“You swear?”
“What is this, Spitemorta? You think I'm telling windy stories or what? Do you think I want to turn loose these beasts to rule the land? How would that serve our purposes?”
“Very well then,” she said as she uncovered the skinweler from the folds of her dress and found the cave again. The Marooderyn Imshee were indeed cooking the Elven children, turning their quarters on spits arranged side-by-side across the coals of the fire.
By now everyone was streaked and daubed with red mud. Those around the fire who were not tending the spits were taking part in an odd shuffling dance, chanting, jumping and flinging about their strands of beads and amulets and the red mud balls which dangled from locks of their hair. Periodically they dropped onto their knees and pressed their cheeks to the cavern floor, before springing up with their hands and faces to the ceiling, as if giving supplication to some sort of deity. “That,” she said, glancing up. “Wait a minute... There, that. See that? Could that mean...?”
“Oh, I think it probably might,” said Demonica with a smooth nod. “I've been seeing it. In fact it's exactly why I'm convinced you should appear to them as a goddess. Anyway, we've seen enough for now, don't you think? Shall we go topside and get a bite to eat?”
“Yes. Suddenly I'm absolutely ravenous.”
“Oh I know how that is, dear. I find myself that way just every once in a while.”
***
Rose stood stiffly on the stool as a pair of seamstresses pinned the hem of Minuet's wedding gown. Minuet stood watching, radiant with happiness at her decision to wed as well as at her decision to wear her gown.
“I'm more certain than ever that Mother and Father never expected me to marry,” thought Rose with a smile. “Mother,” she said, “I suppose you understand that Fuzz and I want to wait for Lukus and Soraya to arrive before we have the wedding?”
“That's what your father and I assumed,” said Minuet as she stooped to examine just how her hem was pinned in a certain place, “but Lukus and his family should be arriving in a few short weeks, which really only gives us scarcely enough time for all the arrangements.”
“We have plenty of time if we keep it small enough, Mother,” said Rose with a smile.
Minuet opened her mouth to protest, but closed it with a grin. “It is your wedding, Rose. And I suppose you're right, all things considered.”
“Yes,” said Rose, as she thought: “After calling off the extravagant affair with James, who knows how it would go? Besides, these are bad times upon us.” She stepped off the stool and out of the gown as the seamstresses carried it away for alterations.
“Mother,” she said, picking up her robe from across a chair. “I've come to a decision. I want you to do something for me, if you will.”
“My word. Is something wrong?”
“Very wrong, actually. But to put you at ease, this has nothing to do with the wedding.”
“By all means dear, if I possibly can. What is it?”
“Could you teach me to use my powers?”
“Why, I thought you'd decided that you wanted nothing to do with becoming a sorceress, Rose,” she said with an astonished look.
“No, by no means. I never did. But I suppose I was doing little more than following in your footsteps, all these years. I think that under the current circumstances it would be irresponsible to have such an ability and not use it for the good of all.”
Minuet's eyes flashed.
“Oh, my! I didn't mean it to sound that way. I was only referring to me. Our circumstances are altogether different. I'm not queen of anywhere. Fuzz is a military man and will undoubtedly be in the thick of what's coming, and I've every intention of being right beside him, so will you teach me?”
“Have you discussed this with Fuzz, dear? It would not be right to keep something like this to yourself.”
“Not yet,” said Rose with a sigh, “but rest assured, he'll abide by whatever I...”
“Of course Rose, I'd not expect otherwise. But it would put me at ease, knowing that you'd discussed it with him.”
“You're so provincial, Mother.”
“'Considerate' is what we once called it, I believe.”
“I'll go speak with him this minute, but I suggest you go dig out your wand.”
“All right,” said Minuet, as a strange light kindled in her eye. “You've a bargain.”
***
Captain Girom thumped his chest and stood at attention with his lieutenants, Drest and Erp before King Talorg.
