Faery Lands Forlorn

by Dave Duncan

  "Oh, but I can!" Yodello smiled grimly and dropped his voice to a confidential whisper. "Stand up. Master Rap. Right. Now, Master Rap, you're going to go over to where you were eavesdropping and then come back here."

  Rap's legs spun him around so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. Without even favoring his sore ankle, he raced across the road, turned, and raced back again. Then he stood and scowled up at the soldier in baffled humiliation.

  Yodello was smiling happily. "See? I can make you do anything. It's only magic, but it would last long enough for you to go and bring a shovel to kill me with."

  "But you're not going to," Rap said. "You're Zinixo's votary, aren't you? You're bound to serve him, and he wouldn't want you to die soon, because he enjoys watching you suffer. So you can't make me kill you."

  "Not bad. Good guess. Sit down. Let's talk."

  Rap sat, not sure whether he had a choice in the matter or not. He didn't want to talk, but he wouldn't mind listening. "I thought magic was temporary?" Oothiana had said that.

  "Sir."

  "Sir! Beg pardon. Sir."

  Yodello stretched painfully and rubbed his back again. Then he reached up to swat a bug on the living part of his raised arm. How could a mosquito possibly find any blood in an arm that had been held up like that for weeks? The mosquitoes must be a large part of the torture. His meat parts were speckled like sandpaper.

  "Yes, magic is temporary. I put a compulsion on you to make you go out and come back, but if I sent you into town and back, it might wear off before you returned. Lot o' times it makes no difference. I could turn your head into an anvil. It would be a temporary anvil, but you'd be permanently dead."

  Andor's mastery had worn off with time, Rap recalled.

  The moon soared into silver-hemmed cloud again, and the light faded. Yodello slumped lower, hanging by his grip on the spear, his head sagging. He had closed his eyes, as if half asleep.

  "Why won't you help me escape from the warlock?" Rap whispered.

  The soldier whispered back. "Same reason I can't make you kill me. Same reason I'm going to send you back to your cell. Loyalty."

  He wanted Rap to kill him, though, and it would certainly be an act of mercy. Was Rap man enough to do it, not because of a compulsion, but just out of pity?

  "I'll try," he said suddenly. "I can't promise, but I'll go and see what they have in the shed, and . . ."

  The tribune spoke to his own feet, not raising his head. "Thanks, lad, but it's no go. Even if you found a sword, I'd have to stop you. Out of loyalty. A mage is never a match for any sorcerer. 'Specially the dwarf. He's a giant!" Yodello chuckled softly.

  "Think I'm mad." he added, "don't you?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Doesn't matter whether I am or not. In a week or so it'll get to my plumbing. Then I burst, I suppose. I'm looking forward to it. I just wish he cared more."

  Rap waited a puzzled moment and then said, "Wish who cared, sir?"

  "The dwarf!" the statue said angrily, "If he would just come and gloat, then I could defy him. I could show courage. I'm not afraid to die!" He thumped his free fist against a stone thigh. His voice rose. "I'm a soldier! I'll die bravely! But he won't give me the satisfaction. He never comes. He gave the orders, so here I am, on view. I'm washed, fed, and shaved. It's all done as he said, every day. Every day the stone creeps higher up my legs. The centuries march by here every day and see, but he never does. He doesn't care! Whether I'm brave or not doesn't matter at all. He's probably forgotten all about me. I'm an example, that's all. A human poster." His voice trailed away in despair.

  Rap thought of the legionaries he'd seen running. Oothiana had called them examples. "Why an example? Why all this? Because you killed the fairies?"

  "Because I tried to steal from a dwarf," Yodello said dully.

  Dwarves' parsimony was legendary. Ask a man where he acquired something and, if he didn't want to tell, he'd say, I stole it from a dwarf.

  "Inos?" Rap whispered. "What will he do with Inos if he finds her?"

  "Anything he fancies. He's a warlock." The imp opened his eyes, opened them very wide, and stared down at Rap. "Let this be a lesson for you, faun!"

  "Sir?" Rap felt his flesh creep as he tried to meet that tortured, crazy gaze.

  "Never tell people about your power, your word! It will get you into trouble."

