Perilous Seas (30 page)

“Tell
me about this God who appeared to Inosolan.”

Rap
frowned. He had almost forgotten that. He could remember sitting on the floor
with Inos, holding her hand, in among the old gang and all the dogs, and
listening to Jalon singing. In retrospect, that had been the last evening of
his childhood.

But
that moment had come later, after she’d told him about the meeting with
the God. “I just know what Inos said. They didn’t say which God
They were. They told her to try harder. I think that’s all.”

The
gnome shook his head. “There’s more. Try harder! “ His eyes
seemed to grow even larger, and blacker, and deeper, and shinier.

“They
said the king would give her many gowns. She was excited about that, but upset
because-”

“They
said mom.”

Rap
leaned back in his chair and stared up at the w rafters and fretted roof. “That
she must ... trust ... remember ... remember love! Trust in love!”

He
started, as if he had been dozing and had heard a loud noise. “What did I
just say?”

“Nothing
much. “ Ishist showed his pike teeth. “But be sure to mention the
God to my master when you meet him. He may know already, of course. “

“How?”

The
gnome sat up straight and scratched vigorously. “Even warlocks are very
careful around the Gods, friend Rap. Gods rarely manifest so close an interest
in human affairs, but when They do, then sorcery is nothing! The power of the
Gods is unlimited. That could be why you ... but I’m just guessing. I
have to send you to my master, you understand? I have no choice in the matter. “

“I
understand.” Oothiana had said much the same.

Ishist
eased forward on the seat so his legs dangled over the edge. “But I do
have discretion in how I do it. I’m his agent, not just a trained dog. If
I had a magic portal, or even a magic carpet, then I could transport you at
once to Hub, or to his home on Valdorian-he spends more time in Ilrane than he
does in the Blue Palace. But sorcerous paraphernalia like that is tricky stuff
around dragons. They might wreck the rest of the redoubt trying to get at it. So
we haven’t got any. “ He blinked solemnly. “Then how . . . “
But that was none of Rap’s business.

Apparently
it was, though. “How does he come visiting? Just by sorcery. A magic
device like that casement of Inisso’s ... such things are handy, but they
can never be stronger than the sorcerer who made them. They’re quicker,
often, and easier. And another of their advantages is that normally they don’t
make so many ripples. Sheer brute power is as subtle as a thunderstorm. It
attracts attention, and all sorcerers are cagey, secretive people. When Lith’rian
came here twice in two days, he rattled the ambience something awful. Took me
weeks to get the livestock calmed down.”

Rap
began to feel more hopeful. Perhaps he was not going to be enslaved right away.

Ishist
regarded him with quiet amusement. “And he’s a lot better than me.
I might .magic you partway to Hub, at least, but I might well start a stampede
in the process, and that could lead to a major disaster, if they got over the
fence. So you’re going to have to walk. Your two friends will go with
you, of course. “. He glanced at the two jotnar by the window, lost in
admiration of the bleakly alien scenery. Rap’s future was concealed from
the sorcerer, but he had not said that theirs was. Rap decided not to ask.

“Now,”
Ishist said softly, “I must decide how to send you. I could use a
compulsion, like the one I used to bring you here. Less urgent, of course, but
I can give you an irresistible command to go to Lith’rian.” He
smiled gruesomely. “Or I could put the loyalty spell on you myself; not
as strong as he could, but strong enough. I can make you want to go to Lith’rian,
to serve him. “

Cold
fingers of horror touched Rap’s heart, and he shook his head vigorously.

“You
would be happier,” the gnome said mockingly. “You’d be doing
what you wanted to do.”

Just
like the once-lovely Athal’rian, besotted with a gnome? Such power was
obscene, perverting its user as much as his victim. Yesterday Rap had become an
adept and in minutes had found himself using mastery on Andor.

“I
... I should prefer just to obey an order, my lord.”

He
knew that the sorcerer knew what he was thinking, but the little man did not
seem to take offense. He cocked his head at Rap. “You want to help
Inosolan, don’t you? That’s your aim: to put her on her throne?”

“To
serve her as a loyal subject. That’s all.” Rap’s farsight
told him he was blushing like a child.

