A Wizard In Chaos

by Christopher Stasheff

  "Not inbreeding-selective breeding! The Hill can support only so many! Each woman may bear only two children during her lifetime, and if one is born dark-haired, ugly, or maimed, we give him to the Milesians!"

  Dirk remembered the tall "changeling" in Cort's platoon. "But only if you can trade it for a goodlooking Milesian. So that's why you continually steal Milesian babies and leave Fair Folk infants in their places-as you say, you need the genes, but you take only the prettiest and the strongest!"

  "And have been doing so for four hundred years," the duke confirmed. "After all that time, surely we have all the best genes, and the Milesians all the worst!"

  "Not at all," Gar said, "for the babies you trade away have all your genes within them, even if they're recessive. If you gain the strengths of the Milesians, so do they gain yours!"

  "What strengths have they that we would wish?" the duke scoffed. His eyes glittered as he looked from Dirk to Gar and back. "Does it not worry you that I am so free to confirm your guesses, so open as to tell you facts you did not know?"

  "Well, now that you mention it," Dirk said, swallowing hard, "yes."

  The duke laughed, gloating. "You fear that we will keep you inside the hill all your lives, for committing the crime of knowing too much-and you fear rightly. We cannot let you walk abroad, to tell the Milesians we are only mortal, as they are, but with more powerful weapons."

  "You're planning to hold onto us," Dirk said, his mouth dry. He thought of Magda, and his heart twisted.

  "Your friend already wishes to stay." The duke nodded at a smaller building off to the side of the plaza. "Look where he comes!"

  Turning, Dirk and Gar saw Desiree coming out the door, holding the hand of a very besotted Cort. He moved like a sleepwalker, letting her touch guide him, never taking his gaze from her face. She beamed back into his eyes, face radiant with triumph.

  Dirk felt his heart sink. "He's lost to us."

  "And to all the outer world," the duke agreed. "He is a good fighter and a strong, tall, handsome man, for a Milesian. His genes will protect us against the inbreeding you cite, without introducing too many unpleasant traits."

  "Can he stay as anything but a servant?" Gar asked.

  "We do, very rarely, allow a Milesian to marry one of us," the duke hedged, "as much as any of us marry."

  "Which means that the only vows they exchange are that they love each other right then, at that moment?" Dirk asked.

  "Something like that, yes." The duke seemed disgruntled that Dirk had guessed.

  "But no one expects it to last longer than a few years," Gar suggested.

  "None," the duke agreed. "When they decide their marriage is done, he who has married one Fair Lady may marry another. He need not be a slave all his days."

  "Meaning that you think he or she is a superior enough specimen that you want to spread their genes widely through the pool," Dirk said dryly.

  "And of sufficient interest to help dispel ennui, the perpetual restless boredom that is our bane," the duke said.

  "Will you decide to so honor our friend?" Gar asked.

  "Perhaps," the duke answered. "If a man of such grace and beauty survived long enough in the chaotic world outside, he may be worth keeping as something other than a bondsman-though mind you, even our slaves wish to remain here, where they are safe, and all is laughter and music."

  "But you are definitely keeping him," Dirk inferred.

  The duke watched the couple, brooding, as Desiree dropped Cort's hand, tossed her head, and turned away. He stared after her, dumbfounded.

  The duke smiled. "I see that Desiree has had her fill of him for the time being. She may decide to reclaim him some day. For now, though, dawn is coming, and he is free to go."

  He turned to a side table, filled with fruit and decanters. "Eat and drink! The night has been long, the way longer, and you are surely hungry"

  Dirk glanced at the fruit; his mouth watered and his stomach rumbled. But Gar caught his eye and gave the slightest shake of the head. Dirk remembered Cort's warning not to eat or drink, and ground out, "I thank you, Your Grace, but on a mission such as we follow now, we must eat only journey rations." He wondered what malice Gar had overheard in the man's thoughts.

  The duke's face darkened. "I urge you to taste and sip! It is quite pleasant-far more pleasant than it is without."

  "Ws drugged, isn't it?" Gar asked. "Your ancestors read the old legends, and liked the irony. You feed sedatives to the Milesians you don't want to keep around, but don't want to let go, either-the ones who know too much. Then you store them away somehow, for twenty years. When you let them out, the world is a generation older, and though people believe they've spent a night in Hollow Hill, they also believe the experience has left them mad, and don't believe anything they say about you!"