  Rap couldn't see how he could possibly be in much worse trouble than he was in already. Then he saw the silent scream in Yodello's sunken eyes and realized that he could be in much worse trouble. And mostly he'd gotten into this mess by refusing to learn more words, by refusing to become a mage and help Inos.

  "Oothie was a brainless bitch," Yodello said, but softly. He raised his head, peered out into the scented dark of the Faerie night, and seemed to speak to ghosts. "I love her madly, always. She was never much of a sorceress, though. Got her words from Urlocksea, great-grandfather, not from fairies. Nice old fellow. Didn't do much with his power except some healing, but Pian'doth found him anyway. Pian' was East. When he died, the old guy got away before Olybino took over the gold palace. Died, too, soon after. Gave his words to Oothie. Warned her never to use them."

  The soldier seemed to have forgotten Rap altogether and to be talking for his own sake. He must have been a remarkable man once. Mutilated, naked, close to a terrible death, he still wore some shreds of dignity. Splinters of authority still glimmered through his madness.

  "She didn't do much. Fast promotion for her husband, easy labor for the second child, a few things like that. Tried to resist the little worm when he took a fancy to her—stupid bitch! As if I'd have cared! That was what gave her away. He had her anyway, of course. Didn't even make her his votary till morning . . . got to be warlock . . . made her proconsul . . ."

  Rap was struck by a sudden mad idea, a way both he and Yodello might escape. Dare he suggest it? Really, what did he have to lose?

  The imp's voice grew loader. "But in the case of Faerie, it's different, you see. The imperor appoints whomever West wants. The runt thought it'd be fun to make Emshandar send in Oothie's name."

  "You know three words!" Rap said, in a rush, "and I know one, so if I tell you mine, then you'll be a sorcerer! You can break free of the loyalty spell and turn your legs back—couldn't you? And maybe rescue Oothiana?"

  Chin high, the soldier spoke to a point above Rap's head. "A female proconsul! Senators all had miscarriages over that, but they don't argue with warlocks."

  "If you promise to help me," Rap said hoarsely, "I'll make you a full sorcerer. So we can both escape."

  "New proconsul appoints his own officers. Oothie picked the best soldier she knew as tribune." The statue sighed. "And I was the best, too! But she made me loyal to her, instead of the dwarf."

  Rap began to feel desperate. "Or you tell me your three words, and I promise I'll do everything I can for you and your lady."

  "It was an honest mistake. She meant no disloyalty. She couldn't have meant to be disloyal. She was his votary."

  Rap jumped up. On level footing, he would have been about the same height as the imp. Yet he still couldn't meet those proud, sad eyes, for now they were looking past his head. He moved; they shifted. They gleamed, moonlight reflecting from haunted caves.

  "You can save her, sir! Save yourself, too, maybe! Let me tell you my word of power."

  "You should have thought of that sooner," said a new voice, a gravelly bass. Rap spun around.

  Arms akimbo, Raspnex stood on the road just outside the shielding like a stone pillar. He still wore the same disreputable work clothes, but now he had added a shapeless woolen cap. His iron-gray beard was bunched up in a dangerous scowl.

  "Wouldn't have worked, anyway," Yodello remarked sadly. "I'm loyal to him now. Aren't I?"

  Raspnex ignored him, addressing Rap. "Nice try, faun! I'll settle the score later, never fear."

  "I suffer loyally," Yodello said, seemingly to the night itself. "I am a very good example."

 
"I didn't deliberately try to deceive you, sir," Rap told the dwarf. "I didn't think of—"

  "I know. You couldn't have fooled me. But I'll settle, anyway." Raspnex glowered. Perhaps he was afraid of being made an example, too.

  "About a week until I burst," Yodello announced cheerfully. "Remember to come and watch that."

  "Arakkaran, faun?"

  "Yes," said Rap's mouth.

  Raspnex nodded, satisfied. "What the goblin said."

  "She may not still be there!" Rap said hopefully.

  The dwarf shrugged his giant shoulders. "We'll see. Come along now. The boss wants you. He hates to be kept waiting."

  "Come early and get ahead of the crowds," Yodello said.

