get that way a lot these days.
“That’s right. It hasn’t been that way long. Only for two or three months. Every male over seven years of age. Poof! Instant slob. Started treating us like doormats. So, we moved outside the wall next to the river. Built ourselves some huts downstream of here to wait and see what would develop.”
“It was right after that she-devil come a-visiting,” put in an old woman in a ragged brown shawl.
“What she-devil?” Erwyn had a bad feeling about this.
“Her name was Sharilan.”
“Sharilan? What was she ...?”
“They’re coming! They’re coming upstream!” A young girl came running around the bend past the screen of bushes. She was out of breath and her ill-fitting dress had slid halfway down her shoulders. The large woman turned to her.
“You mean the men are coming?” The girl nodded. “Well, it took them long enough to figure it out.” The woman turned to Erwyn. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“You’ll help us? Why?”
“Can’t help frustrating that man of mine! It helps pass the time.”
“But you don’t even know us.”
She stuck her hand out. “Hi, my name is Lucilla. What’s yours?”
“Uh, I’m Erwyn and that’s
Devydd.”
“Okay, now we’ve been introduced. Let’s get moving.”
“But ... but won’t this get you into trouble?”
“Nothing we can’t handle, boy. Here, put this on.”
“But this is a dress!”
“Very good. Best place to hide is in plain sight. They’ll never think to look for you there.”
“But ... !”
“Shut up, quit arguing, and get dressed! You haven’t much time.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The women made a protective circle around Erwyn and Devydd as they hurriedly donned the dresses. Someone produced a pair of scarves and tied them in place to hide the boys’ hair. Or lack thereof. Then two wicker baskets appeared in front of them and they plopped their wet clothing inside.
Once more, they heard angry shouting from around the bend in the river. Only this time the voices were pitched lower.
“All right, woman, where are they?” Phamstall was in the lead. He stalked up to his wife, glowering.
“Where are who?” How a woman as large as Lucilla could look girlish and innocent was beyond Erwyn. But somehow she managed. “Whatever do you mean, husband?” She turned to the knot of women. “You girls go on upriver. I’ll take care of this.”
Protected by their living female fence, Erwyn and Devydd headed upstream. Behind them, Phamstall and Lucilla launched into a loud argument about everything from escaped captives to the weather.
It wasn’t too long before they would turn the corner of the city wall and be out of sight. They almost made it, too, but Devydd stopped suddenly.
“Uh-oh.”
“I hate it when you say that! What now?”
“I think I left my belt back there.”
“You left what?”
“My sword belt, the one for my ... ”
“You must be kidding ... I can’t believe you ... oh, hell!” Erwyn cast a furtive glance behind them. “Hurry up. Maybe we can make it around the corner before ... ”
Too late. “There they are!” They’d been spotted.
“Run!” Without stopping to see if Devydd had listened, Erwyn hitched up his skirts and ran.
The wall rambled approximately eastward, but not particularly straight. Erwyn occasionally caught an enticing glimpse of the valley which spread out in front of the gates. Fortunately, this stretch of wall wasn’t very long, and the young sorcerer soon reached the end of it.
Not for the first time during his travels, Erwyn wished he had some form of transportation other than his feet. It would certainly make these fast getaways easier. Especially now.
Erwyn slowed to a walk. Before him stretched the fields through which he’d hiked only that morning. But now they seemed to go on forever. What had been only a morning stroll when he was relatively rested was now a real pain in the neck, as well as other parts of his anatomy.
“Come on, speed up. We’ve got to keep moving.” Devydd caught up with him. “You slow down, you die.”
“I ... ” Erwyn tried to catch his breath. “I don’t think I can make it. It’s too far.”
“Those wonderful ladies back there are doing their level best to delay their menfolk. Considering what their menfolk are like, I wouldn’t want to be in their place for anything. The least we can do is not be here when those menfolk finally get past them.”
“Sheesh! You would put it that way. I just wish there were some way to keep them from following us permanently.”
Erwyn took a couple of more breaths, then poured his last few ounces of energy into a mad dash across the field. His mind was racing nearly as fast as the rest of him. There must be some way to stop these guys, preferably without actually hurting them.
“INVESTING TOO MUCH ENERGY INTO A SPELL CAN HAVE DISASTROUS EFFECTS.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Six: On the Successful Use of Magic
There was a nice patch of sand back by the river, near the wall they’d just passed. What if he could manage to build a castle from that sand? Maybe the men of Perbellum would be more interested in the castle than the two escapees. Or maybe they’d fall into the hole it left.
He allowed himself a moment to fantasize about the scenario.
“Uh-oh!” Devydd stopped again.
“Stop saying that! Every time you say that, you stop moving.”
