Warlock and Son wisoh-12

by Christopher Stasheff

  Suddenly, a deep thundering made the earth begin to shake. Everyone fell silent, turning in awe, and had just begun to think about screaming, when a fanfare of a hundred trumpets blared, followed by the theme from The Ride of Koschei the Deathless, as a huge, rugged spheroid rose into view above the walls. It was cratered and pitted from encounters with a hundred meteorites; it was an asteroid, come to ground. It glided over the courtyard and lowered itself gently to the ground. A final fanfare sounded as the hatchway opened and swung down to form a boarding ramp. "Very good, Fess," Rod muttered. "Thank you."

  The crowd was silent. Magnus glanced quickly at Rod; his father nodded. The young warlock turned to the crowd and said, softly, "I thank thee, my friends. I shall never forget thee, nor my delight in thy farewell." He looked around at them, then saw the tears on his sister's cheeks and caught her to him for one more brief hug, then stepped back and forced a smile for all his friends. "God be with thee."

  "And with thee, Magnus!"

  "Farewell, young warlock!"

  "Farewell!"

  "Yet hold." King Tuan stepped forth, face suddenly grave, and drew his sword. "There is a ceremony overdue thee by many years. I have long awaited thy petition, but it hath not come, so I cannot now accord thee the Vigil and the Bathbut I may still give thee the accolade. Kneel, Magnus Gallowglass d'Armand."

  Everyone was silent, knowing the significance of his use of Magnus's true family name.

  Magnus stepped forward and knelt before his king.

  Tuan laid the flat of his sword on each shoulder, saying, "I, King of this Isle of Gramarye, dub thee Knight of the Realm, and charge thee ever to defend the weak and smite the wicked, wheresoever thou shalt go." He sheathed the sword, stepped forward, and struck Magnus on the cheek, saying, "Rise, Sir Magnus."

  The crowd broke into wild cheering as Magnus rose and stood before his king. When the crowd could hear again, they heard Magnus saying softly, "I am thy man, henceforth and ever to be true to thee and thy queen, and the heirs of thy body, to defend thee in battle and serve thee in peace."

  Then Prince Alain stepped forward to clasp his arm, and stepped aside for his brother Diarmid. At last, Queen Catharine stepped forward and offered her hand; Magnus bowed and kissed it.

  Again the crowd cheered, and Tuan said, "Go now to thy father."

  Magnus bowed and turned away. Gregory caught up his pack and ran to give it to him. Magnus took it and clasped his youngest brother on the shoulder. Gregory turned a shining face up to him and fell into step beside him, but Brom O'Berin caught his wrist and pulled him back gently, saying, "Nay. Let him go alone with thy parents for the moment."

  And so he did, while the crowd melted as quickly as they had come, and Cordelia and her brothers welcomed the royal family into their home.

  Magnus turned back at the foot of the ramp and said, "I shall come again, my father."

  "I know." Rod clasped his shoulder, eyes shining. "Don't wait too long though, okay? We're not getting any younger." He raised his voice. "Fess!"

  "Aye, Rod?"

  "Here is your new master. Obey Magnus as you have obeyed me, until his life ends or he gives you leave." Magnus's face suddenly drained of all expression as he heard the age-old formula.

  "I shall, Rod."

  "But remember what I said about making sure he writes home a lot."

  Magnus smiled, looking down at his father with affection. "I will, Rod."

  Now, at last, Rod reached up and hauled the young giant down for an embrace. "Be careful, son, and always do your homework about customs and crooks before you make planetfall. There're a lot of mean ones out there."

  "I shall, my father. Fare thee well!"

  "But there are a lot of good ones, too." Rod stepped back, his smile still in place. "There will be times when you're tempted to forget that-so don't, eh?"

  "Aye." Magnus smiled.

  Gwen stepped forward for her embrace, murmuring, "Fare thee well, my son! Oh, fare thee well! And come back hale and whole to me, in heart as in body."

  "As whole as when I left," Magnus promised. He kissed her cheek, then stepped back.

  Fess gave him an out. "Traffic window assigned. Ship lifting."

  They laughed, and Magnus stepped back inside the hatch, waving as the door rose and sealed itself, hiding him from view.

  But Rod And Gwen kept waving, as the asteroid rose into the sky and dwindled, becoming a dot, a speck, a mere nothing.

  Then Gwen turned and wept on Rod's shoulder. He held her tightly, his own eyes rather misty.

  As they came back to the keep, Tuan and Catharine stepped forth. Without a word, Tuan embraced his vassal, and Catharine hugged Gwen, for the first time in their lives.

  Aboard the ship, Magnus sank back into his couch, glad that the cessation of acceleration gave him a chance to go limp-and was suddenly aware of the huge ache of emptiness that rose up within him.

