by Gene Wolfe
“I require transportation to Liavek,” Nordread thundered, “and at once! I have myself had the honor of performing at the Palace, and His Scarlet Eminence was so kind—”
“—three wizards,” Baldy finished. “And Amail’s gone the gods know where. That is, unless something’s eaten him.”
At that, a silence seemed to descend upon the island.
Noen cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “Let me establish a few things if I may,” he said, raising his voice. “You are shipwrecked. I am the commander of a vessel that has come to your rescue. As such, I can have any or all of you clapped in irons if I judge that to be in the best interest of my ship. Do you understand that?”
The erstwhile disputants glanced at each other, then they nodded. So did Baldy, and so did several of the onlookers.
“I’m going to ask some questions. They’re to be answered fully but briefly by the person I indicate, and by no one else. Should anyone else answer—or attempt to answer—he or she will be bound hand and foot by the sailors under my command and thrown into that little boat. You will then be rowed to my ship and turned over to my first officer with instructions to put you in irons and confine you in the hold. My master-at-arms will see that you’re fed once a day, provided he remembers. I understand prisoners can keep the rats at bay quite effectively by rattling their chains, at least for the first few days.” Noen paused to let his threat sink in.
“Now then.” He pointed to Baldy. “I take it you were passengers aboard that ship. Where is her crew?”
“I don’t know,” Baldy said. “That is, I don’t know where they are now, or what happened to them. They disappeared—that is, most of them did, one by one while we were sailing from Cyriesae.”
“They deserted?”
Baldy shrugged, his face blank. “I don’t think so. That is, we were at sea, and they didn’t take the boats.”
“Could they have been stolen by the Kil?”
Baldy shrugged again.
“How did you come to this island?”
“With so many of the crew gone, we had to help pull up the sails and so on. That is, we helped as much as we could, but—”
“You weren’t sailors, understandably.”
“So when it looked like there might be a storm, the captain thought it would be better to get the ship in here. That is, we all thought that, and we did. Only the anchor dragged, and the storm washed our ship onto the beach.”
Noen nodded. The bottom of the bay, like the beach, was probably sand. “Where’s the captain?”
Baldy jerked his head toward the island, and Nordread coughed.
“You want to say something,” Noen told him. “What is it?”
“I wish—I would point out … Captain, our captain took the remaining sailors—there were only two of them—and went inland. That was two days ago,” Nordread’s deep voice laid a heavy significance on the two, “and we haven’t seen him since.”
“He took all the sailors and none of you? Why would he do that?”
“I believe he had some thought of, ah, a hidden treasure, perhaps, or something of the kind. I don’t believe he trusted us, Captain. At least, not as much as his own—ah—employees.”
Noen nodded and turned to Eitha, waiting with her crew near the jolly. “Go back to the ship,” he said. “Tell Lieutenant Oeuni that there’s a good shelving sand beach here and no danger. No immediate danger, anyway. Handsomely, now!”
“I wish to point out,” Nordread rumbled, “that our sailors vanished at a steady rate of one per night, and that—”
“Shut your mouth,” Noen snapped.
That evening Noen told Lieutenants Oeuni, Dinnile, and Rekkue, “That’s it. The players know nothing about the white building I saw, or they say they don’t. My guess is the captain saw it and most or all of them didn’t. As to what happened to their crew and whether it will keep on happening, I’d like your thoughts.”
Dinnile said, “We mustn’t let our lads and lasses find out about this, sir.”
“That’s why I made the players stay in the vicinity of their ship and posted the sentries,” Noen told him. “But they will find out. We can’t afford to fool ourselves. They’ll probably find out tonight, even if no one vanishes. If they don’t we can be certain they’ll know by tomorrow night. If we finish plugging the leak tomorrow and get Windsong back to sea, they’ll know even faster because we’ll have to take the players with us.”
Rekkue said, “The storm that washed their ship on the beach must have been the same one that stove in Windsong. Sir, do you remember the wind that wizard on Zhironni whistled up? Could it have been magic?”
