Future Indefinite

by Dave Duncan

  “What? I certainly will not do any such—”

  “Take off your boots!”

  The order cracked like a cane on a tabletop. No one could resist an order from the Liberator when he used that tone. She paled and obeyed, and then looked up at him again with fury and defiance and shame.

  It was cruel. Everyone could see the comparison—the deformed leg, horribly shorter than its companion.

  D’ward glanced at Imminol and the old man on either side of her. “Hold her hands.”

  Eleal began to protest, but the others seized her hands. “D’ward! What are you—”

  The Liberator raised his eyes as if studying the sky. He lifted his arms overhead in the circle. A flash of revelation told Dosh what was going to happen an instant before the girl cried put. She struggled against her captors.

  D’ward lowered his hands. “Give thanks to the True God.”

  He turned and walked back to his former place, his robe swirling in the rising wind. Raindrops hissed in the fire. Imminol and Piol released their hold on Eleal. She had turned ashen pale, staring down at her feet.

  “A blessed miracle!” Ursula said in accented Joalian. “Praise to the Undivided for this sign to us.”

  One or two voices muttered, “Amen!” Everyone else was too stunned to speak. The girl’s legs were now the same length.

  “It is written,” Ursula continued. “‘Hurt and sickness, yea death itself, shall he take from us. Oh rejoice!’”

  Then Eleal reacted. She screamed, “D’ward!” and scrambled to her feet. She started to move toward him and lurched, almost overbalancing.

  “No!” D’ward snapped. “Come no closer!”

  “But—You cured—” She looked down at her feet, as if unable to believe her senses.

  It would feel very strange, Dosh thought. Even having a sprained ankle cured had felt strange, and she must have lived with her deformity all her life. It felt bizarre even to witness such a miracle. His scalp prickled, although he had seen the Liberator use his powers before. The effect on the others would be even stronger.

  Ursula laughed, and the sound was as shocking as it would be in a temple. “That was foolish of you, Kisster. You should have done that where the world could see.”

  D’ward scowled at her. “I did not do it for that. It was recompense for an old offense. Tielan, can you take that extra sole off her boot? Eleal, I have repaid some of my debt to you. Go now.”

  Eleal’s face glistened wet in the firelight, and that was not all rain on her cheeks. She trembled visibly. “D’ward, D’ward!” She took a tentative step.

  “No closer! I am happy to see you again, and even happier that I could do what I just did, but you are not welcome here tonight. You must find a place outside. Piol…What do you think, Piol? Am I being foolish?”

  The old man was pale also. He shook his head.

  D’ward pulled a face, as if that confirmation of whatever troubled him was highly distasteful. “Bid’lip, Doggan…will you see that Eleal Singer and Piol Poet find a place to lie tonight?” He did not add, “Far away from me,” but the implication was obvious.

  Tielan had pried the lift off Eleal’s boot with the blade of his spear. He handed the boot to her in silence. The rain was starting to sting on Dosh’s shoulders.

  “The rest of us,” D’ward said, “will use the tent cloth as a blanket. It won’t be very comfortable, but it will cover more of us that way, and we shall be a lot better off than most of the people out there. If you see any small children, invite them in. Farewell, Eleal and Piol. I wish you safe journey home.”

  37

  Showers came ever more frequently as the night passed, growing heavier, colder, and more persistent. The fires went out early, starved for lack of fuel or just drowned by the rain. Strangers huddled together, grumbling and muttering, sharing their misery. Few slept much.

  Eleal slept hardly at all. She would no sooner start to nod than something would disturb her—if not a dream then rain on her face, a child wailing, or someone moving beside her—and instantly she was wide awake, thinking my leg is cured! She was no longer a cripple, a freak, a monster. Now she could plan a career as a singer or actor. She could dream of entering the Tion Festival. She could make plans for husband, family, children. She could imagine herself as beautiful, attractive to men, a complete person.

  And it had been D’ward who had done this. Not Tion or any of the other gods. D’ward, who preached heresy. How could she reconcile this miracle with the terrible things he said? How could she tell evil from good anymore? Five years ago D’ward had betrayed her trust. Now he had granted her dearest wish without a word from her, asking no favor or service or pledge, repaying in one stroke everything she had ever done for him.

