Wielding a Red Sword

by Piers Anthony

  It was a man's business to protect a woman from whatever threats existed, in whatever way he could. Mym knew that his sword would not be effective against a demon—but that was not the point. I will stand guard, he thought.

  "I couldn't ask you to do that!" she protested. "We must sleep apart!" But she wished he would do that, for she was genuinely afraid.

  I will sleep by the door, he decided, amending his notion. That will be no hardship.

  Her relief was manifest. "I wish I could thank you, Prince Pride," she said.

  They both knew why she could not. "I prefer Mym," he sang.

  "Mym—the name they gave you at the sideshow," she said, reading the context. "Where you met the woman you love."

  Where I was happy, he agreed.

  She retired to her large, soft bed of feather pillows and colorful quilts, and he settled down in the doorway and slept in the way a warrior did, alert for any intrusion. They left the lamp on, so that nothing could enter unseen.

  In a moment he jerked awake. A horrendous demon was tiptoing toward the bed. Rapture turned and saw it, and screamed.

  Mym leaped up, his sword whipping from its sheath—but the demon charged through a wall, making no sound, and disappeared.

  He turned back to the bed, where Rapture was shaking with reaction. Her emotion was a tangled mass of loathing, fear, and shame, for she knew she was imposing on Mym despite her resolve to cause him no more trouble.

  He went to her, sat on the bed, and took her into his arms. It is the nature of the innocent to be afraid of evil, he thought soothingly. He felt no fear himself, of course, merely disgust that he could have allowed an intrusion of this nature. He had been on guard, had he not?

  She sobbed into his shoulder. Then, buoyed by his lack of fear, she calmed. "I—I apologize for my weakness, that so inconveniences you," she said. "I never meant—"

  I know. The Castle made deception impossible; she was not practicing any artifice in her fear, and he practiced none in his lack of it. They had been trained for different things.

  "But this is exactly what the Castle means to do!" she said. "To force us into each other's arms—"

  "There is no love in it," he said. "I would hold a frightened child so."

  That abashed her further, yet she could not deny it. "If child I must be, then so let it be," she said. "My weakness and my humiliation are laid open to you, and I deserve your contempt."

  You showed no contempt when I stuttered, he reminded her.

  "But you couldn't help that!"

  "And you can not help this."

  She paused, considering. "I showed none because I felt none," she said slowly. "But had I felt it, I would have changed my opinion by now. You are a brave man and a kind one."

  I am a Prince. I am what I am trained to be.

  The bravery, yes, she thought back at him. The kindness, no.

  The best ruler tempers justice with mercy, he thought, echoing what he had been trained.

  But with you the mercy is stronger than it should be.

  This was true, he realized. He had mastered the physical abilities required of his office, but not the emotional ones. Had he possessed proper discipline, he would not have been swayed by the fate of the concubines he rejected or by the subservience of the cavalry officer who had come to bring him back. He was weak—and his father the Rajah had played upon that weakness with an expert touch.

  "Oh, Mym!" she cried, reading his mind. "I did not know!"

  It was not your business to know. Was not similar pressure put on you to come here?

  "Not exactly. My father simply shipped me here. I had no choice."

  Being a woman, he agreed. A prince must accede; a princess must obey.

  "Physically," she agreed. "But my heart is my own."

  Or his whom you love.

  "Yes," she agreed. But now another aspect of her embarrassment was spread out involuntarily for his perception—she had no other love. The man she had been interested in was not the equal of Mym and no prince; that interest had evaporated like vapor in the past few hours. She had resisted coming here simply because she did not like being played like a pawn, assigned to a man for the sake of a political liaison. She was no concubine!

  I never thought of you as a concubine! he thought.

  "Oh, I wish I could keep my thoughts to myself!" she wailed. "All my secrets are leaking from me!"

  Your secrets become you, he responded.

  "I would rather lie naked to your gaze!"

