Perilous Seas

by Dave Duncan

  He nodded in grudging satisfaction. "So the message was unnecessary, and we may now deal with the messenger."

  Oh, Rap! Idiot Rap!

  "Gutturaz!" Azak said loudly. "Lead our honored guests to the feast. And send in the guards."

  The big prince rose and bowed. Chairs scraped again as the congregation rose.

  "I am staying!" Inos said firmly.

  Azak glared, but did not overrule her. Gutturaz hesitated, for the rehearsals had not covered these events. Improvising, he gestured respectfully for the iman to precede him, then held out an arm for Kade. She shook her head, staying close to Inos. Pouting, the fat man beckoned the trainbearers to follow him and strutted off down the steps. Rap stepped aside and watched the dignitaries file past, heading along the aisle behind the tottering cleric. Front-row princes began streaming after. Only the soft-smiling Kar remained on the platform, and Azak, and the three women.

  "Azak, my . . ." Inos stopped, and tried again. "My lord, this man is a very—"

  Azak shot her a glare of disbelief and turned away.

  "Wait, though," Rasha said. Her voice was soft, yet it came clearly over the noise of shuffling feet. "He may not have been entirely a free agent, your Majesty. I detected a trace of a compulsion there."

  "I don't care if he doesn't know his ears—"

  "Hold! I think there is another message, my dear."

  My dear? How dare she! How dare she claim that throne, give orders to the sultan, set herself up as tyrant, and especially dare talk to Azak like that!

  Azak frowned. "Lith'rian?"

  Rasha nodded, studying Rap, who had flinched at the word "compulsion" and was now glancing uneasily from face to face as if he had only just realized his danger. Had he truly expected Azak to let him live, after this?

  The swift tropical sunset was over. People, faces, chairs, even the Great Hall itself, all were fading away into shadow. Yet there was no doubt that Rasha was pleased about something—exultant, even. Rubbing her hands, she advanced down the steps toward Rap, who backed away a pace and then stopped, staring at her apprehensively.

  Apprehension became horror. "No!"

  "Yes," said Rasha. She chuckled. "I think Warlock Lith'rian was sending me a message also. Or a gift!"

  "This is not the time or the place!" Azak spoke as if he were leading his army in cavalry drill.

  "It is the only time and place, my dear." Rasha did not look around. "I was told once that this faun knew a word of power. Obviously that was an understatement, or he has learned more words since. He is at least a mage, and possibly a sorcerer."

  "Just 'n adept," Rap muttered. He was clearly worried now, the whites of his eyes shining like moons amid the dark blotches of tattoo.

  "You would say that, of course." The sorceress floated nearer, her deep-green robes now turned to black in the gloom. "But we saw you at work. An adept holding off the whole palace guard? Hardly! I have been an adept; I know what is possible!"

  The hall was half empty now, the commoners starting to follow the princes. The indistinct figures of the family men in their brown uniforms were slipping in through a side door, and forming up.

  "What are you getting at?" Azak demanded sharply.

  "Our alliance, darling, remember? Our pact against Olybino."

  Inos gasped.

  It was like shutting a finger in a door—blinding pain but also a deafening howl of injustice; an internal voice screaming that the Gods should never allow such things to happen. Was that what Azak had really wanted from the sorceress? Was that why he had whored for her all the last week? What coin had he accepted for his services—freedom from the curse so he could marry Inos, yes, but also an occult alliance for the coming war against the Impire? Suddenly Inos saw herself as part of a package, something thrown in by a merchant to make a sale of something else. A pretty ribboned basket hiding an unsavory purchase. Azak, what did you promise? What were you really planning?

  Betrayed!

  Rap was still protesting that he was only as adept.

  "Perhaps sorcerer is unlikely," Rasha conceded. "Even warlocks have limits on their generosity. But you are certainly too strong for a mere adept. A mage, I judge."

  "He is meant as a replacement for Elkarath?" Azak asked, stepping down from the dais to join her. Imperceptibly Rap had been backing away, and Rasha stalking him. The last guests were filtering out the big doorway beyond a wasteland of empty chairs like the stumps of a ravaged forest.

  "Perhaps. Obviously the elf has turned against East, as I predicted. Olybino is a failure, and elves despise incompetence. Also, I think this faun as been sent to me as protection."

