Forward the Mage

by Eric Flint

  The lunatic looked confused for a moment. "As for who's side he's on, well, that's a bit difficult. He's a reactionary, of course—all your great sorcerers are, you know. But the thing about Zulkeh is, that he's such a really great sorcerer that his reaction sort of gets very strange. Leads him to do the wildest things!"

  The General shook his head. "Never mind, Wolfgang. Since this Zulkeh is coming here, I'll get to meet him anyway. In the meantime, we have lots of other things to do."

  He turned to Gwendolyn. "The warnings you've been spreading about the Rap Sheet will have the movement on its toes by now."

  "I'll feel a little foolish when these latest developments come out," said Gwendolyn ruefully.

  "Don't be stupid. We want the movement on the qui vive. All hell's about to break loose—bigger hell than the Rap Sheet would've produced, actually. But we're better able to handle this kind of action. And with the Rap Sheet in the hands of The Mysterious Q, we'll have the best intelligence we could ask for."

  The General paused for a moment, groped for a cigar in his vest.

  "Not in the house, dear," said Madame Kutumoff. The General got that unmistakable look on his face. Some day I should capture it on canvas: Guilt and Frustration—The Thwarted Smoker.

  "Sorry. Anyway, Gwendolyn, I think the first thing you should do is try to find The Roach. He'll be at Blain by now, I imagine. Then, you've got to step up the Railroad's work immediately. There'll be a wave of pogroms coming, as sure as the sunrise, and there's no one better than you—"

  He stopped then, seeing Gwendolyn's expression. Her face was pale. The General cast a quick, shrewd glance at me.

  "But we can deal with all this tomorrow," he said gently. "You'll want today for other things, I imagine."

  Gwendolyn nodded faintly. She reached out and took my hand.

  "Let's go outside, Benvenuti. We need to talk."

  As we headed out the door, I heard the General speaking. "Now—lunatic! I want some straight answers."

  "Shall I take him to the kitchen, dear?" asked Madame Kutumoff. Wolfgang began howling with fear.

  "No, love," said the General. "I think it best to remain within the guidelines of the rules of war. Very loosely interpreted, of course."

  * * *

  The rest of the day was unlike any other of my life. Islands of joy, in a sea of pain. Time and again, I tried to find a way out of the dilemma. But Gwendolyn had a will of steel.

  "We always knew this time would come, Benvenuti. It won't help to draw it out. There'll just be more pain. And I have to leave soon anyway. It's true, what the General said. The Ozarines will set Grotum on fire. My kind of fire, what I was made for."

  "But—"

  "But what?" Her face was like a stone mask.

  That night was spent in a frenzy of passion. In the morning, exhausted in body and soul, I packed my belongings. Gwendolyn and I descended from our room to the foyer. Madame Kutumoff was there, holding a satchel, which she extended to me.

  "Take this, Benvenuti. Rations for your trip." She made a wry face. "I know the stuff tastes terrible, but it'll keep you going."

  When we stepped through the door, we found Wolfgang waiting outside. I was surprised to see him.

  "But why are you surprised, dear boy?" He waved his arms about. "You are going to New Sfinctr, aren't you?"

  I hesitated, but Gwendolyn was implacable.

  "Yes, he's going. He's not happy about it—neither am I—but it's for the best."

  "Of course he should go!" cried Wolfgang. "You're absolutely right, Gwendolyn! There's nothing for him here. Except you, of course. But you're going to be very, very busy now, aren't you? Things are going to be getting hot in Grotum soon, oh yes! The Ozarines are going to be making such a fuss."

  He looked at me, grinning from ear to ear.

  "So it's the perfect time for you to make a splash, my boy! New Sfinctr will be a whirl! High society dancing on the edge of the volcano! Oh, it'll be splendid! You'll be famous in no time! Oh, yes! Trust me!"

  I opened my mouth to speak, found no words.

  "And besides," added the lunatic, "I'm heading that way myself. So I can show you how to get there."

  "Why are you going to New Sfinctr?" asked Gwendolyn.

  "Oh, I'm not. I'm going the opposite direction, so it'll be easy for me to show Benvenuti where to go. The other way from me. I'd love to go to New Sfinctr, mind you. Such a crazy place! But I've got to get back to the asylum before they discover that I escaped."

  "You escaped months ago," I said. "They're bound to have discovered by now."

  "Oh, yes, certainly. But the captain of the security guard has such a bad memory! He's probably forgotten all about it."

  Madame Kutumoff laughed. Gwendolyn snorted.

  "But I've still got to get back. You never know—he might remember any time now! And if he does—" Wolfgang shuddered. "He's a monster! A brute! He'll beat me to a pulp! The man has fists like hams!"

  "You're the captain of the security guard, you idiot!" roared Gwendolyn.

  "Yes, I know! That's what's so terrifying! I know the man well and—believe me!—he's a sadist! A psychopath! Ought to be locked up himself!"

  He reached out a gigantic arm and took me by the shoulder. "So let's be off!"

  I pulled back. "Wait! I'm not—" I turned to Gwendolyn. She was in my arms in a rush. Her embrace was like a python's. She gave me a quick fierce kiss, and then pushed me away.

  "Go, love," she said, fighting tears. "Go now. Please."

