Stealers' Sky tw-12

by Robert Asprin

  "Got a theory-" said Cappen Varra, whose tankard had just been refilled for the third time. "Reality's not solid. 'S like clay, but most people don't have th' strength to mold it, or know how. The gods can. Mages can shape it with their spells, 'n' artists, sometimes-" he gazed at Lalo owlishly over the rim of his tankard, and the limner realized abruptly that after Cappen Varra's privations, even the Vulgar Unicorn's sour beer had been too much for him. And evening was coming on. The limner could not possibly leave his old friend alone and incapable in this part of town.

  "Gilla will have dinner ready by now-" he said briskly. "Why don't you come along home with me?"

  Cappen Varra grinned. "Think I'm drunk? Maybe so. Easier this way. I know about changing things, see-I sang a door open to th'other world, sang up a crowd o' demons to kill the folks who'd captured me. Killed everybody. Just like th' Black Unicorn-" His eyes filled with tears. "Even th' children!"

  Lalo cast a swift look at the wall. As the lamps were lit he seemed to see that demonic form still shadowed there. But he had banished it! And after that they had scraped down and replastered the wall!

  "Come on! We're getting out of here!" He tossed some coins on the table and grasped his friend's arm. Why had he started asking these questions? The concept of an unalterable fate was bad enough, but the idea of a malleable reality at the mercy of anyone who could master it terrified him.

  "Were the girls at the Aphrodisia House very beautiful?" Latilla stared into Darios's face earnestly.

  "Yes, of course." The young man blushed, and Lalo hid a smile. "But some of them were very silly as well."

  "And so are you," said Gilla repressively. "Eat your supper, Tilla, and let the poor boy tell his tale."

  The color faded from Darios's face and he turned to Lalo again. "I wish you had been with me, sir. It was hard enough to do the exorcism with them all chattering around me like magpies, but I managed to complete the ceremony. 1 don't know if it will do any good, though. Each dream I heard from one girl seemed to inspire the next to tell of something even more terrible. By the time I got through, the girls were all hysterical."

  "Did you sense anything demonic?" asked Cappen Varra curiously, pushing his bowl away. Drunk or sober, Cappen Varra retained his good manners, but the last of the beer fumes seemed to have worn off.

  As usual, Gilla had risen to the occasion. After a disapproving sniff at their breath, she had ladled out enough fish stew with rice and red peppers for everybody. And the minstrel had eaten with an appetite that endeared him to his hostess, who beamed upon him now. She had even agreed to let him stay in Ganner's old room for a while.

  Darios shrugged. "The atmosphere was upset, but that's only to be expected. I couldn't concentrate well enough to say."

  "I can add some more cream sauce if the stew is too hot for you," said Gilla, eyeing his plate.

  "What?" Darios looked down and took another spoonful. "No, it's wonderful mistress-I was just distracted."

  Cappen Varra cleared his throat and began a long and convoluted story about a camel drover, a prostitute, and a priest of Anen.

  He was just finishing when the door swung open and Wedemir strode in.

  "I've sewn the new insignia on the tunic you brought me, dear. Have you eaten? I can make up some more pilaf-" Gilla began, but Lalo motioned her to silence. Wedemir's eyes met his gratefully.

  "I need to apologize to Valira," he said. "Whatever is wrong at the Aphrodisia House is catching! Last night half the men woke up shouting about demons!"

  "What do you mean-what exactly did they say?" Darios asked.

  Wedemir's face grew grim. "Valira told us that the girls dreamed of lost lovers. Well, the bonds between fighting men are just as strong-and our losses-you know how many have died these past few years!"

  "Are their ghosts returning?" whispered Gilla. "Are the dead going to walk among us again?" Lalo shuddered, remembering that terrible time.

  "It would be impossible," said Darios. "That kind of manifestation requires a power source of a magnitude unavailable in Sanctuary anymore!"

  "They are not returning in their bodies, thank the gods!" exclaimed Wedemir. "But there's enough magic coming from somewhere to power these hauntings. The lads feel they're being watched, things break, they have stupid accidents. The amulet sellers in the Bazaar are doing a brisk trade!"

  "Perhaps the exorcism you did at the Aphrodisia House today will stop it, Darios-" suggested Lalo.