  "Protection?" said Rap and Azak together.

  Inos took a step forward and Kade pulled her back. "No, dear!" she whispered.

  She was right, of course—to plead with Rasha on Rap's behalf would be a disastrous error. Rasha did not approve of women having tender feelings toward men, any men.

  "Protection! East has threatened to bespell me. Lith'rian is suggesting a defense, you see? This gift-faun is going to start making himself useful by telling me one of his words."

  "No!" Rap cried.

  "Most certainly."

  "Four words is the limit!"

  "Indeed? If your words give you that sort of lore, then you are certainly a full sorcerer. Else, who told you so?"

  Rap stuttered and said nothing.

  "I don't believe in that limit!" Rasha said. "At least it is worth a try, even if I gain nothing."

  "Your sorcery can't get my words out of me!"

  Rasha chuckled. "No?"

  He screamed, doubled over, then toppled heavily. Inos felt her feet start to move, and Kade's hand tighten on her arm. The day they had arrived in Arakkaran, Rasha had tortured Azak just like this.

  Rap curled up small, writhed, straightened, spasmed, thrashed as if every muscle was being convulsed by cramps. He did not scream again, but he gurgled, and somehow more noise would have made the spectacle less horrible. Nauseated, Inos tried to look away, and couldn't. She clenched her teeth in the effort not to cry out. To appeal to the sorceress would be as bad as appealing to Azak. Rap! I can't help! Anything I do will make it worse!

  At last the whimpering thing on the floor fell silent, and was still. Inos wondered if he had fainted, or died.

  "Had enough yet?" Rasha inquired sweetly. "Want a rest?"

  After a moment Rap pushed himself up, leaning on his hands and one hip. His face was deathly pale and there was a crazy look in his eye as he stared up at the sorceress. He must have bitten his tongue, for his mouth was bloody; he said something so slurred that Inos missed it. It was also spoken in a very broad sailor dialect, but the sense was obvious.

  Rasha laughed. "Very good! But how long can you stand it, faun?" Her voice flowed like poisoned syrup in the gloom. "An hour? A week? A lifetime?"

  Again Rap's reply was an unintelligible obscenity.

  "Ready then? You want to burn some more?" she asked.

  And she must have cured his tongue, because the next reply was at least clearly phrased, if no more polite. Visibly shaken, Rap clambered to his feet. He swayed for a moment, then lunged forward as if to attack the sorceress and strangle her. He stopped after two steps, glaring, but Inos could not tell if he had changed his mind or if Rasha had blocked him. How could he know that courage and defiance were the worst possible responses to her torments?

  Even through the gauze of her veil, her amusement showed. "Interesting! You present an interesting challenge. But we'll find your breaking point some other day. This is holding up the wedding celebrations. You'll talk soon enough when your sweetheart . . . Oh, I am so sorry! How careless of me to spill such dangerous little secrets! I mean the sultana, of course. This time she burns and you watch, faun."

  Azak uttered a wordless roar of protest, and then reeled back as if kicked by an invisible horse.

  Inos steadied herself, brushing away her helpers. She opened her mouth to shout a royal defiance, to te
ll the old harlot to do her worst, to order Rap to refuse—and she could not force the words between her teeth. Whether that was Rasha's sorcery or her own frailty she did not know, but silent she stayed. Silent, and already shaking. Never in her life had she experienced truly great pain. She had seen both Azak and Rap crushed by it, and she did not think she could be any braver or more stubborn than either of those two.

  And what did it matter if Rasha's powers were increased? Already she ruled Arakkaran as she willed.

  Glaring murder, Rap stepped closer to the sorceress, his fingers hooked. She shook her head mockingly at such folly.

  "All right!" he shouted. "All right, you evil old hag!"

  "You will rue ever uttering that remark. Meanwhile—talk!" She turned her head as Rap moved close, his face black with anger.

  He went to whisper to her, and stuttered into silence with a gasp. Rasha glanced around and then frowned at Azak, who was closest.

  "You have sharp ears, Muscles. Go back! Come here, faun." She marched over to the deserted front row of chairs. Rap trailed behind, looking broken and dejected. Azak turned away from the two of them and ran up on the dais. He came over to stand behind Inos, but he was glowering at the drama, and did not look at her. As an oven might radiate heat, so Azak still radiated fury. Oh, idiot Rap!