  She had already stood naked to it when she washed. But he understood exactly what she meant. A woman, more than a man, was a creature of dainty privacies, of hidden places, and it was cruel to expose these.

  "Thank you," she said.

  Lie here. Sleep. I will remain alert.

  "It is our separation that emboldens the demon," she said. "Keep your arms about me and sleep yourself; the demon will not come."

  Surely true. This intricate, so-personal net of the castle annoyed him, but he saw no way to break out of it. They lay down together, she in her negligee, he in his dayrobe, with his sword on.

  Tomorrow we shall flee this place, he thought with determination.

  "Tomorrow," she agreed. Then, slowly, they slept.

  Chapter 4 - STORM

  In the morning they got up, and Mym faced away while Rapture changed into fresh apparel; then they went to his suite, where she faced away while he changed. But it hardly mattered; the enforced openness of their minds and feelings made physical concealment pointless.

  They had breakfast. Then they took a walk by the placid lake.

  Mym stood at the shore and removed his clothing. Two times two is four, he thought intensely. Two times four is eight. It pretty well drowned out whatever else he might have been thinking.

  Rapture looked askance, then nodded. She was bright enough. Two times three is six, she thought as she removed her own dress. Two times six is twelve.

  Their two sets of computations tended to interfere with each other, making concentration difficult. They simply started over, when an error was made.

  Naked, they entered the water and swam for the far shore. Mym had not dared to ask directly whether Rapture swam, for that would have betrayed his intent. It was evident that she did indeed swim well; in fact she was especially lovely as she stroked along beside him. He remembered the mermaid in the tank—but Rapture was far prettier than the halfling had been.

  Two times twenty-four is forty-eight! Rapture thought emphatically, reminding him to keep his mind on his own computations. Half-guiltily, he did.

  In that manner they crossed the lake, making excellent progress. But as the farther shore approached, there was a swirling in the water around them and small fish of many hues glided by in schools.

  Then four fish poked their snouts up in front, chanting:

  "If your father knew, he would fall into a deadly rage!"

  Rapture gulped a mouthful of water and spluttered. For a moment she thrashed inelegantly, before recovering her equilibrium. "My father!" she exclaimed, upset.

  Mym was treading water, making sure she was all right before resuming the swim. The speaking of the fish had been a shock, but this was evidently a harmless manifestation. He glanced back—and saw a huge fin cutting the water toward them.

  Now he felt dread, for he was weaponless and ill equipped to defend himself in the water. Rapture, of course, was even more vulnerable. She screamed.

  The fin circled and cut between them and the shore ahead. There it remained, awaiting them.

  Mym considered. The talking fish had made it clear that their attempt to escape had not gone unnoticed, and the fin suggested rather strongly that it would not go unpunished. He sighed.

  He pointed back to the Castle. They began to swim back the way they had come—and the fin did not follow.

  They spent the rest of the day touring the lovely gardens and alcoves of the premises, remaining close together, and it was pleasant enough. The Castle did n
ot threaten them as long as they tried neither to escape it nor to separate from each other. But this proximity continually caused Mym's thought to dwell on the obvious virtues of the Princess, and she felt flattered, though she tried to fight it, and this feeling came back to Mym, encouraging further thoughts.

  They sat in a pretty stone patio, sharing the feeling of captivity. "What are we going to do, Mym?" Rapture asked. "You know where this is leading."

  "I know," he sang. "But perhaps if we knew each other better, the result would not be what is intended."

  "It would not?" She was perplexed.

  "Every person has faults. My impediment of speech is obvious. You have been gracious, but I think you would tire of it soon enough."

  "Then stop singing and speak!" she exclaimed, understanding immediately.

  "Y-y-y-yes," he stuttered.

  "And if you understood my faults better," she said, "you would surely find me less interesting."

  "W-w-w-what f-f-f—?" But his thought had been clear long before the word could get out.

