The Woad to Wuin

by Peter David

  “Oh, gods, Kate,” I moaned, and she sank her teeth into my throat. And if she’d been a vampire at that moment, I would gladly have given myself over to her, but no, she was just kissing the skin passionately, and then to my chin and my mouth, and she was everywhere, her copious breasts mashing against my chest, the water splashing wildly out of the tub as we thudded against the sides. And all my exhaustion and all my pain was forgotten, washed away in the water and the heat of the single best bath I have ever had.

  Afterward, I felt as if I was floating as I leaned back, using Kate as my cushion in the tub. Her back was against the edge, her legs open and encircling me as I leaned back against her and sighed a greater sigh of contentment than I had ever known. I had reached a point where not only did I not know how I had gotten to where I was, but I didn’t care in the least.

  If nothing else, it was nice to know that a woman could be attracted to me if she wasn’t looking to rob me, wasn’t psychotic, or wasn’t under the influence of a magic ring.

  Then a thought struck me as to how to elicit information without tipping the fact that I had no recollection of it myself. Nuzzling the back of my head between her breasts, I said, “Tell me about my conquest of this castle.” But I said it in a very lazy, tired voice rather than one of genuine query.

  She paused and then laughed lightly. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Of course I do. But I wanted to hear you tell it. You make it sound so …” and I sighed once more, ” … heroic.”

  “Would you like me to sing the song of it?”

  There’s a song? What, is there a song about everything I’ve done? But of course, being the Peacelord, I would have known that, and so instead I shrugged and said, “If you’d prefer. Either way, I love hearing your voice.” That much, at least, was true.

  She cleared her throat, hummed a few notes to ascertain which notes to start with, and then she sang:

  Oh, Apropos, the lord of peace, looked upon the Dreadnaught keep.

  “It shall be mine!” quoth Apropos, with hair of fire and thoughts so deep.

  “Yes, I shall capture Dreadnaught and the benefits I’ll gladly reap!”

  Claimed Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  Now many thought that Dreadnaught was impregnable at best,

  For Lamalos had built it strong and put it to the test.

  “I have a cunning plan that Lamalos has never guessed!”

  Claimed Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  He summoned all his men to him, and said, “Bring me your wealth.

  “I shall employ it all, you see, and with my guile and stealth

  “By next week we’ll have Dreadnaught and be drinking to my health!”

  Claimed Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  Then all the riches he acquired, he piled into wagons,

  Adorned with gold and jewels, trinkets, shields from hides of dragons,

  And meats and sweetmeats, fruits and more, and wine in fifty flagons,

  Did Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  The wagons rolled up to the gates, one old man at the helm.

  “These offerings are sent as gifts to the great lord of this realm!”

  “Who sent them?” asked the guards. “Our lord asks; we would tell ‘im.”

  “From Apropos,” the old man said, upon one starry night.

  The wagons rolled into the keep, and Lamalos took it all,

  The food, the riches, all of it, secured inside his hall,

  He kept the wagons, too, and that’s what led him to his fall

  From Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  For in each wagon was secured, beneath a bottom faked,

  A warrior of Apropos, with face in blue woad caked,

  And they emerged when all was still, and not one victim waked,

  By Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  For Apropos was there as well, he led his soldiers in,

  They slew their opposition with a minimum of din,

  And Apropos slew Lamalos, so fast it was a sin,

  By Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  The residents of Dreadnaught woke next morning, to their shock,

  The heads of Lamalos and crew were mounted on a block,

  And Apropos called, “Listen, friends, I swear it is no crock,

  “I’m Apropos, the lord of peace, and on one starry night,

  “I took this stronghold, now it’s mine, but with you I am sharing,

  “The riches sent to Lamalos, to show you that I’m caring.”

  The people cheered his name then and commended, too, the daring,

  Of Apropos, the lord of peace, upon one starry night.

  She smiled at me when she’d finished, and even bobbed her head slightly like a shy singer having just performed for a large audience. Remembering belatedly, I quickly applauded, and her grin was wide and genuine. “Very nicely done, my lady,” I said approvingly. And, frankly, it had sounded pretty good.

  So that was how I’d managed to take the place. Well-done, me. Obviously any sort of frontal assault was hopelessly doomed. So instead I had conceived a scheme wherein those I intended to conquer actually brought us straight into their own midst, all unknowing, while my men and I hid within concealed compartments in the wagons. Yes, indeed, a most excellent notion. Most excellent.

  Kate reached her arms around and began lathering my chest. I wondered whether Kate had been the consort of Lamalos before I’d taken the place, but then I remembered that supposedly she had helped me develop the plan. So she must have been with me before the taking of Dreadnaught. I wondered where I’d met her, and what her own background was. But in this matter I couldn’t really think of a way to inquire without it seeming odd.

  And I realized that, when it came down to it … what did it matter? The past was really of little consequence. It was only the here and now that was important. She was there with me, in the tub, the lovemaking had been exquisite, the future looked rather rosy.