“Report, Captain,” said Talorg, sitting forward on his throne to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Your Majesty, I regret that I must return with tidings such as these,” said Girom as he nervously shifted his stance. “Your betrothed is dead, murdered by those right foul and odious demonesses, Spitemorta and Demonica.”
“You're surely mistaken,” cried Talorg, springing to his feet.
“I wish I were, sire. But as you said when I left, you sent me because you consider me reliable...”
“Then how came you by this news?” said Talorg as he chucked himself back onto his seat and covered his face with his hand.
“When we reached the dragons we were sent to one amongst them, known as Spark, the husband of the dragons' Truth Teller. I deemed him to be of right sincere countenance. I'm convinced that he knew well of the Lady Myrtlebell's death. Not only did he swear it to be so, he told of a number of most reliable persons, including the wizard Razzmorten, who saw her die.
“Her son is staying with the dragons, sire. He appeared as we were speaking, and he did not contest any of Spark's claims. He was impressively poised. The little fellow requested that I should tell his Aunt Tramae and Uncle Donnel that he would like to meet them sometime. He looks just like a younger Donnel, sire.”
“Lucky for Buthut and Caelis that they're already dead,” said Talorg as he looked up. “Captain, you are to announce that we are at war with Spitemorta and Demonica and their respective countries. If either of them appears within our boundaries, or anywhere within your sight, you are to kill them on sight or die trying. The only way they are to be brought before me is as severed heads and skinned quarters. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, Majesty,” chorused Girom, Drest and Erp as they thumped their chests in unison.
“Good. Dismissed.”
***
“Your mistress is a slave driver, Budog,” said Smole, pushing away from his lapidary wheel. “I need more hands.”
“Here's an extra hand, you rodent,” said Budog as he stepped forth and smacked him sprawling onto the floor. You have your hundred men already. Your mistress saw to that. You're only lagging 'cause you're a slacker. The mistress has no patience at all for such ilk. How old do you want to live to, aye? Hey! How old?”
Smole backed away like a crayfish, dragging his clay spattered apron.
“If it's any older at all, razh-raz, you'll get back on your stool before I come over there and pick you up on the point of this knife.”
Smole rolled onto his knees, his flacid jowls aquiver as he stood up with indignation burning in his wee black eyes. “I miscalculated,” he said with a squeal. “A hundred will never do. I'll work later into the night to meet her demands, but I can't imagine that'll do it.”
“Then I suggest you work all night, razh-raz,” said Budog, as Mazhev came round the corner to break into a smile at the sight of Smole. “Or would you rather we replace you? Course, we cut up those we replace. I mean, we have to have 'em bite sized for the hogs.” “That won't be necessary,” said Smole as he poured water into the tank of his lapidary wheel with trembling hands and began pumping its treadle. “What if the crystal runs out before Demonica's demands are met? I heard talk about that possibility several days ago. Who'll take the blame for that?”
“You like your gossip, don't ye little runt?” said Mazhev. “The miners got into a new vein of the crystal this very morning, so you can put your teensy mind at ease and keep grindin' away.”
Smole shifted a hateful look from Mazhev to Budog from under his lowered brow as he picked up the crystal he had been working on.
“That'n there, he's a-workin' on,” said Mazhev with a nod at Smole, “that's number nine hundred and ninety. Another ten and we'll have the rest of Demonica's first thousand, plus the seventy-five which we didn't get to her from the first hundred. We're due a bit of a break, don't you reckon?”
“Ya da,” said Budog with a nod. “Besides, we got these worms too scared to slack off, even if we ain't here every minute to watch 'em.”
“I hear down in Yar-Vor there's a sweet little tavern called the Backroom and it's got lovely barmaids who'll do what you want.”
“Let's go, Mazhev. We surely get a break after all this time, putting up with this pit. Even Demonica would think so.”
Smole glared at Mazhev and Budog with his piggy eyes, but quickly turned to his grinding, as if he had been working all the while.
“Did you see that, Budog?” said Mazhev, drawing him aside. “I don't like Smole. He's a rat of some kind.”
