Perilous Seas (18 page)

“Go
home!” he commanded fiercely. “There is no gold here. Go away!”
He felt a shimmering response. It was unreal and outlandish, but vaguely
reminiscent of Firedragon, the Krasnegar stallion: anger, and shame, and fear,
and a juvenile silliness.

No
gold?

“None!
No metal! GO!”

The
dragon spun around in coils, like a snake, and went rushing back up the slope,
somehow seeming to slink at the same time. Its wings spread, flapped. Dust
whirled up in thunderclaps as the monster rose to run on its hind legs. A few
more hurricane beats and it took to the air. It veered past the column of smoke
still rising from the burning forest, causing it to swirl and writhe like a
candle flame, sending a wall of fire roaring through the trees. The dragon
dwindled rapidly into the distance.

Rap
heard tiny mutterings of complaint-no gold-and then even those faded away.

He
stank of scorched cloth and hair, but cowl and stubble had protected most of
his face. His tattoos hurt, and he could see tiny blisters on them. Apparently
his farsight would now work like a mirror, and he couldn’t remember being
able to use it like that before. He could see the backs of the hills, though,
which was certainly new. The whole world had a sparkle, a sharpness, that he
could not recall noticing earlier, but some of that glamour might be the
afterglow of a very narrow escape. Life felt extremely good right now.

He
turned around to face Gathmor, who had his arms crossed over his chest, his
feet well planted, and was glaring at Rap with intent to terrify. “So you
planned all this, did you, sonny?”

The
man was frightened of Rap! It was written all over him. “I didn’t
plan to . . . “ Rap sighed. “Yes, I did! Yes, I planned it.”
He could hardly believe that he was still alive. And he knew two words of
power. He was an adept. The world spun brightly for him now.

“You
knew that we would meet a dragon. You led us into a trap. What sort of shipmate
would-”

“Yes.
I lied to you, Cap’n, but-” But nothing, obviously. Rap ought to be
quaking and quivering as the sailor talked himself up into fighting frenzy. The
rage was draining all the color out of his face, even his lips. His hair seemed
to bristle. Killer jotunn! What Rap saw, though, was a man frightened by the
unknown powers of the occult, a man who was also furious at the fear he had
felt before the dragon, who was desperate to restore his self-respect by taking
out bis rage on someone-or by suffering, perhaps. Now he must take the measure
of this young upstart magician and establish who was the better man. Soon his
rage had mounted until he was spitting more than he was speaking.

“Snake!”
he screamed. “Ingrate! Reptile!”

Unable
to get in a word, Rap turned and walked away. It didn’t work. Behind him
Gathmor tore off his gown and threw it away.

Rap
wheeled. “Stop that!” he shouted. “It’s all a big act!
It’s stupid and childish.”

“I’ll
show you stupid and childish-I’m going to break every bone in your damned
faun carcass!” Gathmor stepped out of his sandals. “Worm! You haven’t
any bones to break! “ Keeping a steady glare on Rap, he balled his fists
and stalked forward. A killer jotunn, out for blood.

Rap
was not impressed. “You can control that damned temper of yours when you
want to,” he said sadly. “You were a sweet little bunny on Blood
Wave. “ He kicked off his shoes, but he left his robe alone.

Gathmor
leaped. Rap sidestepped in a swirl of sackcloth.

“I
wish you’d listen a minute, Cap’n. I’m an adept now. You can’t
expect-”

But
Gathmor did expect. Gathmor was lightning fast. Every man in Durthing had
agreed that others might punch harder or meaner or absorb punishment better,
but as long as he was reasonably sober there was no one faster than Gathmor of
Stonndancer. He seemed very slow now. Perhaps it was the sand, or the hard day,
but when he pivoted and swung again, Rap was not there again. Screaming, the
jotunn tried a third time, and now he was ready to grab, in either direction.
That left him open. This time Rap stood his ground and laid a fist into that
hard hairy abdomen with all the force he could muster. It felt like hitting
Inisso’s castle. Apparently it felt worse to Gathmor.

For
a few moments he seemed to be dead, but then he began to breathe again, very
noisily, curled up small on the sand. Rap stepped back into his sandals,
because his toes were being fried like sausages. He studied the sailor for a
moment and decided that he was in no danger. Sucking his throbbing knuckles, he
wandered over to where Andor was watching.

