Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic)

by Phoebe Matthews

  “That's what they will be. Quite a haul of slaves you made with that powder.”

  “I don't want to enslave anyone,” I protested.

  “The alternative is to kill them, but if I do, you will be angry with me.”

  As happened too often when I talked to Tarvik, he was making my head hurt. I didn't like what he planned but I had no better suggestions. So I didn't bother arguing.

  We waited in the castle, out of sight, until midday when we saw Erlan mount his horse. A guard walked beside him holding a banner on a pole. At some word from Erlan, the guard handed him the pole.

  Erlan held the banner high above his head with the pole gripped in both hands and waved it in an arc several times. Then he handed it back to his guard. The long shabby procession began its slow winding journey down the path and across the valley.

  Tarvik caught my hand. We moved quietly through the dusky halls, stopped at each corner, strained to listen. Strips of daylight cut through the empty rooms, as pale as ghosts and as spooky. I saw light and shadow shapes move in the edges of my vision, but when I turned my head there was no one there.

  Sure there's ghosts, Gran always said so, but I'd never seen any. I hadn't believed in them, not before. But here, in this castle with its generations of warriors, believing in ghosts was a lot easier. The courtyards we crossed were full of unearthly light that seemed to shift as we passed. I was numb with cold by the time we reached the front gate. Tarvik grasped my icy hand with his warm fingers. Felt good. We saw and heard no one.

  We climbed to the wall top. While I waited on the last stair, Tarvik, who was as sure-footed as a cat, walked on the ledge.

  To the west, a low black cloud of smoke dimmed the fading sunlight while the hillside turned dark behind the occasional flicker of a dying fire. Here the wind brushed my hair from my face and curled my robe around me. I felt warmer now that I was free of the passageway, felt like myself again standing beneath the familiar sky. I rubbed my arms and stamped my feet and concentrated on getting my blood circulating. I could see Tarvik moving against the gray sky as he circled the castle guard walk.

  When he returned, he said, “They travel east and south, far beyond our hills.”

  East and south. Away from the mountains, away from Lor and Nance and the fires that I had told Erlan were funeral pyres. And, more importantly, away from the valley where Tarvik's people hid.

  “We have won.” We grinned at each other.

  In the dying daylight we stood at the edge of the thicket's shadow and watched Erlan's army move slowly toward his homeland. So fear had done the trick and Erlan had been fooled by me, by Nance, and better still, by a drug mixed by his own wife.

  We returned to the western wall to build a fire to warm ourselves and to signal Nance and Lor to return. The sparks shot red and gold into the sky, a celebration, and I moved as close to them as I could.

  “You're shivering, girl. Here, put this on.” He started to pull off his fur cloak.

  “Keep it or you'll be the one who gets sick.”

  “It's big enough for both of us.”

  He stood behind me and wrapped his cloak around me and held me tightly so that I could feel his heat against my back, his chin on my shoulder. I felt too warm and safe to protest.

  “How are your elbows?”

  “Better,” I said, then added, “Thank you.”

  While we waited for a sign from Lor and Nance, he asked, “In your land, do you live in a castle?”

  “No. I live in a house.”

  “What is a house?” It was his tell-me-a-story voice and I knew he wanted to hear about anything that would take his mind off thoughts about his father and war and traitors, and perhaps he also wanted to forget, for a while, the responsibilities he would have to face tomorrow.

  So I described my house.

  “It's small, but the rooms all open onto a deck facing the back garden. Sometimes on warm nights I sleep outside on the deck and I can watch the stars.”

  “I have never seen a place like that. Tell me about it.”

  Tell him about my house? Tarvik didn't know anything about houses. He knew stone castles and wood huts, but not houses.