  Except …

  … well … I was still a conquering murderer.

  But as I relaxed once more against her, I pondered whether it was really all a matter of point of view. After all, I had never considered King Runcible to be any sort of barbaric brute. Yet had I done anything, really, that he hadn’t done? He secured his position as King of Isteria by conquering those who would have stood against him. I had done no more than that. Certainly Runcible’s conscience was clear, and he was generally considered to be a great king and a great man … at least by those who did not know the dark underbelly of his court the way I did. Why should it be that I held myself to a higher standard than he did, or anybody did?

  “Oh!” Kate said suddenly. “Have you heard the news? A band of rebel assassins has been captured!”

  She sounded so chipper about it that I actually smiled at that … until the full impact of what she’d just said hit me, at which point I turned around and stared at her in shock. “Rebel assassins?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “Assassins? As in, they’re out to kill me?”

  “Well, of course,” said Kate, matter-of-factly. She seemed amused that I was at all concerned or thought it even slightly odd. “Apropos … you’re a Peacelord. You’re the first Peacelord in the history of Wuin. Naturally there are people who are going to want to kill you.”

  “Naturally,” I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. Suddenly the water, even though it was still warm, felt considerably colder. Risking the revelation of my ignorance, I said, “Remind me, my love … whence came the term of Peacelord?”

  “Why, from you. Have you forgotten? Your reasoning was that there are so many warlords about, or have been in the history of the world. So when someone hears that a particular warlord is on the rampage, there is a lack of gravity about that. But a Peacelord, well … no one has ever heard of such a thing. It makes
an impression. Even strikes fear into the heart of the listener. After all, a warlord has to announce his warlike presence through a title intended to stab fear into the hearts of those who hear it. A warlord is saying, ‘Look at me! I am a great, fearsome thing!’ Now a Peacelord, on the other hand, is so confident in his ability to take whatever he wants, that he need not apply intimidating titles to himself. He speaks softly … but carries a great sword. Thus is a Peacelord a more frightening appellation, for the truth is that anyone who faces a Peacelord knows that, in fact, they are in opposition to someone who is interested in anything but peace.” Her brow wrinkled in concern. “Is any of this sounding familiar?”

  “Yes, yes, all of it,” I said quickly, and then turned in the bath and kissed her. “Once again, my love, I just enjoy hearing you say it. So … where were these rebel assassins found?”

  “They had set up camp on the Cartesian Plains,” she replied. “But forces loyal to you, my dearest heart, tracked them down and rounded them up. The current plan is that they are to be brought forward during the banquet to have your judgment rendered upon them.”

  “Oh. I see. That’s the plan, is it?” I was having a difficult time keeping the quavering out of my voice. Understand, I’d grown accustomed to the concept of people trying to kill me. Sooner or later, it seemed, just about everyone I met wanted to kill me. Just one of the many joys of being me. But the concept that a group of people would band together specifically to plot my annihilation … that was a bit much for me to handle. And yet, I didn’t know which I found the more disturbing: the concept that they were planning my death, or that I was now being expected to pronounce death upon them.

  Only a handful of times in my life had I slain, and in every instance, it was either by accident or in mortal combat. Never had I simply looked someone in the eye and said, “Your life is forfeit,” and then made it come to pass. I strongly suspected I didn’t have the stomach for it, even though my demise was their priority.

  I thought quickly and said, “Perhaps … perhaps it would be wiser of me to spare them.” I cast a quick, hopeful glance at her. She did not exactly seem taken with the notion.

  “Why in the world would you want to do such a thing?” she inquired.

  Opting to fall back on that which had worked reasonably well with my henchmen, I said in as canny a tone as I could muster, “Because … that would be the last thing they’d expect!”

  She pushed me away with a splash and gaped at me. So many emotions seemed to be at war in her face: anger, confusion, worry, disappointment, all lobbying for dominance. “If that’s what really interests you, Apropos—doing the unexpected—you could try cutting your head off with an ax. That would certainly catch everyone off guard. But I’ve no idea why you would want to.”

  “Kate …”

  But she was hauling herself out of the water. Her naked body looked as good going as it did coming. Water dripped off her as she reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself. “Kate,” I started again, but she waved me off, indicating with a gesture that she just wanted silence. I bristled slightly at the preemptory manner that she was displaying, but chose not to say anything about it.

  The silence remained for a long moment, and then she turned to face me with her arms crisscrossed in front of her. “You remember what you told me just before you left for your latest campaign?” For an instant I panicked, because I thought we were about to engage in trivia questions about things we’d said and done, and I knew I would lose a significant enough percentage of them to be suspicious to her. But she continued, apparently having intended for the query to be rhetorical. “You said, ‘I worship you, Kate. I worship your mind, and your body, and the ground upon which you walk. I am your devoted worshiper, your supplicant.’ And I took you at your word. And I worship you in return, Apropos … and because I do, I don’t wish to see you hurt or fall from grace. You have potential, my love … tremendous potential. But not if you are seen as weak and indecisive.” She was clenching and unclenching her hands nervously as she strode toward me. “These people, these rebels … they sought to hurt you because they are jealous of you. Jealous … and afraid.”

