Witches of Kregen

by Alan Burt Akers

  This was too ridiculous.

  “Get up, famblys! Stand on your own feet!”

  They scrambled up as though red hot irons had tickled them up.

  I said: “Where is Ralton Dwa-Erentor?”

  He was the son of a minor noble, a great sleeth racer, and I knew he had been forced against his will to follow Layco Jhansi. With him, I would deal.

  “He has been gone from Vennar for many seasons, majister,” spluttered out the mobiumim. “Gone overseas to be a paktun.”

  “Your name?” I was disappointed; but there would be god-fearing and good men to be found here.

  “Larghos Nevanter the Lace merchant, majister, an it please you.”

  “I do not know this name of Vennar you use. Half of the city of Vendalume stands in Kov Turko’s province of Falinur, and the other half in Kov Inch’s province of the Black Mountains. I am sure you know that.”

  “Oh, yes, indeed, majister, oh, yes, I know!”

  “Good. Now report to my people and do as you are told.” I urged Tuftears around and then turned to bellow over my shoulder: “And give those disgusting objects a decent burial, for the sweet sake of Opaz!”

  Cantering off I wondered if Tarek Malervo Norgoth had already been dead or if he had escaped. Well, we’d soon find out. Khe-Hi and Ling-Li were just riding across to me, and as I saw them I felt a distinct glow of pleasure.

  “Vondium!” I shouted to them. “We’re off to Vondium first thing to see you two safely married!”

  That activity was far more preferable than battles!

  In this wise ended the Battle of Vendalume and the death of the traitor, Layco Jhansi.

  Chapter eleven

  An Occult Wedding

  The first rats ran swarming between the legs of the people just as the wedding procession left the Temple of Opaz Unknown.

  The edifice had not been damaged during the recent Times of Troubles, and folk whispered that this was because the temple was dedicated to the manifestation of Opaz in his guise as arbiter of all things magical and arcane — Unknown and therefore awful — and no sane man or woman brought that kind of trouble on themselves.

  The temple glittered with gold and ornamentation beneath its jet-black dome, music soared, and the flagstoned square pent between canals flanking the temple’s entrance stairway was carpeted with thousands of yelling citizens of Vondium cheering for the wedding of Khe-Hi-Bjanching and Ling-Li-Lwingling.

  The day, also, was the Day of Opaz Unknown.

  Everybody was pleased for the wedding and that Khe-Hi and Ling-Li had found happiness together in their magical way. For, to be honest, no one was going to chance not cheering for them or wishing them well.

  This lavish wedding ceremony should be the culmination in Vallia of the Occult Romance between these two mages. They both looked magnificent, gorgeously dressed, and no expense had been spared. Well, again, who was going to chance sparing an expense when a Witch and a Wizard of Loh got married...?

  Between the hordes of rats ran leepitixes, wriggling on their twelve legs and unhappy at being out of water. Thousands of schrafters, millions of these creatures who infest dungeons and sharpen their teeth on the bones there, ran and chirruped through the throngs. And rasts — the six-legged animals dragged from their dung-heaps — ran crazily over the flagstones, leaping upon people’s backs, clawing at them, fastening their claws into flesh and blood.

  Rasts — running in their millions along the avenues and boulevards of Vondium!

  For the wedding ceremony, Deb-Lu-Quienyin had put in an appearance. He’d been working his magics to defend Vallia. Now, standing in the position occupied by what on Earth would be called the Best Man, he looked furiously angry. He wore a brand new turban, and I’d insisted that it should be properly festooned with pearls and precious gems and gold bullion. Also, we had fixed it so that it wouldn’t keep slipping off — or so we imagined.

  “Just give me a mur, Khe-Hi,” he said. “I do not think you should be troubled on your wedding day.”

  Ling-Li stood there, calmly, very lovely in her wedding gown, and seemed to soar above the problems. She simply waited for Deb-Lu to fix the problem, as though he was looking for a dropped glove.

  She had surprised me vastly by asking me to take the position which, again on the Earth, can best be described as Father of the Bride. I had given her away.