  My parents, if tested, would have flunked role-modeling. They wandered off, first one, then the other, daddy moving in with his longtime girlfriend who then tossed him out, mommy following a traveling somebody to the east coast. Who knows how many address changes they both collected. What it added up to was little Claire living with first one cranky aunt and then another. Not that they meant to be cranky, my aunts, they tried to do the mommy thing, but my mother's two sisters were both broke and underemployed and overextended and picked men who ran up debts before running out. Daddy's sister was a good egg married to a bad egg. So the three aunties took turns, a month here, six months there, for me.

  I was twelve when my maternal gran was diagnosed with so many illnesses she had more prescription bottles in her kitchen cabinets than she had food. She was in a wheelchair within the year and needed someone to live with her, so my aunts grabbed that as a solution. Not a bad one, really, because it moved me into a house where I had a permanent room of my own and didn't have to keep changing schools. And Gran knew bits and pieces of magic. She could do that thing of opening her hand and lighting up a room. A couple of times the trick scared off a prowler. And she could call things to her, very small things like popped buttons and dropped hairpins. That skill only seems unimportant to someone who is not in a wheelchair.

  We got along fine. She tried to teach me her tricks but I lacked that particular bit of magic. I did learn to take care of myself, help her, and stay out of the troll's way. We did okay until Gran died the year I turned eighteen. I still miss her.

  As her daughters never came to call or help out in any way, and because she had long since decided they were a lost cause, she left them each some cash and she left me the house.

  That could have caused a battle except the aunts didn't like the house and they needed the cash and the lawyer pointed out that the Will was legal, plus property in Mudflat was hard to sell, especially with a troll in the basement.

  So that's how I ended up with a little two-bedroom house, all on one floor, about a thousand feet square. Upstairs is a small attic. Downstairs is a basement apartment and the rent from it takes care of utilities and taxes. The renter works nights, sleeps days, so our paths don't cross much, but when I am out, the grass gets mowed, hinges oiled, leaky plumbing repaired.

  Should I tell Tarvik about the troll? Or would that require another long story to define troll? What the hell, he needed something else to think about than his uncle.

  “There's a troll in the basement,” I said and he laughed because of course he thought I was joking.

  “Do all the people in your village have houses and gardens?”

  I nodded. “Or apartments. I don't actually live in a village. I live in a large city.”

  “And do people live with their families and share meals and do you tell stories in the evenings?”

  I started to laugh, because it seemed like such an odd question, but then I thought about the castle with its endless cold and empty rooms, and guards standing in the hallways. He had no idea how anyone else lived, beyond knowing peasants lived in crowded huts and the rulers lived in lonely castles.

  And so I told him a bit about Mudflat. That's what he wanted, something to picture in his mind.

  “We go to our jobs during the day,” I said, and told him about a few of my friends.

  Okay, I did not mention the Decko brothers, who were not friends, and not Roman, who was a sleaze. There were a couple of fun people at the bank, where I presumed I was no longer employed, and quite a few friends at the Mudflat Neighborhood Center, which was solid Mudflat and peopled with assistants and counselors, all types who thought of forgiveness as a virtue and so I would be taken back like the prodigal daughter whenever I returned. If? No, not going there, not tonight.

  “And then at the end of the day
we sometimes hang out together.”

  “Hang out?”

  “Watch TV, call out for pizza.”

  Skip trolls, it took the rest of the evening to explain about pizza and lights and heat and running water and I don't think he believed a word of it. He thought I was making up a story. As he liked anything that sounded like a story, he listened carefully and asked for explanations and descriptions, then repeated words like Seattle and Mudflat and freeway.

  The fire flamed hot enough to shoot sparks and I felt much warmer. I unwound his arms from around me and stepped free of his cloak. We leaned back against the wall and watched the distant hills for an answering fire from Nance and Lor.

  He kept one arm around my shoulders, holding me against his side, keeping me comfortably warm, and I gave up trying to explain electricity and switched to sports. He asked endless questions about soccer. He was as puzzled as Nance had been by the idea that the point of a game was to kick a ball past the opposing team without harming anyone.

  “But wouldn't it be quicker to knock them all down and run over them?”

