“Wisdom and forethought are not always numbered among his virtues.” Sir Guy turned back to the amulet. “We will fly to Reme and stoop upon the enemy, Wizard Saul. We shall hail you through this amulet when we are in sight of the city.”
“Thanks, guys! Talk again when you’re near! Over and out!”
“Tell Alisande I love her,” Matt’s voice called; in fact, he didn’t quite finish the last word before the spell ceased. “Your Majesty, I regret that we must leave you.” Sir Guy bowed in the saddle before dismounting his charger. “Needs must, Sir Guy. Needs must.” And Alisande knew she needs must hold back the tears that suddenly welled up, tears of joy to hear Matthew’s dear voice saying he loved her. How silly she was! She had never been so subject to womanly weaknesses before. Well, rarely… But he was alive! And she was going to find him! “If you are in Venarra when we come there, Sir Guy, we shall stop. If you are not, we shall ride on to Reme.”
“Would you and all your army could go there as quickly as we!” Sir Guy sighed. “Since you cannot, though, Stegoman and I shall have to suffice. I pray you care well for my steed.”
“Be assured that we shall,” Alisande told him. “Go release the wizards!”
“Black Knight to Witch Doctor.” Sir Guy’s voice sounded awkward and stilted as it came through the amulet. “At last!” The sweat stood on Matt’s brow. The power coming to him through the clergy who were praying in the cathedral thrummed through him as if he were a high-voltage cable, but it drained from him as quickly as it came, as he recited the same verses over and over again, manufacturing more robots to replace the ones smashed by the condottieri’s maces and catapults, and short-circuited by their iron crossbow bolts. It had given them a nasty surprise when they had seen a squadron of metal men come clanking out to block their way, and the retreat had been a real delight to watch. It had taken them a whole half hour to regroup and work themselves up to march again-but once begun, they found that the robots were vulnerable after all, though not very. A score of dead foot soldiers and six dead horsemen testified to the effectiveness of the automatons; it had taken that many deaths before the bandits had learned to stay back and lob in missiles. Since Matt’s robot barricade kept being renewed, the bandits probably didn’t know how effective their own strikes were. Matt just hoped they wore down before he did. It would have to be soon. Even with the well of spiritual energy worn the chapel to draw on, the sheer energy of the struggle was sapping him, not to mention the guilt of seeing all those dead bodies. He tried consoling himself by remembering how muchsuffering those men had probably caused as they looted and pillaged, but that reminded him that they had died without confession, dragged down by the weight of all their sins. He kept fighting doggedly. Behind him, Saul blocked the other two main avenues with Roman legionnaires-suggested by Arouetto-and howling barbarian Visigoths. The ‘ghosts’ had sent the condotierri running at first, but they had plucked up their courage and marched back again, assuring themselves that ghosts couldn’t hurt them. The first dozen casualties had convinced them otherwise, and they had retired to work out a new battle plan. Now they were content to stand back and shoot arrows-probably not trusting the pavement, since the roadway surfaces had all turned shiny black. Matt suspected their sorcerers hadn’t figured out why. He wished them luck-Marco Polo hadn’t published, in this universe. “They’restill sending commandoes in through the back streets,” Saul reported. “Still?” Matt was beyond surprise. “I thought those debugging programs you invented were running them down.”
“They are, each one shaped like the Hound of the Baskervilles. I’m surprised the captains can still find anybody brave enough to face them.”
“The hound? I thought you started with wolves.”
“I did, but I have to keep changing them, or they’ll work up their nerve to face them. I’m going to try yetis next.”
“Good idea. Me, I’m thinking of switching to tanks.”
“Hey, no fair using gunpowder! You got any idea how much havoc you could create if these guys get to thinking about things that go boom in the night?”
“I know, that’s all that stops me. I’m thinking of a giant cross-bow instead of a cannon.”