  She felt pensive. "I had hoped to conceal—but of course that's foolish. I have three great faults, and the first is quite as obvious as yours."

  He gazed at her, baffled. "It is n-n-n-not ap-ap—"

  "It is apparent," she said. "I was a terrible disappointment to my father, because I was bom a—" Here she balked, but her thought came through.

  A girl! he thought. But that's no fault!

  "It is if a male heir is needed," she said grimly.

  "I w-w-would n-n-not c-c-c-call—"

  "Then you are more generous than my father," she said.

  He would not have had her otherwise! He could not imagine this absolutely lovely woman as a male. What a sad commentary on the state of contemporary values that such a creature should consider her gender to be a fault!

  "You're not cooperating, you know," she said.

  He made a mental laugh. I hate the situation, but I cannot hate you. Rapture of Malachite. There is no fault in you I have yet seen, other than the fact that you are slated to replace the woman I love.

  "And none in you, Mym," she said.

  In the evening the demon showed again, terrifying Rapture. Mym was perplexed; by day she was a self-reliant woman, competent in whatever way required, yet by night she was helpless.

  "It is true," she confessed. "I am, as I said, a woman; I have no strength to stand up to malice or ugliness. From my childhood, I have been terrified of demons. I deeply regret being this burden to you."

  There was indeed, he realized, some fault in being female. No man he knew of would have permitted anything like a demon to dismay him. But of course men were trained to fight. Women were trained to be dependent. It was still not truly a fault, but rather an aspect of the cultural expectation.

  And if women were destined to be vulnerable, so were men destined to protect them. He lay on her bed with her, as before, and put his arms about her, and slept.

  His dreams had always been chaotic, but this time they were more so. He dreamed he was holding a beautiful woman and knew that the dream was true. He dreamed that he rejected her—and saw her head mounted upon a spike.

  He woke to the sound of screaming. The demon was leaning over them, leering, reaching out. Mym grasped his sword—but the demon faded back and away.

  It was Rapture who had screamed. She had read his dream, and felt the spike.

  We have to get out of here! he thought, and she agreed.

  Next day they explored the premises more thoroughly—and found a brass ring set in the ground in the comer of a chamber seldom used. Mym wedged it up, and it was the handle of a metal slab, and beneath the slab was a deep hole. Stone steps descended, curving out of sight.

  Rapture fetched a lamp, and they descended. The steps ended somewhere under the wall, and a squared passage led onward beyond the wall. This was a secret tunnel, a possible escape!

  The air became cool, and the walls clammy. Rapture shrank away from contact, but stayed close beside him. They did not bother with the mental sums this time, as it was evident that they had not concealed the prior day's escape attempt. At least this time they were on their feet, and Mym had his sword.

  They came to a chamber wherein were several stone altars, and on each altar was an object. The first had a bright gold ring, the second a burnished copper lamp, and the third a calf molded from gold.

  Rapture, always intrigued by jewelry, paused to pick up the ring. She tried it on one finger, and then another, but it fit none of them, so she put it back.

  Mym picked up the lamp, to see whether it would serve better than the one they had, but it had no fuel. It was merely a decoration, of no practical use. I wonder whether I should rub it? he thought.

  "Or make a wish on the ring," Rapture added.

  They considered, then decided that these artifacts were likely to be traps for the unwary. What horror might be invoked, if they tried to summon the powers of ring or lamp? Better to pass quietly by.

  But as they passed the gold calf, it lifted its head and said: "If your father knew, he would slaughter a woman an hour!"

  Mym jumped, appalled. That spoke to his own weakness, his dislike of unnecessary killing.

  Then there was a sound from the tunnel ahead, a series of thuds that jarred the chamber, as of some creature striding toward them. Mym drew his sword—and there was a horrendous roar, and a blast of smoke came from the tunnel.

  "That's a dragon!" Rapture squeaked. "You can't fight that!"