  But as he sank rapidly down toward melancholia, a voice sounded in his mind. Magnus!

  Magnus stilled, his face neutral. Then he answered. Aye, Gregory. Canst thou speak mind-to-mind even off-planet, then?

  Aye, and we will now discover what range we have, shall we not?

  Aye. Magnus smiled. I thank thee, brother. And 1 thee. Only, Magnus ...

  Aye, my sib?

  Wherefore must thou needs leave?

  Magnus heaved a sigh and tried to frame the answer. For that I cannot be fully myself whiles I do dwell within my father's shadow, Gregory. Canst thou comprehend that? Nay.

  I hope thou never wilt. But let me offer one facet of the problem, yet only one. 1 do not believe 'tis right to sway a people to the form of government thou dost prefer.

  I see, Gregory answered slowly. And if thou dost stay on Gramarye, soon or late, thou must needs fight our father over that issue.

  Thou dost comprehend quickly-and therefore must I leave.

  Aye. But, Magnus ... Aye?

  Is that the sole reason?

  Magnus was silent a second, then sent, Thou art as acute as ever, my sib. Nay, 'tis not.

  There are others, then.

  One other, at least. But all conjoin to this course of action. Shall I have to follow thee, someday?

  I cannot say yet I think thou wilt not. Thou art the youngest, and hast ever found the world of the mind more real than the world of the senses. I think thou shalt find room enough to roam, though thou dost never leave our little Isle.

  I trust not. Gregory sighed. Well, fortune favor thee, my brother. Call me at need.

  1 will, Magnus thought. With thanks.

  Then Gregory was gone, and Magnus was alone againbut he did not feel quite so empty now.

  "Thou shalt have need of stout warding for thine heart, where thou dost go," a voice said.

  Magnus looked up, incredulous, and found the ragpicker sitting there in the second acceleration couch. " Thou? Even here, thou canst follow me?"

  "Anywhere," the ragpicker confirmed, "for I am within thee, as I am within every man. What thou dost see is only the outward sign. Come, wilt thou have my warding for thine heart?"

  Magnus just sat gazing at him for several minutes, evaluating the truth and validity of what the ragpicker had said. He could be a lying demon, of course-but was far more likely to be an hallucination. Magnus wondered what had gone wrong within his own mind, that he had begun to see apparitions so much sooner than his father had.

  "A quarter of thee is truly of Gramarye," the ragpicker reminded him, "and thus doth incorporate what thou dost term 'witch-moss.' "

  Magnus frowned. "Then, when we are far enough from Gramarye, thou shalt cease to manifest?"

  "Mayhap. If 'tis so, thou must needs take my ward quickly, or not at all. Come, wilt thou have it?"

  Magnus was silent, eyeing him and assessing. Then it occurred to him that the changes the Green Witch had made in his mind and body should protect him from any hurtful aspect of the ragpicker's "gift."

  "Wilt thou have it?" the ragpicker pressed.
"Wilt thou make thine heart invulnerable?"

  "Aye," Magnus said at last, "I will."

  The ragpicker's face broke into a grin. He clasped his hands, then parted them-and a translucent golden box rose from his cupped palms, with a large keyhole in its lid. Magnus stared at it, entranced, as it floated over to him, then suddenly plunged toward his chest. He cried out, and flinched away-but the box followed him, fading to a mere outline as it sank into his chest and disappeared. Magnus howled, clutching at his chest, expecting a stabbing pain-but there was only a mild sensation, as of something slightly shifting, then...

  "Nothing," he whispered, looking up at the ragpicker with haunted eyes. "I feel no differently than ever before."

  "Thou shalt know the benefit anon."

  Suddenly, Magnus realized he might have done something irrevocable. "Yet what if I wish to be rid of it? Thou hast put mine heart in a box of golden; how shall I open it again?"

  "The key is within thee," the ragpicker assured him. "Where?"

  The ragpicker grinned. "Ah, now. That is for thee to discover. Myself, even I know not."

  "Fiend!" Magnus shouted.

  The ragpicker disappeared on the instant, leaving only mocking laughter behind.

  The but was wattle-and-daub, like any other peasant hut, and like all the others around it; the anarchists did not wish to call attention to themselves. But under the wattle and daub was armor plate, and within the largest but was a middleaged man working at a wide desk under the light of a very modem lamp.

  "Agent Finister is here to report," a voice said out of thin air.

  The man looked up in surprise, then smiled with eagerness. "Show her in."

  The inner door opened, and a slender woman entered the room. There was a strange light to her eyes; she was slender, with an almost elfin grace.

  "Sit down, sit down!" The man stood and went to pour two glasses from a dusty bottle. "Have some wine!" He handed her the goblet.

