by Dave Duncan
Shandie barked, “Ylo!”
“Ylo?” another man said. “Nefer Moor? He was at Nefer Moor?”
“We both were,” Ylo said with becoming modesty. “The stories don’t really do it justice, though. Ever since then, he’s had these odd notions. Not all the time, just —”
Shandie bellowed, “Ylo!” He lurched to his feet, but he was penned in the corner by the crowd.
Ylo twitched eyebrows meaningfully, and the other men nodded in silent sympathy. Veterans knew what battle could do to a man.
“At times he thinks he’s the imperor and I’m —”
“Ylo!”
“Ylo,” Ylo said touchingly. “I am his signifer, you see. He sometimes thinks I’m that other one.”
The whole army knew of Shandie’s defeat by dragons at Nefer Moor, and how his heroic Signifer Ylo had saved the legionary standard in the rout. The situation definitely showed promise.
“Here, your Majesty,” the centurion growled, like a bear trying to make friends. “Pull over your seat and quaff some ale with us.”
Bodies squirmed. Shandie’s stool was drawn up to the table, and heavy hands pulled him down on it. Two of the other men were sharing a bench and somehow made room for Ylo.
In the dim light, the imperor’s face was dark with fury and frustration. Whatever vile plot had been suggested to his mind by Zinixo’s sorcery and whatever part he thought Ylo was playing in it, he had enough wit left to see that anything he said now was only going to sink him deeper into the morass. As imperor or as tribune, in every way, he was pinned.
“We’re hoping a few peaceful months at home with the family will do the trick,” Ylo said, wiping foam from his lips. He felt much better already. “He finds the road tiring. I was thinking of hiring an escort to help, er, protect, er… you follow me?”
Again the men exchanged glances.
Shandie paled suddenly and made a choking noise.
“Well, now,” Scarface said, “it so happens my friends and me’s heading up Mosrace way.”
“How about a crown per day?” Ylo contrived to jingle his satchel.
Four pairs of eyes gleamed in the shadows. “Each?”
“Yes. It must be done discreetly, you understand.”
“You just hired yourself a legion, Signifer Yyan!” The centurion pushed away his beer. “Name’s Eemfume. Iggi and me’ll take first watch. Bull, Squint, you go eat and get some sack time. Now, your Majesty, tell us about Nefer Moor.”
When in doubt, delegate, Ylo thought happily. He would be able to go wenching tonight after all.
Stormy clouds:
O doubting heart!
The stormy clouds on high
Veil the same sunny sky,
That soon, for spring is nigh,
Shall wake the summer into golden mirth.
Adelaide Anne Proctor, A Doubting Heart
INTERLUDE
At the dying of the year came Winterfest.
Within the Impire it was a bittersweet celebration, a time for telling tales of the beloved old imperor now gone, and for hopeful prayers for the new one. Without all the traditional merrymaking, a surprising number of people discovered the festival dragging on rather longer than usual; many found themselves becoming unimpishly sick of their relatives before it was over.
Hub itself seemed strangely subdued without the great balls and banquets. Small gatherings of friends and family took their place. The rotund form of Lord Umpily appeared unannounced and uninvited at an astonishing number of those — gossiping, inquiring, listening, and soon disappearing as mysteriously as he had come.
In remote Krasnegar the customary revelry was as boisterous as ever. Yet even there the usual sparkle was oddly dimmed by a sense of someone missing. The royal ball was less riotous than usual, with very few serious injuries. Of course only a small fraction of the population could ever attend court functions, but the humble folk were not neglected. Traditionally, anyone planning an affair of any size notified the palace in advance, and either king or queen would drop in for a few minutes. Rap held the current record of eighteen parties in one day, although Inos’ great-great-grandfather was reputed to have managed twenty-nine once and almost died in consequence. This year the queen had to manage on her own, despite her elder daughter’s earnest offers of assistance.