  She hugged Kade tighter, aware that one of them was trembling. Or both of them.

  The hall was growing so dim now that it was hard to make out the details, but again Rap had leaned close to the sorceress's ear. He choked, and again pulled away. "It still hurts!"

  "Tell! Or I give Inosolan what I gave you! Last chance!"

  Inos tensed again, mad with her own helplessness. Azak growled wordlessly. At the far end of the hall, torches flickered brightly where the guard was lining up.

  Again Rap bent to Rasha. He began to whisper, and stopped with a heart-rending groan. There was certainly no one else within earshot now, but apparently to speak a word of power for even one listener hurt about as much as Rasha's occult tortures.

  Someone shouted a command by the door, and the squad of family men began to move, starting down the aisle, at least fifty of them, bringing their flaming torches. Their boots thumped in steady cadence, and shadows began to shimmy behind the pillars.

  Rap tried again, and this time seemed to finish what he was saying. Then he reeled back, doubled over and gagging.

  "Ah!" Rasha stiffened in triumph and seemed to grow taller. "Yes, yes!"

  She spun around to face Azak. "Yes! Now I—"

  Rap straightened, staring at her.

  Inos gasped and moved closer to Kade—the sorceress's eyes were glowing red in the gloom. She tried to speak and produced only a gabble of gibberish. Azak took a step forward and stopped, grimacing. Now her face and hands were shining with a ghostly pink light.

  Kade's fingers bit into Inos's arm. "Am I mistaken," she whispered, "or has her Majesty made a serious error?"

  "Too much power?" Inos said. "Rap warned her!"

  Rap clapped his hands to his head, as if hearing something inaudible to mundane ears.

  Pale wisps of smoke trickled from the sorceress's garments, her head and arms glowed through the silk. Then she either realized the extent of her danger for the first time, or else the pain overcame her defenses. She screamed.

  The leading rank of family men stopped abruptly, others ran into them, and the march fell into chaos. Men stumbled, knocking over chairs, or one another. The leader roared.

  Rasha whirled around toward Rap and held out her arms. "Take it back!" she yelled. She staggered forward, and he lurched away in horror. Smoke poured from her wrists, lighted by the red glow of her hands. She tried to speak again and the words were lost in an animal howl as her sleeves exploded into flame, followed at once by her headdress.

  The sorceress blazed then, a human bonfire illuminating the hall and the royal party on the dais and the terrified faces of the close-bunched guards, whose eyes reflected her brilliance like the eyes of a wolf pack peering from a forest. Sparks and smoke roared up to the arches of the roof. Inos saw the glare through her eyelids; she gagged at the vile stench of burning hair and cloth.

  The fire dwindled, the light faded into darkness, but the screaming continued, and Inos opened her eyes again to see. Rasha was still there. Her clothes and hair had burned away, but she herself seemed to be fighting back, hanging on to her mortal existence by some supreme act of will or sorcery. There was no fakery or pretense now, no tall queenly stature or maidenly beauty, only a grotesque roly-poly figure of hairless flabby skin, staggering around and keening with a shrill thin note that froze the ears. And the whole of that hideous figure shone like a lantern with an internal pink light, brightening the gloom of the hall.

  Inos wanted to run to Rap, and could not bring herself to release Kade. The two of them hugged and shivered together. The guards were backing away down the aisle.

  Again Rasha tried to appeal to Rap, holding out her arms in supplication. Again he refused her. She tried to speak, and every word burst from her mouth as a spout of white fire. She wheeled around in search of someone else to aid her, and her eyes lit on Azak.

  Except that she had no eyes now. Where they should have been were two dark shadows in the blaze that was the front of her head. The shape of her skull was visible, shining through her flesh, and when she spread her arms toward Azak, the bones were visible also, burning white-hot inside her.

  She tottered forward, one unsteady step at a time, all the way to the dais. Azak advanced to meet her, holding out a chair as if she were a dangerous animal he must keep at bay. He halted at the top of the steps, barring her advance.