  "I'll have you up to the barracks tomorrow to repeat the process if it does'" said Wedemir, "Another few days of this and the men will be no use at all!"

  But Darios was still looking worried, and that night Lalo's sleep was haunted by memories of the Black Unicorn. In the morning they were awakened by a messenger from the Aphrodisia House, bearing a chyprescented letter from Myrtis herself begging Lalo to come to her.

  "A four and a three!" cried Ricio as the dice bounced across the wooden floor. "I'll stake you my new saddlecloth you can't better that, Ottar!"

  Wedemir looked up from his tally sheet as the voices rose. There was no rule against dicing among his soldiers as long as it stayed friendly, but for a moment there had been a disturbing sharpness in the boy's tone. He knew already that Ricio couldn't carry his wine, but all they had here was thin beer.

  There was a murmur of agreement from the other man. Once more the dice cup rattled, he heard a shout from the kibitzers as the cubes fell.

  "He's taken you proper, Ricio, lad-" said someone. "Better call it a night, now. I know for a fact that you've lost all your pay, and it's against regs to wager your gear!"

  "I'm not rolled up!" said Ricio- "Got this!" Laughing shrilly, he held up a shimmering silver ball. "Love gift from a lovely lady. Ottar! Stake you this for all you've won and your back pay!"

  "Give it up, Ricio!" called his friends. "Your luck is out. What's Joia gonna think if you lose that too?"

  He rounded on them, waving his tankard so that the liquid inside splashed his friends. "Shut up, you! Don't you say her name!" He turned back to Ottar, who was watching him speculatively. "You Traid to try again? You 'fraid my luck'll change?" Ottar shrugged fatalistically. Ricio laughed, shook the dice cup, and threw. "Five and five!" he cried, slapping the cup into his opponent's hand.

  "Hey!" cried one of the others, licking his wet hand, "he's got brandy in here!"

  As Wedemir got to his feet he heard the click of dice across the floor.

  "Six and six," said Ottar, reaching for the silver ball.

  "No!" shrieked Ricio. "You barbarian swine!" Wedemir took another step towards him, and then everything changed. The room was filled with pale-haired northerners, waving bloody knives; Wedemir smelled smoke. He started to turn, saw Ricio's knife flash. Instinct took over and his callused fist connected with the boy's jaw.

  There was a sudden silence. Wedemir blinked and rubbed his fist, staring at men who looked back at him with equally astonished eyes. Where had the barbarians gone? No one made a sound but Ricio, who moaned as the silver ball rolled from his hand, and Ottar picked it off the floor. One of the other men sniffed at Ricio's tankard. "Well," he said sadly, "there's nothing but beer in here now."

  "Lalo my dear, surely you understand that this has got to end!" Myrtis poured fragrant spice tea into a cup and handed it to him. "The worst of the nightmares seem to be over, but the girls are haunted by their memories. It is bad for trade."

  Lalo shifted uneasily on the overstuffed cushion, hoping he would not slide off and spill tea all over the ivory satin brocade. He was a little unnerved by Myrtis's trust. Even Darios, sitting quietly behind him, wore an exasperating expression of calm expectance.

  "My pictures won't be what the girls expect, you know-"

  "I've told them it's for publicity," said Myrtis. "They'll come in one by one, and you'll draw them. If I don't like the results I don't have to use them, you know."

  Lalo put down his teacup and picked up his drawing pad, and Myrtis rang her little bell.

&
nbsp; The Aphrodisia House accepted only the most beautiful. Darios's flushed face showed Lato what it was like to look at them simply as a man. No wonder the lad had found his exorcism hard going. But the limner saw them with other eyes. As he began to work, outer awareness fell away.

  Not many had spirits as beautiful as Valira's, but in several he found depths of faith and fortitude that would have astonished their customers. He saw on their souls the scars of neglect and cruelty and despair. In many he found jealousy or greed. In almost all of them he saw fcar.

  "Afraid?" Myrtis laughed bitterly when the last girl had gone. "Of course they fear. Age, illness, poverty-all they have is their beauty. Every one of them fears what will happen when it is gone. The attention their lovers pay them is their reassurance. But you should look again, Lalo-that's not all your pictures show."

