A Handful of Men: The Complete Series

by Dave Duncan

  “Talk? What in the Name of Evil would the two of you have to talk about?”

  “What else would I do? Do you think I can take him by force? Will Inos sell him to me? I can’t imagine why he is important —”

  “Perhaps he isn’t!” Acopulo said. “Never jump to unwarranted conclusions! The pool showed me Doctor Sagorn but the result was that we met King Rap and the warlock. Sagorn was a sort of signpost. The boy may just be another.”

  Mm! Sometimes the old relic came up with intriguing ideas. Ylo’s improbable vision of Eshiala might have also been a diversion — except that the only real change it had produced in his life was to keep him away from Rivermead. Surely nothing that might have occurred there could be worse than what he had landed in now.

  The imperor had never taken his eyes off Rap. “I promise that I will not lie to him, nor to your wife. What else can I swear? That I will abide by her wishes, not his? I can guess what a fourteen-year-old’s will be.”

  The king sat up straight, as if about to launch a physical attack. His face held all the menace of a naked blade. “You will not go to Krasnegar! Don’t you see the risk? I told Tiffy my name. Zinixo must know by now that I was in Hub that night. Warlock — does he know my power is not what it was when I thrashed him?”

  Raspnex uttered a low, rumbling laugh. “He didn’t before, or he’d have settled with you long since, I think. He may know now, but he won’t ever rely on it. He sees tricks in blue sky. I’m sure he died a million times from sheer terror when he found you’d emerged from your lair at last, and on the very night he made his move.”

  “So the Covin must be hunting me just as hard as it’s hunting Shandie?”

  “Likely.”

  “And if Zinixo ever gets a hint of my whereabouts, he’ll blast me with everything he’s got, just to be on the safe side?” The king scowled all around, to see if anyone disagreed with the logic. “And he will have set a watch on Krasnegar!”

  Remembering the legends of the Dark Times and the Dragon Wars, Ylo realized the cause of the faun’s anger — he dared not go home now, lest the whole town be blasted to cinders, as had happened to cities in those days. At Lutant the harbor had boiled.

  “Surely the watchers will be looking for yourself, not his Majesty?” Acopulo muttered with none of his usual smug confidence.

  “How do you know he hasn’t smashed Krasnegar already?” Sagorn inquired waspishly. “Spite would be in character.”

  “I don’t, of course,” Rap said.

  “Naw.” Raspnex scratched his wiry beard audibly. “He wouldn’t take the risk — just in case Rap’s still a demigod, just in case it’s a trap. He’ll make sure of Rap first. Then he’ll go after his family.”

  “Then I should go and warn them of their danger,” Shandie said quietly.

  The king opened his mouth, but the warlock spoke first. “Say, that’s a good idea! And you going to Krasnegar is so evilishly improbable that it could well foul up whatever sorcery my nephew’s setting up.”

  Now it was the dwarf’s turn to endure the faun’s deadly glare. Eventually the king climbed to his feet. “Let’s eat,” he said.

  6

  All through the meal, Sagorn and Acopulo discussed elvish philosophy. Possibly they were being tactful. Perhaps they were baiting the dwarf. More likely they were just showing off, unwinding logic as snarled as kittens in a string bag.

  Ylo did not listen to a word of it. Instead, he thought about Krasnegar. From the look of the place in Jalon’s painting, it would never be worth the trouble to visit it. The journey would be hard and dangerous. It would take months — time that could be much better spent in other pursuits. If Shandie dragged his signifer off on such a fruitless expedition, he was going to finish it alone. Ylo would double back to Yewdark.

  He might, he decided, go along as far as Rivermead, just out of curiosity. There could be no harm in that. He had not seen the ancestral home since he was a child, but after one quick look he would desert and head back to Eshiala. And then… rich widow?

  The chicken dumplings were superb. So was the blueberry pie that followed, and the wine flagon dispensed an exquisite elvish liqueur to wind up the meal. The deckhouse rolled remorselessly from side to side, yet his meal stayed where it was supposed to. Marvelous stuff, sorcery.