  “If people get injured, that isn't much fun.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, and then he laughed at me. “All right, someday you'll have to teach me this game so I can find out what makes it fun.”

  For that one night, Tarvik and I were friends sharing a victory, trying to use happier memories to close out the horror of reality.

  CHAPTER 20

  Winter in the Olympic Mountains. All I knew about the mountains was that in winter they were snow-topped and postcard pretty from a distance.

  Was this strange land above or below the winter snow line, I wondered. Maybe if I was a hiker or skier I would know how to figure that one. Wasn't. Didn't. I didn't think I had climbed that far and guessed that I was still well within the mild climate of the peninsula, but who knew? The climate in this country was somewhat different from the typical Northwest, about the same temperatures but less rain and a lot more sun. Maybe if some sort of gods wanted to hide a place and planned to visit occasionally, they would want it sunny.

  Or maybe it was those elves living upstairs, maybe they improved the weather.

  Kovat's world was neither past nor future. I knew for certain I hadn't time-traveled because the night sky was correct for the present time. But this country was not visible to the outside world and therefore it had to be controlled by magic. Okay, I grew up in Mudflat, so I accepted that when it comes to magic, non-magic rules don't apply.

  Days shortened, the sun dropped lower in the sky, shadows lengthened, and the city returned to its winter pattern. Cook fires moved indoors. Thin twists of smoke rose from the hole in each roof. Light snow drifted nightly across the hills, glittered in the sunrise and melted to brown mud by midday. There was more sun, yes, but the temperature range was about the same as Seattle. People were faceless shapes above scurrying rag-wrapped feet, covered in tattered shawls from headtops to ankles.

  Like the snow, the warriors of Kovat's army drifted back, a few returning each day, exhausted, hungry, ill. Some wore armor beneath their torn capes, others returned dressed only in blankets and animal skins.

  From the return of the first man, we knew the truth. Until then, we pretended to believe the lie. Now the pretending ended.

  Kovat the Slayer was dead.

  The last time I touched his chart, I felt nothing, no heartbeat, nothing. As I couldn't explain this heartbeat phenomena and hoped I was wrong, I didn't mention it to Tarvik. Now I knew I was right.

  The returning warriors reported, “Kovat fell dead across the banquet goblets. We could not save him.”

  “You stood there and saw my father murdered?” Tarvik demanded.

  “We saw his death. At first we did not know the cause. But when we found all of our weapons were stolen and hidden by Erlan's men, we knew. Erlan murdered your father. His warriors would have slain all of us if we had not fled.”

  “Then why did Erlan return to our city before you?”

  “We could not travel together,” one of them explained. “We escaped on foot. We all wanted to make it back here to warn you, my prince. Erlan had our horses. His scouts pursued us. Our one chance of reaching you was to separate. We followed circling paths to outwit his army. But they spread their scouts wide. I couldn't make it past them.”

  And so it was with all of them. They returned to their home city, where their families lived, possessing little more than loyalty. Their horses were gone and whatever else they owned had been traded to wandering herders for food. To give him credit, Tarvik was smart enough to know that loyalty was what he most needed.

  “We will winter here and make new weapons and rebuild our army. Come spring, we will take what horses we have and perhaps find others on our way,” Tarvik told them.

  “Why are you rebuilding an army?” I asked him when we were alone in the castle courtyard.

  “To go south. I will lead them.”

  “How come?”

  “To capture slaves, weapons, horses, whatever the tribes of Thunder possess. You will chart my stars and tell me when I shall be victorious.”

  “I will not. Look at the way these people live. Not your warriors. Look at your workers, your servants, everybody living in the huts all around us. Without them you have no one to rule. Grow up! Your horses have stone stables and woven blankets and full food troughs. How about treating your people as well?”

  He frowned and glared at me. “They have always lived thus. They do not starve. And without an army, who would protect them?”

  “Protect them! What if Erlan returns while you're off playing warrior?”