  The duke flushed with anger. "You see far too much, far too quickly! I warn you, it will be far more pleasant for you if you eat or drink!"

  "I thank you." Gar inclined his head. "But we must decline the invitation."

  The duke snapped his fingers, and Fair Folk men whirled from the dance and fell on Dirk and Gar, drawing their swords.

  The companions leaped back, whipping out their blades, and met the onslaught, parrying frantically. "Try riot to injure them!" Gar called. "Look, I have some idea of good manners!" Dirk called back.

  Then a shout split the air, and Cort barreled between two of the tall men. They leaped aside in sheer surprise as he turned, rapier and dagger drawn and whirling. "If you fight my friends, you fight me!"

  "Cort, no!" Desiree wailed.

  "Game's over, lady," Dirk snapped, parrying a blade that ripped his sleeve. Blood welled, but he ignored it and caught another sword on his dagger.

  "Spare him!" Desiree cried. "I have more games to play!"

  If anything, that made the Fair Men fight harder. They piled on the trio ten to one and bore them down by the weight of sheer numbers. Gar felt his blade cut flesh; a tall man cried out in pain, and Gar felt blades pierce his shoulder, his thigh. Then a blow rocked his head, and he went limp.

  He could still see and hear, though everything seemed distant. He felt his body heaved up high, saw Cort and Dirk borne up on the shoulders of tall men, heard Desiree wailing, and saw the floating lights slide by overhead, then the lintel of the palace portal. Its ceiling reeled past, painted in beautiful, ornate designs; then the roof closed in, they passed under a low lintel, his head tilted downward, and they went jolting down and down into gloom.

  Then, suddenly, the ride leveled, and the roof rose again. Gar felt control of his limbs returning as the daze faded, leaving a splitting headache. He looked about him and saw a domed ceiling painted a cold blue. The light was cold, too, and glaring white-mercury vapor, at a guess.

  Then they lowered his legs, and Gar saw that he stood in an underground chamber filled with clear glass doors. Behind a dozen of those doors stood Milesians, men and women of Cort's kind, who had come into the Hill by chance or the caprice of a Fair Person, but who now stood frozen and rigid, eyes closed in cryogenic sleep.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Fair Men lowered Dirk's and Cort's feet, too, but kept hold of their arms. Cort and Gar managed to stand, but Dirk sagged, as though all the stiffening had been taken out of him. "All right, I can't fight against odds like these! And I have to admit you boys can fight. What the hell, it isn't death-and whatever I'm planning to do with my life can wait twenty years."

  Gar stared at him, and Cort gaped, scandalized-but it became worse instantly, for Gar's knees weakened, too, and his head bowed. "He's right. There's no point in fighting it."

  "Are you mad?" Cort cried. "You'll lose twenty years with the people you've grown with! When you come out of this place, you'll still be twentyfive, but they'll be forty-five! You'll be bachelors, but they'll have grown children!"

  "Not much loss, in my case," Gar grunted. "There's no lady love waiting for me to find her."

  "I know the feeling," Dirk said, tota
lly despondent-and Cort stiffened, suddenly sure that Dirk was lying.

  Dirk looked up, frowning, gaining the energy of outrage, glaring at the duke. "But you were going to kick our buddy Cort out of the hill. He shouldn't have to lose twenty years of his life just because he was loyal enough to fight for his friends!"

  "Indeed he should not!" Desiree cried, unseen behind the wall of men, but a dozen women's voices clamored in agreement.

  The duke scowled, glancing to the side, probably at the women, then nodded reluctantly. "He shall go. After all, he knows very little."

  Desiree's voice cried out with delight, and the other women cheered with her. Cort felt massive relief, then remembered and frowned at Dirk and Gar. What had they hidden from him?

  Nothing, he realized. He had heard them talking openly about the Hollow Hill, but hadn't understood a word of it.

  "Thank heaven for that," Dirk sighed. "You wouldn't mind if we go as far as the portal to tell him good-bye, would you?"