  Delia had laughed fit to bust at this, and, the most perfectly beautiful and most perfectly devious woman in two worlds, had helped wholeheartedly. Now Delia said: “This is disgraceful. Poor Ling-Li — oh, Deb-Lu, dear, do hurry!”

  “Of course, majestrix!”

  Delia’s rapier flashed into her hand and she twitched away a rat that tried to climb Ling-Li’s wedding gown.

  I was wearing a whole wardrobe of popinjay finery, and somewhere in there I had a rapier. I groped among all the folderols for the hilt. Come the day when Dray Prescot couldn’t grip his rapier and draw in a twinkling!

  The blade came free in time to slash a schrafter from Seg’s shoulder where the thing was about to try to gnaw on Seg’s skull. His own blade flickered in return and I felt the body on my shoulder flicked off. The tall collars we wore, highly ornate, called mazillas, gave us some protection; but if the rats started climbing up inside all our gorgeous clothing...!

  Khe-Hi held Ling-Li’s arm. But his eyeballs swiveled to regard Deb-Lu with great concern.

  “Yes, yes,” said Deb-Lu. “I can manage, thank you.”

  Shortly thereafter the swarms of sewer-rats and schrafters and leepitixes and rasts vanished.

  The square, a moment before a torrential mass of people running and slapping and shouting, slowly began to quiet down.

  Contrary to popular opinion there had been no greatly unpleasant lot of stinks from this infestation.

  By dint of a great deal of exertion we got the wedding procession formed and moving again. The happy couple proceeded to their waiting narrow boat, hugely freighted with flowers, and the volunteer crew sent the boat smoothly along the canal. The cheers were far more muted than I cared for; but they picked up as the boat glided along between the throngs clustered on balconies and jetties, throwing petals, singing, and generally realizing that the excitement of an unpleasant variety was over and the excitements far more to their taste could now begin.

  The reception — to give an Earthly name to the wild party it truly was — was held in one of the better-preserved chambers of the palace. Some of the windows were still boarded up; but the carpets were new and the tapestries had been collected from here and there to hide the burn marks on the walls.

  We seldom used this chamber — the Hall of Drak Exalted — because it was pretty big and draughty, preferring the more cozy rooms where we ate and worked. Still, on this wedding day it served admirably.

  As for foods and wines — we fed all Vondium this day and never recked the cost. I, for one, and there were many like me, was glad to see the happiness in the faces of Khe-Hi and Ling-Li.

  And that had nothing to do with the fact that they were mages, a Wizard and a Witch of Loh.

  During a moment when the dancers were changing places and people were buzzing with joy at the way we had managed to extricate ourselves from a nasty situation, Khe-Hi came over to me. He was carrying a wine goblet. His bride was dancing away with Nath na Kochwold. Everyone had come to Vondium for the wedding.

  Khe-Hi lifted the glass.

  “To you, Dray. In thanks.”

  I smiled and replied in proper form, and then he went on: “If we have a child, or children, they will have to be born and raised in Loh if they are to be Wizards or Witches of Loh. There are certain arcane matters to be attended to.”

  “I can well believe.”

  “I would ask your permission and that of the empress to call our eldest son Dray and our eldest daughter Delia.”

  Seg laughed.

  “I didn’t ask permission. But, then, I thought my old dom was dead.”

  Inch, towerin
g above us, and being the subject of the sternest admonitions from Sasha not to eat squish pie, said: “My eldest is Dray, too. I think there will be a plethora of Drays in Vallia before long.”

  Delia was out on the floor dancing with the Lord Farris.

  I said: “I know I am delighted, Khe-Hi, and it is to me you do the honor. As for Delia, I am sure she will feel the same. Still, you’d better ask her.”

  As I spoke I saw Nath na Kochwold and the Lord Farris, in their dancing, glide closely alongside each other. The two women dancing with them, for a moment in the whirling gyrations to the beat of the music, paused.

  Khe-Hi smiled and said: “Ling-Li is pleased, too, for there is no more gracious lady than the empress.”

  My Val! Here in the dilapidated although decked out Hall of Drak Exalted, in the palace in Vondium!

  Sorcery at work, clearly, for Delia had given her acquiescence to the request.

