“Here, now,” Kele warned. “I’ll be me own rudder.” And she too drank to the dregs.
I sloshed more brandy around, saying, “I know you’re both thinking we’ve come all this way together, so we should continue until the end, and somehow you are abandoning us even though you know your mission is more important than all our lives combined.”
I chuckled. “But the fact the matter is you’re not likely to make it either so what’s the point in feeling so guilty?”
Quatervals brightened. He took a healthy drink. “That’s quite true, my Lord,” he said. “Chances are we’ll be picked up faster’n a green legate can piss his britches in his maiden fight.”
He looked at Kele. “They’ll probably torture us first,” he said. “For makin’ ’em go to so much bother.”
Kele smiled, encouraged by this bleak picture. “’N even if they don’t catch us,” she said, “what do yer thinks our chances are of ever makin’ it all the way back to Orissa?”
Quatervals nodded. “By the gods, you’re right!” he said. “Don’t know what we’re so worried about. The journey’ll kill us if the demons don’t.”
He finished his drink and held out his cup for a refill. Which I did. Quatervals was positively beaming.
“Thank’ee, my Lord,” he said, “for pointin’ out how hopeless our situation is. I’m feelin’ much better now.”
“Not so quick wi’ tha’ bottle, me Lord,” Kele said, knocking aside Quatervals’ cup with her own. “I’m a delicate lass as yer know ’n I must get me proper share so’s I don’t shriek or faint.”
Quatervals snorted. “You mean passed out.” Another snort. “Delicate lass, my arse!”
“Yer arse is what I’ll be puttin’ me boot up,” Kele said, “if yer continue t’ question me sensitive nature.”
“Children, children!” I admonished. “Is this how you’re going to behave on the way back?”
Quatervals and Kele looked at each other, then laughed.
“Too right, my Lord,” Quatervals said. “How else’r we supposed to stave off boredom?”
Kele nodded in agreement. “Fer a lubber,” she said, “he ain’t bad in a quarrel. Given a century or three, might even make a sailor out’er him.”
Quatervals bristled. “Never,” he said. “I hate water. And I hate fish even more.”
“There yer go, then,” Kele said with relish. “Yer half way there already.”
* * * *
Earlier, while Janela was dressing, I’d seen the pouch containing the stone talisman dangling from her neck. After she’d pulled on her tunic, covering it, she’d studied herself in the mirror, patting and tugging until the outline of the talisman couldn’t be seen.
“A last-minute plan developing, perchance?” I’d asked.
“I wish I could say yes, my love. But I have nothing in mind that might save us.”
“Then why are you bringing the box along?”
“I thought of all the weapons we could have smuggled in and hide about our persons,” she’d said. “On the far off hope that we might be able to inflict a wound or two before they killed us.”
“I’ve considered the same,” I’d replied. “But I couldn’t see what use it would be — even if we could manage it. Considering the stakes what’s a scratch or two on a demon’s hide? I think I’d rather keep my dignity and not go out flailing like an hysterical old fool.”
Then I’d eyed her. “You still haven’t told me why you’re bringing along the box.”
“An off-chance, really,” she’d said. “The more I’ve studied it the more certain I am that the box the Queen’s witch created increases the power of spells. How greatly, I’m not so certain.
“Still, it occurred to me that when Ba’land is performing whatever sorcery he has in mind, if we are very, very fortunate — so fortunate all the gods would have to be favoring us in unison — he might choose a spell I can use against him. We’ll still die. But there’s a slim chance we might do him damage as well.”
“From your lips,” I’d said, “directly to the ears of Te-Date.”
“That, my dearest Amalric, is exactly what I’d had in mind.”
* * * *
When the demon soldiers led us away we had no idea where they were taking us. I couldn’t imagine they’d slaughter us at the Amphitheater in front of the whole population. No matter that Ba’land held the King’s life ransom, the anger such an action would cause would certainly spark a great riot.
As we were marched along I prayed King Ba’land would do something so foolish. There was no way he and his soldiers could halt the furious mob.