  Warm, sleepy, and replete, Ylo returned to his comfortable chair to watch the council of war resume. The Krasnegar Question, Round Two: Fauns and dwarves were the two most stubborn races in Pandemia. Which would yield?

  It was Acopulo who set the discussion going again. “Does your son possess any occult powers, sire?”

  The king of Krasnegar shot him a glance as deadly as a poisoned arrow. “He is slightly prescient at times.”

  “Ah!” The little man smirked.

  The faun’s expression implied that strangling would be too good for him, but evidently he had accepted the inevitable. He sighed.

  “You can get to Krasnegar in winter, Shandie. There is a back door, a magic portal. Any sorcery is a risk now, as you know, but devices such as portals are not easily detected if they are in good repair, and I can vouch for the workmanship in this one.” He forced a grim smile. “You may find Zinixo waiting for you on the other side, of course.”

  “Where is this magic portal? Close to us?”

  “No. It’s at Kinvale, a ducal estate in northwest Julgistro. The duchess is a distant relative of Inos’. If I give you a letter, I think she will at least inform Inos, even if she will not reveal the portal itself to you.”

  “I know Aquiala,” Shandie said quietly.

  “You do?”

  The imperor smiled at Rap’s evident astonishment. “Two years ago I toured the Pondague front. I always call on the senior nobility when I visit a new district. She’s a very impressive person.”

  “She never told us you’d been to Kinvale.”

  “I should hope not!”

  Ylo grinned to himself. The duchess owed her allegiance to her imperor, not to any foreign friends.

  Acopulo rubbed his wizened hands. “His Majesty’s devotion to duty has frequently paid handsome dividends. The Gods reward diligence.”

  For a moment the faun seemed to contemplate the prospect of immersing him in boiling oil. “Then the matter should be simple. Except that the journey took me six weeks.”

  “And we can’t use the horse posts,” Shandie agreed. “The enemy will watch them. This is no brief campaign we are facing.”

  The faun began talking about writing a letter to his wife…

  Rivermead was somewhere in the middle of Julgistro. It should just be possible to ride there and back before daffodil time. Ylo stifled a yawn — this had been a long day.

  The king was addressing the warlock.

  “The imperor goes to Krasnegar, then. I have a horrible feeling I get nominated to hunt down Grunth in the Mosweeps and do lunch for the anthropophagi in the Nogids. How about you?”

  The dwarf shook his big head. “Jarga and I have some matters to attend to. Never mind us.”

  The others frowned, but dwarves gave away nothing, ever, not even information.

  “You’ll put us ashore somewhere?” King Rap asked.

  “I think it would be safer to drop you off on fishing boats as we did with your fat friend.”

  Shandie nodded, and then stretched. “Ylo goes with me. Have we a mission for Sir Acopulo?”

  “Azak.”

  Ylo started, wondering if he had heard correctly. Evidently so, for most of the others looked as surprised as he was. Old Sagorn was smirking. Acopulo wore an expression of horror.

  “The caliph?” he said. “Zark?”

  “I know Azak.” Rap smiled meanly at him. “He had a very nasty experience with sorcery in his youth. He detests it with a passion. But I dropped in to see him once — I went to collect my dog, as a matter of fact — and I detected power in use within his palace. How do you think he made himself overlord of a continent?”

  Shandie swore under
his breath. “He enlisted sorcerers? How?”

  “Perhaps he appealed to their patriotism.”

  “Olybino never told me. He never even hinted at that!”

  Acopulo hrumphed. “But he certainly helped you against the djinn army at Bone Pass. Perhaps that was why!”

  “And that was Azak’s only real defeat! Yes, I can see that the caliph should be informed. We agreed to seek out the mundane rulers, and the caliph is the most powerful ruler.” Shandie scowled bitterly. “Except the imperor, of course! I’ll write a letter for you to take.”

  “So will I,” Rap said. “He doesn’t like me, but he’s a smart man. And if he’s planning an invasion of the Impire, as everyone seems to be assuming he is, then he will be interested to know that the rules have changed.”