  How? Who was D’ward? She had been thinking of him as man born of woman, and yet she had seen him come into the world, materializing out of empty air. If he was not mortal, then he must be divine or demon, and why should a demon grant such a blessing?

  As the first faint hint of day began to seep through the sodden clouds, the multitude on the knoll stirred and crumbled. People rose shivering to their feet and headed for the road, jostling and disturbing any who remained asleep. From the angry mutters she had overheard around her in the night, Eleal knew that most would be heading straight back home to Niol. D’ward had dismissed her, refused to meet with her alone. She had saved his life once and yet he did not trust her! He had bade her leave.

  Piol came awake with a paroxysm of wheezing and coughing. How could so few teeth chatter so loudly?

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “Apart from rheumatics and frostbite and double pneumonia, yes. How about you?”

  “Mental confusion and moral uncertainty, mostly.”

  He turned to peer at her in the gloom and then chuckled. His bony hand found hers and squeezed. “A new life opens its doors?”

  She hugged him. He was a bundle of faggots and cold as a fish. “I don’t know, Piol, I don’t know! Explain it to me.”

  He hacked again. “Wish I could. Where are we going now?”

  After a long moment, Eleal whispered, “I want to follow the Liberator.”

  “I was afraid of that. Why, Eleal? What is driving you? You told me you wanted to go to Joal, but all you really seem to want—”

  “D’ward cured my leg.”

  “That’s no reason. Even before—”

  “Yes, it is!” But was it? Her dream had changed. In the night it had really been D’ward in her arms, not that unknown admirer with the mustache—D’ward as he was now, with his trim beard. Woeful maiden, handsome lad…

  Piol was waiting for more. What could she tell him? It was ridiculous to think of revenge now. However D’ward had harmed her in the past, he had made redress. But how could she ever be friends with a man who uttered such frightful blasphemies? Furthermore, he was leading his army to Jurgvale, and in Jurgvale was Tigurb’l Tavernkeeper. She had not told Piol about him, but he had guessed enough. There was absolutely no reason for her to join this crazy heretical pilgrimage.

  There was no way she could not. “I never thanked D’ward properly.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Well, I’d like to talk with him. Talk about old times. He’s an old friend, isn’t he? I like him. He’s nice. Let’s eat something.” She reached for the pack they had been using as a pillow, and he caught her wrist.

  “Not yet. Too many eyes and mouths here. Let’s start walking. It’ll warm us.”

  The crowd was already flowing down from the hillock, dividing into two streams. The larger by far was the stream heading for the Niol road, but a surprising number were making for Lospass. Eleal and Piol moved more slowly than most—he because he was old, she because she had to learn how to walk all over again. As soon as her mind wandered, she tripped or staggered as if she were drunk. It was funny, really, and once or twice she laughed aloud.

  Daylight came grudgingly, a drippy, gray morning. It must be Twenty-se
cond Fortnight already, so bad weather was hardly surprising, even in Niol. Narshvale would be thigh-deep in snow by now. So might Lospass. She was not dressed for winter and neither was Piol.

  The road wound across the flats. Rain clouds drifted overhead, trailing gray tendrils. Niolwall and most of Niolslope were hidden. Just as the marshy paddies began to give way to gently rolling pastures, she noticed that the Liberator and his bodyguard were coming up behind, and drawing closer. They moved in spurts. It seemed as if D’ward was hailing almost everyone he passed by name, sometimes striding on by, other times slowing for a few minutes’ chat upon the way. Then he would lengthen his stride again and so would the shield-bearers, and he would move on to the next group.

  Perhaps he would be in a better mood today—a hug and a kiss for old times’ sake….

  Piol was managing well. He was slow but sure, he said; he could keep this pace up all day, just as long as nobody rushed him. They ate the last of their rations without stopping.

  D’ward’s party caught up with them before Eleal expected. The first she knew was a voice at their heels:

  “Piol Poet?”

  Piol was too unsteady to look around while walking. He stopped and turned to peer at the speaker inquiringly.

