by Dave Duncan
“Thank you. My apologies for disturbing your rest.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. Fish don’t sleep. Come aboard.”
The person on deck was the mage Cheleb. “Did you get the masks?” she demanded urgently.
Talitha handed them over. “He had a whole box of them.”
“Excellent!” Cheleb tucked the masks away in a shoulder satchel, her bag of magical tricks, no doubt. “To Spica, please, captain,” she said as soon as the others were aboard.
Rigel waited until the three of them were down in the saloon before he started asking questions. The red and gold tables and dining chairs were gone, leaving the room bare. The lamps were unlit, but moonlight illuminated the red plush window benches, and he was surprised to see the top of an obelisk rush by outside. The barge was already airborne.
“What are we going to do with basilisks?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Cheleb snapped. “Can you ride a horse?”
“Only centaurs. Why do we need the blindfolds?”
“When you need to know, we will tell you. Halflings should be seen and not heard, and preferably seen only at a distance.”
Talitha did not comment in words, but she sighed wearily and leaned her head against Rigel’s shoulder. She settled a hand on his knee. He wrapped an arm around her. So she had put herself where she belonged, and put old Cheleb in her place at the same time. The mage sniffed in disgust and twisted around to peer out the window.
“Why Spica?” Rigel asked softly.
“Because we need red magic to find Izar,” Talitha said.
As she clearly did not want to talk, he was content to just hold her and study the silver path the moon had painted on the sea. Suddenly there came the familiar wheel of cloud, the ear-popping descent, and the moon was gone. It reappeared beyond another one of the windows as the barge drifted down to a dark, tree-lined river and a ranch house. Lights were moving around down there, indicating some signs of life.
Rigel was first on deck and first down the gangplank, so he was also the first to spot the great cat bounding toward them, whom he quickly identified as Sphinx Praecipua. The guard inspected him and the two women who followed him, then bowed to Talitha.
Other sphinxes were directing a gang of humans who were building a mass funeral pyre in the moonlit pasture. Two huge cyclops were gathering the bodies, carrying them as if they were sleeping children.
“The pyre will be ready very shortly,” Praecipua rumbled.
“Light it whenever you are ready,” Talitha said. “I mourn each one of the dead, but I have more urgent troubles that require me to be elsewhere. Starborn Cheleb and I require a moment in the house.” She hurried off after the mage.
Praecipua said, “I have a question, halfling.”
Rigel halted, remembering that Fomalhaut had warned him to answer all the sphinxes’ questions. “I will help in any way I can.”
“When we asked her about the dead dogs, the Pythia informed us that you would supply all the information we needed.”
Pythia? “Um… As I recall, the Pythia’s prophecies were always obscure,” Rigel said, needing time to decide how much he should tattle to the cops about Mage Formalhaut’s interference.
“But I have a feeling we can rely on this one,” Praecipua purred, with just a hint of menace.
“All I know about their dogs concerns the big one, whose name was Turais.”
“That is the only one that could possibly matter.”
“Turais was a magical shield given to Starling Izar just this morning—yesterday morning now—by a mage loyal to the cause.”
“It did well.”
Was there no limit to the powers of magic? “You mean you know what happened here?”
“The Pythia informed us,” the sphinx said, “that five men and two women arrived here in two air boats at around half-morning yesterday. Regrettably she did not identify them for us. They attempted to seize Starling Izar while he was riding his unicorn in the charge of his guardian, Starborn Baham. The dog killed three of them and wounded another before being itself slain.”
“The dog did well… better than I did.”
The sphinx’s laughter was terrifying and powerful. “You must not be ashamed of your efforts, Rigel Halfling. You survived. The dog did not, and there are still a lot more vermin where those came from.” He paused, and after a moment of staring at the house, he said, “The princess is understandably preoccupied. Strictly speaking, the palace guard has no authority outside the royal domain, but several of us here are about to go off duty. If you think she could use any help tonight, we’d be more than happy to accompany her.” He paused to examine four dagger talons attached to his right forepaw. “In an advisory capacity, of course.”
