by Allan Cole
"So, if you'll just return my men to me, Your Highness, we'll put all behind us. Work up a little trade pact between you and the Anteros. And we'll be on our way. We'll need credit, of course. So we can buy a ship from you and return home. But mutual credit is the sort of thing usually set up in any trade agreement. And I'm sure that if you've learned anything about the Anteros, it's that their credit and word is sound."
"Just like that"—the king snapped his fingers—"and all is forgiven and forgotten?"
"Why not, Your Highness?" I said. "It's the way of civilized people."
"Are you saying we're not civilized?" the king rumbled.
I made my brows arch in surprise. "Me, Your Highness? I never said such a thing, sir."
"But you implied," he said, "that if I didn't agree I'd be no better than a savage." He looked at his men. "Isn't that what she said, boys?"
His warriors shouted agreement.
"You see?" he said to me. 'There are no savages here."
"Good," I said, deliberately misinterpreting and twisting the scene. "Now that we've settled that matter, Your Highness, I'd be pleased if you'd reunite me with my companions immediately. So they, too, can rejoice in the news that they are in the gentle hands of such a wise and civilized king."
The king flushed heavily, his features purpling above his ragged white beard. As I looked more closely at him, I thought his face seemed younger man the whiteness of his hair implied. His skin was coarse, roughened by the elements and heavy drink. But his brow was relatively unlined, the scratches at the corners of his eyes faint
Then he said, "We, er, have other matters to discuss first Then we'll talk about your men."
I acted surprised. "I'd be a poor commander, Your Highness, if I didn't put my men above all other things." I glanced around at his warriors, sweeping their faces with an amused look. "I can see from the loyalty and devotion of your own men, Your Highness, that you agree with such matters of soldierly honor."
The king sputtered, but then covered his angry confusion by draining another cup of wine.
"And after I see to my men, Your Highness," I said, "I'd like to presume to raise another concern—a concern, I think, that is a danger to both of us."
"Danger?" he said. "How am I endangered?"
"There's a gang of bandits in your kingdom, Your Highness," I said.
He reacted massively. ''Bandits? What bandits?"
"Why, the ones who attacked my trading posts," I said. "They're a murderous group. Monsters of the worst sort. Our people were killed in their sleep."
The room was hushed. The king glared at me, furious. But for some reason he was intent on keeping up the pretense.
"I've just come here," he said. "I don't know anything about such things. My capital is on the sea and many leagues away. You're lucky I was touring my kingdom. Otherwise I wouldn't have been here to stop my people from killing you. We don't trust strangers much, I'm sorry to say. You were all armed and, frankly, lurking about Seems pretty suspicious when you think about it.
"Damned suspicious. Don't you think, boys?"
His men muttered darkly. Magon turned back to me. A stern kingly frown furrowing his brow. "Why didn't you just come up to us and state your business?" he asked.
I raised a hand, pleading ignorance. "We were lost in the fog, Your Highness," I said. "I don't even know where I am now. What city is this? What is your kingdom called?"
'The city is Koronos," Magon said. "My people mine rare metals here. The kingdom is Lofquistina. Which means Land of the Bears in our ancient tongue."
"Thank you for enlightening me, Your Highness," I said. "When I return home, I'll praise your name and your kingdom to my people.
"Now, here is how I come to be in your realm. My family had established two trading posts near the sea some weeks' march from here. We dealt with only the local people, trading for furs and things.
"If we were in your territory, I apologize. The people there are wild folk and perhaps didn't think to tell me who their king was. But we were new to the area and I'm sure we'd have learned of this oversight soon and come to you with proper gifts and ceremony to beg your largesse."
"You say these two outposts were attacked?" the king asked. He acted shocked. I kept wondering why he continued the lie.
"Yes, Your Highness," I said. "And they were clearly cowardly assaults whose purpose was plainly to rob my people." I spat.