  Blinking, he focused on the shaded backgrounds with which he had surrounded his sketches, and realized that they were more than random lines. It was not only the portraits that showed fear-the fears themselves were pictured on the page. He shook his head in pity, understanding now what had made the faces that way.

  "There are your hauntings, Madam Myrtis," said Darios.

  "Destroy them!" she exclaimed.

  "I cannot-" said Lalo. "They are not my fears. But perhaps I can change them." A sweep with the eraser and a few deft strokes transformed a demon to a godling, emaciated old age to serenity. Another change took the lines of discontent from a pretty mouth, put hope back into sullen eyes. The sketches had been simple. Altering them into something the girls would be flattered to hang in their bedchambers did not take long.

  "Let us see if this improves the atmosphere-" He handed the pictures to Myrtis.

  "But that's not what you saw!" objected Darios.

  "No, but when Madam Myrtis gives these sketches to her girls, perhaps this is what they will see-and believe-and believing, make it so," answered Lalo, remembering what Molin Torchholder had asked him to do. "I only wish I knew what it was that suddenly gave their fears such power!"

  "My lady Kurrekai is one of the great ones that attend the Beysa herself"-the palace maid laughed at her soldier-"with a serpent for a neckpiece an* all. She has a different headdress for every day of the week, an' she's generous. What do I need with presents from you?"

  "Even this one?" growled Ottar. He pulled something from his pouch and offered it shyly. The girl exclaimed as the wrapping fell away and the sun glittered on the silver ball. "Pretty, huh? Does your lady have one o' these? You come out with me and I'll be generous too!"

  The girl gave him a calculating glance. Ottar wasn't bad-looking, really. He pressed a wet kiss into the palm of her hand and she felt a warm glow.

  "Tonight, then?"

  She nodded, laughing, and dropping the silver ball into the pocket of her apron, skipped away. She had scarcely turned the comer before her swain was forgotten. The silver glittered so charmingly. She could hardly keep from pulling it out to fondle, even when she was working.

  That night she dreamed of riding in a gilded litter borne by matched slaves, while a whole troop of barbarian warriors who looked like Ottar marched behind. But the litter turned into a darkened alley. She screamed as it was set down roughly, but no one heard. And then hard hands were pulling her out into the street, tearing at her clothing. Hard bodies thrust against hers.

  The next morning, she was clumsy as she served breakfast for her Beysib lady, who was on duty with her mistress that day. As she started to pass a basket of oranges, she tripped, and the silver ball fell out of her apron and rolled across the floor.

  "How lovely!" said the Beysa, and held out her hand.

  Lalo laid in the undercoat of color for the background with long, smooth strokes of his brush. He knew that Molin Torchholder was watching him, but he continued to paint tranquilly. It was mindless labor, but the durability of the final product might depend on the care he took now. At least there was no way the priest could quarrel with him about this part of the job. The air was beginning to heat as the day wore onward, but it was still reasonably comfortable beneath the awning's dappled shade. He painted quickly.

  "You're not stupid, and I know you don't lack imagination," said Molin Torchholder suddenly. "I don't understand how you remain so calm."

  The brush splattered paint across white space, and Lalo reached for a rag. He finished wiping the color away, then turned to stare at his patron, his own self-mockery deepening as he realized that Torchholder had not even noticed his clumsiness.

  "Other people wear me out with their pleas for place and position, or their accusations against those to whom I've given them. Other people wear themselves out suspecting each other of exotic forms of treason. But not you, Lalo . . - why?"

  Lalo washed out his paintbrush, considering the question. "Perhaps because I want different things?"

  "Ah-" The priest nodded. He did not look as if he had slept well. "And what are your ambitions. Master Limner?"

  "To feed my family ... to paint the truth ... to stay alive ..." Lalo said slowly. "That's seemed ambition enough, these past few years."

  Molin Torchholder answered with a snort of laughter,

  "I envy you. The palace was a madhouse this morning ... a madhouse. Two people came to tell me that someone had bribed the workmen to leave weaknesses in my walls. One thought it was agents of the old Emperor. The other was sure that it was the new one, setting things up so that he can attack Sanctuary. Vashanka's rod! If Theron showed up right now I'd hand him the keys!"

