"Neither did I," Orgoru said, and Ryan echoed him and added, "I never knew they'd been taught how to fight, either!"
"Then it's a good thing we taught you." Dirk handed Orgoru the club. "Keep that with your blackjack now, and use the club first if you have to use anything, since that's what they'll expect you to have."
"I shall," Orgoru said. "Good fortune that you taught me single-stick play!"
"Good fortune indeed," Dirk agreed, "but we can't trust to luck. From now on, the real magistrates won't even get this much of a chance. We can't have somebody winding up dead, can we?"
"Not if we can help it, no," Orgoru said, slightly shocked at the idea. "After all, this isn't war."
"Yet," Ryan said heavily.
"Well, into the carriage with you," Dirk told Orgoru. "You still have a reception committee to meet."
"Yes! Thank you for this help, Dirk." Orgoru turned to Miles. "And thank you, too, Miles."
"It's I should be thanking you," Miles answered, with the first real smile he had ever given Orgoru. "He would have cracked my head if you hadn't stopped him."
"I can't have a highly trained agent stopped by a feeble old magistrate, can I?" Orgoru returned the smile.
"No, and you can't stop,'either," Dirk told him. "Up into the carriage with you."
As Orgoru climbed, Nathan came running up the southern road from his sentry post. "Horses! The Greenthorpe party must have gotten impatient!"
"Or can't see their milestones," Dirk said dryly. "You ride escort, Nathan. I'd better keep His Nibs here, until you boys get back." He reached up to clasp Orgoru's hand. "Good luck!"
"Thank you," Orgoru said fervently; then sat back, his heart pounding, as Miles started the horses.
They came to the trio from Greenthorpe in only a few hundred yards. The Greenthorpers reined in, and Miles drew the carriage to a halt. Orgoru, his heart in his mouth, gave them a smile that he hoped had just the right degree of condescension. "Are you the men from Greenthorpe?"
"Aye, Your Honor," one of the watchmen saluted.
"I am Magistrate Flound. Will you escort me to my new post?"
"We'll be delighted, Your Honor!"
Ryan climbed down off the box and came around to the side of the carriage. "Farewell, Magistrate. You've been a good master to me."
They reenacted the scene they had just watched the real Flound play out, then turned their mounts, Miles on the spare horse, and rode away.
"Onward, goodmen," Orgoru said with a genial smile, and leaned back as his new coachman drove him off to the biggest sham of his life.
The carriage stopped in front of the courthouse, and the coachman hopped to open the door. Orgoru climbed down, smiling his thanks, and followed the man to the doorway, where a portly man in a bailiff's short robe waited.
"Bailiff Tundro, may I present Magistrate Flound."
"Greetings, Your Honor." The bailiff gave him a little bow. "Welcome to Greenthorpe."
Something within Orgoru thrilled to that. "Greetings, bailiff, and thank you for your welcome. Please introduce me to the rest of the staff."
Tundro looked slightly surprised, probably at the word "please," but led Orgoru inside and introduced him to the servants, who insisted on laying out a light supper, then drawing his bath.
Bathed, fed, and thoroughly scared, Orgoru locked himself in the library, hauled down the first volume in the Code of Laws, and started speed-reading frantically.
CHAPTER 16
Thus Orgoru was the first to become a magistrate, and stalled during the day while he read law books frantically at night, to learn the updates for the last few hundred years. When he was sure of procedure, he started catching up on business and getting to know the people. He was aware that he only had six months to find a wife and marry. But the people seemed to accept him, and though his clerk gave him a raised eyebrow on occasion and had to fix his mistakes fairly frequently, the staff seemed to accept him as genuine, and after the first few weeks, he began to calm down. Still, a terrible homesickness overwhelmed him every night, homesickness for Voyagend and the other cured inmates who had become his friends in reality as well as delusion.
After the first month, though, he had a very pleasant surprise. At the end of the court session, the bailiff told him, "There are two people newly come to Greenthorpe, Your Honor, a merchant and his sister. They wish to file a complaint against a neighbor, for their father died a month ago, and the neighbor laid claim to half the goods in their warehouse." Orgoru sighed; he hadn't really learned much about business, and would have to trust to common sense. Besides, he'd already found out that if you just asked enough questions, people frequently answered their own while answering yours. "Very well. I'll meet them in the study. Please tell Varjis to bring tea."