Behind him, he heard the squawk of a tinny voice coming through Saul’s amulet. “Yeah, Sir Guy!” Saul said, relief in every syllable. “You can see them? Great! Just strafe their ranks-you know, dive on them with all Stegoman’s flame, then back up and dive again… No, the diving will scare them a lot more than just flying over burning everybody; they’ll run faster if they think they stand a chance of escape. Besides, that’ll make it harder for the sorcerers to hit you with fireballs or something… What? Stegoman says the fireballs would make a nice light snack? Well, tell him we’ll feed him high-grade charcoal as soon as this is over!”
Matt felt relief make him weak inside, but pulled himself together. “Okay. Now we pull out all the stops, right?”
“You got it,” Saul agreed. “As soon as we see him dive, sing out!”
Matt glanced back and forth from the northern sky to his robotic roadblocks on the south and west. He saw the dot growing bigger, saw it develop wings, saw it angle downward toward the condottieri… “Now!” Saul cried, and together they chanted, “Double, double toil and trouble! Pavement burn and roadways buckle! Hollow stomach, dread and fear- Bandits, panic, drop your gear! Run and flee the fiery rubble! Double, double toil and trouble!”
The main roads exploded into flame, fire that roared downward onto the bandit army just as Stegoman’s torch shot out to sear the first battalion. A massive howl of fear rose up, and the condottieri turned as a man, fleeing back down toward the barracks. But the dragon dove again, and the vanguard kept on running, past the barracks and toward the city limits. “Get ready to counter their sorcerers!” Matt snapped. “I’m ready,” Saul said, “but I don’t think they’ll be doing anything for a while. They were all clustered together, and Sir Guy must have seen them. They were Stegoman’s first target.”
“They’ll recover.” Matt hoped he was wrong: “Anyway, even if they do all run, we’ll have a lot of repair work to do.”
“Look,” Saul argued, “we can wait till tomorrow to fix the roads.”
“‘I suppose so,” Matt sighed. “Thus is it proved that coal does not make a good surface for traffic. You don’t suppose this could happen to the tar in blacktop streets, do you?”
“If you had a dragon’s torch to get it started? Could be. Remind me to go back to New York and try the experiment sometime.”
“No, I think not.” Matt stared out. “I can’t believe it-they’re still running! Their new slum at the foot of the hill looks to be all cleaned out! I just hope they get all the people evacuated in time.”
“Look, we can kill the flames before they get that far.”
“I know, but Stegoman is lining up to dive-bomb headquarters. How’re they doing on your side?”
“Oh, just fine,” said Saul. “Nobody’s hitting the four minute mile yet, but I think some of them are doing very well, considering the light armor they’re wearing.”
“Have they passed their personal slum yet?”
“The last ones are just going through right now. I think we’d better call Stegoman back before the sorcerers regroup and find an antidragon spell.”
Saul fingered the amulet. “So how are we going to keep them moving?”
“By conjuring up your random group of legionnaires, or my odd number of robots-and, of course, the occasional fire geyser right behind them. Keep your hounds roaming the city, too. I know it’s wearing, but I think we can get the last of them out of here by nightfall.”
This time it was a formal audience, and the pope was wearing his robes of state with the cardinals gathered behind him, glorious red behind dazzling white. Saul was very patient-he managed to keep it down to mere fidgeting through the ritual and the singing. Matt and Sir Guy were the only ones to kneel to receive the pope’s personal blessing, though-Saul the skeptic and cynic had hi
s limits. Besides, the religion he had dropped out of was Protestant. Nonetheless, the Holy Father insisted on turning to bless him, too. Later, in his solar, he told them, “I regret that I have no worldly power to give you in thanks.”
“That’s all right-the Church is better off that way,” Saul said, and the pope cast him a quick, suspicious glance. Matt said quickly, “Your blessing has already increased the power of our magic, your Holiness-I can feel it. Maybe it will be enough to cut through the magical inertia that seems to pervade Latruria-we can’t have you folks always there as our ammo dump, you know.”
The pope frowned. “I know not what an ‘ammo dump’ is, but we shall pray for you perpetually.”
“I need it if anyone does,” Matt sighed, and Saul developed whooping cough. Matt talked fast to cover him up. “Besides, we more or less brought this on ourselves-I’m sure the king wouldn’t have told the condottieri to get serious about taking the Vatican if we hadn’t been here.”