In the little speech she repeated over and over, her Majesty made her first public reference to the king’s absence. “My husband and I,” she said, “have always taken great joy in these Winterfest celebrations, and regarded them as an occasion to reaffirm the bonds of loyalty and service which bind us to you, and you to our family. He will be truly regretful that he cannot be here with you this morning/ afternoon/evening. As you know, he has been gone for some time now on a mission of great secrecy, a mission vital to all our well-beings. I am sure that you look forward to his return with almost as much anticipation as do his children and I…” And so on. She did not explain where he was or what he was doing, though.
To the south, on the far side of the taiga, the impish garrison at Pondague stood to arms all through the festive season, for a goblin attack at that time had become traditional. That year nothing happened. The forests remained quiet — eerily so.
* * *
So began the year 2999, and the peoples of Pandemia hunkered down to endure the long dark in expectation of better days to come. Even the rich, who could afford candles, found winter tedious.
In Malfin, Sir Acopulo fretted and fumed, hunting in vain for any ship willing to set sail in the continuing stormy weather.
In the southern provinces of Pithmot, a somewhat road-worn coach meandered on its way, frequently detouring from one country house to another as Thinal befriended local worthies. Whenever his cheating, embezzling, or filching became dangerously occult, Rap would quietly intervene to stop it. As the weeks went by, though, the little scoundrel perfected his technique to the point where he could elicit sizable gains without rippling the ambience hardly at all. He no longer talked of abandoning ship, even when Rap made him replace his loot where he had found it. He was using the journey as a training course.
Ylo’s abduction of the imperor proceeded without a hitch, aided by Centurion Eemfume (Retired) and his three friends. On the road, in bed, at board — even when he went to the latrines — Shandie was never out of sight of at least two of them. He sulked, ranted, argued, and ordered, and was treated with the polite sympathy due a deranged aristocrat. Ylo was able to relax and enjoy the journey, wenching his way across Julgistro.
Gradually the days grew longer.
In Thume it was the rainy season.
SIX
Life’s young day
1
Snowflakes big as feathers danced in the air, tickling eyelids and turning the sun to a brilliant blur. The air was warmer than it had been for days. Hooves clopped on the smooth stone of the Great West Way, and winter scenery drifted by in a monochrome of white and gray. Even the grasses of the ditches were colorless.
“The turnoff’s just ahead, as I recall,” Centurion Eemfume said.
“All great friendships must end eventually,” Ylo responded. He had been lost in a reverie about waitresses, trying to decide whether he preferred the slim, energetic ones or the plump, comfortable ones. It was a difficult choice, although not a very important one. He enjoyed both very much.
He realized that Eemfume had arranged this discussion, edging his horse aside and thus Ylo’s also. The others were several paces back, out of earshot.
“You’ll be all right now, Signifer, I think,” the centurion said cautiously.
Ylo laughed. “Perfectly! Did you ever see such a change in a man?”
It had happened only three days since. Shandie had gone to bed still a wild-eyed, bearded maniac threatening terrible torments on all those who kidnapped their rightful imperor. He had awakened sane, icily furious, demanding a razor and hot water. Even his guards, who had never known him before, had recognized his authority from that moment
on. Indeed, if he and Ylo were to give contradictory orders now, it was more than likely that Eemfume and his friends would obey the imperor.
The Covin, in short, had given up.
“Course we can come all the way to the door if you feel it’s needful, Signifer,” the centurion said wistfully. Never in his life had he earned money as he had these last few weeks.
“No, I’m sure we’ll be all right now — thanks to you and your friends.” For the mythical Yyan and Yshan to turn up at the lordly estate of the rightful marquis would provoke embarrassment, to say the least, as no one there would have ever heard of them. “Yshan was talking about giving you all a bonus, if that would not hurt your feelings?”
The old warrior pursed his lips. “Twenty-five years in the ranks, and you think we have feelings?”
Ylo laughed again. “Well, it was just a thought. We are very grateful, both of us!”
