Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic)

by Phoebe Matthews

  “Your friends might guess you are here.”

  That drugged lot around the picnic table? Unlikely that Roman and company even remembered I had been with them.

  In the morning my body ached in so many places I could barely help roll our bedding and carry the glider to the hill. I lay on its slope where the sun could warm me and watched Nance sail above the plateau. She gained only slight lift, she was right, nothing near what was needed to go up over the trees. There was no purpose in torturing my body to learn to control her glider. Instead I gazed at the forest. If I could master this business of controlling a horse and could find paths and avoid wild animals, perhaps I could discover a way back.

  While Nance soared, I wandered down to the edge of the woods, found a stream. Follow that, I thought, it flows downhill, must eventually lead me out of here.

  A rabbit crossed my path and disappeared. There was so much undergrowth, ferns, salal, and all the things that flourish in the damp shade beneath miles of Douglas fir. And then I saw something odd. Not a little rabbit. Who can really track a rabbit? My eyesight isn't that sharp.

  But while I stood in the clearing staring at the trees, a full grown deer stepped quietly onto the plain and no, it did not come out of the forest or the shadows, it simply appeared. I shaded my eyes and stared. It turned slowly, took a step and was gone. Not into shadows, not into forest, just gone.

  If I hadn't grown up with mages and all their tricks, I would have shrugged it off as my imagination. Instead I walked toward the place where the deer disappeared, an odd suspicion edging at my thoughts. I reached the end of the grass, continued on into the trees, did not turn, and yet, a half dozen steps into the forest I stepped out from the darkness into sunlight and was once again on the plain. Walking out of the forest.

  Across the grasslands, Nance waved at me.

  Okay, call me crazy. I was beginning to figure out why the hikers had remained in this land for fifteen years.

  We returned to the temple by starlight, riding down from the plateau and across low hills until we circled behind the city to the less used slopes. Nance knew every shadow. When we neared the temple, we slid off Black and Pacer and led them quietly around to the stable.

  Lor was watching for us. From the shaking of his hands when he pulled the blankets from the animals, it was clear he lived with terror every moment Nance was gone.

  Before we entered the temple through the secret doorway, he whispered, “My lady, the prince has come twice and knocked at the gates for you.”

  Nance stopped. “What was he told?”

  “That you were at prayer and would send for him when you wished to see him.”

  She flashed her smile at him. “I will send for Tarvik tomorrow.”

  After we finished our supper, Nance splashed a little water on her face and went to bed, still wearing the dirt and sweat of days of traveling with horses and nights of camping. I could not possibly sleep with the grime of the journey clinging to me. Right, Seattle built a reputation for grunge bands and people still remember, but trust me, sweat and grime were never what grunge referred to.

  In the courtyard I built up the cook fire, checked the bolt on the gate against the guards stationed outside it, and then warmed water in a large basin. I knelt over the basin and washed the dust out of my hair, then stripped and washed the rest of me, dipping a cloth into the water and scrubbing. I dearly missed the hot shower and scented soap at my own house. I cleaned my cuts, wincing when the water burned my skinned knees. I had barely pulled a fresh tunic over my head when a heavy rapping rattled the gate.

  I stared at the gate, unable to think what to do. Nance slept. The guards would not allow any passerby to knock.

  “Who's there?”

  “Tarvik. Let me in, Stargazer.”

  I thought of refusing, considered the listening guards and decided that shouting at him through a closed gate would not add to my image as a keeper of the temple.

  After I opened the gate, then closed and bolted it behind him, I led Tarvik to the center of the courtyard beyond hearing of the guards. “Nance is asleep.”

  “I do not wish to see Nance.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I saw the smoke of your fire and knew you must no longer be at prayers. Why did Nance not send for me? Was she given my message?”

  I shrugged and turned away from him so that my face would be in shadow. “There's a lot of rituals and duties.”

  “I will beat that old man!” Tarvik cried.

  “Lor? He brought your message. Nance knows you have been here twice.”