The possibility of such a revenge diminished the instant they prodded us out of the palace. Instead of heading toward the amphitheater they turned us toward the path Janela and I had taken the day we found the ghostly court chamber.
The rest of our party was waiting — heavily guarded — in a park and as we came up they hailed us, calling our names and Quatervals’ and Kele’s as well; evidence enough Janela’s spell was working.
Our comrades defied the demon guards and crowded around us, some laughing, some crying angry tears, some cursing the fates for marooning us on such foul shores of circumstance.
“T’ think of alla coin I pissed away on sacrifices, my Lord,” Pip complained, “’N this is me payment fer it! Wish’t yer’d writ somethin’ in yer journal warnin’ me family ’bout it. Tell ’em how much a waste it be. Why, they been tithin’ ten percent of all they steal fer long as I c’n ’member. And what good’s it do, I ask yer?”
“Watch your blasphemin’, Pip.” Otavi warned. “There’s others about might not feel th’ same. “N the gods might mistake your black soul for one’a ours.”
“No chance’a that,” Pip said, gloomy. “They’ve marked me in their sights right square, they have.”
He gave me a shaggy-toothed grin. “Mayhaps I could cling t’ your Lordship’s sleeve when we finally go,” he said. “Sure t’ be more riches where yer head’n than what’s laid on for poor Pip.”
“Cling away,” I said. “But be warned. There’s some who say that in the afterlife the quarters for the rich are hovels while the poor are treated as onto kings and queens.”
Pip snorted. “Beggin’ your pardon, my Lord, but I never smelt such a foul wind since th’ last time my dear granny tucked away a plate’a bad beans. The rich stay rich, I warrant, no matter where th’ gods takes ’em.”
I laughed, clapped him on the back and said he was speaking nonsense. Although I knew what he said must be true. If there was an afterlife, I thought, why would justice be any different there? Power loves the powerful. It only follows that the gods must love the rich.
Why else would more villains succeed than fail?
The guards were impatient and prodded us into line with their spears, then herded us off with Janela and myself in the lead.
I was shocked when we came to the place where our picnic had been prepared. An immense raw hole had been gouged into the earth where the tavern had once stood. a wide tunnel that led down into the ruins of the Old Palace. Surly Tyrenian workman were clearing away the last of the debris as we approached, snarling under the lash of demon soldiers urging them to make haste.
The magical tree gave me a greater shock. It was ax-scarred and lines had been thrown around it and men were working winches trying to rip it out of the ground. The earth groaned and water from the underground spring showered up along its roots to run down a swiftly deepening path in the center of the tunnel.
“They been at it near two weeks,” Pip whispered to me. “First wit’ axes ’n saws. But that darlin’ tree turned the blades away — ev’n when the demons themselves went at it. Now they’re tryin’ a new one, they is. Pull ’er down if they can’t cut ’er down.”
Pip cackled. A little louder perhaps than he ought. “Don’t look like that’s workin’ either.”
A guard growled at him and jabbed him with his spear. Pip slapped at it.
“Get away from me, ya shit breath lizard,” he said. “Or ole Pip’ll put his fist up yer wobblies.”
Two more guards joined the first and Pip gave up with a smile, falling behind us again. “Allus pickin’ on th’ little guy, they is,” he said.
We trooped into the tunnel.
It was eerie. Sorcerous light sputtered and flickered as if power were being drained away. Water dripped from the ceiling and sides and it was difficult to dodge the stream in the center, much less keep our footing in the heavily-trodden mud.
Janela hissed for my attention.
“Drink some water,” she whispered. “Tell the others to do the same.”
Without breaking strike, she bent down, scooped up a palmful and quickly swallowed the muddy brew. I followed suit, signaling Pip and the others to do the same.
Despite the mud the water was as delicious as ever. I felt a surge of energy. I seemed to walk taller now, with firmer stride and clearer eye. I heard mutterings of similar reactions from the men and women in our company.