"Yes, Your Honor."
Orgoru went into the library, threw himself down in a leather-covered chair, and sighed: He hadn't realized that being a magistrate involved so much work. Then the door opened, and he looked up-to see Jules, the erstwhile King Longar, and Gilda!
He couldn't help himself; he stared, and surely Bailiff Tundro must have noticed it before he said, "Merchant Ruhle and his sister Gilda."
Orgoru recovered and forced a bland smile. "Sit down, won't you? Thank you, Tundro."
"Of course, Your Honor."
Orgoru was sure Tundro's sharp eyes hadn't missed anything, but for the moment, he didn't care. He bolted from his chair and caught Gilda in a bear hug. "Oh, thank you, thank you, my friends! It's so good to see you, so good!" He let her go and turned to pump Jules's hand. "Thank you a thousand times!"
"We couldn't let you languish by yourself any longer," Gilda said, "so we trumped up an excuse to visit."
"Sit down, sit down!" Orgoru suited the action to the word, gesturing at chairs. "Be comfortable! Tell me, what news from home?" His eyes widened as he heard himself call Voyagend "home," but it really was, far more than the village in which he'd grown up.
"All goes well," Jules told him, "though very busily. The minstrels are sending back lists of which magistrates will be transferred when, and Gar has driven Miles crazy by setting him to keep records of each of them, then choosing which man to send to replace which magistrate. Every week we send out two more men to become officials, and three or four women to find ways to marry genuine magistrates, or to take positions as nurses that will help them subvert soldiers." He grinned. "It's quite a hive of activity, I can tell you."
"And the magistrates they send back, the real ones?" Orgoru' asked, with a bit of guilt.
"They're furious, which means they're well in every other way," Gilda told him. "Gar has sent them all to live in that great long block of a building that is all living apartments, and appointed Bade-you remember, the former Duke of Despres?"
"Of course." Orgoru nodded vigorously. "Surely Bade isn't going to be head jailer, not with his hatred of officials!"
"He has more reason to dislike them than most of us," Jules admitted, "considering what they did to his family. But the Guardian wouldn't let him mistreat them even if he planned to, and his hatred will keep him vigilant to make sure none escape."
The door opened, and the maid came in with a tea cart.
"I really don't think the man has reason enough to hate you," Orgoru said. "Can't he understand healthy competition between businessmen?"
They gave him blank stares, then realized he had switched topics to the official reason for their being there. "He seems to be one of those who has to win at all costs," Jules said, "and takes any competition as a personal attack."
"Yes, that will do nicely, thank you," Orgoru said to the maid, who curtsied and left, closing the door behind her.
Gilda caught her breath. "You do that so well! Just like a real magistrate!"
"I am a real magistrate," Orgoru said, "or at least, I have to think that way, or I'll fail completely."
Jules frowned, concerned. "Be careful, Orgoru."
"Don't worry, I won't fall back into delusion." Or
goru looked about him and grimaced. "Believe me, if I were going to, I wouldn't choose this!"
"Being a lord was so much more pleasing." Gilda handed him a filled cup.
Orgoru stared at it in surprise. "Forgive me! I should have poured."
"There's certainly no need." She handed a cup to Jules, then poured one for herself, set down the pot, then looked up past Orgoru's shoulder. "Oh! What a lovely garden!"
"Yes, isn't it?" Orgoru turned to look. "One of the compensations for the stresses of the job. It's excellent for relaxation at the end of a long day-and for helping think through a problem." He turned back to her. "Would you like to walk in it?"
"I'd love to." She set down her cup. "Jules?" Orgoru asked.
The former king waved away the invitation. "I've had enough walking for one day, thank you. You two take your time-I'll find plenty of company in your biscuits and tea."
"As you wish." Orgoru rose and held out his hand. "My lady, will you walk?"
Gilda came to take his arm, giggling. "Those courtly phrases sound so strange now!"