  “That is right, Stargazer,” he said, his voice flat. “My first battle is with Erlan. My father's death must be avenged. But I cannot attack Erlan without replenishing my weapons. I will capture an outer village first. We will seize supplies.”

  “Tarvik, you have lost possession of your mind!” I screamed, aware in some corner of my own mind that we were both changing, Tarvik becoming more confident and more in control of his emotions, me flying into Nance-like fits of temper.

  He leaned toward me, his face almost touching mine, the muscles of his jaw tightening. To be the same height as Tarvik was to be same height as a field rock. I could glare back but we both knew which of us was unmovable.

  I fled to the temple.

  This time he didn't send a gold trinket to appease me. For three days I saw nothing of him, heard nothing from him.

  Nance and I tried to ready the temple for increasing cold. We moved the cook fire inside so its smoke drifted upward through the ceiling hole. I tried to describe fireplaces and chimneys.

  “If your fire burns against the wall, does the wall turn black?” Nance asked.

  “The fire burns in this box place with it own chimney. A tube? Tunnel? I don't know, what's a hollow pillar that goes up and through the roof? It's a chimney but I can't explain. Anyhow, it takes the smoke out like the hole in your ceiling.”

  “But then you cannot walk around it.”

  As I was not a builder, I didn't know how to explain why a hearth and chimney served better than a hole in the ceiling, even though I knew that if we had a fireplace we would not constantly breathe smoke. Modern city smog was clean compared to breathing wood smoke all day.

  What I really wanted was a metal pellet stove, capable of giving off some heat, but I knew less about those things than I did about fireplaces. Faced with the problems of maintaining small comforts, as well as preparing the temple for the service of the Winter Solstice, I had little time to wonder what Tarvik was doing.

  He no longer came banging on our gate to relieve his boredom, but as he needed to assume his father's rule quickly, I thought the castle politics must be taking up his time. It wasn't as though I missed the brat.

  Not that I would admit to myself or to Nance. But there were times when I found myself standing motionless with a polishing cloth in my hand, my tasks forgotten and my mind filled with questions about T
arvik. He smiled more easily now than when we'd first met, teased me with his wide grin. Caught me in an occasional hug, then laughed at me when I pushed him away. And when he was angry, he became quiet and thoughtful, and I was less sure of where his mind wandered.

  The boy was turning into an adult, which made him a lot harder to figure out.

  And what about me? No way was I going to spend my life here. I was fond of Nance and I admired old Lor. No matter what I thought of their bloodlust, I respected the loyalty the warriors gave Tarvik. But be stuck here forever?

  “I shall never make a proper templekeeper of you,” Nance scolded, grabbing the cloth from my hand. “If you cannot polish the lamps, do you think you could mend your cape lining?”

  “Nance, you know I can't sew. I will polish.”

  “What is it that sets you dreaming?”

  “Dreaming?”

  “You should see your face, Stargazer. Your thoughts are certainly not on lamp polishing.”

  Too much Tarvik on my mind. I needed to avoid his company. Oh right, at the moment, he was avoiding mine. And yet, my mind kept bringing up questions. He had been raised to be a warrior and I knew from watching the tournaments that he was very good at fighting and insanely fearless. But he also knew how to dance and to cook and to paint pictures. What an odd collection of skills. If I'd met him in Seattle, would we have hit it off? Sure, I was attracted, but not insane. It didn't matter how much fun he was, he came with a weird life filled with impossible attitudes.

  The service of the Winter Solstice fulfilled Nance's dreams, overflowing with chants and rituals, and ended in a ceremony blessing Tarvik as the new ruler. He wore a fur cape against the temple's damp chill, and on his thick hair was his crown, the narrow gold circlet encrusted with dark red garnets.

  Nance chanted until I thought Tarvik himself would fall asleep. Kneeling before the altar, he settled into his cape until his chin rested on his high fur collar and his eyelids drooped. After Nance chanted her last, “praise to the Daughter of the Sun,” Tarvik hurried from the temple.

  “Where's he headed?” I asked her after the temple emptied.