He meant that. Shandie was cured and could take charge of his quest again. Now, at last, Ylo was free to implement his own plans — return to Yewdark and Eshiala, defection and seduction.
* * *
The turnoff appeared on schedule, a track winding off through the leafless black trees and over the iron-gray hills of winter. Somewhere along that trail Eemfume and his three friends would find their childhood homes, half-forgotten relatives, perhaps wives and future children, plus shelter for their old age. A milestone reported Mosrace itself close ahead on the highway. Somewhere thereabouts was the estate to which Ylo and Shandie were supposedly heading.
The parting was gruff and manly. Gold clinked. Shandie thanked each man in turn, shaking his hand and making sure of his correct name. Ylo could guess that there would be further rewards in future if the imperor won back his throne. With a few final jocular remarks, the two parties separated.
Shandie kicked his horse to a canter, and Ylo rode at his side. The fluffy snow whirled by playfully.
“Good men!” Shandie said. “Fine men! It’s men like those that made the impire, not us fancy rulers.”
“Believe me, those four were much better than most.” Ylo spoke from experience, having served in the ranks.
They rode on for a while without speaking, both aware that there were things that would have to be said, now the two of them were alone together for the first time since Newbridge.
“There’s supposed to be a fair inn at Mosrace,” Ylo remarked.
“There is. I know it well.”
“Food good?”
“Superb, last time I was there. Feeling like a celebration?” Shandie shot a sideways smile at his companion.
“Why not?” Ylo said innocently, thinking it might well be their last evening together. He must start back to Yewdark soon, or he would miss the daffodils — not that he was about to mention those, of course.
The horses thundered by a creaking wagon loaded with firewood.
“Ylo,” Shandie said, speaking loudly over the beat of hooves, “I am not one for sentimental speeches…”
“I’m not much of one for listening to them.”
“Well, you’re going to listen to one now! At the moment I can offer you only my heartfelt thanks and my eternal gratitude. When I regain my throne, then whatever reward you want will be yours. Political office? You can be consul, proconsul, senator — name it. Lands? I offered you a dukedom once and you turned it down. I shall not be refused again, I promise you! I thought you deserved it then because of what Grandsire did, but by the Gods, Brother Yyan, now you’ve earned anything I have in my power to give!”
Ylo found that idea funny, somehow. How about your wife? “What did I do? Kidnapping the imperor, you mean? You’ll set a dangerous precedent if you give me a dukedom for it.”
Shandie turned a steady dark gaze on him. His face was wind-burned by the long winter journey, and he was even leaner than he had been before. His hair was longer, so he seemed more like a civilian than a soldier, but there was no hint of madness there now, only a dangerous, implacable purpose.
“You saved me from the Covin. I was dead set on going back to Hub, absolutely determined. I was convinced the whole thing was a fraud. I thought you’d lied to me, Rap had, Raspnex had — everyone! At times I thought Emthoro had set up the whole thing to steal the throne. And, I’m profoundly ashamed to say this, but I even suspected you of having designs on my wife!”
“Well, you were correct there, sire! Any man who has ever seen her majesty starts having designs.”
Shandie laughed, pleased. “I expect so. But I wonder if those were real Zinixo thoughts? I wonder if that’s how he sees the world, with everyone plotting against him and no one to trust?”
“Could be,” Ylo said with a yawn.
“And you defeated him! That is a noble accomplishment.”
“It was pure luck that Eemfume was handy.”
“Or the Gods sent him. And you were man enough to see the opportunity and take it!”
Shandie sounded disgustingly sincere. Ylo felt rather ashamed of how he had treated his imperor and would prefer not to discuss it. After all, he was still planning to desert and head back to Eshiala, wasn’t he? Maybe he had better wait a day or two yet, in case the Covin tried its siren call again.
Shandie flickered another smile at him, a bashful one. “Fortunately I now know that I was wrong. I now know that there are men I can trust, and luckily one of them was with me in my hour of need. You had no need to endure what you did. You did not do it for personal gain, for I am penniless, nor for the Impire as an institution, for I am without authority. You did it for friendship alone. Ylo, from now on I am proud to regard you as my friend.”