Noen lifted his shoulders and dropped them again. “I don’t know, Lieutenant. And I don’t know how we can find out, unless we find the wizard and stick his feet in a fire.”
Oeuni used her hook to scratch her head. “You said there were three, Noen. Three wizards.”
Noen put a finger to his lips. One of the sentries was coming, his approach made visible by the crimson spark of the slow match in his pistol. As he neared their fire, Noen saw a second figure behind him.
The sentry touched his forehead. “Cap’n, I got a sailor here from the Lady of Liavek.”
Inwardly Noen berated himself. All afternoon he had planned to examine the log of the beached ship, but he had been so involved in the tricky process of careening Windsong without doing further damage that he never had.
Dinnile said, “Is that the derelict, Chipper? I didn’t think there was a hand left on her.”
The sentry, in more normal times one of the carpenter’s mates, shook his head. “He says when the others went off in that pirate they captured, he didn’t want to go, sir. So he hid, but then he was afraid the passengers would take it out on him, so he stayed hid.” He winked. “I reckon he had a pretty easy time of it, sir. Only now he says he wants to tell about the wizards. They’re the ones that make that castle come and go, I guess, sir.”
Noen said, “We’ll talk to him. Get back to your post.”
The sailor who came forward was young and blond, tall but rather slightly built for a seaman. He saluted awkwardly, looked at Windsong’s four officers one after another, and at last seemed to fasten on Dinnile as the largest. “Cap’n Noen?”
Dinnile shook his head. “Second mate. That’s the captain over there.”
The sailor saluted again. “Cap’n Noen, there’s somethin’ …” He seemed at a loss for words.
“Something odd?” Noen prompted. “Something uncanny?”
“Yes, sir. I heard about what them passengers told you today sir, and—”
“I know you did.”
“—and I want to tell you some more, sir. ‘Cause what that little bald ’un said wasn’t the truth of it, sir, not at all, and—”
Oeuni broke in, “Noen, this man’s no sailor!”
“Certainly not,” Noen told her. “But how did you know, Lieutenant?”
“By his hands.” Oeuni paused, suddenly embarrassed. “I suppose I look at hands now more than I used to. But they haven’t been in the sun much, and I never saw a hand in my life—I mean a hand’s hand—with nails that long.”
“I had supposed it was because he said yes.” Noen was speaking to the imposter, not Oeuni. “Sailors don’t say yes, because the word’s too soft to make itself heard in a high wind. Sailors say aye or aye aye. Please try to keep that in mind.”
The imposter saluted a third time. “Aye aye, sir. I’ll try, sir, ’at I will.”
“For that matter,” Noen told Oeuni, “this man’s no man, although the last time I saw her she was dressed like one and playing a man’s part. Very skillfully too, I thought. Meet the leading woman of the players.”
Oeuni’s mouth opened, then shut again.
The player smiled and said in a somewhat higher though still throaty voice, “Since you’ve penetrated my little masquerade, Captain, may I sit down?”
“Of course. Move over a bit there,
Rekkue. By the way, I appreciate your giving my sentry that tale about the pirate ship.”
He was rewarded with a dazzling smile. “I thought you would, after the way you stepped on poor old Nordread this morning; sailors are a superstitious lot, I understand. And I want to apologize for playing dress-up; but you or one of your officers must have told those men not to talk to members of our troupe, and I wanted to see you.”
“I also told you not to talk to them,” Noen said severely.
“For a good reason, which I understood and respected. But what Baldy told you just isn’t true.” The player paused, pulling off a scarlet bandanna and shaking bright blond hair. “I’m Marin Monns, by the way.”
Oeuni said, “What did Baldy—is that the stage manager?—tell you anyway, sir? I was about to ask when Marin came, and if we’re going to have two conflicting stories, it might be better if all of us knew both of them.”
Noen nodded. “I think I can summarize it quickly enough. Like most theatrical companies, this one has a wizard to provide appropriate backgrounds for its performances and occasionally do a magic act as a curtain raiser. Theirs is an old man called Xobbas, a pleasant, harmless old fellow, according to Baldy, whose worst fault is that he sometimes produces the mountains for The Snow Lover when the company’s supposed to do something else. He also has a hobby of altering his appearance—making himself taller, turning his beard orange, and so forth.”