  “Then I will beat Nance.”

  “Beat the priest of the Daughter?”

  In the glow from my fire, his pale face and hair shone. Slowly the deep frown softened. His gaze wandered over me, puzzled, searching. Reaching out his hand, he touched my hair.

  Surprised, he said, “Your hair is wet.”

  “I just washed it.”

  “Washed it?” He looked around the courtyard and saw the kettle hanging from the metal arch over the embers and the basin on the ground beside it. “What is all that for? I thought you must be cooking something.”

  “No. I heated water to bathe.”

  “At night? In the courtyard?”

  “Where do you bathe?”

  If there was a tub in the castle, I was going to demand one be placed in the temple.

  His eyes widened.

  “That's what you were doing when I saw you in the river!” he exclaimed. “I wondered why you ducked your head beneath the water.”

  “Tarvik, tell me you didn't come pounding on the gate to ask me how often I wash my hair, because that is creepy.”

  “No, but I will now. How often do you wash your hair?”

  “What! Why do you care?”

  He shrugged and said, “You have such long hair. It is very beautiful. It must take forever to get dry.”

  “And you came at night from the castle to discuss my hair?”

  “I often stop here to talk with Nance. There is no one to talk to at the castle, no one at all. Just guards and servants and slaves, and they have nothing to say even if they would talk.”

  Hard to believe. Lor seemed to know everything, and probably Tarvik's household had its gossip line, but out of his hearing. “I told you. Nance sleeps.”

  “Yes - yes - only it is not Nance - that is, I wish to talk with you tonight, Stargazer.”

  “About what?”

  “Just - just to talk.” He stood with his sturdy legs wide apart, his hips a bit forward and his shoulders back, his square chin jutted out. He reminded me of a child trying to decide whether to smile or fight. “I had a nursemaid when I was small. In the evenings she would sit with me and tell me stories. I suppose it is childish to think of, but she knew stories about everything, about gods and warriors and famous battles and heroes and the monsters who live in the western mountains, and, oh, all sorts of things. Do you know any stories?”

  “What, you want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

  He scowled at me for a moment, which was about as long as Tarvik could scowl, and then he grinned. “Yes, do that.”

  He slipped out of his cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders. And then, like Nance, he caught my hand and led me over to the fire. He sat down with his legs crossed yoga style, drawing me down beside him. I pulled my hand free and was about to tell him to stop grabbing me when he looked at me and smiled a very sweet, very boyish smile.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked. When I nodded, he added, “Good, then tell me a story.”

  Did I know any stories? Of course I did! Movie plots, TV sci-fi shows, but all long enough to require way too much explanation and I was tired. Perhaps I could make up something short?

  “Umm. All right. Once upon a time there was a careless girl who forgot to check the battery on her cellphone.”

  “Explain the cellphone.”

  “Just something she carried and lost. And she had wandered off into t
he woods without a compass, really dumb.”

  “What is a compass?”

  “A magic thing that tells direction.”

  “Oh. Go on.”

  “So the careless girl got thoroughly lost until a boy found her and dragged her back to his castle, even though she told him loud and clear that she did not want to go with him. He had a nice little cousin who was dying of loneliness in a drafty stone mausoleum and wished for a friend. The careless girl sat around staring at the fire and wishing she had a hot shower. The spoiled boy was bored, bored, bored and didn't know what to wish for. And no one lived happily ever after.”

  When I stopped talking he looked perplexed. “That's the end? What does it mean?”

  “That I have told you a story and now it is time for you to leave.”

  He shook his head. “When my father returns to the castle, I do not know what he will think of you. He may not believe you are a priest of the Daughter. He may think you are merely from another tribe, and he might want to kill you. You do know that, yes?”

  “And you didn’t like the end of my story? Huh.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Tarvik, I am stuck here because you brought me here. If your father accepts me as a templekeeper, we’re good. If not, got an idea about how I can change his mind?”