“Your offer is extremely generous,” Rigel said. “I will certainly suggest that she take you up on it.” Rigel was accustomed to the law looking upon him with suspicion, a young male vagrant. His exploits against Tarf and Muscida must have greatly impressed the palace guard if it was willing to confide in him.
“As for the incident we have been investigating—may I rely on you to convey my report to your sponsor at her earliest convenience?” The sphinx strode away with his tail twitching.
By the time Rigel reached the house, Talitha and Cheleb were already coming down the steps, so whatever they had come for had not been hard to find. He told them about the sphinx’s offer to join the expedition. The mage snorted as if it were a ludicrous suggestion.
Talitha smiled wanly and said, “Hardly practical, but it’s sweet of them to offer.”
They hurried back to the barge; Saidak greeted them with a cheerful, “Where to now, my lady?”
Cheleb said, “Tarazed, the northern coast.”
“No!” The mermaid’s roar echoed faintly off the house. “Never!”
“Please, Saidak,” Talitha said. “This is only way we will have any chance of rescuing my son from Phegda.”
“You think I’m crazy? Go to Tarazed? At night?”
“You won’t need to dock,” Cheleb said soothingly. “If you can just find a flat spot and hover, we can make it down ourselves.”
“Hover? Lay to in those winds? I’d be bounced up and down and smashed to firewood.”
“Only for a moment. Just long enough for our muscleman to jump down and catch us.”
“You call that weedy tweenling a muscleman?” the mermaid said grumpily. At least she had stopped shouting. “Why not take one of those cyclops?”
“If you like,” said the mage, “but we can’t leave him there, so he’ll have to climb back aboard.”
“And haul me down onto the rocks in the process? No thank you!”
Again Talitha said, “Please, Saidak? You’re a mother. You know I can’t leave Izar with Hadar and his goons.”
The mermaid sulked for a moment longer, then said, “We can go and see how bad it is. Gales I can handle. Hurricanes and lava bombs, I can’t.”
“I am so very grateful! Starborn, give her a basilisk mask.”
Chapter 32
Ignoring disapproving sniffs from Cheleb, Rigel settled onto the bench next to Talitha and cuddled her tight against him. “You are exhausted,” he said. “So sleep. Even a few minutes will help. I’ll wake you when we reach Tarazed.”
“But—”
“No buts. Sleep.”
She sighed and said, “Yes. You’re right.” Then she was gone, her head heavy on his shoulder, ears limp.
The barge climbed steeply into the night sky. It was well past time for a business meeting. He looked over at the mage.
“Basilisks? Hurricanes? Lava bombs? A short briefing on this mission, if you please, Starborn Cheleb.”
She smirked in the moonlight. “I don’t want to frighten you, boy. Just do as your sponsor tells you.”
“That is absurd and you know it,” Rigel said, trying to sound calm and logical, if not exactly respectful. “Talitha must not order me to break the law, but we are obviously engaged in a miss
ion of armed intrusion that may very well lead to violence. She knows I will help in any way I can, but if I don’t know what to expect, I may panic at the first emergency.”
“You will anyway.”
“I haven’t yet.”
“Your ability to emerge unscathed from fights is a tribute to the potency of your amulet. Don’t let it give you exalted ideas of your own strength and courage.”
He wondered if the old biddy hated him personally or all halflings on principle. Had she borne halfling sons of her own and watched them die before their first millennium? Or—recalling what Prince Kornephoros had said about mules being attractive to starborn women of low moral character—was Cheleb in denial over her own secret longing for Rigel?
How was that for an exalted idea of his own strength, potency, and so forth?
“Try this, then. Despite the color of my hair, I am not a boy, although I appreciate that anyone younger than Christ may seem so to you. I am an adult male savage motivated by animal lust for the princess, who is cleverly luring me with wiles and promises into aiding her in her illegal purposes. After which, no doubt, she will thank me kindly and slam the bedroom door in my face. So pander to my rutting frenzy and explain what is going on.”
“You are a vulgar, ignorant serf!”
“I am her loyal retainer. Whose side are you on?”
“Insolence!”