  6

  Ekka was talking about spiders' webs. She kept on talking about spiders' webs. She would not stop talking about spiders' webs, and yet Kadolan could not hear a word she was saying because she was whispering. Whispering was not ladylike. It was very annoying. She decided she must tell Ekka that she should either speak up clearly, or else she should keep quiet and let Kadolan go back to . . . sleep?

  She was very stiff. Her back felt as if it had been tenderized with a meat mallet. Even her knees. Bells jingling in the distance. There was no light in the tent. Tent?

  It wasn't Ekka. It was Inosolan who was doing all the whispering. Shaking Kadolan's shoulder.

  "Mmph?"

  "Don't waken the girl, Aunt!"

  "What g—"

  "Shh!"

  There was someone else moving. Gods! A man! The sultan, of course. Kadolan certainly did not want to jostle him, not after seeing the blister on Inosolan's finger.

  Inosolan had her lips to Kadolan's ear. "Get dressed quickly. It's almost dawn. We're leaving."

  "Leav—"

  "Shh!"

  Kadolan struggled to sit up. She felt impossibly stiff, and very grateful that the other two could not see her. This was what came from only one-half of a day on a camel. She must have a whole day ahead of her now. There were weeks and weeks of it to come. She was too old for this. Her eyes felt full of sand. She shivered, and not just from sleepiness; the air was nippy.

  "Watch out for the girl!" Inosolan whispered again.

  "I don't know where she is!" Kadolan whispered back. Fooni had been sleeping somewhere on her left, but that was not much help in pitch darkness after hours of sleeping. She could have rolled anywhere. "What is that revolting noise?"

  "Camels!" Inosolan said.

  Did they never stop bellowing? If the Fooni child could sleep through that racket, then Kadolan could practice a trumpet fanfare without disturbing her. If the camels came any closer, they would step on the tent. That would do it! They smelled close but that was probably just the tent itself. Everything smelled of camel.

  Azak pushed back a corner of the flap, and a slightly lesser darkness surged in.

  "There she is," Inosolan whispered.

  Things were beginning to make more sense, as Kade's old brains awoke, taking their time. She didn't like some of the implications.

  "Why mustn't we waken her?"

  Inosolan made an exasperated sound. She was on her knees, brushing out her hair, which was crackling and sparking in the cold dryness. Azak was a featureless enormity, an undefined impression of size. He must be kneeling, also, for the tent was much too low to let him stand, and he sounded as if he were busy. Stuffing things in bags, maybe?

  "We're going to sneak away before dawn!" Inosolan whispered.

  Kadolan thought Oh-oh! and felt a twinge of a sinking feeling. She was quite convinced in her own mind that this whole mad escapade had been organized by the sorceress. Or, if Rasha had not planned it, she must be aware of it and be tolerating it for her own reasons. Kadolan wasn't sure why she thought that, but she did; and she in turn had been willing to humor Inosolan and Azak by pretending that it was a serious attempt to escape from Arakkaran.

  "Why?"

  Inosolan made another cross noise. "Just in case Master Elkarath is not what he seems."

  "But what could he be?"

  This time it was Azak who answered, deep and urgent. "His timing was very suspicious, ma'am. He furtively sent me word just two days after you and your niece arrived, claiming that he had often transported messages, or even messengers, for my grandsire, and that he would be happy to perform such services for myself. There was no way to confirm his tale, although it is plausible."

  At least he had given Kadolan the courtesy of a civil answer.

  "But what else could he be?" she asked. "What evil could he be plotting, with you to guard us, Sire—I mean Lionslayer?"

  "He could be an agent of the harlot."

  "Do hurry, Aunt!" Inosolan whispered urgently.

  "I've been telling Inos that." Kadolan did not budge, except to rub her back plaintively. The camel roarings and jinglings seemed to be coming closer. They would surely waken the Fooni girl soon. "I admit I don't understand why Rasha should indulge in such a devious silly game, but—"

  "To hide your niece from the warlock."

  Oh, dear! That made excellent sense. Inosolan was a valuable political property, apparently, and Warlock Olybino might very well attempt to steal her away from the sultana if he thought the asking price too high. So Rasha had hidden her treasure away in the desert until the deal had been made; then it would be safe to come and get her. Kadolan felt relieved at finding so logical a confirmation of her instincts.