  I suppose we’d be the Earthly equivalent of God parents, too...

  The music and the laughter and animated chatter enveloped everyone then and so, for a space, I was able to lean up against a curtain-shrouded pillar, in a trifle of shadows, and look out on the spectacle. Scents and perfumes were discreetly in evidence, for all the ladies were well aware of the empress’s views on scents. Many and many a face I saw there, in that throng, I knew, and of them you have been introduced in my narrative to, what, ten percent? If that. A planet is a large place, inhabited by millions, and a thousand years is a long time.

  Often at functions like this I had seen, perhaps, a scuttling red-brown scorpion, or a scarlet and golden raptor flying above my head, and I’d been whirled up by that enormous phantom blue Scorpion of the Everoinye to do their bidding. I now experienced a most weird sensation.

  For I was seriously worrying over the lack of communications from the Star Lords. I had things on my mind, problems of which I was aware through what the Star Lords had revealed to me. I wanted to know more. When you have been snatched up by a phantom Scorpion, or indulged in slanging matches with a speaking bird, you tend to think of the immediate items first, you do stand in awe. My questions, wrong though they might be, were for quieter moments. And so, the weird sensation? Why I, Dray Prescot, seriously considered how I could get in touch with the Star Lords, how I could originate that fearful communication between us.

  I actually, really and truly, wanted to see a scorpion, or the Gdoinye. I wanted to be snatched up by the phantom blue Scorpion of the Star Lords.

  Thinking these surprising and, if the truth be known, fractious thoughts, I saw Marion walking up to me, half-smiling, with Strom Nango in tow. They were both, as befitted the occasion, resplendently dressed.

  I roused myself.

  “Not long now, Marion, before you and Strom Nango give us all this same pleasure.”

  “We look forward to the day, majister. I trust no unfortunate happening will upset our day.”

  “Marion!” said Nango, in that kind of whispering, half-chiding voice that denotes unease at what a lovedove says.

  I brushed that away, seeing beyond these two the hall gyrating, as it were, around the dancers, the orchestras playing by rote, the scents of good wines and foods in the air. Marion — the Stromni Marion Frastel of Huvadu — and Strom Nango ham Hofnar were not just paying the required polite moment of conversation here. Marion got it out smartly enough — well, she would, seeing she was a Jiktar in the Jikai Vuvushis raised by the Sisters of the Sword.

  “Majister! After this period of time, do you not think my unfortunate girls can return to the imperial bodyguard? I mean—” she gestured with a beringed hand, “—they were not to blame that they created werewolves. And that is all over. We missed the Battle of Vendalume. Many of the girls were most cross about that.”

  “Anybody who can show good reason to miss a battle should congratulate herself.”

  She looked uncertain at this; was this, it was clear both she and Nango were thinking, was this the way an emperor should speak?

  Letting the conversation wander on a little after that without directing its course, I realized that Marion felt deeply that her new regiment of warrior maidens had not been in the fight. But more worrying was the way she kept inadvertently referring to “unfortunate” incidents, and “regrettable” occurrences. If she reflected the general feelings in Vondium — and she was representative enough to persuade me she did — then the folk here were damned uneasy about all these sorcerous goings on. As they would be, of course, and understandably so, to be sure. But it was the way in which these fears were expressed that depressed me.

  What Marion seemed to be implying was that: “It’s all your fault, majister, that we suffer so; but we don’t really blame you for our misfortunes.”

  Was I to be an emperor on sufferance, then?

  “As to your girls, Marion, Wendy and Mich are handling affairs commendably. The regiment comes along, I am told. I feel it correct that it should be composed of Jikai Vuvushis from various sororities.”

  “Yes, majister. Also, the regiment is called The Beckoning Leems. Everyone agreed on the name, and—”

  She saw my face.

  “Majister!” Her voice quavered. Strom Nango put a hand down onto her shoulder, and I wondered who was supporting whom.

  This name was just another example of that weird warped Kregan sense of humor, that the girls would beckon their foes and then like leems devour them. The leem was very often the symbol for savage power, untamed and destructive, and in the normal course of events one saw leem-symbols along with chavonths and strigicaws and mortils and all the other wonderful varieties of Kregan wildlife. Marion did not know, I believed, of Lem the Silver Leem.