  Again she tried to speak, whimpers mingled with vomits of flame like a smith's furnace. Inos could feel the heat; she thought she made out a few words—"Help," maybe, and "Sorcerer," and perhaps even "Lover," but that could have been imagination. The inside of Rasha's mouth was hotter than a potter's kiln.

  She put a foot on the first step, and managed that, then swayed as she tried for the next. Azak was standing his ground against the heat, all his jeweled finery sparkling like a dew of blood, his face contorted in revulsion, but the chair he held extended before him was starting to smoke as Rasha neared it.

  "No!" he shouted. "Go away! Monster!"

  The Rasha thing raised its face to the sky and uttered one last, loud, ear-splitting howl of despair, and the word was clear: "Love!" It came out as a long jet of white fire squirting upward, and that cry of resignation seemed to burst the mortal bubble. The strangely resistant flesh exploded into flames, and for the second time the sorceress blazed as a bonfire—hotter and brighter than before, as her very substance burned away in a roar of sparks and fire. Azak dropped his shield, covered his face, and backed away.

  For a moment the skeleton alone remained, standing on the first step, miraculously balanced, and every bone shone hot as the sun. Then it collapsed, even as it also was consumed in an upward rush of flame and ash.

  The hall was plunged into silence and darkness. Inos could see nothing except a greenish afterimage of a skeleton and the stone glowing briefly red where its feet had rested, two faint footprints fading fast. The marble cracked like thunder.

  "Bring those lights!" Azak roared, and the family men sprang to life. Two of the torchbearers hurried forward to brighten the scene.

  Eyes recovered slowly, but soon Inos could make out the night sky framed in the high arches, their stone traceries speckled with stars, the faint curve of vaulting. Within the dancing yellow glow on the floor, nothing remained of Sultana Rasha but a stain of lime on scorched marble and a cracked step. And a nasty, burned smell.

  "She's dead," Rap said in a thin voice. "Quite dead. I felt her die. I felt my power come back!" He walked forward and peered at the step.

  "Free!" Azak threw back his head and bellowed the word so the echoes boomed. He brandished fists in the air. "Free of the harlot! Free to be sultan at last!"

  "I thought she was to be yo
ur aide-de-camp?" Kar muttered the question so softly that Azak likely did not hear him.

  But Inos did, and it confirmed what she had suspected. Rasha would have been in charge of occult defense in the coming war. Azak had bought two sultanas. Gone, now, all gone . . .

  Azak gestured, and the family men hastily advanced, then spread out in a cordon in front of the chairs. He pointed at Rap. "Bowmen! If that man speaks one word without my permission—shoot to kill."

  With six arrows aimed on him at point-blank range, Rap shut his mouth and kept it shut. He tucked his thumbs in his belt and rolled his eyes ironically at Inos. He looked much happier than he had a few moments ago. But of course—Rasha was dead and Elkarath had not returned, so far as Inos knew. Whether he was a mage or only an adept as he claimed. Rap was senior sorcerer in Arakkaran. Her brain struggled to accept that idea. Rap?

  "I have a couple of questions, prisoner!" Azak barked.

  "Azak!" Inos pulled away from Kade and hurried across the dais, her train rustling heavily after her.

  Azak turned to face her, glaring. He put hands on hips. "You dare to plead for this felon?"

  "I certainly do!" Inos snapped. "He is no felon. He rid you of the sorceress, didn't he?"

  "No. She rid me of herself."

  "Then you need a replacement advisor in occult matters. I will vouch for Master Rap's loyalty. He is honest and trustworthy."

  "Loyal to whom? No, I shall have no hateful sorcery within my kingdom. He dies!"

  Rap had killed guards, invaded the palace, disrupted the royal wedding, stolen Evil, made Azak look foolish. Any one of those would be a capital offense in Arakkaran.

  "Azak!" She fell to her knees.

  His face darkened in fury. "What is this man to you. Sultana?"

  "Nothing! Merely a childhood friend and a loyal retainer of my late father's. May not I ask this small favor as a gift from you upon this, our wedding—"

  "Silence! Do not begin your married life by incurring my displeasure, wife. In Zark it is unseemly for a married woman even to know another man by name, let alone take his part against her husband's wishes. Princess Kadolan, conduct your niece to the royal bedchamber."