  “And because they are afraid, they wanted to kill me?” I asked. I had risen from the tub by that point as well, and wrapped a towel around my middle since—thanks to the combination of my recent lovemaking and the cooling of the water—I was looking embarrassingly unimpressive at that moment. “Is that it?”

  “Yes, that is exactly right.”

  “Well,” and I shook my head, picking up another towel and starting to rub dry my hair with it, “if they aren’t afraid of me, wouldn’t it follow that they then would not want to kill me?”

  “If they’re not afraid of you,” said Kate patiently, “then they will want to kill you because they perceive you as an easy target.”

  “So … either way, we’re talking about my condemning people?” This was hardly a conclusion that I was particularly enthused about.

  Kate was pacing back and forth, but never removing her gaze from me, as if she were truly seeing me for the first time. She shook out her hair, catlike, fine water droplets spraying all over the floor. “Yes, Apropos, either way, that’s what is going to happen. You are a conqueror. Conquerors kill people in order to gain power, and kill people in order to keep power. If you wanted to do something other than that, you could have gone into the clergy where you could content yourself to officiate at holy wars. That way you wouldn’t have to do any killing yourself, but instead simply sanctify those who did the killing in the name of their respective gods.”

  “And that makes killing acceptable?” I asked. “If it’s being done in the name of a god?”

  “Of course,” said Kate matter-of-factly. “When it comes to the affairs of gods, any death is acceptable.”

  I stared up at the lone window in the room. Mordant was no longer flying around outside it. I found myself hoping that an archer had mistaken him for a possible meal and put an arrow through him. “Thank you, my love, for clarifying that for me,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice and failing utterly.

  She drew close to me then and rested a hand on my shoulder. Her touch was warm and vibrant, and I shivered slightly from the sheer electricity of it. With greater concern in her tone for my welfare than I’d heard from any woman since before my mother died, she asked, “What happened to you out there? Something’s happened, I’m sure of it. Because when you left here, you were so confident, so proud. And now you seem so … so …”

  “So what? Say it.” I held my breath, uncertain of what she was going to say.

  She took my face in her hands and said, “So sad.”

  I looked into her eyes, and a small smile came surprisingly naturally to me. “If I am sad,” I told her, “it is because I have been away from you for as long as I have. That tends to affect the way I see the world.”

  She sighed at the sweet-sounding nature of my words. Kate was a head shorter than I, but she stood slightly on her toes, tilted her face up toward mine, and kissed me tenderly. “I understand,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Yes. You have been killing and killing and killing, and you associate that with your work. And you’re loathe to bring your work home with you because you’d rather be concentrating on me.”

  This, of course, was not remotely it, but I wasn’t about to correct her point of view since it so nicely dovetailed with my own trepidation. So instead I simply brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face and said with a laugh, “Well, you’ve certainly got me figured out.”

  “I thought as much,” she said happily. “Here, turn around.” I did as she told me, and a moment later felt a towel briskly and efficiently drying off my back. “I sympathize, dear heart. I really do.”

  “Excellent.”

  “So this evening, at the banquet, we will not dwell on such matters as death and destruction.”

  My shoulders visibly sagged in relief upon her saying th
at. “I’m most pleased to hear you say that.”

  “We’ll dance, we’ll sing, we’ll eat sumptuous meats, we’ll condemn the rebels to death, we’ll have dessert.” She put her arms around me from behind and rocked back and forth like a ship at sea. “It will be a joyous night all around.”

  “Oh … huzzah,” I said with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

  Chapter 4

  Hate Cuisine

  The Lady Kate was certainly right about the joyousness of the festivities, I’ll give her that much.

  When we walked into the main hall, I was almost knocked over by the intensity of the volume within. Musicians were playing a variety of instruments, dancers were gyrating about with such wild abandon that I think they had only the vaguest sense of the rhythms involved. I was attired in a doublet of dark crimson, with a skull-shaped pendant hanging around my throat. A short, black ceremonial cape hung off my right shoulder. Kate was dressed in a silken gown of purest ivory, with gold trim upon the bodice. She did not seem to walk across the room so much as float.

  I noticed Boar Tooth over in one corner, a woman on each arm, laughing and chewing on a bone of some sort of meat. And over in another corner Slake was wildly dancing with a lightly clad female. He was flinging his arms about so crazily that I thought for sure he was going to smack someone in the face. And in the farthest, farthest corner of the room, away from everyone else, sat That Guy. He had his sword out and was calmly sharpening the edges with a whetstone. That image chilled me although I had no idea why.

  The room had been as cold as any other in the stronghold, but the spinning and dancing and celebrating bodies of at least two hundred revelers had gone a far way toward warming the place up.