  “As well call your girls a regiment of churmods, Marion. Malignant, malevolent, not to be trusted. You must think of another name.”

  “Yes, majister.”

  They went away after that, very subdued.

  Regiments liked to give themselves high-flown and resounding names. For the lads of my guard corps the number and the initials could not be bettered. That thought made me call over Chuktar Emder Volanch. He was a much-decorated kampeon, a Freedom Fighter of Valka, and an old comrade whom I do not believe I have mentioned before although we had served together enough times, by Vox.

  “Strom — the regiment prospers, thank Opaz.”

  He knew exactly why I’d beckoned him over. His face, hard as a nut, contrasted sharply with his casual evening robes. He told me that the new guard regiment had been superbly trained up and he was greatly desirous of seeing it in action. The regiment was the First Emperor’s Foot Bows. As Chuktar Volanch said: “Even Kov Seg Segutorio has given 1EFB the accolade for their shooting.”

  “Excellent work, Emder,” I congratulated him. “You have done well. And, believe me, there will be work for you and your lads when we hit the Racters, Opaz rot ’em.”

  “We are ready, strom.”

  “Chuk Loxan is not to be seen?”

  Chuktar Emder smiled. “Balass the Hawk took his regiment off into the wilds for rigorous training. Loxan welcomed this. He and I, strom, well, there is a rivalry between his 1ELC and my 1EFB to become the first into action.”

  I could well believe it.

  If my blade comrade Balass the Hawk was knocking sword and shield work into the First Regiment of the Emperor’s Life Churgurs, then, by the Brass Sword and Glass Eye of Beng Thrax! they’d find out what rigorous training meant!

  I said to Chuktar Emder, “This is a bet that will never be collected. 1EFB and 1ELC are likely to go into action together.”

  “As Opaz will, strom.”

  A tremendous racket burst up just then and everyone turned as the happy couple prepared to make their exit.

  Khe-Hi and Ling-Li really did look happy, and this gladdened me. We needed all the happiness we could scrape up in Vallia. Many and scurrilous were the shouted remarks as they were sent royally off, remarks that in other circumstances no one in his right mind would shout at a Witch o
r Wizard of Loh. They were showered with flower petals. When, at last, their narrow boat glided off into the moons light, we all trooped back for a final round of dancing and drinking, of talking and singing.

  I said to Delia: “One dance, my girl, and then I’m off.”

  Her gaze did marvelous things to my spine.

  Later that night I said, “I really am going. Up to Falkerdrin — I’m not waiting for Natyzha Famphreon to die and then be called in.”

  “Dray!”

  “Oh, yes, I know. I shan’t slip a knife between her ribs or drop poison into her wine — although there are many and many who would say she deserves that quietus.”

  “So you’re rushing off like a chunkrah—”

  I kissed her and later said: “I’m going to have a little spying on my own account. We have to beat the Racters fast, because of this oaf the so-called King of North Vallia.”

  She turned over and stretched. “I wish I could come with you. It would prove interesting. But I am committed to—”

  “The Sisters of the Rose.”

  I dearly wanted to know if she had been maneuvered into becoming the mistress of that secret Order. She would not tell, naturally. This, then, was another reason why I wanted so badly to contact the Star Lords. They’d know.

  She made no direct answer, as I expected, but said, “If you are gone from Vondium that she-leem Csitra will search for you.”

  “Without dupes she will not find me. And I have perfect confidence in Deb-Lu.”

  “As have I, thank Opaz.”

  So, after due preparations and fully kitted out I slipped quietly out of Vondium, heading north, flying in the mingled radiance of Zim and Genodras, and set course for Falkerdrin.

  Chapter twelve

  Nalgre the Point

  Oby, Dwaby and Sosie Fintle set me down safely into a small woodland some way inside the borders of Falkerdrin. Triplets are not all that common on Kregen, twins being far more common than they are on Earth, and the Fintle triplets provided an interesting study for the student of genetics. They were alike as three peas in a pod, except for the fact that Sosie was a girl.