Oeuni and Rekkue nodded; Dinnile scratched his head.
“Baldy’s worked with him for years, and he says he never changes himself enough to be unrecognizable; but now there are at least two other people going around looking like him. They discovered the first on the ship. Baldy had left a wizard—he thinks the real one—asleep in the passenger’s quarters. He went on deck and saw a second standing in the bow. That could have been astral projection, but Xobbas had never done it before. Yesterday the leading woman—Marin here—and Nordread compared notes and found they’d each been talking to a wizard when their cue came for the second act of The Prince and the Piper. That’s the play they’ve been rehearsing while they waited for rescue, and in that scene, as I understand it, they enter simultaneously from opposite sides of the stage.”
Marin nodded.
“Furthermore, each got the impression that the person they’d spoken with wasn’t really Xobbas. So that makes three wizards: the real Xobbas and the two frauds. The problem—one of the problems, anyway—is that no one has any idea who the other two can be. The other problem is that Xobbas isn’t providing scenery any more. Baldy started as a stage wizard, so he’s been doing it himself; but he’s rusty and the castle comes and goes.”
“Captain,” Dinnile said, “I’ve got an idea. Tomorrow afternoon we ought to have the ship patched up. Then we can lighten Lady as much as we can, take Windsong out in the bay, set both anchors, and winch her off.”
Noen nodded again.
“We put a crew, like a prize crew, on Lady to sail her back to Liavek. Well, as these players get on, all three wizards have got to get on too, don’t they? So each time old Xobbas shows his face, we say prove it. He’s got to prove he really is Xobbas, or he doesn’t get on the ship.”
Rekkue said softly, “Dinnile, I think somebody who could disguise himself as a wizard could disguise himself as somebody else too. Suppose there were two Dinniles? For that matter, how do we know the real Marin Monns isn’t over there”—she jerked her head toward the unseen bulk of the Lady of Liavek—“sound asleep?”
The blond player laughed. “I should have known it would come to this. Would you like to hear me recite all my speeches from Piper? ‘Most noble lords and commoners, have you not seen that when all else sinks, yet the crown swims? When Repartine the Great—’”
Noen raised a hand for silence. “I accept that you’re who you say you are, and if I accept it so do my officers. What I want to know is why you said what Baldy told me was false, and how you know it.”
“I didn’t mean he was deliberately lying to you,” Marin said, “but he’s wrong. Since yesterday, I’ve talked to anyone who looked like the wizard anytime I saw him. And I …”
“Go on.”
“I know him pretty well. He’s a kindly old pot, and he still has an eye for the girls. He likes me because I give him a hug every so often, and when we have a cast party sometimes I sit on his lap.” Marin paused, staring into the fire.
Oeuni said, “You blush beautifully, Marin. Please go on.”
“Did the blood really come up in my cheeks? You sort of hold your breath and try and force the air up, but I’ve been having trouble with it. Anyway, I do know the old man, and that was how I knew the—the wizard I’d talked to while Nordread talked to the other one wasn’t real. He was too
…” Marin made a helpless gesture.”I guess I need a playwright to make up my lines. But Xobbas, the real Xobbas, is old and his mind isn’t very clear. He forgets things, and when he feels sorry for himself he says so. Oh, I do, too, and so do lots of other people, but we try to be underhanded about it so you’ll feel sorry for us too. Xobbas would just come right out with it like he was talking about somebody else, and this wizard wasn’t like that at all. He didn’t forget a thing, and I had the feeling he was laughing at me inside all the time.”
Noen said, “I understand. What about the others?”
“One was cruel. I know he was! And old Xobbas was never like that. And one was frightened and tried to get away from me as fast as he could. That wasn’t like Xobbas either, and Xobbas couldn’t have walked that fast, no matter how bad he wanted to. And I think it’s important you know that there are three, because what if it’s the other two you find, and leave the cruel one? He isn’t the real Xobbas either.”
