The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm)

by Brian C. Hager

  Rush and Dart, however, simply adored the verbal maneuvering happening on all sides, and had to be reminded several times that they didn’t have time for such foolishness. Grudgingly relenting, the two elf cousins followed the rest of the group as they tried vainly to find an inn with room enough for all of them.

  After an hour more of walking and searching, with the sun finally descending behind the palace at the city’s opposite end, they found two inns directly across the wide street from each other that could sleep them all. They had to divide their party in half, and Vaun had the unexpected pleasure, thanks to an unlucky dice roll, of being secured with the elves for the duration of their stay. After storing their equipment and other unneeded possessions in their rooms, they all gathered in a tavern not too far away.

  The Silver Platter was easily twice as large as any tavern Vaun had seen during his trip. The bar took up the entire right-hand wall, tended by three men who were watched over by a fourth, and the fireplace covered half of the wall opposite. It was crowded because of the lateness of the day, and was almost steamy compared to the cold outside. Voices thick with Mahalian and other accents produced a steady din, and the Swordsman heard at least two different languages being spoken. Most of the tables were long and rectangular, with people forced to sit next to strangers. No one seemed to mind, however, and the dozen burly men spaced throughout the common room kept fights to a minimum.

  The companions brushed the snow from their cloaks as they searched for a place to sit. They had to push past tired workmen and worn travelers alike, and dodge the serving men and women who hurried about with practiced speed. Vaun, with Thorne’s help, identified at least six different kingdoms represented in this one place. The Swordsman also earned plenty of stares himself, as he had in several places, what with the type of sword he had and where he carried it. He tried to ignore the whispers about him as they found seats at a table as close to the fire as possible.

  Despite the ambient warmth of the room, the door opened at regular intervals to allow in a blast of frigid air. A young serving man took their orders with a tired nod, then disappeared into the press of bodies. Once settled, the companions set about discussing plans for obtaining what they’d come to Mahal for.

  “Pascor, the Court Wizard, has Gwyndar’s Wand.” Merdel sighed heavily. “Or at least he should. The wand was acquired by the man who held that position before I did, and it has been stored in the treasury ever since. Pascor’s probably never touched the thing, if he even knows it’s there. After I discovered it was useless, like every other mage who examined it before me, I tried to have it discarded. But the emperor wouldn’t hear of it. Mahalians don’t throw anything away, so His Majesty put the wand in the treasury. It probably hasn’t been moved since.”

  Drath waited while the serving man gave them their food and drink and then left. “Do you think someone else may have tried to use it?”

  “It’s entirely possible.” The wizard cut a slice of his steak and put it in his mouth. He chewed the tough meat a good minute or two before continuing. “But most likely not. I made sure everyone knew I believed it to be worthless. And despite what Lymon told us I still have my doubts about it.”

  Drath swallowed to clear his mouth for speech. “Whether you doubt it or not isn’t the point. Can it be safely removed?”

  Merdel shrugged and took a drink of wine. “I don’t know. Mahalian security is extremely tight, particularly around the treasury. Only a few tried to steal anything when I was there, and all of them were caught. As far as I know, no one’s ever succeeded.”

  Rush smiled wickedly into his cup. “That doesn’t necessarily mean no one will succeed.” Dart nodded with the same mischievous look.

  “This isn’t something to joke about.” The bearded mage brandished his knife at them for emphasis. “If you’re caught stealing, you’re hanged. Instantly. No questions, no hesitation. You are taken straight from where you are caught directly to the gallows.”

  “Stones.” Thorne took a long drink. “This won’t be easy. I know from experience that the fire-blasted Mahal guard is good. Is there any way we can get to it without getting killed?”

  “Perhaps.” Merdel fidgeted in his seat, looking a little edgy. He seemed unsure how his companions were going to react to his suggestion. “Before we let the elves try, I’d like to see if I can do something. It’s been a while, so the emperor might have forgiven me my transgressions. I did, after all, save his life a couple of times.”

  Drath sipped his ale. “Do you think that’s wise? If you’re taken prisoner we’ll have to get you out. And that may be harder than taking the wand.”