"Murderous pirates," I said. "An honest opponent who resented our presence would merely have demanded we leave. If we'd have been so foolish as to refuse, there'd have been a fight. But it would have been an honest dispute. And there'd have been no shame in the action. Although we'd all mourn those who fell."
"And then what?" the king asked abruptly. "What happened after you visited your trading posts and found them destroyed?"
"I only went to one post, Your Highness," I said. "I'm only guessing the same thing happened to the other. I've seen some evidence of that. But I can't know for sure."
"Go on," the king said.
"We were caught in that great storm that surely bedeviled Your Majesty, as well," I said.
The king nodded. "Yes. I know which storm you mean."
"One of our men," I said, "was taken captive. An Evocator, like myself. He was put on a caravan. When the storm was over we followed the caravan trail. On the way we found the body of our Evocator from the other post. He'd been killed. Tortured first, I might add. Must be the same group of bandits, Your Highness. For who else would torture and kill a helpless man?"
The king glowered but said nothing.
"From there, Your Highness," I said, "we continued following the trail. Hoping to rescue our comrade. We were engaged in that pursuit when we became lost in the fog and stumbled upon your people. And unfortunately alarmed them.
"Perhaps you could help me learn the whereabouts of our friend, Your Highness," I said. "From the signs I saw before we became lost, he's somewhere in this region. His name is Searbe. Lord Searbe."
The king leaned to the side and whispered in the ear of his tall aide. The aide whispered something back. The king nodded while he spoke, looking at me the whole time.
It was then that I discovered where the magical buzz was emanating from. Just beyond the king—at the edge of the curtained platform his table rested on—was a graceful musical instrument sitting upon an ivory stand. It was a wondrous lyre, beautifully curved and with delicate strings that glistened in the torchlight.
The king finally spoke, and I had to drag my eyes away from the lyre.
"It seems we do have your friend," he said. "He's safe. And well."
"I'm relieved to hear that good news, Your Highness," I said. "I can be rejoined with dear Searbe when you bring me the rest of my men.
"Or tell me where they are, Your Majesty. I shall go tend them this instant. You needn't trouble yourself with issuing a lot of tiresome orders."
The king jerked back, the skin around his beard purpling. He stammered. "Oh, uh, you couldn't do that, uh ..."
"I'll bring them back to this hall," I said. "And we can all join in the feasting. What a great moment to celebrate. Our rescue by such a great king. I have a troubadour among my men. A marvelous balladeer, Your Highness. I'm certain he'd be honored to make us a song about this great event."
I turned in the direction of the lyre, widening my eyes as I pretended to notice it for the first time.
"Why, he could even play the new ballad on that lyre, Your Highness," I exclaimed.
As I did so I jabbed my finger to indicate it, shooting a spark of seeking magic from the tip. It struck the lyre and I felt the burn of returned sorcery and snatched it back.
I smiled at the king, bland as could be. "You do like lyre music, don't you, Your Highness?"
Before King Magon could answer, the lyre suddenly began to play. The strings trembled as spirit fingers swept over them and glorious music sounded through the king's feast hall.
Then a blinding light blasted from
the lyre, filling the room so completely that all color was washed away.
The music swelled louder still, and I looked toward the lyre, shielding my eyes as best I could.
Now the instrument was a great fountain of light, strings thrumming faster, music and light pouring all around and through us.
Then the lyre became a bird with marvelous glowing wings and a widespread tail filled with all the colors of the rainbow. The bird shimmered as the music continued to play, its wings beating in slow, steady time.
Then the music stopped and the feast hall dissolved around me, and I suddenly found myself standing in a room rich with tasteful carpets and pillows and tapestries.
King Magon was stretched out on the deep pillows of a low-backed couch. A large white bearskin hung on a wall behind the couch, framing him.
I looked about. There was no one else in the room. But I felt a presence and glanced at the curtained alcove next to the bearskin. As I looked, the curtains parted and a woman emerged.