“Calling me names won’t help Talitha’s cause.”
Cheleb scowled. “It must be quick, then. What do you know already?”
“That Hadar and his gang kidnapped Izar to please Vildiar, who could safely deny any knowledge of this even on the Star of Truth. That his domain must be very big and we cannot rescue the imp until we locate him, which I assume will be your job. Mine will be to sneak into the hyenas’ den and steal Izar back again. I am also aware that Izar was taken hostage to barter for Saiph, meaning my life. As a seasoned killer being hunted by other killers, I intend to be absolutely ruthless. What do we do at Tarazed?”
His ears popped as the barge plunged through a link.
“You came close,” Cheleb admitted. “Phegda is very big, perhaps as big as the royal domain. Fortunately the princess has lived there and knows it well. She even has friends there who may help. Finding her son is the first task, and for that we need transportation—something quick, nimble, dispensable, and inconspicuous. Neither her swan nor Saidak fits the bill, and her swanherd is dead anyway.”
“So we collect basilisks at Tarazed?” Five basilisk masks: Talitha, Cheleb, Saidak, Rigel, and Izar.
“No. But there are basilisks on Tarazed, some as small as hawks, some bigger than hunting dogs. Their gaze can kill or paralyze, many species can spit a deadly venom, and at least one breathes fire. Watch where you’re stepping at all times, because if you tread on a basilisk, the next thing you hear will be your funeral drum roll. But don’t worry unduly about them, because there are a dozen other things more horrible. Including,” the mage added with relish, “dragons, wyverns, wasps the size of laundry baskets, whose venom induces paralysis so that—”
“Fascinating. What lives on the northern shore?”
“Cockatrices.”
“Is it safe to step on cockatrices?”
“They’re more likely to step on you. The cockatrice is a larger variant of the basilisk and will attack on sight. Its stare will paralyze you unless your eyes are covered with a basilisk mask. Fortunately you can daze a cockatrice with a fireball about ninety percent of the time, because those are the creatures we will be riding.”
The barge twisted through another highway. “It’s a long way to Tarazed?” he asked.
“Of course. How many starfolk would link their domains directly to such a bestiary?”
He should have seen that. “And the other ten percent? Cockatrices who aren’t dazed?”
“You move one link down the food chain.”
“I do have a fireball amulet but I don’t know how to use it.”
“Stars bless me! I cannot understand why Talitha didn’t manage to find a better helper than an ignorant boy. Ignorant youth, if you insist.”
“Because she trusts me more than anyone else. Instruct me.”
“Fireballs are easy. You have a ring with a large violet stone?”
“Yes.” He raised his free hand. No colors showed in the moonlight, but there was only one large stone on his left hand. “This one.”
“You press on the stone with your thumb and move your hand as if you’re throwing something. Do not practice in here.”
Saidak lurched again. The moon disappeared. Now the barge trembled and rolled like a real boat, and Rigel could hear storm winds raging. Rain beat on the windows.
“So who imagined Tarazed?” he asked the gloom. “Why tolerate such a horrible place?”
“Tarazed is where nightmares grow. It’s as old as Naos. No one knows who started it, but once imagined, things cannot be consciously unimagined, and it is best to confine them in one spot as much as possible.”
The barge dropped, then slammed upward again. Cheleb bounced on her bench and the unconscious Talitha began to slide out of Rigel’s embrace. Plunged into pitch darkness, he slithered to the carpet, taking Talitha with him as gently as he could. Although he made sure that she ended up on top, they landed just as the barge hit another updraft and the double impact knocked him flat, crushing all the air from his lungs. As the lamps began to glow, he wriggled free, sat up, and arranged her as comfortably as possible in his arms. She did not wake up. Thump! Severe turbulence, no seat belts. He wondered how Saidak compared to a Boeing in terms of structural strength.
Cheleb had also taken refuge on the deck.
“How does one ride a cockatrice?” he asked, thinking how bizarre that question would have seemed to him only four days ago.
“You sit on its back and hang on by wrapping your legs around its neck. Don’t let them dangle, or it will bite them off.”
“Reins? Stirrups?”