  “I’d at least like to try. Emperor Quiris might not like me, but he knows enough about my powers to keep him from trying to kill me at first sight.” His face, however, belied his words.

  “Is he really an emperor?” Vaun broke in. “I thought the Western Kingdoms weren’t united.”

  “They’re not. He just likes the title. In fact, I think all the western monarchs call themselves emperor, though Quiris does have a somewhat stronger claim to it. He is ruler of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world, and the other kings do bow to his will more often than they challenge it. But that is beside the point. We have to get the wand and get out as quickly as possible. Elak comes closer to victory every day, and being in Mahal makes my skin crawl.”

  “You’re not the only one.” Thorne drank off the rest of his ale.

  Merdel nodded. “Whatever we do, we can’t do it tonight. All of us are too tired, and if I’m to try it needs to be during the day. I suggest we retire early and try to figure something out in the morning. We all need lots of rest.”

  He turned to the two elves and pointed a greasy finger at them warningly. “And that goes especially for you two. I don’t want to wake up and find you two fire-blind idiots gone. Mahal is not a pleasant city, especially for non-humans. Despite what may be apparent, thievery is generally discouraged. So is curiosity. Of course, with as much corruption as this city has, it’s a wonder such ideals can be maintained. But the penalties do exist, mainly to encourage slippery weasels like you to be careful, and despite your talents you could wind up losing your hands, your wind-blown heads, or both. Vaun will be in your room, and he has instructions to kill both of you himself if you even think about leaving. Do you understand?”

  The cousins nodded, though they obviously doubted the wizard’s, or the city’s for that matter, ability to carry out his threats. They assured the others, however, that they would remain in their rooms tonight, if only because they were too weary to do anything at all. But the next night? Well…

  * * *

  True to their word, the elves stayed in their room throughout the night, although Vaun wished they hadn’t because they kept him up half of it with their chattering. The Swordsman might not have cared so much if they’d conversed in his own tongue rather than in elvish. The elves’ native language sounded so peculiar that the youth found it nearly impossible to block out. As it was, he awoke the next morning in a somewhat foul temper.

  He and the two cousins met Drath, Thorne, and Merdel for breakfast in The Silver Platter. All throughout the meal, Vaun shifted in his seat and kept sighing repeatedly, as well as almost nodding off twice. When Drath asked him what was wrong, he snapped a terse admonishment not to talk so much, and refused to say anything else.

  Thorne smirked, apparently knowledgeable of what bothered the youth. “Don’t worry, Vaun, you can tie them up and gag them tonight.”

  Vaun smiled in spite of himself, his sour mood lifting. Thorne had a way of lightening his dark moods, and Vaun was grateful for the usually taciturn dwarf’s presence.

  When they finished their meal, the party members turned to their discussion of the night before. Merdel still said he wanted to try to obtain the wand on his own. His companions voiced the same arguments they already had.

  Drath pointed at the mage with his fork. “You realize if you’re caught there’s not
much chance of us rescuing you. No one has ever escaped the Mahalian dungeons, and I’ve never heard of a rescue attempt. Of course, this is assuming they don’t kill you on sight, which they’ll probably do.”

  “Maybe not. It was a long time ago. Surely my offenses have been forgiven by now.” Still, Merdel sounded like he didn’t believe his own words.

  “I’d wager against it.” Dart turned to Drath expectantly at the words, prompting the tall man to hastily amend his statement. “I mean, I doubt it. I’ve never heard of Quiris forgiving anyone, much less a criminal like you.”

  Merdel’s eyes widened in mock indignation. “I beg your pardon.”

  Vaun grinned. “What’d you do, Merdel, to be so hated by the emperor?”

  The wizard hesitated. “I’d rather not say, because it might color your opinion of me. But I will tell you that one of the things I did was help someone escape the headsman’s axe.”

  “Must’ve been an important person for the emperor to hate you so much.”

  “Not really.” Thorne had that sour expression that appeared whenever the discussion turned to things he didn’t like. He eyed each of the men sitting around him, almost challenging them to dispute his words.