She paused, gripping the curtain edges for just a moment, posing briefly so her beauty could be appreciated.
It was the woman I'd seen on Magon's ship. She'd traded her colorful silks for scraps of gossamer that shimmered over her nude form. She was small and delicate, as I'd observed before, and so gracefully made that the nudity seemed more of an artful costume than a blatant display of her charms.
Her skin was lightly tanned, as if she'd lived all her life running free under a warm sun. Her breasts were full and high and well-shaped. Her waist was so narrow I could have put both hands around it, and her hips flared out like the magical lyre she played. Despite her small height, her legs were long and slender, from dainty feet to where her shapely thighs met in the golden downy triangle of her sex.
She smiled at me, then stepped lightly away from the curtains, letting them sway into place.
The king groaned, pulled off his crown, and rubbed his brow with thick hairy knuckles.
'Thank the gods you came, Novari," he said. "My head is killing me."
She gave me a glance, pale eyes blank, and made the shrug of one sister to another: Forgive me while I tend to this man.
"You poor thing," Novari murmured as she ankled over to him, the air stirring with the faint scent of a most marvelous perfume that made all the senses tingle—a touch of a delicious tension.
She stood behind him, took his head in both her hands and began to massage his temples. The king closed his eyes and groaned in appreciation.
Then he said, "Novari's been mad at me."
She kissed his head and tinkled laughter. "Well, you have been a naughty boy, my sweet." She pouted. "Making poor Rali wait in that filthy dungeon." She shuddered. 'That was very rude of you, sweetness. Admit it. You were rude. And I think you should apologize this instant."
The king raised his head, rolling his eyes up to see her as she continued to massage his temples.
"I think we should just kill her, Novari," he complained. "She's just going to be trouble."
Novari hugged the king's head against her breasts. He squirmed in pleasure. "Have I ever advised you wrong, my sweet?" she murmured.
He wagged his head from side to side, nestling in the tawny mounds of her breasts. "Never."
"Then do this little thing for me, will you, dear?"
The king turned his head up again. A sly grin. "You want her as a gift?" he murmured.
"Yes, darling," Novari said. "A gift."
The king's answer was to draw her around the couch until she stood before him. 'Then you shall have her," he said.
He plunged his face into her belly and began kissing and nibbling around that small, tawny plain. Novari stroked his head, then turned and looked at me.
"You'd better go," she said. She motioned toward a far door. "There'll be someone waiting there to take you to your rooms."
The king pulled her tighter, and I left. Just as she'd said, there were guards waiting on the other side of the door.
As they closed it behind me I heard lyre music again.
And I heard the king groan as if he'd come upon paradise itself.
WHEN I THINK back to that time, I'm amazed at how cold I'd become, how deeply I'd burrowed inward—drawing all emotion and feeling in after me. I reflected not at all, avoided all thought of the future, concentrating fully only on the immediate path before me. I'd been ambushed by the storm, blind-sided by the sorcerous scorched-earth attack by my enemy, and I'd never had the chance to fully recover.
I'd seen what had nearly happened to Daciar, and knew that any large spell performed by me would instantly blast back with disastrous results. Now that I was completely in my enemy's power, I'd have to be even more cautious.
Nor could I reveal the extent of my power and abilities so that I might have the element of surprise if I ever got the chance to use it.
Meanwhile all I could do was look for a crack in my enemy's defenses and then exploit that crack, smashing at it with all I could bring to bear until it parted.
For two more weeks I lolled in splendid imprisonment in the lush apartments assigned to me. I was fed the finest food, served gracious wines and spirits, and was pampered endlessly by the serving maids. I gathered strength, hoarding every speck, quietly rebuilding my powers with every passing hour. I didn't see this as a mistake on the part of my enemy.
I had no doubt that I was being fattened for the kill. Although for what purpose was still a mystery.
As the days passed I stole small moments to myself. Only a minute or two each time. But those minutes were enough to gradually piece together a spell I could cast so that not even the most wary and sensitive wizard would notice.