Ishist
chuckled gently. “Mmm? All? You can’t do it alone, you know. Fauns
like to go their own way, but even an adept can’t find one mackerel in
all the oceans, Rap.”

Zark
... but he did not know that Inos was still in Zark, even. She might have
heeded his warning and fled. Or not. Or one of the wardens might have abducted
her, or the sorceress recovered her. He had a terrifying vision of all Pandemia
stretched out endlessly before him, and himself spending his whole life
wandering from place to place, searching for Inos.

Put
like that, his dream seemed bootless. “I suppose not.”

“You
can’t fight the Four! No one and nothing can fight the Four. Except the
Gods.”

“No,.”
Rap said. He was a fool.

“So
my advice would be to go and ask Lith’rian to help you. “ For a
moment Rap was speechless. Ask help from a warlock? Common sense had hysterics
at the idea. Yet he also felt an odd shivery prickle of excitement. Was that
some sort of occult ability of his own, or was the sorcerer playing tricks on
him? Or imagination? Baffled, Rap said, “Would he?”

Ishist
shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. It would be dangerous for you, of
course. The sorcerous normally stay well away from warlocks, and you’re
an adept. He may just give your words to someone else and kill you out of hand.
I don’t know where Krasnegar fits in his current political strategy, but
elves . . . They’re funny folk. They put style before substance. They
admire qualities-beauty, wit, grace, elegance. Lith’rian might just be
amused enough by your presumption. That would be like him. He can be generous
beyond all reason, and he’s ruthless when he’s balked.”

The
shadow of Athal’rian fell across the conversation. Ishist frowned, then
continued. “But he enjoys a good joke. He admires courage, too. I’d
say he’s about your only hope, being realistic. “

“Well,
you’re going to send me to him. I’ll ask then.”

The
old man shook his head gently. “If I send you, you won’t ever get
to see him. Not in person. You’ll be thrown in the vaults like a rent
payment, until needed.”

“But.
. .”Rap stared incredulously. “Oh-you mean I just promise to go and
ask the warden for help? You’d trust me?”

“That’s
it. No spells. No sorcery.”

Could
Rap even trust himself to obey such an order? Warily he said, “An oath
made under duress isn’t worth much. Do I have any choice? “

“That’s
the whole point, lad--I’m giving you a choice. “

He
wouldn’t have much of a choice if he’d made a promise, would he?
Not unless he reneged, of course.

Ruthless
when balked. “You’re steering pretty close to the rocks yourself,
aren’t you . . . Ishist?”

The
gnome smiled into his nauseating beard and waited. He wasn’t telling the
whole truth, though, or else he was testing, somehow. Qr wanting Rap to think
those things. Or just lying, and planning to spell Rap anyway.

But
Rap would much rather be his own man than a puppet, or at least think he
was-and that spooky internal nudging was registering approval again. “Then
I promise to go and find your master and ask him to help Inos-if you’ll
tell me how, and you promise not to . . . to mess about with my mind.”

Ishist
chuckled. “Typical faun! Always convinced his own ways are best.”
Abruptly he slid down off his chair.

Rap
rose from his, and clasped the tiny hand being offered, having to bend slightly
to do so. “I promise,” he repeated. “And I.” For a
moment a veil seemed to lift from the little gnome-a small, ugly, filthy old
man, girt with enormous occult power, but just a man doing his best in a hard
job, living in the style of his people, caring for his children, deeply in love
with his wife. It was not his fault that his race ate carrion. Then the odd
moment had passed, and he was a sorcerer again, even if his head was barely
higher than Rap’s elbow.

He
examined his own hand, which Rap had just released. “That’s two,”
he remarked softly. “You and Athal’rian.”

“TWo?”

“Touched
me.” He looked up with a cryptic gleam in his black button eyes. “Few
day men will shake hands with a gnome, Rap. Even fewer would think a promise
made to a gnome had any value at all. But you ... I think you’re a man of
your word. “

The
splendour falls:

The
splendour falls on castle walls,

And
snowy summits old in story ...

O
sweet and far from cliff and scar

The
horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Tennyson,
The Princess

To The Seas Again

“There
is something very aesthetic about bacon and eggs,” Kade said. “The
meld of shapes and colors, perhaps? Or is it because I associate it with
childhood? Or winter mornings in Kinvale?” She dabbed her lips with her
napkin and sighed like one who could eat nothing more.