  Obviously Shandie and Acopulo felt uneasy at that. So did Ylo, although he had never considered himself a rabid patriot. This program was sounding more and more like an attempt to rally the outlanders against the Impire. Was this what was required of outlaws?

  “I have never visited Zark,” the scholar said, pouting. “The weather should be pleasant at this time of year.”

  “You may find it overly warm,” King Rap said innocently. “The djinns roast spies over slow fires. So we are decided? Shandie and Ylo to Krasnegar and then perhaps Nordland? Me to the Mosweeps and Nogids. Sir Acopulo to Zark. Warlock Raspnex to wherever the Evil he wants. After that, we sing what the Gods hum.” He paused and scratched his unruly mop of hair. “Ilrane… Zark… The preflecting pool? You know, I have the strangest feeling I’ve forgotten something!”

  “Old age catching up with you?” Sagorn remarked acidly.

  “Perhaps. Well, I expect I’ll remember as soon as it’s too late. If I survive the anthropophagi, then I may head to Ilrane and try to visit with Lith’rian.” He regarded the imperor thoughtfully. “And you? You might think about the Nintor Moot.”

  “In Nordland?”

  “Why not? Every summer the thanes go to the Nintor Moot and chop each other up for sport. I don’t suppose they’ll mind a few imps to use for practice. The moot would be your only chance to spread the word in Nordland.”

  For a moment the listeners fell silent. The distances involved were enormous. This campaign had begun to look like the rest of their lives. Ylo shivered. He had not realized that the pool might have been showing him not the next crop of daffodils, but the one after.

  “We shall need to set up a rendezvous,” Acopulo said prissily.

  The faun shook his head. “If any one of us is taken, he will reveal it. The same would be true of anyone else we had told. A rendezvous would certainly be betrayed somehow.”

  “A date, then?” Shandie said, frowning. “A date for the uprising? A call to arms?”

  “Not even that, and for the same reason.” The king looked to the warlock; the dwarf nodded his big head, sneering in agreement.

  “You must understand,” the faun said, “that this is not a mundane war. This is not Guwush and we are not gnomish rebels opposing the Imperial might. No sneak attacks and hideouts in the forest and secret passwords. It won’t work that way!”

  The imperor stared at him incredulously for a long time and no one else spoke.

  Rap shrugged. “If you want a picture, it’s more like a houseful of mice planning to mob the cat.”

  Shandie pulled a face. “You are saying we try to rally the mice but we don’t tell them when or where to rally? That’s crazy! What are we trying to accomplish? What do we tell these sorcerers we seek to enlist? What message do we send when we speak to mundane leaders?”

  “Just that there is hope, and a cause worth fighting for.” Rap sighed. “One day there will be a battle! We don’t know when, or where, or who will provoke it. When it comes, we shall have to gamble everything we’ve got — at once, to the death. But every sorcerer in Pandemia will know of it as soon as it starts. We want them to come and help, that’s all. Until then, they can only do what we are doing — pass the word and keep the faith.”

  “As I recall,” Sagorn said, his tone implying that his recall was normally perfect, “all the Dragon Wars were like that. Enormous battles followed by long periods of uneasy quiet.”

  Shandie sat in silence, his face blank, which was his thinking expression. Then he nodded. “I suppose it makes sense. As you say, it’s a different sort of fighting.” He smiled faintly. “I wish you luck in the Mosweeps — and with the elf. Ylo, we head north, it would appear.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Ylo said blandly. But not much.

  The imperor rose and stretched. “It’s been a long day, and I’d like to sleep on this. We all have our parts to play, it would seem. You realize that we may scatter tomorrow and never all meet again? May the Gods be with us!”

  “Amen,” Acopulo said.

  “You have left one out,” the dwarf growled.

  Everyone looked to Doctor Sagorn. He glanced around at the attention, twisting his long jotunn face in an arrogant sneer that raised Ylo’s hackles.

  The faun chuckled. “Old age, Doctor? How do you feel about scrambling in and out of fishing boats tomorrow?”

  “I abhor the prospect. If you have concluded your deliberations, then the time has come for me to leave.”