  "Then why do you . . ." But the answer was obvious. Azak wanted to leave because he could not bear to remain within reach of the sorceress, if he still was. It was another of these double or triple or quadruple gambits, like the enormously complicated ways he had used to extract Kadolan herself from the palace and smuggle Inosolan to Elkarath's house from the state procession.

  If Elkarath was Rasha's agent, then this would be the real escape from her power. If he was genuine, then he became merely another false trail.

  "We are going to double back to the coast," Azak whispered.

  "He has a boat waiting," Inosolan added impatiently, "at some little fishing village. We can sail north to Shuggaran and catch a ship. You can forget about three months on a camel, Aunt! In three months we should be in Hub. Now, does that appeal or not?"

  Well, yes, that was certainly tempting.

  Before Kadolan could make up her mind, a voice called faintly outside the tent, barely audible over the rumpus the camels were making, "Queen Inosolan?"

  They all heard it. They all froze, staring at the triangle of light that marked a corner of the doorway; dawn was close now. Dribbles of icy water ran down Kadolan's back as she remembered the meeting in the forest, when Master Rap had appeared so mysteriously out of the shadows. He had called to Inosolan like that.

  "What was that?" Azak demanded in louder tones than before.

  "It sounded like somebody calling me!" Inosolan's voice trembled. "A long way off."

  "Queen Inosolan!" Closer this time. No mistake this time.

  It was not a man's voice, though.

  And Master Rap was dead, anyway, killed by the imps.

  Inosolan uttered a strangled sort of gulp. "Nobody here knows me by that name!" she whispered.

  Kadolan guessed what was about to happen and grabbed for her niece's shoulder. Inosolan was always so impulsive!

  She was too late. Inosolan went scrambling on hands and knees over the litter of bedding. For a moment her shape obscured the hint of gray glow of the entrance, and then she was outside.

  Nothing particular happened. Kadolan relaxed. It had perhaps been an illusion. A herdboy singing, or some such.

  Azak was more visible than before, and he had indeed been stuffing things into a sack and was now roping it, with swift, jerky movements. "Are you ready, mistress?"

  Kadolan sprang to wakefulness. She was far from ready, but she certainly did not intend to be left behind. She was too old for this, she thought, rummaging to find her shoes, but a swift ride to the coast and then a sea voyage was a fa
r more pleasing prospect than a camel ride to Ullacarn, wherever that was.

  Hub, the city of the Gods! Who would choose to remain in this ugly desert when offered a journey to Hub?

  Dragging a bundle, Azak crawled over to the doorway, making the tent darker. Kadolan decided she would have to forget about brushing her hair, just this once.

  And then Inos screamed.

  7

  "He's a brave man!" Rap shouted, leaning into the wind. The seaward side of the headland was much steeper than the harbor side. A steady thunder of surf came drifting up from the darkness below. The air was cool and salty.

  "Who is?" Raspnex was trudging solidly through the night, with one hand clasping his cap firmly on his head.

  "Tribune Yodello."

  The dwarf grunted. "Hasn't got much choice, has he?" he said indifferently.

  But Yodello had very nearly succeeded in stealing from a dwarf, and a warlock dwarf at that. He had learned three words in the fairy village. It was a reasonable assumption that either the proconsul or the warlock had stopped him while he was trying to collect a fourth.

  "How does a man get around a loyalty spell?"

  That question earned no answer but an angry glare. Rap himself had evaded capture for half a day and then broken out of jail. Both times he had been more lucky than clever, but obviously sorcery and magic had limitations that could be exploited if one knew how. He wished he knew how.

  The journey to the crest of the ridge had taken almost no time, so Raspnex must have used power. The Gazebo itself loomed dead ahead, larger than Rap had expected, overtopping the trees around it. It was a circular wooden structure, two levels surmounted by a conical roof. Lights were wavering strangely in the upper story, but that was cut off from his farsight by an opaque ceiling. The lower room seemed to be used mainly as storage: furniture and rolls of matting, metal tools and stone statuary, boxes of shells and glass cases full of butterflies, and much more that he had no time to make out, the accumulated junk of generations.

  A line of armed legionaries encircled the building, all standing stiffly to attention in the salty wind. The centurion saluted the dwarf, who stumped by him without a word or glance.