Of
course the gang would have chosen Andor at a time like this. Looking almost
elegant in Jalon’s brown robe, he was relaxing in the shade of an
overhang, seated on a slab of black rock that had once been part of a spinal
armor plate.

He
greeted Rap with a white-tooth smile and a silent mime of hand clapping. “I’m
sure that felt good?”

“Not
really. “ Rap had not wanted to humiliate Gathmor. The defeat would hurt
the sailor much more than victory pleased the faun. Not a faun-an adept!
Fighting now was cheating. Almost anything was going to be cheating in future.

Andor’s
face, for example. The polished impish good looks no longer impressed. He wasn’t
ugly, but his charm didn’t work on Rap anymore. He looked unpleasantly
effeminate, in fact.

“I’d
have enjoyed it! You’re a good man, Master Rap. Most men would get a lot
of pleasure out of stuffing that jotunn in a bottle.” He nodded solemnly.
“I don’t think you do, though. You don’t enjoy humiliating
other people. “ The automatic compliment.

Rap
shrugged. He ought to be finding pleasure in his new immunity to Andor, but he
didn’t think he was. Behind the quizzical smile he could see anger and
fear, and cold calculations in progress. Andor was frightened that Rap was
going to kill him to gain the rest of the word of power. Gods! -

And
now he was being disconcerted by Rap’s silent scrutiny. A spurious
twinkle came into his eye. “So what happens next, great sorcerer? “
Under the humor, there was something long dead in those deep dark eyes. Andor
had manipulated people until he couldn’t think of them as people anymore.

“I’ll
make a deal with you,” Rap said, and watched the surge of relief and
pleasure. He even saw the calculations speed up. Probably Andor was wondering
if he could kill Rap to regain the share of their power that Sagorn had given
away.

“Name
it! -I told you on the ship, Rap--I think you have a destiny, so I’d like
to stick around. More than that, though, I really do want to be your friend. I
always have.”

If
the man had Liar tattooed on his forehead, it couldn’t be more obvious.
Then Rap glanced at his own face with farsight and was disgusted to see the
innocent smile on it, the boyish appeal. He tried to change that, and saw
himself become an earnest, rather innocent young man facing great challenges.
He couldn’t help it! He was bedazzling Andor as Andor had bedazzled him
in the past, and he could no more stop himself than he could turn off his
farsight. He must just hope that some practice with his new powers would teach
him how to be an honest man again. Meanwhile he watched Andor being impressed,
and he felt sick.

“We’ve
had one of the three prophecies, Andor. That leaves two. I think they’ll
turn up in time.” His mind shied at the sudden memory of himself on the
floor of the goblins’ lodge with his bones showing. “If I can beat
a dragon, I can beat Kalkor. “

“Easily.
Like you felled Gathmor. “

“So
I can put Inos on her throne. That’s all I want. So here’s my
proposal-you help me with that, and afterward I’ll help you with your
problem, getting rid of your curse.”

“Fine!”
Andor flashed teeth and held out a smooth brown hand. “You can count on
me. I can’t bind the others, though. You know that. But anything you need
of me, you just ask. “

“You’ll
trust me to keep my side of the deal later?”

“Of
course!” Andor’s face said that if Rap was fool enough not to kill
him now, then he was probably even stupid enough to keep a bargain after he had
got what he needed. Andor would honor a promise only if it suited him to do so.

In
the background, Gathmor groaned and levered himself up on one elbow. Rap wiped
sweat. “There’s water just over there, “ he said, waving at
the trees. “Let’s head that way. “

“Your
hairy friend can track us when he’s finished his rest,” Andor
agreed, rising.

“I
think Jalon next, please.” Rap did not look at his companion as they
walked side by side, but he saw the annoyance that did not show in the voice
when Andor said, “Of course.” Then Rap’s companion was Jalon.

His
blue eyes filled with tears, and he limped along for a while without speaking.

“You
said you owed me one,” Rap said. “I agree you didn’t expect
it to be that big.”

“My
fault for not looking, as you did. I should have seen.” He groaned. “And
now I can’t!”

There
was no deceit showing on his sun-broiled face, only pain, and a sort of nausea.

“What
does that mean?”