  He leaned close to me, his face almost touching mine, and said softly, “That is what I wish to say to you. I will do what I can to help you. If he will not accept you as a priest, then I will ask him to give you to me.”

  “Do what!”

  He jumped up and stood over me, glaring. “I captured you! I have every right to claim you as my slave. Or perhaps you would rather be dead?”

  I had to use my hands to push myself up from where I was sitting. He moved so easily he made me feel clumsy, which added to my anger because I did not want to admire anything at all about the stupid brat. I pulled off his cloak, threw it at him and snapped, “Perhaps I would.”

  Tarvik's head jerked back as though I had slapped him. The fire's glow reflected off the gold ring in his ear and glittered in his narrowed eyes. “Have your own choice, Stargazer. Even a templekeeper cannot mock Kovat's son.”

  While I clamped my mouth shut over the retorts flooding my thoughts, he strode to the gates, stopped, stared hard at me and then demanded, “Your knees, what has happened to your knees?”

  My knees burned. The scrapes were all too visible in the dim light. I didn't think he'd buy a jest about long prayers.

  “Replacing candles in the ceiling holders is not simple. A fall from a bench set on a table is quite painful.”

  “You lie,” he said softly, opened the gate and left without glancing back at me.

  “I don't owe you the truth,” I said to the closed gates, because being Kovat's son didn't earn him any extra respect from me.

  Ah. That's because I hadn't met Kovat.

  CHAPTER 6

  Kovat the Slayer returned.

  The guards who rapped at the gate and brought the message were stiff with terror, their faces drawn down in frozen frowns. They were large men dressed in leather and arm bands, with swords hanging from their belts. They usually looked fierce. Now they looked terrified.

  To me one said, “Templekeeper, tell the lady Nance the prince sends word that his father, great Kovat, approaches.”

  “Great Kovat. I will tell her, thank you.” I smiled at them as I often did when I opened the gate.

  Nance had told me they were free men who could look at us and speak. Did I want to figure out the social structure of this place? Not until my life depended on it. Then I'd give it a thought. Until then, the whole thing made me want an aspirin.

  The guards had always returned my smile, sometimes with a nod. Today their expressions remained grim.

  All the simple routines of the temple exploded into a frenzy as a stuttering, trembling Nance pushed me into a heavy, jewel-trimmed robe, covered my face with layers of painted color, and tugged my hair into fancy swirls.

  She hovered over me, her fists clenched, her eyes brimming tears. “No, no, that is not right, I cannot do it, wait, let me try again!” She flew at me with her combs and jeweled clasps.

  “Nance,” I gasped, covering my head with my hands to prevent her from pulling out my hair in her efforts, “what are you doing to me?”

  “Don't you hear the horns? Sit quietly, don't muss that robe. He will be here before we are ready! Hold this comb, there, it will have to suffice, hurry now, Stargazer. Pray to the Daughter that you do not forget the chants.”

  Two days ago we'd lounged on a grassy hillside watching clouds. The sun had slowly crossed the sky and Nance had pouted at its hurrying. Today she acted like she wanted to reach up and stop it altogether.

  “I will not forget the chants. Ouch! That's my scalp you're tearing.”

  “If you forget the chants, you will have no scalp to tear.” Rushing in front of me, she crossed the temple courtyard and threw back the heavy bolts on the temple's double gates, and then a guard slowly walked each heavy gate open on its groaning hinges. Nance's fingers dug into my wrist.

  The guard, who usually lounged against the wall, now stood in a rigid pose, one hand crossed over to his sword hilt, elbow out, the other arm straight and pressed against his side. He would have made a cute model for a toy soldier.

  With her head held high, spine straight, Nance walked stiffly through the gates. Beneath her headdress of fluttering scarves and jewels, her round face was a mask of white powder applied so heavily it totally hid her freckles. Her eyes were framed by ovals of ash black filled with lavender powder on the lids. Her round mouth was painted to form a thin line of blood red.

  She had painted and powdered my face in similar fashion.