“I don't like him either, but Demonica says he's the finest globe grinder on the continent. It might be a mistake if anything happens to him.”
“I don't mean kill him exactly, but we are in charge, if ye know what I mean, and if he keeps acting up, he ought to get a lesson or two on work habits and etiquette, maybe.”
“That is something to think about,” said Budog. “Let's chew on it while we eat supper at your tavern.”
Mazhev stuck out his chin at Smole, startling him back to working furiously at his lapidary wheel.
***
Rose found Fuzz and Razzmorten deep in conversation at a table in the castle library. “Didn't mean to bother,” she said, turning to leave. “I'll come back...”
“Pooh, Rose,” said Fuzz, standing at once. “Here's a chair.”
“Mercy, Rose,” said Razzmorten. “How would Fuzz and I have secrets? We were just discussing how much time we might have before Demonica and Spitemorta make their next move.”
“Razzmorten thinks it might be time to place spies in Spitemorta's court,” said Fuzz.
“Niarg's never done that sort of thing, Grandfather,” said Rose as she rubbed Fuzz's shoulder and then took the chair beside him. “However, we've certainly had our share of spies turning up here. It's a shock to think about. It's not at all like Niarg, and maybe that would help us. We've got a lot at stake, so maybe it's time we did.”
“Glad you agree,” said Razzmorten, as he rose to begin pacing. “And you're right. It's not at all like us to use spies. Perhaps you won't mind helping me convince your parents that we should, then?”
“I'm willing to try,” she said, “though I never knew that I was anywhere near as influential as you on any sort of matter like this.”
“Good. I can't ask for more,” he said, turning for the door. “I'm on my way to find Yann-Ber.”
“Fuzz,” said Rose, the moment Razzmorten had gone, “I've decided to learn to use my magical powers.”
Fuzz went silent for a good long spell. At last he nodded as though he were giving his thoughts a full stop, before turning to face her. “I was almost expecting this, Rose. You've been feeling helpless about everything. And if you're telling me this because you want to know what I think, then I'll tell you: I think it's a very sound idea. It'll allow you to fight back, and you just might save the life of either one of us. If all the good people with magic have to join forces to hold off Spitemorta and Demonica, then you're also one more amongst their number.”
“I knew you'd agree with me love, but would you mind telling that to Mother?”
“Your mother?”
“Yes. She's agreed to teach me to use my powers, but only if you allow it.”
“My. She makes me feel as though I'm your keeper.”
“She's old fashioned,” said Rose with a laugh.
“Remember I had to ask your parents for your hand, aye? And I'm actually older than your mother, not to put too fine a point on it...”
“I'm outnumbered,” said Rose with a laugh as she threw up her hands. “I hope Lukus and Soraya get here soon.”
Chapter 90
“What on Earth?” said James, as he stepped onto the balcony of the throne room to find a crowd gathering excitedly about a scrying ball on a pedestal in the courtyard below. “I can't imagine her leaving it down there. This is crazy. They look as though they're actually watching something in it. And more and more people are coming. I don't see how any of them could possibly be wizards.” He stepped inside quite perplexed and at once sent for Captain Brutus.
Brutus soon appeared and hurried to the throne to stand at rigid attention before him.
“By all means please relax, Captain,” said James.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Brutus, looking warily at him as he set his feet apart with one step and put his hands behind his back.
“No, no. That's 'parade rest.' She's got you rigid as a board, Captain. I'd offer you a chair, but I want to show you something from the balcony.
“Thank you sire,” he said, as he followed James through the double doors.
“Down there,” said James, nodding at the crowd which had grown respectably large in the few minutes it had taken Brutus to arrive. “Have you any idea under the shining sun why Queen Spitemorta would have left a scrying ball on a pedestal in the courtyard? And what about all the people down there...?”
“I can only assume...” said Brutus, looking startled. “Pardon me. I'm confused, sire. Have I neglected something?”
“I'm apparently far more confused than you, Captain. Do, you know anything at all about that scrying ball?”