I nudged Janela. “A plan?” I whispered.
She shook her head, whispering back, “Just do what you can to delay the inevitable.”
With those mysterious words still ghosting about my brain we were brought into the ancient court chamber of King Farsun.
Enormous though the chamber was the crowd inside was densely packed and the air was hot from all their bodies and thick with the moisture of their breath. On one side, hemmed tight to the walls by demons, were Tyrenian officials and representatives of the high born families. On the other were the soldiers Ba’land had condemned to be sacrificed. They were shackled, with chains running from their hands and feet to broad metal belts welded about their waist.
Standing in front of them were their generals, Emerle and Thrade. They were not chained, and stood as stiff and proud as they could in front of their men. When I looked close I could see them twist their lips to the side to mutter words of encouragement.
Above us we heard the groaning and creaking of the machines struggling with the stubborn tree. Below I could hear the rush of the underground spring. Its flow had increased to a torrent from being disturbed.
There was a clear area running from the dancer’s platform to the twin thrones. As we moved toward it demons hissed orders — shoving Janela and me forward while forcing our company away from us. Some of them called good-bye but we couldn’t turn to make our own farewells.
We were brought up short at the platform. Steps climbed to the thrones. A bright light flared and I had to shield my eyes to look. I could see King Ignati seated in one throne, Prince Solaros in the other. The light lessened somewhat and I could see Ignati’s features had been squeezed by despair. Flesh drooped from his jowls and his eyes were tunneled from pain and fatigue.
Solaros looked little better, although he tried mightily to smile with encouragement when he saw us.
The light shifted to a cold blue and I could see much better now. It emanated from a third throne half-again the size of the others. A wide area around it sputtered and crackled with a sorcerous shield.
King Ba’land took his ease on that throne. Crouched in front of him like a dog was a naked man. Every bone stood out from starvation and his hair was tangled and long. There was a metal band about his neck with a chain leading from a welded ring to Ba’land’s hand. I saw with dismay it was Tobray.
The demon king yanked on the chain when he saw us. The chain glowed white hot and Tobray moaned in pain.
“Look who’s come to see us, Tobray,” Ba’land said. “Sit up and bark your greetings like the good dog you are.”
Tobray didn’t move. The demon king gave the chain another yank, hissing, “Sit up, I said!”
But Tobray refused, curling up instead as if by making a tighter knot he could escape the agony. I winced as smoke curled from the flesh on his neck and I saw a puddle suddenly form on the floor beneath him as he lost control of his bladder.
Ba’land wrinkled his nose. “What a dirty animal you are, Tobray,” he said. He gave him a kick “I’d make you lap it up but then I’d be forced to smell your breath until I was done with you.”
The demon king looked up at us. He gestured at Tobray. “You see. It was all for nothing. You sought a golden land where the streets are paved with myths. Instead you came to a place where you can’t even find a decent dog.”
I struck a casual pose as if not bothered by Tobray’s misery. “I know where you can find one, my friend,” I said. “There’s a place my sister visited. A realm of seaweed and rotted ships. The fellow who rules it would make an admirable dog for you. If you’re ever out that way, stop by and see him. He’ll leap in your lap and lick your face if you tell him an Antero sent you.”
I was babbling nonsense, trying for delay as Janela had urged. For some reason the demon Rali had bested sprung to mind.
Nonsense or not Ba’land liked it. He slapped his thigh and roared humor.
“Elam?” he said. “You want me to make me a dog of Lord Elam? Why, he’d bite my throat out. And yours afterwards for suggesting it.”
“I’m fairly certain my neck won’t be around for the honor,” I said. “But come now, are you saying a mighty king like yourself fears a lowly creature like Elam?”
“Not fear him, exactly,” Ba’land answered. “I choose to keep my distance.” He waved, taking in his ferocious soldiers. “It may surprise you to know,” he went on, “all demons aren’t civilized like us. Sometimes they cause us almost as trouble as you and the Greycloaks have. But there’s too few of them to bother with so we let them alone.