Ghosts of a hundred ancestors whistled warnings in Ylo’s ear. Historically, the post of imperor’s Friend was the most dangerous job in the Impire. Everyone went after him! The one thing court factions could always agree on was the urgent need to sabotage the imperor’s best friend, whoever he was.
This appointment must be resisted. Ylo stole a thoughtful look at Shandie and was annoyed by the appeal in his face. Imperors did not have real friends. Imperors were different — they learned that as children. What did the man know of friendship? Friends were for fun, and Shandie did not know what fun was.
Furthermore, Ylo himself was an imp, and imps served their imperor. Friendship would impose a different sort of loyalty. It would raise the sort of questions King Rap had asked him once, questions involving daffodils and moral responsibility. If there was one thing Ylo detested it was moral responsibility.
“I’m honored to be your friend, of course. Tonight you’ll let me pick out a wench for you, also?”
Shandie flushed scarlet. He turned his face away as if something very interesting had developed in the hedges. His ears were red.
The horses had covered a furlong before he forced his eyes back to Ylo’s mocking gaze — and nodded. He smiled nervously. “Just make sure she’s pretty.”
God of Lust! This was more serious than Ylo had thought.
2
Gluttonous as cattle looting a grain field, the close-packed winter clouds drifted over the Sea of Sorrows. Black and bloated, they moved on into Thume and no hedge or fence impeded them; but then their way was blocked by the thorns of the Progiste Mountains. The leaders balked, but the followers pressed in behind, driving the front ranks to destruction. Day after day the slaughter continued. The turgid herd was butchered on the peaks, and none escaped to reach the desert of Zark beyond. Muddy torrents coursed the slopes.
It was the rainy season.
* * *
Thaïle awoke at the first contraction, but for a few minutes could not think what had roused her. Even then, when enlightenment arrived with a little shiver of joy and excitement and fear — even then, she could not be sure. She moved her awkward shape on the ferns, seeking a long-forgotten comfort, and waited to see if there was going to be another. Beside her, Leéb stirred briefly and then sank back into deeper sleep.
From the smell of the night, dawn was near. Rain pattered d
oggedly on the leafy thatch of the roof as it had done with hardly a break for weeks. Leéb’s handiwork was sound, though, and water had found no chinks. Even beetles fleeing a flooded world had trouble penetrating the tight weaving of his walls, and he had completed four whole rooms before the rains began. He was planning another room also, although Thaïle could think of no reason why she should need a house so huge. He made rooms much faster than she could make babies to fill them.
But maybe she had almost completed this one.
Kaif if he is a boy, Frial if she is a girl. That was what they had decided before going to sleep. Yesterday it had been Shaib and… someone. No matter. Hurry, Kaif, or Frial, or you may be somebody else when you arrive!
She jerked in needless shock as Leéb twitched, then realized she had been drifting back to sleep again. Leéb was dreaming. She could Feel the muddly emotions of his dreams, punctuated with wrenches of pulsing lust. Oh, my poor love! The last few weeks had been hard on him, since the baby had come between them. He needed her and wanted her so much! Leéb was such a happy, peaceful man, so gentle a lover, that she was always astonished to Feel the heat of his desire. At first it had frightened her, but now she knew him and understood that he would never loose the beast she Felt in there. She had learned to love the beast, also, and tease it a little…
Soon, soon, my love! She adjusted the cover over him and again tried to ease her aching back into an easier position. Alas, there was no easier position for a pixie shaped like a mango.
Kaif, she thought, not Frial. Lately she had been able to Feel some of that new little person inside her, and he had a boy’s temper. Sometimes when he kicked her, he was utterly furious. She was quite sure it was a boy, and Leéb wanted a boy very much. He wanted a boy to take fishing with him, as he had gone fishing with his father. Thaïle knew she was too fidgety to be a good fishing companion, although he had never told her so.