  “I am Dosh Envoy. The Liberator asks a word with you.”

  Piol said, “Oh?” and “Oh!” and “Of course!”

  “And I will keep you company, Eleal Singer.” The little blond man smiled pleasantly enough, but he nudged her forward.

  “Why Piol? Why doesn’t he want to speak with me?” She allowed herself to be conducted along the road while Piol fell back to be immersed in the bodyguard.

  “I don’t know, lady. I would love to know that. He granted you a miracle and then threw you out. I was sort of hoping you would tell me why. Are you a reaper?”

  “A what? Of course not!”

  Dosh was not the stripling she had thought. Seen by daylight, he was undoubtedly older than she was, and while that might be innocence steadying the gaze of his baby-blue eyes, it was creepily like the cynical contempt she had seen so often in Tigurb’l Tavernkeeper’s.

  “I’m the Eleal of the prophecies. That’s why I got the miracle.”

  “And I’m nosey. That’s why I’m asking. Would you tell me what happened at the seven-hundredth festival, when the Liberator came into the world?”

  “That’s a very good smile—most winsome. Have you acted professionally?”

  He laughed, not at all abashed, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. “Lady, I have done things professionally that would shock you to the core.” His teeth gleamed. “Or would they?”

  “I ought to slap your face for that.”

  “Go ahead. I deserve it. D’ward has shown me the light; I’m trying to reform and it’s harder than I expected. I am sorry if I offended.”

  “Did he tell you to cross-examine me?”

  Dosh nodded cheerfully, hitching his shield higher on his back. “He said I would find your story interesting, if you would tell it. I met him not long after you did, a few fortnights later, in Nagvale.”

  “Oh, that was where he ran to, was it?”

  “Wouldn’t you run if Zath were after you?”

  Eleal walked at least a hundred steps on her new leg before she could answer that question. It opened doors she had never thought of. She had always thought of the Lord of Art as a defender, but he might not defend heretics. “Would Tion have betrayed him to Zath?”

  “Very likely. I would trust almost any of them before Tion.”

  She shuddered at the blasphemy. “You are personally acquainted with gods, are you?”

  “I thought they were gods, too,” Dosh said calmly, “until a few days ago. I’ve met at least four, probably five, because I think I was Tion’s pathic for a few years. There’s a chunk of my memory missing. I’ll tell you about them if you’ll tell me how D’ward came into the world.”

  “You first.”

  “No, you first.”

  The trail rose gradually into the hills. Forest closed in. The rain became colder.

  Dosh was granted a very brief account of the Liberator’s arrival in Sussvale. Eleal was a shrewd little minx, and he had to hammer her with questions to obtain a reasonably full account of what had happened. She was astute and willful and pretty, he decided, but not as worldly wise or ravishing as she thought she was. He found himself almost regretting his present state of grace, for there could be no doubt who would have been ravished had she met the old Dosh in a mood for girl.

  He eventually decided that she genuinely did not know how D’ward had managed to escape from Sussland. That was a nagging mystery, because the Youth must have known the Liberator was prowling on his turf. It was very much out of character for Tion to ignore a handsome young innocent, which was what D’ward had been in those days, and to let the Liberator leave in peace would have been rank defiance of Zath. Eleal had no inkling of Pentatheon politics, though.

  When he was satisfied that he had learned as much as he was going to, Dosh picked up the story. He was just describing the army’s escape from Lemodvale when a group of shield-bearers moved past them to take up station ahead. D’ward himself arrived, walking at Dosh’s other side, using him as a barrier between himself and the girl.

  She said, “D’ward!” Her smile was quite convincing. It didn’t quite convince Dosh, though.

  “Stay there, please,” the Liberator told her. He had his hood back, and his black hair was sparkly with rain. “Why didn’t you go back to Niol?”

  “Aren’t you pleased to see me again?”

  “You I am delighted to see, and Piol too. What I don’t welcome is your curse.”

  “Curse?” If that reaction was faked, then she was first-class.

  “There’s a spell on you, Eleal. I’m not quite sure how I know that, but I do, and my friend Ursula agrees. She is wise in such matters.”

  “I don’t know what you mean! That’s a ridiculous, horrible idea.”