Using that spell I turned the lizard bone into a long golden hairpin. I buried the pin in the jewelry chest, then pretended to find it one day. I made much of it, saying it might be just the thing for my hair.
The maids all agreed, and one of them even thrust it through my hairdo herself and held out a mirror for me to see.
I looked it over as if unsure. The maids declared it perfect. They made such a to-do about the pin, insisting it was so lovely that I must wear it at all times, that I knew I'd been right to refuse all metal objects offered to me. I teased them, pretending I wasn't certain. But then relented.
From then on I wore it in my hair every moment night or day.
One evening after dinner the maids suddenly burst into activity. While one pretty trio cajoled me into taking a bath— liberally spicing the water with sweet oils, lemony perfumes, and dilutions of warm wine and honey—the others fussed over the apartment making certain all was tidy and perfectly arranged.
They draped me in a simple but elegant robe, and while my hair was dried and brushed until it glowed, some of the maids fetched refreshments on a tray and placed them by the hearth, where they spread out pillows and poked up the fire until it gave off a warm, cheery breath. They fixed my hair, adjusting the golden pin so all was just so.
I didn't ask what was happening but took note that there were two ornate goblets on the tray of spirits they'd brought in.
Then they dimmed the lights and drew aside the curtains against one wall—it was the first time they'd done so— revealing a large window overlooking the frozen lake. The night sky was clear, filled with thousands of stars, and a full moon glittered on the frozen lake surface.
The strings of a lyre, low and coming from far away, drew me to the window to stare out at the stark wintry beauty.
I heard silken rustling and out of the corner of my eye saw the maids withdrawing silently.
The music grew louder, but pleasantly so, a shower of wondrous notes falling all around me.
In the distance I saw a small cloud drift across the face of the moon. It was winged, like a bird. Then the cloud became a bird and it swooped across the ice, dipping low in a long dive until it skimmed over the gleaming white surface, then shot up toward the window.
It flew straight for the glass—but spread its wings an instant before colli
sion and hovered there.
The music swelled as the creature's tail fanned out, revealing all the glorious colors, the feathers shimmering with song as if they were the strings of a harp.
It was the Lyre Bird.
The one I'd been awaiting.
The Lyre Bird fountained light, and as I shielded my eyes, it drifted through the glass. The music stopped. The light vanished.
And Novari was standing in front of me.
She posed for a heartbeat, letting her heady beauty radiate out like a rare musk. Silk veils of many colors swirled around her perfect form. A thin tiara pebbled with diamonds held in her long fair hair. She smiled prettily, white teeth flashing through soft lips the color of a new rose. She took a flowing step forward, raising a dainty hand to touch mine in greeting. As she moved, the silk veils parted, revealing glimpses of honeyed flesh.
I shivered as her fingers brushed across my knuckles. The shiver drew another smile, and she looked deep into my eyes as if acknowledging a mutual attraction. Her eyes were pale mirrors, urging me to see whatever I might desire.
I let her lust-magic coax a smile in return. Let my loins tingle with the warmth she intended. Felt my skin pebble in response to her seductive aura. But beneath it all I kept all my defenses up, guiding myself by feel through the perfumed thicket she'd created.
Novari tensed and I caught a pout of disappointment because I was apparently unmoved by her charms.
"How kind of you to come see me," I said. I gestured at the trays of spirits and delicacies set by the fire. "Although it seems I was expecting you."
I felt a boil of energy as she came to full life and she threw back her head and laughed. The sound was rich, her breath smelled of poppies.
"You want truth, Rali," she said. 'That's my specialty. I speak nothing but the truth. I cannot do otherwise." She gave me a wink, bawdy and conspiratorial. "Come, my sweet. Ask me what you will. I find the prospect so, so—" She paused, shivered as if she'd just had a sexual climax, then finished: "—so full of delicious surrender."