  Surely not. The fire it breathed would bum them both to death before the thing came close enough to be stabbed.

  Mym sighed, again. "We must retreat," he sang, and set the example, turning and walking back the way they had come. Rapture followed close behind, carrying the original lamp. The dragon did not pursue.

  Back in the castle proper, they talked again, and Rapture confessed her second great fault. She had, once in her childhood, permitted a man to touch her. She had found her way out into the city, sneaking away while her nurse was preoccupied, and did not yet realize that all children were not princesses, or that there were different castes. She had come upon a laborer and touched his hand to get his attention. Then her nurse had caught up with her.

  The man had been an Untouchable—one of the casteless. There had been a serious row, and she had been subjected to a horrendous series of cleansings and ablutions to purify her from that hideous touch. The laborer, of course, had been summarily executed, and his family clubbed to death. But what she remembered most was the rage of her towering father: TWICE YOU HAVE FAILED ME!

  And Mym suffered another vision of a lovely head set on a spike. No! he thought. You did not know! You meant no harm!

  "That hardly mattered," she said. "Ignorance is no valid excuse." But emotion surged up within her bosom because of his supporting thought, and she had to fight it back down, for it was not what they sought.

  They spent the night together as before. This time Mym dreamed that he held her in his arms, as he was doing in reality, but the dream continued farther. He kissed her, and then he began to undress her, and her flesh was warm and silken-smooth, and he sought to possess her—

  And wrenched himself awake. Reality had been mirroring his dream, and her body was open to his touch.

  Why did you not stop me? he demanded.

  "I tried—but couldn't," she whispered.

  I never forced a woman in my life!

  "Couldn't—make myself protest," she confessed.

  We must escape this place!

  "Of course," she agreed.

  But it was several more days before they discovered another way to make the attempt. High in the Castle, on a turret, birds of every description landed to take the pure water offered there. On occasion a very large bird came—a roc.

  "That bird could carry us over the wall," Mym sang.

  "But wouldn't it consume us?"

  "Not if we let it know our nature. Man-eating rocs have been hunted to extinct
ion; only safe ones remain."

  And so they climbed the myriad stairs to the high turret and brought there a large bag fashioned of net. When the roc came, they stood in the net, and Mym hurled the tie rope out to snag in a claw. The startled bird took off with a great downdraft of air and hauled the bag up with it. They dangled precariously below, airborne.

  The roc climbed rapidly to the clouds. As they approached a cloud bank, a great face formed, and wintry air whooshed out of the mouth-hole. "If your fathers knew, they would blame each other," the cloud thundered. "Their Kingdoms would go to war, decimate each other, and become so weakened that the alien Mongul horde would sweep down, enslave both, and use their fair young women to satisfy the lusts of prize bulls and their men as flesh for dogs. Furthermore—"

  "Enough!" Rapture screamed, voicing Mym's thought.

  "Roc, set us down!"

  The big bird obligingly descended and settled back on the turret, where they cut away the net and retreated. They had failed again.

  "Tonight," Rapture said with grim determination, "and every night following, we must sleep apart."

  "But the demon—" he sang.

  "I fear the demon now less than I fear what will happen if we are together. I am weak, and you are merciful; we are at the limit of our resistance."

  And this was true. Surely the demon would not actually hurt her; it existed only to frighten her into obeying the design of the Castle.

  Rapture retired alone, but her fear spread throughout the Castle. Mym remained in his own suite, determined not to go to her unless she called. It was difficult.

  Yet what were they fighting? he asked himself. Their physical contact was urging them on to sexual fulfillment—but that was not the same as love. He had sex with concubines; he loved Orb. Wouldn't it be easier to treat Rapture as—

  No. She was, as she had said at the outset, no concubine. She was a Princess. She was not to be used and set aside.

  He thought about Orb—but now she seemed far away. Of course he loved only her—yet the cutting edge seemed to have been blunted. This Castle was working its sinister magic despite all he could do!