  D’ward sighed. “Who did it, Eleal? Which of your supposed gods?”

  She grew shrill. “You’re talking nonsense! Curse indeed!”

  “Piol says you were living in Jurg, so the most likely culprit is Ken’th, who happens to be your father, as I recall. Why did you throw up your job and come looking for me? Come on, Eleal, we’re talking murder here…. Do you really want to kill me?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Would you let me kiss you?”

  “Of course…I mean perhaps.” Now she was certainly hiding something.

  D’ward sighed. “We’ll be in Jurgvale tomorrow. You can go home and resume your career.”

  “I can start a career, you mean! Didn’t Piol tell you? I sang in a brothel. I was a whore, D’ward! That’s what cripples do to eat.”

  There were other ways to earn a living, Dosh thought, although he had heard that they paid poorly. She was limping again, but he could not decide whether that was from habit or because her muscles were unaccustomed to an even gait. Or it could be just a ploy to win sympathy.

  “No troupe would hire me. I was starving in the gutter, D’ward! But now that’s all behind me, thanks to you, and you think I want to kill you?”

  The Liberator had turned his face away and pulled up his hood against the rain. “I see why you would have wanted to.”

  “But I didn’t understand!” she proclaimed. “I admit I felt hurt when you ran out on me, D’ward, but I was only a child. Now I am a mature woman and can see things more clearly. I didn’t know Tion would have turned you over to Zath.”

  “Well, I thought he might. What do you think, Brother Dosh?”

  “About what, master?”

  “Can I trust her?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to. I wouldn’t, of course. How does one recognize a curse on someone?”

  The Liberator shrugged. “It isn’t something you could ever learn to do. I couldn’t have seen this one if it had been done properly—which is another reason
to think that Ken’th is the culprit. He’s quite a minor sorcerer.” He nodded to the girl. “You can come as far as Jurg with us, Eleal Singer, and welcome.” He strode forward very quickly, and the shield-bearers followed.

  “Which brothel?” Dosh asked.

  “Mind your own business!” Eleal spun around and limped back down the road to where the old man was following.

  It wouldn’t be the one Dosh had worked in.

  Different clientele.

  38

  Alice came awake suddenly, in the shocked where-am-I? awareness of a strange bed. The room was almost dark, with just a hint of light around the shutter, and the rattling of that shutter had wakened her. The weather had broken; she sensed a strong wind gusting outside and the dampness of rain. Unfamiliar scents of spice or potpourri added to the strangeness, and someone very close to her ear was breathing in a measured half-snoring rhythm. There was a man in her bed.

  Then her memory awoke also and began supplying answers. She was in Boydlar Rancher’s house in Jurgslope, the foothills of Jurgwall, and the man on the other side of the bolster was Jumbo Watson. Valian peasantry were always willing to offer hospitality to wayfarers, and Jumbo was not above using his charisma to obtain the best. The best in this case was Boydlar’s own feather bed, for although Boydlar had a large rambling house, he had an even larger rambling’ family to fill it. Jumbo, always the gentleman, had announced that he would roll up in a blanket on the floor. Alice had told him to put the blanket between them, and she would trust him to behave himself. So here she was, bundling with a man she had met only a week ago.

  Her affair with Terry had gone even faster, but that had been a wartime emergency. Jumbo Watson was not a terrified, doomed boy. Gentleman or not, he had taken more than his share of the covers. She pulled gently. He snorted, but in a moment he was snuffling regularly again.

  Boards creaked overhead. Something mooed or lowed in the distance. The Boydlar family would be astir at dawn, she supposed, but there was no reason why she should not go back to sleep for an hour or so.

  A week ago she had been hiding in her hermitage in the flats of Norfolk. Now she was roaming the ranges of another world on the back of a dragon. And loving it! Miss Pimm had been absolutely right. This impossible adventure had jolted Alice Pearson right out of her depression. If that rain she could smell was going to hang around—from the look of the clouds at sunset, Jumbo had predicted that it would—then future days might not be quite so much fun as the last few. But a little damp wouldn’t kill her, whereas Norfolk might well have driven her loopy.