  The duke eyed him suspiciously, but said, "I see no harm in that-though I warn you, it will only delay your long sleep for the half of an hour."

  "I'll take every minute I can get!" Dirk said. "Up, then, and out!" the duke slashed an arm toward the stairway.

  Desiree ran up to take Cort's arm, babbling with excitement. "You are saved, then! Luck is with us! You would find me not at all attractive in twenty years, for you would still be as young as you are now! "

  "I will always find you to be beautiful," Cort said fervently.

  Desiree blushed and lowered her gaze. "In twenty years I will-be ... more bulky, and my face will have its first few faint lines."

  "You'll still be graceful, and as beautiful as all the songbirds of the skies together-no, far more beautiful!"

  They went up the stairs, with Cort heaping compliments on Desiree, and with her drinking them in, flashing him occasional looks that heated his blood. When they came to the airlock, and the duke pressed the patch that made the outer hatch swing open, Desiree pulled back on Cort's arm, pleading with the duke. "May I not keep him an hour longer?" The glance she gave Cort made it clear what she wanted to do with that hour, and weakened his knees.

  "If this coil with his friends had not risen, I would have said yes," the duke said severely, "but since it has, we must bid him good-bye on the instant!"

  "But when shall I hold him again?" Desiree wailed.

  "On Midsummer's Eve. You may catch him up in our rout, as we journey to Rondel's Hill," the duke snapped.

  Desiree cried out with delight and flung her arms around Cort's neck. He folded her in his arms, savoring the feel of her body against his for a minute, before she stepped away and said, "On Midsummer's Eve, be waiting in this meadow, near the pathway into the wood!"

  "I shall," Cort promised with all his heart. "He must go now," the duke said testily. Desiree held tight to Cort's arm, protesting, "But he should not go alone!"

  "No, he certainly shouldn't," Dirk said, and stamped on the foot of the man holding his right arm.

  The Fair Man howled, hopping back and letting go. Dirk drove his left elbow into the belly of the man holding his left arm, then spun away, lashing out a kick at the Fair Man who sprang to bar his way.

  Gar leaped backward and swung his arms forward, slamming his two captors into one another. He kicked their feet out from under them.

  The duke roared with anger and drew his sword. Dirk's foot caught his opponent in the belly, and he leaped over the falling body, sprinting toward the portal. "Out, Cort! Quickly!"

  The duke's sword flicked out at Dirk, but he was too late, only managing to rip the back of his tunic as he dove out the door. Cursing, the duke spun to lunge at Gar. The big man twisted aside, grunting as the swordpoint grazed his hip, then swung a backhanded fist at the duke's hand. Something cracked; the duke howled, dropping his sword. Gar caught it as he plunged through the portal.

  He landed rolling and came to his feet to see Dirk and Cort sprinting for the woods ten yards ahead of him. He started after them, thundering down the slope of the hill.

  Cort's heart raced as he ran, wondering why he was in such a hurry to leave the hill that held all he had ever desired. But loyalty won over love; Desiree was safe, after all, but Dirk and Gar were not.

  A thunderclap split the air behind him. He ran all the harder, not daring to look back. What magic were the Fair Folk using against them now? He dodged and weaved frantically, trying to be completely unpredictable-and must have succeeded, for a bright ray sizzled past him on his right, setting the grass afire. Shouts of rage echoed behind him with more flashes of light.

  Then, somehow, he was in among the trees with Dirk still beside him. Dirk dropped behind, and Cort led the way, pelting down the path until the trees grew so thick that he couldn't see ahead anymore and had to halt, leaning against a tree and breathing like a bellows.

  Something light and bright flitted between the trees. Cort straightened, hand on his sword, but a warm body flung itself into his arms, and moist full lips found his. He stood stiff a moment in sheer surprise, then melted to wrap his arms around her, for it was Desiree whom he held.

  Finally he had to breathe. He leaned away from her, still gazing down into those wondrous, lustrous eyes-and saw Gar looming over them. His gaze leaped up to the giant. "How did you manage to come here so quickly?"

  "Long legs," Gar answered, but Cort wondered why he wasn't panting as Dirk was. Of course, Cort was breathing hard, too, but for a different reason.