  Lalo suppressed a smile. In the Aphrodisia House they had demon lovers. In the palace it stood to reason that they would have nightmares about intrigue,

  "Somebody else said that the prince had been poisoned, and just as I was escaping from him, one of the astrologers came running up with some tale that a piece of the Nisibisi Power Globe had been found! No truth to it, of course. I checked. But that one had me remembering when staying alive was almost ambition enough for me!"

  Lalo dropped his brush.

  I'm calm. he told himself. I'm calm. Torchholder just said so. But the priest's words reminded him uncomfortably of what Gilla had said. He straightened slowly and found that the priest was staring at him.

  "Now why, I wonder, should that news trouble you?"

  "No one wants those days to come again." Lalo dipped his brush in the paint and carefully stroked along a borderline. "Some of the girls at the Aphrodisia House were having bad dreams too. I drew pictures of them, changed the pictures a little, and the trouble seems to be going away. I'm sure there's no connection, though."

  "Of course not." Molin Torchholder rose to his feet and stood looking over Lalo's shoulder. "But you didn't do badly, Master Limner. You learned a lot in those days. You want to paint the truth, you say. But we both know that you already can. I keep wondering when you're going to do something with that power."

  And with that parting shot he moved onward, leaving Lalo staring unseeing at the wall.

  The dead man gets to his feet grinning, his skin still-the color of a fish's belly from the beynit venom in his veins.

  "You betrayed me!" The Seysa takes a step backward, aware of the muscular grip of her serpent around her upper arm as its head darts forward defensively. "I killed you!"

  "Yes ... yes." The creature grins. "And how many more? You killed your own people, Beysaf Their blood cries out for revenge!"

  "But it was my duty!" Dimly she remembers that this has happened to her before. She must deny it, but it has never been so real! "And for you above all to betray me ... I let you love me, Tovek-you were a Burek man!"

  "The killing went on too long ..."He comes towards her with outstretched hands and the beynit hisses angrily.

  "I stopped it," she cries. "House Burek fled the Empire. Why are you haunting me? We live now in another land!"

  "Beysa, you will bring destruction to all who love you. You cannot escape the past!"

  Tovek's hands close on her shoulders, cold, slippery wit
h blood, but she cannot get away. The beynit strikes at him and he laughs. And now his face is changing; alien features writhe beneath the pallid skin. She sees fair hair and light, astonished eyes that harden as they focus on her. Then the serpent strikes again ...

  "Ki-thus! Kadakithis! No!" Her shriek tears the heart from her breast. Hissing-the beynit's hissing roared in her ears. Her fingers tightened on muscular coils that constricted beneath smooth skin.

  "Shupansea! My lady, be still now-it was a dream ..."

  "The prince-" she whispered.

  "He is here."

  The Beysa's eyes flew open. His hair was still tousled with sleep, his eyes alarmed, just as in her dream. For a moment she thought she saw that other figure too, shadowy, already fading away. As the prince started towards her, Lady Kurrekai stepped between them. The Beysib woman's arm already bore the twin puncture marks where the beynit had struck her. Her own snake coiled around her neck protectively, tongue flickering as it tested the air; the bite of the Beysa's would do her no harm beyond a little dizziness, but Kadakithis had no such immunity!

  "Kurrekai, keep him away from me!" He looked hurt. She choked back a sob.

  "Wait a few moments longer, my lord," Lady Kurrekai said quietly.

  "When she is fully awake the serpent will calm itself. Then you may come to her."

  Shupansea lay back, breathing deeply. It had been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. Tovek's bones were dust in the earth of the Glorious Home, and she was safe in Sanctuary.

  "And this was not the first nightmare?" the prince was saying now.

  "There was only one yesterday," said Kurrekai, "but this is the third tonight, and it is not yet dawn. She will not let me try to drug her, but she must sleep. Perhaps she will listen to you."

  The Beysa pushed herself upright against her cushions with a sigh.

  "Shu-sea, love, what were you dreaming of?" The prince settled himself carefully on the foot of her bed and took her outstretched hand.

  "A man who betrayed me before I ever laid eyes on you!"