Perilous Seas (51 page)

Azak
grunted again.

“At
least take counsel on the matter, Sire. Be not hasty.”

“Keep
a mage prisoner?”

“No,
impossible. But if he is a mage you cannot put him to death, either. The attempt
might incur his enmity. “ Kar chuckled softly. “He claims to be
only an adept. It should be possible to detain an adept, and I think these
honest fellows here may be willing to attempt so dangerous and difficult a task
as a token of their desire to be reinstated in your favor. A small recompense
for their poor showing this afternoon?”

That
was quite a speech, Inos thought gratefully.

Azak
seemed to agree. “Very well. Captain, you will see that this prisoner is
kept in close confinement, guarded at all times. He must not be allowed to
speak, or he will subvert you, and you will use the thickest chains you-”

Rap
moved like a streak. He spun on his heel, took two steps, and jumped. The
archers were hopelessly late, and only one even released his shaft. It flashed
across the semicircle and buried itself in a torchbearer, who toppled backward
without a sound.

At
first, few of the guards seemed to understand where their prisoner had gone.
Then they heard the clatter of boots on marble behind them as Rap landed,
already running, barely visible in the dark. He hurtled toward the door, a
faint blur of motion like a cheetah.

But
there were guards on the door, also, and he skidded to a halt before their line
of swords. Inos heard him start to say something, and the swords seemed to
waver. Then the rest of the family men arrived in a charge and engulfed him in
a heaving mass of bodies. Even then, for a moment it seemed like a fair fight.
Men screamed, others hurtled through the air. But the odds were too great. The
struggle ended. The hitting and kicking did not.

Inos
clapped her hands to her ears and screamed, “Stop them!” at Azak.

Azak
merely shrugged, but the guards may have heard her, for they stopped. They
brought Rap back facedown between eight men, two to a limb, and with a cap
stuffed in his mouth so he could not speak; but he was probably unconscious
anyway. His head dangled limply, dribbling blood on the floor, black in the
wavering torchlight.

“Satisfactory!”
Azak boomed. “Take whatever steps you deem necessary, Captain!”

Inos
felt her heart twist. She did not know how to deal with this Sultan-Azak.
Anything except abject humility infuriated him. If she could only call forth
the solitary Azak of the desert, the one who had laughed and cracked jokes ...
him she might move, when they were alone together. So if she could keep Rap
alive for a few days, perhaps she could do something.

“My
lord! They will kill him!”

“Not
quite!”

She
was still on her knees; she raised clasped hands in supplication. “No
bloodshed! At least promise me that!”

Azak
scowled furiously. “Very well! Captain, you will shed no more blood! “
He glanced over the whole troop, and his voice rose to include every man. “But
none of you can imagine anything worse than what will happen if he escapes.
Nothing at all! Do I make myself clear?”

The
captain saluted, his face grim and hateful. He must be thinking of the sons by
whom he was sworn, and what Azak was capable of doing to them. They all must.

“Princess
Kadolan!” said Azak.

Kade
stumbled forward, eyes wide and staring above her yashmak.

“We
gathered here to seal a marriage. Escort the sultana to the royal quarters.”
He glanced down coldly at Inos. “Your women will be waiting to prepare
you. You may expect me shortly. “

Clunk!

Huh?
The jotunn opened his eyes and shivered.

He
was lying in the bottom of a boat, under a hard, damp cover, and a sky sickly
pale with dawn. Stiff? Gods! He hadn’t felt like this since the time he’d
been sixteen and lipped Rathkrun and Rathkrun had told him he was ready for his
first real lesson and given it to him, all over, inch by inch.

Rathkrun
was dead. And the old man. And Wanmie and the kids.

Shiver.
Clunk! Plip!

Something
bounced off the boat’s side and hit the water. Gathmor heaved himself up
with a groan. He hadn’t meant to go to sleep. Tyro trick! Fall asleep on
watch? He deserved to have all his teeth kicked out. Other craft rocked gently
all around, misty in the uncertain light. Shiny water, mist, sky bright ... A
faint hail: “Krasnegar!”

That
was the password. He peered shoreward, but the sea ended just before it got
there. The boat must be visible, thoughagainst the light?

Gathmor
groaned again. Gods! Black and blue from two weeks of battering in this
Evil-take-it elven magic tub. “Durthing!” he yelled, the
countersign.