“Sorry, kid. But it looks like we’ve got more company.” He pointed to the top of the hill they were headed toward.
Erwyn looked. There was a flash of reflected sunlight. Swords probably. And armor. But who . . . ? Oh, yeah.
Without explaining, Erwyn raced up the hillside. Kerissa, Chesric, and Lariyn met them halfway. They were all on horseback. Chesric leaned down in his saddle to talk to Erwyn.
“What’s yer hurry?” Chesric was unruffled, as usual.
“All our troubles are behind us,” Erwyn managed between gasps, “and I’d like to keep them that way!”
“What are you talking about?” Kerissa looked across the valley.
“IT CAN ALSO PROVE FORTUITOUS, UPON OCCASION.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Six: On the Successful Use of Magic
Erwyn turned to stare in the direction they had just come. The valley was empty. Of people, anyway. The angry mob, which should have been behind them, wasn’t. There was, however, a very large hole in the field, just about the size of ... Erwyn gulped ... of that sandcastle at the top of the southernmost hill.
You Can Please Some of the People...
Mistaken Indemnity
“WHEN ENGAGING THE SERVICES OF A LOCAL EXPERT, IT IS ALWAYS WISE TO CHECK HIS CREDENTIALS.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Three: On People and Their Influence
“What’s the matter?” Chesric had dismounted and now stood with Erwyn as he stared across the valley.
“Nothing much. It’s just ... ” Erwyn shrugged. “That castle.
“What about it? You pulled it off right in the nick o’ time.”
“I’m just wondering how I did it.”
“You mean you didn’t do it on purpose?”
“Nope. And there’s something else, too.”
“What?”
“That hole. I think that’s where the sand came from.”
“That makes sense. What about it?”
“I never thought about it before. I mean, it never even occurred to me that it actually had to come from somewhere.” Erwyn turned to look at Chesric. “Makes you kind of wonder, doesn’t it?”
“’Bout what?” Chesric looked perplexed.
“Remember the snowstorm? Where’d the sand come from for that castle, huh? I mean, it would have left an awfully big hole. I sure hope no one fell into it.”
There was some satisfaction in seeing Chesric’s worried expression. But as the group left Perbellum, he couldn’t stop thinking about that hole.
If the sand had to exist somewhere, was it possible to control exactly where it originated? Erwyn didn’t know. He still had a long way to go before he learned to control where it went, much less where it came from.
He was still thinking about it when he ran right into Kerissa.
“All right, sorcerer’s apprentice, where’s that thief? You were sent to bring him back.”
“I’m not an apprentice. I’m a journeyman.”
“Just tell me where he is.” She placed her hand on the hilt of her dagger.
“He ... he’s right over there.” Erwyn nodded to where Devydd was in earnest conversation with one of Kerissa’s warriors. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, staring up at Kerissa.
“Don’t toy with me, sorcerer. That’s not the man I sent you into Perbellum after. Where is he?”
“It’s hard to talk effectively with a dagger at my throat.”
He glared at Kerissa. She moved the point back an inch or two, a major triumph as far as Erwyn was concer
ned.
“You sent me in to find a thief. He’s the only one I found. If he’s not the right one, it’s not my fault. It’s not like you gave me a description or anything!”
Kerissa seemed to consider for a moment, then she sheathed her knife.
“Follow me.” She walked over toward Devydd.
“Easy for you to say,” Erwyn muttered as he got slowly to his feet, dusting himself off and checking for additional bruises. He hurried to catch up with the Marlian captain.
Stopping only for a quick word with one of her women, Kerissa went directly up to Devydd. “So you’re the thief they had stashed in the Perbellum jail.”
Devydd stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open for a second before he answered. “That’s me. At your service.”
He bowed, once more flourishing his non-existent hat. He scanned her from head to ankles, evidently liking what he saw.
Erwyn felt a brief flare of jealousy, followed by confusion. Why should he be jealous?
Kerissa continued her inquiry. “Have you ever heard of the Marlian Tetraliad?”
“The Tetraliad?” Devydd was confused. “Yeah. I’ve heard about it. I, uh, spent some time in Senderlaan. It’s supposed to be fabulously beautiful and priceless. But I’ve also heard that it would require a wizard to get to it.” His eyes grew round with wonder. “You don’t want me to try to steal it, do you? That would be suicide.”
“You don’t have to. Someone already did.”
“Who? How? More to the point, why? He couldn’t sell it for the gold. And it would take a master magician to use it.”
“I don’t know. We traced him as far as Perbellum, but the good people of Perbellum wouldn’t let us near him. Our sorcerer friend here,” she waved a hand in Erwyn’s general direction, “was sent to drag him out of town. He brought you instead.”