  “And go where?” the imperor barked.

  “Nowhere.”

  Such an absurdity demanded explanation. Obviously the faun sorcerer knew the answer but was not about to disclose it. Smirking, he yawned and snuggled down more comfortably in his chair. The silence dragged on.

  Glaring, the old jotunn said, “You will not warn your companions what to expect?”

  “But you can tell the tale so much better than I, Doctor! And one of us certainly must.”

  “Very well!” Sagorn turned to the imperor. “Your Majesty… this is a strange tale, and one I have rarely told anyone. It may sound improbable, but I shall demonstrate its truth in a moment.”

  Shandie sat down again. “Carry on.”

  “If I asked you to estimate my age, I expect you would guess me to be in my seventies, perhaps early eighties.”

  Acopulo released a long hiss of breath.

  The jotunn shot him a killer glare out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, there is sorcery involved, as you suspected and I denied.”

  “When were you born?” the little man demanded.

  “You will not… 2859.”

  “Even better preserved than I thought!” Acopulo said jubilantly.

  Now, thought Ylo, some mysteries were about to be cleared up.

  Scowling, Sagorn turned back to the imperor. “I age at a normal rate, sire, but I have not lived through all the intervening years. When I was ten, I irked a sorcerer. I was the youngest of a group of five boys whose presence in his house in the middle of the night he found distasteful, as he had not instigated it. In retribution, he laid a sequential spell on us.”

  Shandie’s eyes narrowed. “Explain ‘sequential spell.’”

  “It means that only one of us can exist at a time.”

  “The artist!” Ylo had shouted without meaning to; he had made everyone jump.

  Sagorn pouted — his long upper lip was well shaped for pouting. “As you say, the artist. Master Jalon is one of the five. At one time he was older than I, in fact I think he was the oldest. How old does he seem now — late twenties? When you forced your way into our house last night, Jalon was present. You demanded to see me, but I did not exist! That was why he refused to let the centurion accompany him when he went to fetch me. He invoked the spell, and I replaced him. Now he does not exist. I propose to depart by the same method, which should wipe the skeptical expression off your pretty young face.”

  “So sometimes you are you and sometimes you are Jalon?”

  Sagorn grimaced impatiently. “You do not listen, boy. I am not Jalon, and never have been. I do share his memories, but we are two separate people.”

  “So now you disappear,” Shandie asked, “and Master Jalon appears?”
/>   “No.”

  The king of Krasnegar seemed to be struggling with a need to laugh.

  Sagorn glared at him briefly. “There are constraints, sire. I can neither call the man who called me, nor the man I called the last time.”

  “Perhaps you should also explain the time limits,” King Rap said, turning pink with his suppressed mirth.

  “Why?” snarled the jotunn. “Oh, well… There are other restrictions. They are complicated, but in short I could not remain here for more than a few days.”

  “Rap!” the imperor barked. “Share the joke!”

  The faun flushed even redder as he struggled to catch his breath. “It may not seem as funny to you as it does to me. For many years, Doctor Sagorn and his… associates, I suppose is the word. They are never a group and yet they are not exactly separate, either. But for over a century they kept on trying to find some way to break the spell that bound them — tried one at a time, of course. When I was a much more powerful sorcerer than I am now, I removed it for them. They were reunited! Then they discovered that they disliked the experience and changed their minds. At their request, I put it back again. But Sagorn had been hogging more than his share of the years, and another of them, Thinal, had been shirking. They agreed that they ought to cooperate more, so I rearranged the original sorcery a little. Now they have to be more considerate of one another. That’s all. The doctor can’t stay around as long as the others can, so they will eventually catch up with him in age. Thinal can’t just vanish right away every time and stay forever young. And if Sagorn says that now he can’t remain with us very long, that means that lately he’s been hogging again.”

  The old man bared his teeth in a snarl. “I was engaged in a very complex piece of research!”

  The faun smothered another snigger. “Oh, quite!”

  The audience looked at one another. It sounded like some sort of elaborate hoax, and yet neither man was the type to indulge in such foolery.