  Only Nance's shining eyes, open so wide they appeared to bulge from her head, showed her terror. I felt her hand shake as she released her grasp and stepped in front of me.

  A line of guards marched behind us. As we wound down the hillside, throngs of people edged the path. Their unusual silence as they joined the moving crowd finally drew my thoughts away from the smothering heat of my heavy robe and itching face powder. I glanced back to see the growing length of the procession, and then saw the horror in the face of the guard who walked directly behind me. Must have committed some blunder in turning my head, don't ask me what.

  Quickly straightening my shoulders, I stared forward and moved only my eyes beneath half-closed lids to gaze at the faces of the crowd. They all wore the same expression. Terror. Above the usual odor of unwashed bodies rose a sharper stench of fear.

  From somewhere in the distance a horn sounded. Across the valley and up the other hillside the huts of the city stood out in their shadows, sagging shacks of grayed wood and piled rocks on dry earth. Above them rose a cloud of dust. It spread, settled across the hills like a drifting fog, then parted so that in its center I saw the first glittering armor on a horse and rider.

  Surging forward like the water of a flooding river, the line of warriors wound down the pathway toward us until we could see clearly the red and yellow banners flying from headgear and from the bridles of the horses.

  A pebble slipped between my foot and the sole of one of my sandals. I started to bend over to remove it. Some hunch nudged me. I glanced at the crowd. Their red faces were wet with perspiration even though the day was cool. Okay, unless I wanted a major increase in pain, I knew I better walk on the pebble while keeping a smiley face.

  Like the army on the far hill, we wound down the pathway. When we reached the flat land, all the watchers dropped back so we two templekeepers led the procession to greet the returning army. We met at the valley's center. Lights, camera, action.

  Nance held up her arms. Our followers stopped.

  Nance chanted, “The Daughter of the Sun rejoices at the safe return of her beloved and faithful champion, Kovat, ruler of rulers.”

  Raising my powdered face to echo the chant, I stared up past the enormous beribboned horse and it
s rider's armored body into the meanest, ugliest, most distorted face I ever saw. My mouth hung open and if I was supposed to say something, I lost it. Behind me the procession echoed Nance.

  Gotta admit, terror seeped through me and chilled my bones until my hands trembled inside the folds of my robe. So this was the guy who controlled the minds and destinies of every person present.

  From his high seat on his horse, Kovat the Slayer stared down at me. Across his bulging chest muscles were rows of metal discs reflecting the sun, while bands of gold circled his powerful arms. None of the luster of his armor equaled his eyes, pale water-blue points of light. His ears and nose were missing bits. His face was so twisted by slashes of old scar tissue, it was impossible to know what he must once have looked like.

  That he could remove my head from my shoulders as easily as Nance could remove jewels from my hair was clear. I fought to keep my expression an unreadable mask while fear caused a river of perspiration to run down between my shoulder blades.

  When the crowd quit chanting, Nance said, “The Daughter of the Sun and her consort guide and protect their own.”

  Raising my hands slowly in the motions drilled into me by Nance, I repeated the greeting. When I finished, the silence hung above the hills and the thousands of inhabitants. Not even the wind had the nerve to snap a fluttering banner.

  Kovat the Slayer raised his sword, releasing the people from their invisible bonds and all I could think was, Arnold couldn't have been more dramatic. The horses pawed and snorted, the armor of the warriors clattered, and as the villagers moved back from the path's edge, the warlord and his army continued up the dusty road toward the castle.

  After they passed, Nance led our parade on a winding path between the huts, circling the hill in a long procession before we returned to the temple. The guards opened the temple gates. Nance and I entered, turned, raised our hands in a sign of blessing, and then stood silently until the guards pulled the gates closed. Nance slid the bolt into place.

  “So now you have seen him and survived.” She grabbed my hand and ran with me across the yard and through the temple and down the corridor to our rooms, then outside again to our small private courtyard. We both collapsed on the bench by the door. “What do you think of Kovat the Slayer?”