“It is not the sort of policy I have come to expect from Boncorro,” the pope admitted. “I was even surprised that he hemmed me in so tightly, when he had ceased his persecution of the priests and the faithful. I had supposed he felt the need to make a show of opposing me, since his grandfather had-but this…”
“I have my doubts that the king himself is behind it all,” Matt told him. “After all, his chancellor is a bona fide sorcerer and servant of Evil, and everybody would assume any order he gave came from the king.”
“But would not the king be angered when he learned of it?”
“Sure, but all information goes through the chancellor’s hands. He can keep any info he wants from the king-unless Boncorro has been wise enough to set up his own spy network, separate from his chancellor’s.”
“They say he trusts the Lord Chancellor as much as he trusts any man,” the pope said slowly. “But that’s not saying much, is it? Okay, I’ll admit he probably does have his own spies, checking up on the chancellor-but they can’t be everywhere at once.” He rose. “Speaking of spies, I think we’d better take our leave, now-before the king’s agents can track us.”
“Go, and with my blessing.” But the pope frowned. “This King Boncorro may not be a force for Evil, Lord Wizard, but he is also not a force for Good, and he cannot balance between them; simply by failing to do good, he advances the cause of Evil. Can you not help me in overthrowing him? He is the grandson of a usurper, after all.”
“And what alternative can you offer?” Matt said. He wondered why Sir Guy glanced at Arouetto and away, but didn’t mention it. “Getting rid of a neutral king isn’t too smart, if the only available replacement is definitely evil. If you don’t mind, Holy Father, I think it would be better to try to subvert King Boncorro and sway him toward the side of the angels than to try to assassinate him.”
“I had not meant to murder him-only to dethrone him!”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Matt shook his head. “Kick a king off his throne, and he’ll come back with an army-and if you beat him again, he’ll just come back again. Again and again-until you finally kill him anyway. No, your Holiness, we would be much better advised to make the best of Boncorro-or try to make him the best.”
“You have given me your advice,” the pope said slowly, “and I shall now give you mine-for your own best interests, not that of the Church. It is this: leave Latruria.”
“Good of you, I’m sure,” Matt said, “but you know we can’t.”
“We are sworn to a vocation, too, your Holiness,” Sir Guy said gently. “We cannot turn back unless we are beaten.”
The pope sighed. “Well, I have given you my best rede, though I cannot say I regret your ignoring it.”
As they were going out of the papal palace, Matt said to Arouetto, “How come he didn’t include you in the blessing? Or the advice, for that matter.”
“His Holiness does not completely trust me,” Arouetto answered with a small smile. “He has not said it, but I believe he sees me as a threat.”
“But can’t say why, huh?” Saul asked. “If he could, he’d clap you in irons.”
“Or a monk’s cell, I suppose,” Arouetto agreed. “Not that I would mind a life sentence to a library.”
“Yes you would,” Matt said, “if the only art and music around you were religious.”
“There are worse fates,” Arouetto replied. “Still, you are right-I would prefer to remain free, able to contemplate the beauties of Classical art and the works of my inspired contemporaries.”
A handful of Swiss guards marched up and stamped to a halt, leading four well-groomed horses. The leader saluted the companions with his halberd and said, “His Holiness insists that you accept at least this much of a gift from him.”
Sir Guy grinned. “This we will take, and gladly! Thank his Holiness for us! ”Yes, thanks indeed.“ Matt turned to the dragon, who lay waiting by the wall. ”You don’t mind, do you, Stegoman?“
“Mind?” the dragon snorted. “It is I who shall thank his Holiness most of all!”
Chapter 24
“You are free, then,” Sir Guy said as they rode out of the Vatican and into Reme proper, “and so is the pope. But what progress have you made?”
“Well,” Matt said, “we have Arouetto.”
The scholar smiled sadly. “The Lord Wizard took me from my prison, because he seems to think I can reform the young king.”
“Makes sense,” Matt said. “Why else would the chancellor have locked you up in his special dungeon?”