“Besides they add to the misery of mortals. And you make a much more delicious dish that way.” He smacked lips in illustration.
“Too few?” I asked. “Or too powerful?”
Ba’land didn’t like the way the conversation was turning. “Don’t speak on something you know nothing about,” he said. “It is you who stands before me. And that, little man, is the only power you need consider.”
I chanced a quick look aside and saw Janela slowly drawing something from her tunic. What she was up to I didn’t know. But I did my best to keep Ba’land’s attention.
“You make a weighty argument,” I said. “Here we are. And there you are. My only possible retort can be: why did it take you so long to accomplish this deed if you truly are such a majestic Majesty?”
Ba’land’s yellow eye glowed in amusement. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said. “I’ve commanded whole legions of demon wizards to answer that very question. What is it about the Anteros and Greycloaks — especially when combined — that creates such danger for us? My best wizards have spent years on it. But to no avail. I’ve chained them, flogged them, ripped their limbs from their trunks but the riddle remains steadfastly unsolved.”
“You didn’t get to be king by not doing some thinking of your own,” I said. “Surely you must have your own theories.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Ba’land replied. “It’s in your blood. I know that’s a market witch’s explanation. But there’s a ring of truth in its haggish simplicity. The blood of the Anteros and the blood of the Greycloaks bears a seed of much power and greatness. Few mortals are blessed with it, which is fortunate for us.
“When we first came to your world and found a moving bounty to feed upon we encountered a few such as you. They fought the hardest and wounded us most severe. But we killed them in the end and killed their brothers and their sisters and all the children we could find. We have legends of a few who escaped to live and breed to haunt us in a future time. Perhaps those legends are true and you and Lady Greycloak are a result of that breeding.”
“It makes more sense than any theory I’ve had,” I said. Then I grinned. “I hope greatly that someday you’re proven correct. Living proof would be the best. Yet another Antero and Greycloak pairing, say?”
”Alas for scholarly inquiry,” Ba’land replied. “For that is also quite unlikely. The odds an Antero and Greyclo
ak would combine more than once are greater than most could imagine. That it should happen more than twice is beyond the fortunes of even the most persistent dice shaker. Still, I won’t chance it. The spell I shall make from your blood today will see to it no others appear. To make doubly certain I will seek out all your kin and even the ghosts of your kin and sup on their souls and make them mine.”
“Beware of your digestion, my friend,” I said. “I intend to make my soul as bitter as I can.”
“Oh, that’s very good,” Ba’land laughed. “You know, I’m almost sorry this day has come,” he said. “It’s given me genuine peace of mind to have you two locked up where I could get to you whenever I wanted, instead of you traipsing about causing me no end of worry.”
I bowed, mocking him. “We did our best,” I said.
“I’m sure you did,” the demon king said. “And for that your deaths will be as painful as I can manage. I have a few regrets. It’s comforting to know your enemy. More comforting still to have him at your mercy. But once you kill him, where are you? Back to the days of faceless enemies and troubled sleep. Then you wake up wondering if you really did kill the fellow or did rather the crafty devil managed to escape once again.”
“May your dreams be as unquiet as my ghost can make them,” I said.
“No chance of that,” Ba’land replied. “Didn’t I already say I wouldn’t even leave a ghost?”
Janela laughed, harsh. “You certainly did, Ba’land,” she said. “Ghosts trouble you, do they? Such a mighty fellow you are, fearing weak spirits who can do little more than tap on your walls and moan at night.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear from you, my dear Lady Greycloak,” the demon answered. “You’ve convinced many that you are a great wizard, as great perhaps as even your great-grandfather, Janos Greycloak. Tell me, O Wise One — what words of wisdom do you have for us this day?”
Janela shrugged. “Wisdom never interested me,” she said. “Wisdom is someone else’s reflections on what they observed. I prefer to do my own observing. When I reach a conclusion I do not reflect — I relate what I have seen.”
Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) Page 49