  Vaun wasn’t about to argue with him.

  Merdel coughed, breaking the sudden silence. “Now that that’s settled,” he began to rise, “I’ll be on my way to the castle.”

  Drath grabbed the mage, pulled him back down into his seat, and held him down firmly by one shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere alone. If you insist on carrying out this foolishness, at least take one of us with you. That way, if they try to kill you, you might have some chance to escape. Or at least we’ll know if you’re beheaded.”

  Merdel glanced shrewdly at Drath until the tall man frowned. “You don’t understand. I must go alone, otherwise it’ll look suspicious. I’ll see if I can have a conference with Pascor, wizard to wizard. That sort of thing isn’t unusual, so they might let me in. I didn’t have my beard when I left, and I was somewhat younger, so I might not be recognized. It’s the only easy way. If he won’t give me the wand, or won’t see me, we can let the elves try. At least let me do this first.” The wizard seemed desperate to prove his worth, as if someone had told him in recent days that his friends thought him useless.

  Drath sighed. “Okay. If you must. But Rush and Dart are going to follow you so they can inform us of any trouble. I don’t know what we can do, but I’m sure we’ll figure out something. If not, we’ll at least come to your funeral.”

  Merdel rose. “Thank you. But don’t worry, Drath, I’ll be all right. I’m a grown boy; I can take care of myself.” Smirking unlike a grown boy, the wizard walked confidently out of the tavern, his posture not quite concealing the dread the others knew he felt.

  Drath mumbled what were probably insults toward the retreating wizard. After a moment of staring at the door, mumbling about how Merdel had talked him into this idiotic plan, he nodded to the two elves. Rising smoothly with unusually serious expressions on their angular faces, Rush and Dart hurried from the tavern and went in pursuit of the bearded mage.

  “Okay, so now what?” Drath looked at both Thorne and Vaun across from him. The dwarf appeared to be trying to drink as much as possible before he remembered what city he was in, and Vaun was staring around as he usually did in an effort to see everything at once. “I know you probably want to stay as immobile as possible, Thorne, so I won’t ask if you wish to accompany me on a brisk stroll through the city. I need to walk around a little. What say you, young Swordsman? Would you like me to show you the gods-cursed city of Mahal? I won’t be as informative a guide as perhaps Thorne, but in our present location I will certainly be better company.” Drath made as if to rise.

  Turning to Thorne, who shrugged off-handedly, Vaun bid farewell to the dwarf, who growled at them and drank off the rest of his ale. Vaun and Drath left The Silver Platter.

  Mahal was by far the largest city Vaun Tarsus had ever visited. Granted, he had never been to any of the great cities of his own world, but he doubted they surpassed the splendor of this one. Buildings of all sizes rose on every side of him. Some were gargantuan structures of stone, looking as if they’d been there for centuries, while others were smaller, finely crafted buildings of wood, seeming to have been built only the day before. Almost all bore paint in bright and varied colors, and many had ornate signs or covered entranceways to proclaim the name of the establishment. The merchant stalls were almost as large as the houses, and Vaun wondered how they could possibly be moved.

  Houses, shops, warehouses, taverns, inns, temples, and a hundred other establishments sat right next to each other, with no plan as to organization or structuring. Warehouses might be prevalent on one block, while on the next were nothing but houses, with a tiny workshop of some kind squeezed in. Thrown together as if by some spoiled giant child with too many toys to play with, the buildings outnumbered anything the youth had ever seen. And then, of course, there were the people.

  Hundreds of people. Thousands of people. People everywhere. People buying, people selling. People walking around with seemingly no clue as to their destination, with others looking like they were on a divine mission. People from almost every known land mixed with the natives of Mahal to form the largest jumble of races in the world. Tall, dark-skinned foreigners milled about with shorter, light-skinned Mahals and other visitors. Elves and dwarves weren’t very common, but they were present. With the Western Kingdom’s attitude toward non-humans in general, Vaun found any individual of another race a surprise.