Feeling
as if his joints had all frozen and that when he forced his aching, quivering
limbs to bend he must be cracking ice, he reached for an oar, made it ready,
rose. Queen rocked in protest, then lurched forward as he hauled on the cable.
Up came the little anchor, dripping silver and breaking the stillness with an
absurdly loud clatter when he threw it down. None of the other craft was
showing signs of life yet. A dog howled somewhere northward, in the city.

One-oared
he paddled the boat shoreward. Without her magic, she was a wallowing cow, a
hulk, but a few strokes were enough to bring him within sight of the man
waiting on the beach. Gray-on-gray, the shape wasn’t big enough to be
Darad. It was that sleazy, glib-spoken imp, Andor. Well, Darad had warned him
that any of them was possible. Couldn’t promise they’d call him
back, he’d said. Crazy, Evil-begotten magic! Andor was too slippery.

Come
to think of it, it had been that Andor who’d talked him into buying the
faun in the first place. All his fault! Be a real pleasure to pound him a
little, make something more manlike out of that pretty face. Due for a little
exercise, and the imp would be a good warmup. Except he’d just call
Darad-no satisfaction there.

Queen
grounded with a scraping sound. Andor splashed out to her and tossed in a pair
of boots and a string bag; then he pushed and simultaneously clambered over the
side, all with an agility that produced grudging surprise in Gathmor. His mouth
was watering at the sight of the bag.

“Hot
loaves, Cap’n! Fresh from the oven. Not quite done yet, but they’ll
do. Too early for much else.” Andor settled on a thwart and peered around
for something to dry his feet with.

Gathmor
wondered where the boots had come from-they weren’t Darad’s. He
leaned on the oar, poling the boat until he was out of his depth. Then let her
drift while he sat down and reached for the savory bag. “What news?”

Andor
shook his head somberly. “It’s all bad.”

“Tell
me anyway. I’m a big boy now.”

“The
faun went berserk. Whole city’s twisted in knots.”

“What
sort of berserk?” Gathmor mumbled, tearing off hunks of warm dough.

“Apparently
he broke into the palace, stole one of the royal horses, rode from one end of
the grounds to the other, and then busted into the actual wedding with the
entire guard in pursuit. “

The
sailor grunted admiringly. Great kid, the faun. Half jotunn, of course.

“Crazy!”
Andor removed his cloak and distastefully wiped his feet on the lining.

“Did
he stop the wedding?”

“No.
But he blasted the sorceress somehow. Burned her up like a ball of tallow.”

“How?”

“I’ve
got no idea, and no one I talked with has, either. “

“How’d
you find all this out?”

“Just
asked!” Andor flashed perfect white teeth in a perfect brown face.
Gathmor grinned back-silly question! Who could resist that smile?

For
a moment the imp chewed at a loaf. The sky was flaming in red and gold, and the
mist lifting from the sea in patches. Other craft were coming into sight.
Voices and bumping sounds drifted over from them, and a baby began to cry in
one of the closer. Then Andor was ready to speak again.

“My
associates helped. Thinal got us over the wall. I talked with a few of the
witnesses. ‘Most everyone was too shaky or drunk to question much, and
Darad dealt with those that weren’t. Wasn’t dangerous with the
sorceress gone.”

“So
the lady’s happily married and the faun had his journey for nothing? “

“Married,”
Andor said. “Not happily, I suspect. Thinal broke into the royal
apartments-”

“No!”

“Near
as no-matter! He goes loony if there’s jewels around, and that palace has
sacks of them, enough to call him like a blowfly to a dead horse.” Andor
casually reached in a pocket and pulled out a glittering handful that had to be
more wealth than Gathmor had ever seen in his life.

“Here,
you can have ‘em. These were just his warmup, sneaked on the hoof. He
located the sultan’s window, and he was almost down to the balcony when
out came the sultan himself.” Andor was grinning again. “At least
he was very big, and loaded with gems; don’t know who else it could have
been, not there. And he started pacing. He marched up and down for an hour,
with Thinal hanging on a vine right over his head.” The imp laughed. “The
little scrounger hasn’t been so scared in fifty years! He wet his pants
three times and was waiting for the djinn to notice the smell.”

Gathmor
guffawed, then frowned. “What’s a man doing walking around on his
wedding night?”