Jalon
waved a hand at the woods ahead. “It’s all gone dead. The life’s
gone out of it, the beauty. You stole my power, Rap. I feel blind and deaf? I
couldn’t paint a barn door now. And I don’t suppose I could outsing
an alleycat. “

“Never
met a man who could. “ Rap walked for a while in silence, wondering what
to say, wondering also if the new sparkle he saw in everything was exactly what
had gone out of Jalon’s vision. There were butterflies everywhere in the
forest, and millions of tiny flowers that no one but a mouse would ever notice,
and bright birds by the score, motionless on twig or nest, and leaves of every
shape imaginable. Even the sand beneath his feet glinted with myriad sparkles
of mica flakes and crystal edges. He marveled at a variety and vitality he had
never noticed before, while Jalon slouched at his side, chewing his lip and
seeming ready to weep.

Then
a glitter of anger ... and a whine. “Rap? We could both be adepts.”

Power
was not easily relinquished, obviously. Jalon was a dreamer, the least
ambitious or assertive of men, but he resented his loss. Even Jalon craved
power.

“No.”
So did Rap. “First,” he said, “Sagorn insists that sharing
usually doesn’t reduce a word to half. So you have lost only a small part
of your power. Second, you’ve just had a very bad shock, and those always
make things look blacker . . .”

He
tried to be convincing and was disgusted when he succeeded. Jalon began to
smile, slowly, shyly, letting confidence be talked back into him. Eventually,
and just as the two of them reached the edge of the trees, Rap persuaded him to
sing a little. He ran off a couple more verses of “The Maidens of Ilrane,”
the song he had interrupted to draw attention to the petrified dragon. Gods!
That could have been no more than half an hour ago at most, back when the world
was a simple, easy sort of place.

It
was fine singing, if not quite the old Jalon, and these verses were the most
disgusting yet, but Rap bellowed out laughter that sounded to him as unlikely
as a three-legged racehorse. Relief bloomed in the minstrel’s face like a
reprieve from imminent death.

“All
right?” he whispered.

Rap
wiped tears from his eyes. “I ‘m no musician, friend, but you can
still sing better than any other four guys I know. I honestly can’t tell
any difference.”

God
of Liars! There could be good in lies, though, just as in everything else.
Jalon was smiling again.

Rap
had wanted power so he might help Inos. He had not wanted it to be like this.

The
edge of the open clearing was a sand dune. Behind that, thick forest offered
immediate cool shade like a divine blessing. More blessed still, the mossy
trunks cuddled tight around the edges of a dark and shining pool. Rap dropped
his gown, walked out of his sandals, and waded in. Jalon was close behind. They
sank gratefully into warm bliss, reclining on a squishily soft matting of
leaves and mud. For some minutes they just lay.

Then
Jalon tried again. “Rap? You ... you wouldn’t ... you won’t
share?”

If
Andor had asked, the plea would have been more skilled and refusal much easier.
What had Jalon ever done to deserve his portion of Rap’s vengeance?

Plenty!
When he’d met an innocent boy who didn’t even know what a word of
power was or that he even knew one, Jalon had not explained, and he had
certainly not mentioned the dangers. He’d merely muttered a cryptic and
useless warning about Darad. Jalon had lost any claim on Rap’s friendship
at their first meeting, so Rap was now entitled to ...

Power
was very easy to justify to one’s conscience.

“No.
My aim is to help Inos. For that I’m going to need all the power I can
muster.” He would not share the word his mother had told him. “But
I make you the same promise I made Andor: You help me first, and then I’ll
help you. Maybe then, when Inos is safely on her throne ... Maybe then I’ll
even tell you my own word. If it’s necessary to lift your curse, I will.”
Promises were easy.

Jalon
nodded solemnly and offered a hand on it. And there was no guile on his face,
damn him!

The
water was marvelously soothing on sun-battered, travelworn bodies, and the dim
peace of the forest was balm for nerves that still rang with memories of
dragons. Rap could hear dragons, if he strained, but they were very distant, a
faint mumbling and squabbling, no threat to anyone. They sounded rather like
sleepy chickens, in fact.

Gathmor
lurched in over the sand ridge, walking with a pronounced stoop. He dropped the
robe he was carrying and waded into the pool.

“Id
like to talk to Sagorn, please,” Rap said.

The
water was up to Jalon’s chin and when he shook his head, he spread
circles of ripples.