  The snow falling moderately from the cloudy, though sunny sky seemed to have no effect on these people. The flakes failed to accumulate on the streets because of the number of feet that trod them, making the cobblestones slick and difficult to travel. Fortunately, enough people surrounded him that Vaun could use them as supports when he lost his balance. If he’d fallen, he doubted he could have avoided being trampled. He felt like he was pushed or shoved by at least one member from every known race, and if he’d been keeping track he might have discovered he’d guessed right.

  The size and colors of the houses and the multitude around him, however, paled beside the noise assaulting his ears. Mules, oxen, and other beasts of burden snorted loudly as they hauled at their loads. The humans doing the same work made almost the same sounds at nearly the same volume, although their burdens tended more toward sedan chairs. Merchants virtually screamed at passersby, and those buying from them shouted back, all in a dozen or more different languages. Children laughed and cried, and parents scolded or praised. Birds for sale squawked and chirped, bells rang incessantly in high towers, and carts rattled noisily as they moved along. Vaun was approached almost every five steps by sellers of everything from shoe leather to a place in the Divine Playground. After being swamped by what seemed a hundred beggars dressed in rags, when he’d only given to one, the Swordsman heeded Drath’s advice and gave away no more coins. He still had a little bit left over from what Drath had given him earlier, as well as over half of the reward money Baron Hugo had given him in Landsby. He didn’t buy as much food as he did before, and he kept searching for more weapons to add to his arsenal. All the time he’d spent working with Rush and Dart gave him new respect for short blades, although he had a difficult time finding acceptable weapons. Drath told him Mahals weren’t known for their weaponsmithing.

  The rest of the time, he followed Drath dazedly, thinking that if he left Mahal without being crushed or robbed, he’d probably end up deaf…or he’d be arrested for slicing the greedy smile off one too many merchants who thought him an ignorant Ramener. And if not for that, it’d be for punching one of the myriad of people who stared at the Vaulka on his back and talked about it while he was within earshot. It was almost as if they dared him to hear them. Another thing he was afraid of was Drath leaving him behind, for the tall man nearly ran in his frustration and talked almost nonstop.

  “He’s a wind-blinded fool,” Drath mut
tered. “What if he’s caught? What can we possibly do? Getting inside the fire-blasted dungeons is next to impossible unless you’re being taken there, and it’s even harder to get out. And I’m leaving out the gigantic, ice-eaten task of getting Gwyndar’s wind-begotten Wand, which for all we know was eaten by some hungry rat. Doing both the same night would be sheer idiocy. Not that that’s anything new to us. I should never have let him go alone.” And Drath launched into another long tirade of calling Merdel names. Vaun had never heard some of the terms Drath used to describe Merdel, but from the sound of them they weren’t flattering.

  Vaun glanced hesitantly over at Drath when he paused to catch his breath. “He could succeed.”

  Drath scoffed indignantly. “Not likely. Even if Pascor is still Court Wizard, which, this being Mahal, is only remotely possible, if someone just happens to recognize him he’ll never leave here with his head on his shoulders. Fire and burning water, I never should’ve let him talk me into it.”

  Vaun decided reasoning with Drath was futile, so he saved his breath. Even though the day was close to half over, they had only visited perhaps three districts, an area amounting to roughly half again the size of all of Landsby. “And this,” Drath said at one point, “is only a small portion of Mahal.”

  They had yet to enter the temple district, one of the largest, which he studiously avoided because people were continually recruited into the orders, many never to be seen or heard from again. Neither had they made it to the university section of the city, which the tall man liked to visit despite its philosophy of teaching. The Mahalian university, called by Mahals the Place of Wondrous and Sundry Knowledge—Mahals always had flighty names for things just to make them seem more important—was considered among the top institutions of learning. The curriculum, however, revealed a certain amount of bias on the part of the professors. They taught the students that the entire world, in particular the south, belonged to the Western Kingdoms, which in turn belonged to Mahal. The more the students learned about how to take over the world, either through commerce or war or a clever combination of both, the better their grades. Of course, they remained all too painfully aware of the failure of past armies, something Drath relished immensely.