“No. A cockatrice has a fleshy comb and wattles, like a rooster. You control it with those. If you push its head down it cannot fly. If you tug on a wattle, it will turn to that side, and so on. The tricky part is dismounting.”
The next highway threw Saidak into wild gyrations. Storm winds thundered rain against the windows, blurring vague shapes of red fire.
“We’re here!” Cheleb said.
Rigel kissed Talitha’s forehead. “Time to wake up, darling. We’re at Tarazed.”
“Thanks.” She opened her eyes, perked up her ears, and yawned. Then she squealed in alarm as Saidak rolled. Rigel happily tightened his grip.
Cheleb opened her satchel to find one of the basilisk masks. “Put this on, halfling. Go and see if Saidak thinks she can let us off. She has her hands full.”
The mermaid must have her hands full just staying aboard, for the barge was pitching like a rodeo bronco. Reduced to crawling on his hands and knees, Rigel had trouble reaching the stairs at all, and when he slid open the hatch, a bathtubful of water was dumped on his face.
He had never experienced weather like this, not even the great Pacific storm that had blown in while he was in Ahousaht. He clung desperately to the hatch with one hand while reaching for the railing with the other, feeling at times as if his legs were flying free or the deck was higher than he was—and well aware that in a few seconds he would be thumped hard on the deck again. Rain was rushing by like a river, icy cold even by Starlands standards. Explosions of fire in the background cast a fitful glow over a jumble of rocks, but he was being bounced so much that he could not judge whether they were boulders or mountains. Terrified that his fingers would freeze and lose their grip on the wet wood, he clamped both hands tight around the railing in the bow, close by one of Saidak’s much larger ones. Even in that monsoon downpour, her hair streamed out like a golden flag.
“It’s raining,” he bellowed.
She turned her great head to look up at him, and he was astonished to see that she was grinnin
g. “Good exercise. Enjoying it?” Despite the known power of her lungs, he could barely hear her.
“Interesting experience!”
“What?”
He leaned closer. “Can you let us off?”
“You still want to try?”
“Yes.”
“You are one crazy imp. I’ll try to find a sheltered spot. Alright?”
“Yieee!” He had almost been torn loose. “Right, I mean.”
“Tell the starfolk to stand by,” Saidak bellowed. “When I drop my gangplank, you go first. Then you catch them. I’ll only have a few seconds between gusts.”
“Right.” What else could Sir Lancelot say?
The first problem was getting back to the hatch, but Saidak solved that for him by tilting her bow upward, or perhaps Saidak herself did it; he had trouble distinguishing between barge and bargee. He slid, grabbed, and arrived more or less unbroken at the bottom of the companionway. A minor lake was swilling back and forth across the saloon.
“Passengers stand by to disembark,” he yelled. “I’ll go first and try to catch you. We’ll only have a few seconds, she says.” He crawled back up the steps and the two starborn followed him with no greater dignity than his.
He let ripples of rainwater chute him across the deck to the gate where the gangplank would appear. There he clung for dear life, sternly telling himself that Lancelot and Galahad had never succumbed to seasickness.
In moments when he was not blinded by wind and rain, volcanic explosions lit the scene for him like strobe lights. As the barge descended, he saw more and more steaming rocks all around them. He wondered if the rain had cooled the ground to a bearable temperature or if contact with it would boil his feet. Off in the distance, he saw breakers and waves leaping up cliffs. By the time he could work out an idea of scale from the rate at which they fell back, the rocks and white water were perilously close. Saidak was taking a serious risk by edging the barge’s great bulk lower in search of shelter from the wind.
She found it in the lee of a towering sea stack, just above a rocky shore. The wind slackened, the gangplank unfolded, and Rigel forced his hands to slacken their deadman’s grip on the railing. He half scrambled, half fell down the plank and flew off the end like a spitball flipped from a ruler. He landed on one foot, one hand, and a shin, and was instantly blown onto his back by a screaming gust of wind, which carried away his howl of pain and Saidak also. The gangplank, with either Talitha or Cheleb clinging on the end of it, went soaring away into the darkness.