"But they come so naturally," Orgoru said, as they went out the French doors into the garden.
They strolled down the pathway, Gilda saying, "It really is lovely."
"Not as lovely a sight as my first glimpse of Voyagend, that first night," Orgoru sighed. "That was magical indeed."
"Fantastic, one might almost say." Gilda smiled.
Orgoru laughed. "Yes, a fantasy indeed!" He turned to look into her eyes. "And so were you-luscious and lovely, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen."
"You were so tall," she said, "and lean, and handsome."
"No! Was I really?" Orgoru laughed.
"Indeed you were-gauche, but so very handsome!"
"Whereas now," Orgoru said ruefully, "I am graceful and at least somewhat cultured, but plain and lumpen!"
"Certainly not lumpen," Gilda said sharply, and squeezed his biceps. "Dirk's physical training has given you a great deal of hard muscle."
He smiled at her. "It gave you almost as voluptuous a figure as you had in my delusion." He was amazed to feel a flicker of the old passion.
"In my delusion, you filled me with desire," Gilda leaned closer to him. "Seeing you as a magistrate kindles it anew." The flicker blew into a blaze. "In me also," he said, and leaned closer himself. Their lips touched, very tentatively at first, brushing one another enough to tickle, to raise shivers. Then the kiss deepened and lasted a long time indeed.
When they parted, he embraced her, amazed to find himself trembling, delighted to feel her trembling, too. "Come, sit!" He stepped away and gestured her to a bench. She sat-but he knelt and said, "Marry me, Gilda! Please marry me!"
She stared, even though it was what she had hoped for, had burned for. "But ... but I am plain and gangling!" she protested.
"You will always be beautiful to me, for I've seen you through the eyes of the Prince of Paradime. You still have all the charm, grace, and wit of the Countess Gilda-and I've fallen in love with you all over again."
"Oh, Orgoru!" She leaned forward, clasping both his hands. "But will it last?"
"Oh, yes," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. When he saw that she still hesitated, he said, "Come, my love! You know that I have to marry somebody soon, to stave off suspicion. Will you leave me to the clutches of some illiterate, clumsy village maid?"
"No, never!" She smiled fondly. "Far better that it be someone you trust."
"And love," he breathed, then stretched up to kiss her again. When they parted, he caught his breath and said, "Still, if you have any doubts, I promise not to make physical advances."
"Oh, do you indeed!" Gilda cried. "Am I so ugly after all that you can't bear to touch me, then?"
"You know the falseness of that from my kiss," Orgoru protested. "Be assured that I do want to touch you, and very badly, too."
"I certainly hope you will not do it badly!" Gilda exclaimed. Orgoru spread his hands, laughing. "Come, now! You will be angered if I don't, and angered if I do!"
"Not if you do it well," she returned, and leaned down with a lazy smile. "If you think you can, and really want to, prove it!" He did. She wasn't angry.
When they parted, Orgoru moaned, "Marry me, sweet lady, or forever after know yourself to be cruel! Will you marry me, sweeting?"
"Yes," she whispered.
This time, their kiss lasted and lasted, until Jules finally came to the window, alarmed that they had been so long silent-but what he saw made him smile, and eased his fears for them immensely.
Miles was hard at work in the palace office-it had been the sitting room of his suite, but the records had overflowed, and he had been forced to move-when a voice called, "Hail the conquering hero!"
Looking up, he saw Jules coming through the door and looking very proud of himself. He grinned and leaped up, coming around his desk. "Hail, hero! What have you done?"
"Escorted Gilda to see Orgoru, and I assure you, he was very glad to see us, and very hungry for news."
"But he was well?"
"Well? He was thriving! Now he's even better."
"News from home did that much good, eh?" Miles asked, grinning.
"News from home-and Gilda. Ask me where she is, Miles." Miles lost his smile. "Where is she?"
"She stayed with Orgoru! They started talking about old times, and fell in love all over again! They mean to be married in a month!" Jules frowned. "Why the face of calamity? Don't you understand, boy? They're engaged!"