Kade
was in ecstasy. She had slept in a bed with real linen sheets. She had been
granted hot water for washing, and promised a hot tub later in the day. A
maiden who was probably one of Elkarath’s innumerable granddaughters or
greatgranddaughters had shampooed her hair and curled it for her afterward
quite expertly. The matronly Nimosha, who was one of his daughters or
granddaughters, had produced a gown of almost Kade’s size, in almost the
current fashion, and had asked if it would suffice until Kade herself could
have the merchants bring around better, and of course that could be arranged to
happen right after breakfast. Then Kade had eaten bacon and eggs, and with
silver cutlery instead of fingers.

The
two ladies had consumed their leisurely breakfast in the sheik’s personal
dining hall. The hour was late enough that everyone else was feverishly
occupied elsewhere.

Like
all the other chambers they had seen so far, the room was tiny, with only six
chairs squeezed in around a table, and the rest of it taken up by a grotesquely
awkward sideboard. The furniture was old and rather ugly; being the property of
a merchant, even a wealthy merchant, it lacked the ducal opulence of Kinvale.
But it was Imperial furniture. Bacon and eggs were an Imperial dish, and Kade’s
rather overlong dress was an Imperial garment. The casement was closed, but the
voices that drifted up from the street were Imperial voices. And she was going
to summon Imperial dressmakers.

Kade
was floating on pink clouds.

Inos
was gritty-eyed and slack-shouldered from lack of sleep. Flocks of impractical
ideas for escape thundered around inside her head like a riot of startled
seagulls, but none of them would come to her hand. Realizing that she was being
poor company, she now laid her plotting aside for a moment to find some tactful
way of dealing with the bacon-and-eggs question-for the real reason Kade liked bacon
and eggs had nothing to do with esthetics and was merely that she enjoyed
anything soaked in fat and grease.

At
that moment the door was, firstly, tapped briskly and, secondly, thrown open to
reveal a young man already swooping a low bow. He straightened up, adjusted a
snowy lace cuff very slightly, and flashed a dazzling smile. “Mistresses,
I am at your service! Guide and fearless protector! Poet, troubadour, humble
slave! “ Then he stepped into the room and bowed again.

Inos
blinked hard and exchanged a bewildered glance with Kade. This was either
Skarash or a twin brother.

Skarash
was one of the sheik’s many grandsons and one of his favontes. But
Skarash had been a solemn, surly youth in his late teens, and Inos had never
thought of him as dashing before. In all the weeks since leaving Arakkaran, he
had neither smiled nor spoken ten words to her, although that was admittedly
correct Zarkian behavior toward a woman.

Now
he was decked out like an imp, in silver-buckled half boots and hose of sea
green, in puffy silken breeches and a white shirt with innumerable ruffles--a
very tall, slim-waisted young man with a mop of copper curls flopping cutely
over his forehead. Without his straggly ginger beard he seemed somehow older
and certainly better-looking. His cheeky, toothy grin was pure imp.

So
was the way he lifted Inos’s hand to kiss. Kade was rightit was nice to
be back in the Impire.

“Good
morning, Master Skarash.”

“A
magnificent morning! Beautiful weather outdoors, beautiful ladies indoors. The
Gods are generous.” He bowed again. Skarash could not match Kinvale
standards in polish and finesse, but he was certainly coming much closer than
any other djinn Inos had yet met. He babbled like an imp.

“What
is your pleasure for this magnificent day? Grandsire thought you might care to
visit the shopping district-there is no real bazaar here. Or just go
sightseeing? Ullacarn is famous for its flowers.” His garnet-red eyes
twinkled at Inos.

Kade
and Inos exchanged more glances of surprise.

“I
would enjoy seeing the stores,” Kade said wistfully. “Mistress
Nimosha mentioned a couturier’s establishment on this very street, I
think?”

Skarash
laughed loudly. “She also mentioned it to Grandsire, and he bit her ears
off! He said that for apparel I must take you to Ambly Square, where the rich
ladies go.” He produced a washleather bag and jingled it suggestively. “I
have never known him eager to spend money before, but he threatens I shall eat
every groat I bring back. So you will have to help me, and see it all gets spent.”