  I was unable to speak. I looked around. Madame Kutumoff seemed distressed. Wolfgang was watching me with a look on his face I couldn't decipher. Amusement, almost, but there was not a hint of malice in it.

  I tried to kiss Gwendolyn again, but she fended me off. Gently, but with that incredible strength.

  "No," she said. "Just go."

  Wolfgang took me by the arm and gently pulled me away. But after I had taken a few steps, I stopped and turned back.

  "Wait. I have something for you, Gwendolyn. I've been working on it for the last two days. It's a copy I made of a piece I found in the Mutt. I thought you would like it."

  I dug in my pack and brought out the carving. When I handed it to her, Gwendolyn gazed down at it and gave a little gasp.

  She looked up at me, frowning. "I thought you said you'd never met him."

  "Met who?"

  She held up the carving. "Him. My brother. That's who this is."

  "I had no idea. It's just a carving I made from a piece I found in a shop. Here, I'll show you." I pulled forth the original.

  "But—what would this be doing in a shop?"

  "Oh, those!" exclaimed Madame Kutumoff. "Why, those figurines are all over, Gwendolyn. The peasants in the Baronies started making them a year or so ago. It was after Greyboar—well, after he disposed of the Comte de l'Abattoir and his Knights Companion. He's become something of a folk hero among the serfs, actually."

  Gwendolyn's face grew hard. "He didn't do it for them!"

  "Well, of course he didn't!" boomed Wolfgang. "He did it because some other baron paid him to do it—stupid peasants! Just like the ignorant sods to make a hero out of the man who throttled the most vicious lord in creation for the wrong reason." He clucked his tongue. "That's the whole problem with the Groutch peasantry—no understanding of psychology!"

  He reached out his hand. "May I see the carving?"

  Gwendolyn handed it to him. Wolfgang gazed down at it for a moment, and then handed it back. He began shaking his head vigorously.

  "Oh no! Oh no! It just won't do! It's a beautiful carving, of course. Excellent work, Benvenuti—but I'm afraid it's ruined by that typical Sfondrati-Piccolomini touch. Just like that painting of your uncles! The marvelous suggestion of a great nobility of soul within that brutish exterior—preposterous! Greyboar's not like that at all! Oh no! The man's a monster, a fiend! A heartless killer! Why, my soul shudders when I think—"

  "Wolfgang, shut up!" roared Gwendolyn
.

  The giant pouted. "But, my dear, your brother is a renegade from the human race. A two-legged beast, with the philosophy of a weasel. You've said so yourself—many times, in fact. I was just elaborating on your words."

  Gwendolyn glared at him. "I never—" She fell silent. "Well, maybe I did." She looked down at the carving in her hand. After a moment, her face softened and she looked up at me.

  "Thank you, Benvenuti."

  Before I could say anything, Wolfgang was hustling me down the lane.

  "We're off! We're off!" he cried. When we reached the road, I turned back. But Gwendolyn was gone.

  * * *

  Four days I spent, walking north from the Mutt with Wolfgang. All things considered, he may have been the best companion I could have had then. In his bizarre way, he made it impossible for me to wallow for long in my misery.

  He talked constantly, an unending stream of idiotic babble, with those odd insights popping up like bubbles. Of what he said, I remember nothing, except his last words. Those came at a crossroads at the start of Joe's Hills.

  "Just keep going north, Benvenuti. It's safe enough, walking through Joe's Hills, as long as you stick to the road. And when you get to Munching, you can take the barge down the river to New Sfinctr. They're wretched barges, I warn you. But they'll get you there."

  Suddenly I was enfolded in his huge arms. When he released me, he was grinning in his inimitable style. Quite a fetching grin, actually, if you ignored the foam.

  "Don't look so woebegone, boy!" He cackled. "The heart's just a muscle, you know. It doesn't really break, it just gets bruised. Bruises go away. Especially if the muscle's healthy. So that's it! Just exercise your heart!"

  His grin was replaced by a rare look of seriousness. "I have come to cherish you, Benvenuti."

  The look vanished.

  "I know what I'll do! I'll tell you the secret of the universe!" He leaned down and whispered two words in my ear. A moment later, he was shambling down the road in that unique stride, waving his arms.

  "I must be off!" I heard him cry. "It's my longest escape ever! Oh! They'll be furious! They'll beat me! Whip me! Oh! Oh! I can't wait!"

  Three seconds later, he was out of sight around a bend. His voice lingered a few seconds longer.

  * * *

  I made my camp that evening atop the highest hill I could find. From there, I was able to look south over the Mutt. The setting sun bathed the land in purple and ochre beauty. I found some comfort, then, knowing Gwendolyn was somewhere in that splendor.

  Two days I spent there, paralyzed. A hundred times, I started back south, only to return to the camp. A hundred times, I started north, only to return to the camp.

  In the end, staring out over the Mutt on the evening of the second day, I found my answer. A cold answer. But I took some pride in the fact that it had nothing to do with my ambitions.

  I would only be a burden to her.

  * * *

  Sometime around noon of the next day, as I walked north, I remembered Wolfgang's last words to me. And it was strange, that it was those words which brought the first smile to my lips in days.

  Two words. "The secret of the universe," according to a lunatic.

  Things change.

  MAPS