  "Thank you, chief." She sat in the plain wooden chair in front of the desk, accepting the glass with a demure smile. "Well! What news?" The chief bustled around to sit behind the desk. "I know the young warlock has left the planet-and that's good, very good, so far as it goes! But did you give him something to take with him?"

  "I think so," Finister said. "Of course, we can't be certain-but if the psychologists are right, I've given him a thorough distaste for sex in any form, which should last for the rest of his life."

  "Barring psychotherapy, of course." The chief nodded vigorously. "Yes. But nothing is a sure bet, eh? Excellently done, Home Agent Finister! If we can't beat this second generation of warlocks, at least we can make sure there won't be a third. Splendid, splendid! Especially the eldest-he has the most powerful combination of psi genes of any human being yet bom. If he reproduces . . ."

  "But he won't," she said, with a very smug smile. "Amazing! How did you do it?"

  "I had the idea from an old witch he encountered, who lived in a tower and specialized in seducing young men to gain their vitality. It gave him a very unpleasant sexual experience, even if it wasn't complete, so I decided to continue the lesson. I disguised myself, of course, first as a nobleman's wife..."

  "I wondered why you needed all those extra agents."

  "I had to mock up a functioning court, in an abandoned castle. Agent Mortrain did a wonderful job as my aging, jealous husband, by the way. I might have been in trouble if Gallowglass had insisted on accompanying me right into my father's castle, but by the time we arrived there, he was only too eager to be done with me."

  "And you gave him a negative sexual experience."

  "Caught in the preliminaries to adultery? Very negative, I would say."

  "Why just the preliminaries?" The chief frowned.

  "I was afraid he would come down with an attack of conscience at the last minute. But it hit him hard; I eavesdropped on his thoughts, and found him communicating with his alter ego from Tir Chlis."

  "The alternate universe we abducted his family to, when he was a child? I still can't figure out how they got away from that one." The Central Agent reflected that these home agents, Gramarye espers adopted as foundlings and reared to be loyal to SPITE, were very useful.

  "The same-and the opportunity was too good to miss. I disguised myself as a faerie queen, blindsided him, and hypnotized him while his defenses were down. Then I gave him a very detailed dream. Not total-his little brother disrupted it at the last minute, with a couple of disguised images-but enough to shake him badly."

  The Central Agent frowned. "Did the little brother know it was a dream?"

  "I didn't probe his mind-he's only thirteen, but he would have known it in a second; Gregory is probably the most talented telepath among them. So I don't know, but I'm pretty sure he thought it was Tir Chlis, too. Then I showed up as an enchanted maiden"-she swept her own form with a gesture-"and hit him with every ounce of projected sex appeal I have."

  The Central Agent sat very still, then slowly smiled. "I'm surprised he's still alive."

  "He wouldn't be, if some meddling hussy in the lake country hadn't interfered. I had him in a total depression, gave him a projected dream that convinced him he was doomed. He wouldn't have eaten a crumb, and would have pined away. But his parents jolted him into motion, and that confounded robot-horse found the Green Witch for him. We really should so something permanent about that healer, chief."

  The Central Agent made a note. "We'll see to it. So she undid all your work?"

  "Not all. She couldn't have. Oh, she brought him out of the depression well enough, and has him wanting to live again-but he's not sure why, and will have a massive distrust of women for the rest of his life. I don't think any psychiatrist could root that out of his mind. And he'll certainly have no interest in sex, except possibly as an intellectual pursuit."

  "And intellectual pursuits don't cause children!" The Central Agent chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "Well done, Finister, well done! We must move you up to bigger things now, eh?"

  "I would say that we should." Agent Finister rose and glided around behind the desk to touch the chief's cheek. "Very intimate things."

  The chief's eyes kindled, and he smiled slowly. "Just what are you promoting, Agent Finister?"

  "Myself." She touched his temple, and he suddenly lost all expression. With languid grace, she set down her goblet and touched his other temple. Slowly, his eyes filled with awe and deep, deep desire. "I would like to be Central Agent some day," she murmured.

  The chief nodded and started writing. She didn't take her hands away until he was done, then stood behind him with a secretive smile.

  "Agent Worely," the chief said into his invisible intercom, hunger hollowing his voice.

  "Yes, chief?"

  "Come in, please."

  The door opened, and a young man came in with a frown. "What is it, chief?"

  "You're my witness," the chief said. "If I die in the line of duty, Agent Finister will become chief in my place."

  The younger man stared, looking from one to another. Finister gave him only a small, gloating smile. He reddened and turned away. "As you say, chief." The door closed behind him.

  "Now," Finister purred, reaching down.

  Almost mechanically, the chief rose and followed her, his eyes burning. She led him through an inner door, into his own suite.

  The next morning, they held his funeral. It was very sumptuous, by Gramarye standards-Central Agent Finister made sure of that. It wouldn't do to undermine respect for the office.

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