"Oh, I understand well enough!" It was the strangest mix of emotions Miles had ever felt-elation that Orgoru was no longer his rival, but real, deep fear at what effect the news would have on Ciletha. "Whatever you do, don't tell her!"
"Her? Who? Gilda? I think she knows."
"No-Ciletha!"
"Don't tell Ciletha? Whyever not?"
"Yes-why not tell Ciletha?" The lady herself came through the doorway, slender and light as though blown on the wind. "This lamebrain seems to think I shouldn't tell you Orgoru and Gilda are engaged." Jules turned to her, frowning-it was very deflating to have his wonderful news treated as a tragedy. Worse, Ciletha didn't treat it as much of anything. "Are they really?" she asked with a polite little smile. "How wonderful for them!" Then she went to Miles's desk and laid some papers on it. "The reports from Fourthmark, Miles. Dirk said you'd want them."
Jules scowled. "No one seems to care much about romance anymore. If you'll excuse me, I'm tired and hot from my trip. I'm going to my suite. At least the tub will appreciate me!"
"Thank you very much for the news, Jules," Miles said hastily. "Believe me, you don't know how important it is!"
"I do. I'm glad you have some hint of it yourself." The former king went out, not much mollified.
Miles turned to Ciletha anxiously.
"I'm all right, Miles," she insisted. "Anyone who knew those two knew this would happen some day."
"But ... but it doesn't ... grieve you?"
"Grieve me? No." She looked up at him, exasperated. "How blind can you be? I fell out of love with Orgoru two years ago!"
It was the first time she had admitted she'd been in love with him.
"Then-you don't really care?"
"Care? I'm glad for my old friend. I hope they'll be happy." Then, suddenly, her eyes brimmed over.
Miles reached her in one step and swept her into his embrace. She wept into his chest, gasping. "I don't know why ... I'm crying.... I don't care ... about him ... anymore. . . ." Then she raised a tear-stained face to him. "I suppose I'm mourning the past, what little good there was in it."
He gazed down into her face gravely for a moment, then quite deliberately kissed her.
It started as a short, light kiss, but it deepened and lasted amazingly. When he finally lifted his head and drew breath, astounded and stunned, Ciletha gave a little, happy sigh and laid her head on his chest again. "I thought you'd never do that!"
"I never would have dared, until today." He stroked her h
air, gazing over her head, feeling the most delightful sensation steal over him. "I would tell you to take heart, but you already have-my heart."
"And you took mine long ago, you silly man! Didn't you see that I'd fallen out of love with Orgoru and in love with you?"
"I'm blind," he whispered.
"Then you'll have to work by touch," she said, and raised her head for another kiss.
They forgot to close the door. Sometime later, Jules stumped by, bathed and trimmed. He stopped to stare in at them, then turned away, shaking his head and muttering about something in the air.
Miles stared. "You want me to do what?"
"To coordinate all the efforts of the underground," Gar said patiently, "to keep track of what everyone's doing, and if anyone makes a mistake, send someone to fix it."
"We're asking you to be chief rebel, Miles," Dirk said, smiling. "We're asking you to boss the revolution."
Miles sat down hard, staring blankly in front of him. It was just good luck he'd had a chair handy-or maybe that was why they had come into his study and told him at his desk.
He looked around at the room, not even seeing the velvet drapes, the tapestry, the gilded moldings, the fireplace, or the graceful, damask-covered furniture. "Chief rebel?" he asked, stupefied.
"Yes;" Gar said. "Why do you think we had you take care of the records and send people out, then interview them when they came back?"
"You were training me for the job!"
"Very successfully, too," Dirk agreed. "You're ready for it, Miles-and we're ready to go find other oppressive governments to overthrow. You can handle everything here for the next four years."
"Don't worry," Gar said. "We'll come back for the actual revolution."
Miles's mind seized on something trivial. He gazed at a random note on his desk. "Isn't it an amazing coincidence that the peasant you chose for a guide should prove to be the man you want to lead the revolution?"
"No coincidence at all," Dirk snapped. "Why did you think we chose you for a guide, out of all the outlawed peasants in the land? Why do you think we kept you with us?"
A Wizard In Peace Page 17