“So you're indeed not put out with me, and you're not testing me in some way, then?”
“Good grief, no.”
“So you in fact know nothing whatsoever about the ball, sire?”
“Not one thing. I've been in Loxmere...”
“She...Queen Spitemorta placed the crystal ball down there so the citizenry could see things she chooses for them to see, sire.”
“So, she's given orders that the public be let into the inner courtyard without someone addressing them from the balcony?”
“Why, yes...”
“And how can she choose for them to see anything at all? Only the magically gifted can see things in a scrying globe.”
“That one's different.”
“How's it different?”
“Forgive me sire, but you are indeed not upbraiding me in some way that I've yet to grasp?”
“Fates forbid. No. Absolutely not. You're most apprehensive. Please, just have a seat.”
“Thank you,” said Brutus, as he sat on the very edge of the closest chair next to the double doors. “I suppose I must seem excessive. It's just that being in the queen's service can be very trying.”
“She scares you, does she?”
“I...”
“Never mind. A question like that probably does, too. So what's different about that scrying globe, down there?”
“Well sire, anyone can see things in it.”
“Anyone?”
“As far as I know, one needs no special powers at all, so long as someone with powers provides him with things to see. So as I've said, she's commenced using it to show the people things what she wants them to see.”
“Such as?”
“Well the first thing she did was to allow herself to be seen across both kingdoms, making her speech about the dragons setting fire to the sukere fields...”
“What on earth do you mean by, 'across two kingdoms?' I must not have heard you right. How could the entire populace of two countries...? Did she summon people en masse from the far reaches?”
“Why no. She's had globes placed in towns all over. She's employing five and twenty skinweleriou. People can see her in each of them all at once, wherever she has them. And she has a right good number more of them on the way, as I understand.
“W
ait. What did you just call them?”
“Skinweleriou? Skinweler is what each one is called. Skinweleriou is plural.”
“What's that? Headlandish?”
“Sounds like it, sire.”
James sat down with a sigh in the chair beside Brutus and rubbed his face. “So that's what's going on right now, is it? She's addressing them?”
“Yes, but I only got a glimpse of it before you summoned me. It looks like she was with the council, seeing to the interests of all citizens over some matter...”
“Well Captain,” said James, keenly aware that Brutus was as much Spitemorta's captain of the guard as Lance was his retainer, “I'm unbelievably embarrassed. I thought she was joking. Can you do me a favor and keep my ignorance about this in your strictest confidence?”
“Oh I quite understand, sire. Giving two kingdoms the ability to scry our great queen is nothing short of miraculous. Not believing your eyes is most human.”
“You may carry on Captain. I'm much obliged for your time.”
“My privilege and pleasure Your Majesty,” said Captain Brutus, as he thumped his chest, bowed and departed.
***
“Kast, Tors and Gweltaz have been picked to undertake an expedition to explore the Black Desert to see if it the clan could live there,” said Spark, stepping into the nursery as he returned late from another council session.
“What happens if we can't live there?” said Lipperella, as she paused from her feeding of Flame, as Edward and Laora grew quiet to listen.
“Then they'd explore the Wilderlands. And if they aren't fit, then I suppose the council will scratch their heads.”
“The Homeland?” said Lipperella, as she handed aside her big chunk of sukere to Edward. “Has there been talk of anything like that?”
“Some. Nobody's enthused. You think it would be a bad idea?”
“The Dark Continent's full of memories, and the most recent ones are awful.”
“Razzorbauch's been dead a long time...”
“You mean they've even bothered discussing him?”
“Well, his name's come up each time the Homeland is mentioned.”
“Fates! Feeble old mossbacks. First of all he's dead, Spark, as you so aptly put it. Besides, he was from Niarg, which is here on this continent. He only went to the Dark Continent because of his witch woman, Demonica. Even back then she controlled most of the commerce there. And it was she who talked him into enslaving us for the sukere trade in the first place.
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 97