  "You are safe for a few moments here," Desiree told them. "They won't use their light rays within the wood for fear of fire, and they'll go slowly for fear of ambush."

  "You ran past them all to guard me!"

  Desiree lowered her gaze. "They wouldn't have dared shoot if I had stepped between you and them, but I had other reasons in mind." She turned her face up again, but Gar coughed discreetly, and Dirk said, "I don't think we have quite that long."

  Cort's military sense came to the fore. He stepped away from Desiree, but held tightly to her hand. "I can't believe we won a fight against Fair Folk-but that means our lives are forfeit, for they can't have us going about among our fellow mortals bragging!"

  "I fear he speaks truth," Desiree said, huge eyes glowing in the gloom. "The Fair Folk will never rest now until they have tracked you down and slain you." She spun, throwing her arms around Cort and pressing her head to his chest. "O my love, I am so horribly afraid for you! I shall plead on your behalf, but the duke is so enraged, and the Fair Men so jealous, that I doubt they shall heed me at all!"

  Cort lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. "Even if they slay me for this night's joy, it'll have been worth it ten times over."

  Desiree seemed to melt in his arms at the same time that she covered his mouth with her own for a long, long kiss-so long, in fact, that Gar finally had to lay a hand on the shoulder of each and part them, saying, "Enough, or the Fair Folk will be upon us before you two come up for air."

  "Don't worry," Cort told him, "I've just learned how to breathe while I kiss." He started to lower his head again.

  But Gar hauled him bodily away from Desiree. "You know, they're not going to be terribly pleased with her, either, if they catch her kissing you just now."

  But Desiree lifted her head, looked about her, and said, "The gloom has lightened!"

  Gar glanced around, realizing that he could actually make out individual tree trunks. "Is that good?"

  "Yes! The false dawn is always our signal to go back inside the Hill! The Fair Folk have no liking for daylight."

  "That sounds like the beautiful people of my own ancestral asteroid," Gar said, "though I suspect the reasons differ. Your folk aren't afraid the sun will burn them, are they?"

  "In fact, they are," Desiree said. "Our skins are so fair that any sunlight at all will give us a painful burn in less than an hour. We only dare go abroad in daylight liberally smeared with an ointment that defeats the sun's rays, and even then with broadbrimme
d hats and full clothing."

  "Summer is a good time for you to stay in your hills, then," Gar agreed, "and fortunately, it's summer now."

  "But you must go back quickly, my love!" Cort protested. "I don't want to see you burned!"

  "Worse," Dirk said, "they might close the door to the Hill."

  "They will not be overly quick about it," Desiree said, "seeing that they have come out hunting. Nevertheless, even as you say, I must go quickly." She still held Cort's hand, though, and turned back to him with longing. "Wait for me, my love! It will be long months before they let you come to me again, and I fear we must not look to Midsummer's Eve as I had hoped-but Harvest Home should see us reunited. Wait by the little brook--that runs through this wood every night for a week before that festival, and I'll come as soon as I can, to tell you where I may meet you!"

  "So long as that?" Cort said mournfully. "But it's better than never being with you again at all!"

  "Farewell, then," Desiree said softly, and their farewell lasted so long that Gar had to separate them again. Then Desiree drifted off into the woods with many a backward glance until she seemed only a wraith of morning mist that faded, and was gone.

  Cort stood looking after her, his face stark with loss.

  Finally Dirk clapped him on the shoulder. "I know how it feels, my friend-in fact, I'm still feeling the same way myself! But if she's worth having, she's worth waiting for."

  "And working for," Gar agreed, "but if you have any hope of seeing her again, you'll have to stay alive. Come on, let's run-the sun isn't up yet, and the Fair Folk might be pushing their luck and searching the woods for us."

  "Even as you say!" Cort turned and plunged down the trail. "Indeed, I have reason enough to live now!"

  "You sure do," Dirk said, and followed him, thinking, Violet who?

  But a dozen steps later, Cort suddenly turned back, crying, "If I give myself up to them, they'll let me stay with her!"

  Dirk caught one arm and Gar the other, lifting and carrying Cort backward. "Oh, they'll let her see you, all right," Dirk said, "through the crystal door of one of their upright coffins! She can come down and gaze on your frozen form any time she wants!"