Oeuni took a deep breath, looked at Noen, and let it out again. “I’ve been a little hard on you, Marin,” she said. “And I shouldn’t have been—you really are trying to help. Is that all?”
The player nodded.
“Sir, is it all right if I take her back as far as the sentry lines?”
“Someone will have to take her back,” Noen said. “I don’t want her getting into mischief. It might as well be you.”
When they had gone, Dinnile wiped his forehead. “By Rikiki, what a looker! And tricky as they come.”
Rekkue nodded. “She could be dangerous, I think, starting fights among the crew just for the fun of it and so forth. Are Oeuni and I going to take Lady back to Liavek, Captain? If so, I’ll try to keep an eye on her.”
Noen said, “I don’t know why, but I like her.”
Dinnile chuckled. “Here’s the time I’ve waited for, sir! The one when I know more than you.”
There was a moment of silence, filled only by the crackling of the fire and the call of a jungle bird. Dinnile moved uncomfortably, clearly afraid that he had said too much; Rekkue started to speak but thought better of it.
Superficially impassive, Noen was secretly delighted. A captain necessarily walked a fine line between self-isolation and overfamiliarity with his officers, and he feared lately that he had swung too near the latter. Let them sweat—it was good for them and for the ship! He allowed the silence to grow until he saw his first officer returning, then called harshly, “Oeuni, you’re the best judge of character I know. Why’d you change your mind about Marin?”
Rekkue put in, “I was saying how dangerous I thought she was. Was I wrong?”
Oeuni nodded slowly. “Yes, I think you were. I thought so too, at first—all that playacting. But Marin’s too fond of showing off to be a real threat; at every moment she wants you to know how completely she fooled you the moment before. And what she said about there being three false wizards …”
Noen cleared his throat. “I thought that was it. You knew she was telling the truth. How did you know?”
“I didn’t really know. But—remember late this afternoon, when I went looking for a tree big enough to anchor the winch? This jungle’s only thick here at the edge, where it gets sun all the way
down. Farther in, there’s plenty of space between the trees, and moss and fern on the ground, mostly. I did some looking around while the hands were rigging the winch, and I found a grave.”
Rekkue’s gasp was distinctly audible.
“At least it looked like one. It was narrow, but long enough for a man, and the earth was fresh. I should have told you earlier, sir; but we were pulling Windsong onto the beach, and it didn’t seem terribly important at the time.”
Noen leaned forward. “We have four missing persons,” he said, “though some of you seem to have forgotten it: Lady’s captain, two of her crew, and the leader of the players, Amail Destrop. Dinnile, you were talking a moment ago as though we could refloat Lady and sail away without making an attempt to locate those people; would you want to be the one to tell Admiral Tinthe we might have left four subjects of Her Magnificence marooned? Now I think we’ve found out what happened to at least one of them.”
Oeuni shook her head. “There was a slab of bark pushed into the loose dirt at one end,” she said slowly. “A slab of bark with a letter scratched on it. The letter was X.”
As they made their way between the jungle trees the next day, Noen wished he had refused to allow any of the players to come. He had left Rekkue in charge of both ships; young as she was, Rekkue was an able officer, and with Windsong and Lady of Liavek riding at anchor in the bay nothing remained to do but reload the material they had removed earlier to lighten them. Someone or something, he had argued with himself, had stolen Lady’s crew; and if there was going to be fighting, he wanted Dinnile’s strength and dauntless courage. As for Ler Oeuni, why, Oeuni was—he winced at his own expression—his right hand. He had brought fifteen steady sailors as well, each armed with a cutlass and a boarding pike.
Then the players had wanted to come, too—the same players, as Noen had reminded them at length, who had waited two days on the beach without making the least effort to find their missing captain and his hands, or even their own missing leader. But they had insisted, and he had made the error of permitting Baldy, Nordread (who might actually be of some use), Marin, and eight more players to accompany him. All were carrying halberds or swords, rusty yet serviceable; but Noen strongly suspected that at the least sign of danger they would drop them and bolt like rabbits.