“Why,” said Sir Guy, “because he is the last legitimate heir to the throne of Latruria.”
Matt, Saul, and Stegoman swung about to stare at the scholar, but all he did was glare ferociously at Sir Guy. The Black Knight only kicked his heels wide sides and said, “Deny it if you can.”
“Would that I could,” the scholar growled, “for it has been a dozen generations since my family ruled!”
“Hold on!” Matt held up a hand. “Maledicto wasn’t that old!”
“No, but he was the usurper of a usurper of a usurper,” Sir Guy explained, “or rather, of three families of usurpers. I would call them dynasties if they had lasted more than a few generations each-but they did not.”
“Three centuries is a long time to say a bloodline’s preserved,” Matt said dubiously. “Six centuries, rather,” Sir Guy said, “for Scholar Arouetto’s right comes from an ancestor who was the last emperor of the Latrurian empire.”
Saul nodded slowly, gaze still on Arouetto. “No wonder you’re interested in the Classics!”
“How could you know all this?‘ Arouetto demanded. Sir Guy shrugged. ”It is one of the things I know by right of birth.“
“His family has been tracking the genealogies of the kings of Europe for several centuries.” Matt didn’t feel the need to explain that Sir Guy was the last lineal descendant of Emperor Hardishane. “You have your field of expertise, he has his. His career is trying to restore legitimate lines to the thrones of this continent-and just incidentally return their countries to devotion to Right and God.”
“I can see that might entail such knowledge,” Arouetto allowed. “But it is useless in my case, friend. I have no wish to rule, nor had my father nor my grandfather. We only wished to be left in peace, to pursue our studies.”
Sir Guy made no reply, but his eyes glittered as he watched Arouetto. The scholar sighed. “You may as well say it-the blood of the Caesars has grown thin. Well, perhaps it has, my friend-or perhaps my idea of worthy pursuits differs from that of my ancestors. Try to open your mind enough to imagine that my work might be as important as Julius Caesar’s, in its way.”
Sir Guy turned his face away quickly-probably to hide a look of infinite sadness, for to him, no work was so important as that of government-but Matt said, “There is something to what he says, Sir Guy. He has developed new standards for deciding what’s right and wrong-but most of his conclusions are right in line with the Bible’s. He just has a high opinion of a few things
the Book doesn’t mention, that’s all-and there’s a chance King Boncorro might embrace his ideas, though he scorns religion.”
Sir Guy turned back to him slowly. “Do you mean that he might yet save the country that is his weal?”
“He might,” Matt said, “by saving the king who governs it.”
Sir Guy turned to Arouetto, looking him up and down as if he were seeing the scholar in a whole new light. “Surely you do not mean that you have but to walk into the king’s castle with this scholar,” Stegoman rumbled, “and all will be mended!”
“Hey, even I’m not that stupid. Sure, we have to get him to the king, but even after that, it will take a while.” Matt turned back to contemplate Arouetto. “But how are we going to get you in there without getting you killed?”
They were all silent for a while, thinking up ways and means. Finally Saul said, “Camouflage?”
Matt turned to him, puzzled. “What did you have in mind?”
“Safety in numbers,” Saul explained. “If you could find a dozen more scholars and poets, maybe you could smuggle Arouetto in with the rest of them-provided the king would let them in, of course.”
“I think he just might,” Matt said slowly, “and that reminds me of a young friend of mine. I magicked him and his girlfriend out of Boncorro’s castle, but I haven’t had a chance to check and make sure they landed okay.”
“How did this discussion of a college of scholars bring them to mind?” Stegoman rumbled. “Because the kid’s a poet, but he doesn’t realize it,” Matt said. “He thinks the only career worth having is knighthood.”
“Well, the lad has a point,” Sir Guy allowed, “though it is pleasant to be able to craft a verse when you are done hacking up the enemy.”
‘Must men always be thus?“ Arouetto sighed. ” ’Must,‘ I don’t know,“ Matt said, ”but they always will. It has something to do with testosterone and the survival of the fittest“
Secular Wizard Page 38