“Not
what’s he supposed to be doing on his wedding night, there’s a sure
bet! And even more interesting was the sound from inside. “

“What
sound?”

“Weeping.”
Gathmor grunted again. You’d never catch a jotunn letting his bride weep
at a time like that. Keep ‘em busy, that was the secret.

“So
where’s the faun?”

“In
jail. Still alive, though. Surprisingly.”

“How’d
you know that?”

Andor
wrinkled his nose and chewed for a minute, as if reluctant to continue. The
vapors had all dissolved away. The sun burned as a golden blaze on the sea
between the headlands, making the great palace shine as if lighted from the
inside, bright against a distant backdrop of flushed mountains and a still-dark
sky.

“The
dogs,” Andor said. “The horses. Remember he told us about the
beatings he got in Noom? Said he could suppress the pain? “

“As
long as he could stay awake.”

“Right.
Well, all night the dogs and horses have been raising the Evil, all over the
palace. Not all the time, but in spurts. You don’t want this last one, do
you?”

“No,
you have it.” Gathmor was still hungry and had been eyeing that last
roll. He wondered why he should suddenly have an attack of politeness now, at his
age.

“Grooms
and dogboys are going crazy,” Andor said. “Everyone is. They’re
blaming it on the sorceress, or demons she summoned, or came to mourn her. . .
I think it’s Rap’s doing. “

“Why’d
he do a thing like that?” The sun was warm already. “I don’t think
he means to, but every time he loses control of the pain he sets off the
livestock. You see?”

Gathmor
felt a stab of horror. “What pain?”

Andor
didn’t answer for a moment, avoiding the sailor’s eye. The boat
rocked on a slow swell, gradually drifting away from the shore as the fisherman’s
wind awakened. The harbor was stirring. All over the great bay, sails were
rising.

“He’s
in a Zarkian jail,” he said at last. “Just leave it at that, mm?”

“No.
Tell me.”

“The
wheel.”

“What
in Evil is the wheel?”

“Well,
I gather they didn’t use a real wheel, just the floor. They staked him
out with chains. Then they smashed his bones with an ax handle.”

The
boat rocked in silence. Gathmor stared idiotically at his companion, unable to
believe what he had heard.

“I
even talked with one of the guards who’d helped,” Andor said
softly. “Then I handed the conversation over to Darad. That’s one
less, if it makes you feel any better. “

The
sailor’s hands were sweaty, and there was a pain in his throat. He was
surprised to realize that he hadn’t even been swearing. How could men
treat a man like that? Chained down? Unbelievable! Filthy djinns!

“I
don’t understand,” he muttered. “He’s an adept. He
should have been able to talk them out of it. Gods! Talk them into letting him
go, even.”

“He
can’t talk. He’ll never talk again.”

“How?”

“Red-hot
iron.”

For
a moment Gathmor seriously believed he was going to lose his breakfast. Then
the fit passed. He wiped his forehead. “What do we do now?” His
mouth was dry and cloacal.

“There
isn’t one thing we can do!” Andor shrugged sadly. “Not a
thing. He’ll certainly be dead in a couple of days. He was given to the
guards he’d shamed, see. And he’d killed some of their ... I can’t
believe even an adept can heal that kind of damage, and I expect they’ll
be watching for healing and work him over again if it starts.”

He
paused, as if inviting Gathmor to argue. Gathmor didn’t. “We go
home, sailor. We provision the boat and head for the Impire. I’ve got
gold ... you can keep those baubles I gave you. I’d prefer we head north,
to Ollion, but Qoble will do me if you want to go back west. Let me off
somewhere civilized, you keep the boat. I’m sure Jalon will give you a
lesson on the pipes if you ask him, and you’ll be a rich sailor in no
time, if the magic lasts.” He sighed. “Ah, civilization! Fine wine
in crystal, tasty food on gold plates, smooth women on silk sheets. “

Gathmor
felt a drowning sensation and tried to struggle. “Never! Leave a
shipmate? There must be something we can do!”

Andor
smiled sadly, holding the sailor’s eye. “ ‘Fraid not. I’ve
got powers beyond most men’s, and I’ve never met a man Id rather
have at my side in a tight spot more’n you, Skipper. But we’re
still just a couple of vagabonds really.”