Sagaria (64 page)

“‘T’?” mused Samzing. “Let me think now.”

“That’s easy,” said Flip dismissively. “It’s Sir Tombin, walking ahead of us.”

“No it isn’t, you dummy.” Memo cackled with delight.

“Well, it could have been. Who’re you calling dummy?”

“You,” said Memo happily from the security of a pocket halfway around Samzing’s broad stomach. “It’s obvious I didn’t mean Sir Tombin.”

“Stop squabbling, you two.” Samzing sounded weary. “Turf?”

Flip gazed up in puzzlement at the underside of Samzing’s bearded chin. “What do you mean, turf?”

“Well, that begins with ‘t,’ doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but there isn’t any, is there? Turf, I mean. The ground around here’s as dead as doornails.”

“Somewhat deader,” interposed Memo. “Besides, it wasn’t turf I was thinking of.”

“Ternsgiverty,” put in Sir Tombin, startling all of them. They hadn’t realized that he was joining them in the game.

There was silence. If there’d been anything for the word to echo from, you might have thought they were listening to its echoes. In fact, all that could be heard were the grunts and squeals of the wind, the jangling of Snowmane’s tack and the muffled clopping of Snowmane’s hooves through the half-mud of the road.

“All right, dear chap,” said Samzing at length. “I give up. What in tarnation is Ternsgiv—whatever it was you said?”

“Ternsgiverty.” Sir Tombin looked back over his rounded shoulder at them. “A while back, I could have sworn I saw a star in the sky as well as this revoltingly pale moon, and I’m sure I remember once being told that the name of that star was Ternsgiverty. If it wasn’t that star it was one very like it, anyway.”

“I hate to say this, but—” said Memo in a voice that made it plain to everyone he wasn’t hating it at all.

“I’m sure Queen Mirabella said the name of the star was Ternsgiverty,” continued Sir Tombin.

“You mean,” said Flip, “that you’re not certain it was the right star among all the millions of stars it could have been and, even if it was the right star, you’re not certain that Ternsgiverty was actually its name?”

“That about sums up the situation, yes,” replied Sir Tombin.

“And you expect to win the game with that answer?”

“I don’t quite honestly see why not. Do you?”

“Well, it’s cheating, that’s what it is.”

“Besides,” said Memo, “it wasn’t what I spied with my little eye that began with a ‘t,’ so it can’t win.”

“Oho! Changing the rules now, are we?” said Sir Tombin. “How are the rest of us to know what it was you spied with your little eye?”

“Not to mention,” pointed out Flip, joining in with the spirit of persecution, “that your eyes aren’t little at all, not when you’ve got those silly spectacles on, anyway.”

“I wish I hadn’t spoken now,” said Memo with a catch in his voice. “I was only trying to cheer everyone up.”

Sir Tombin burst out laughing. “And you did, little friend, you did. Can’t you see I was pulling your leg? A few minutes ago I thought we were all going to drop dead of depression, and now we’re fired up and arguing.”

“Oh.” Memo’s voice was smaller than ever.

The Frogly Knight laughed again. “You’ve done us a really good turn.”

“Oh.”

“Even though it was perfectly obvious all along what it was you spied with your little eye that began with a ‘t.’” Samzing’s voice sounded supercilious.

“Oh yes?” demanded Flip. “And what was that?”

“Tack, of course,” said the wizard. “Snowmane’s tack. His bridle and reins.”

“No, it wasn’t.” The memorizer’s voice gained a little strength.

Samzing, surprised, peered down into his own pocket. “It wasn’t?”

“No. So you lose as well.”

“Hmmf.”

They went on a little further. Flip looked at the unchanging scenery around him and had to admit that Sir Tombin was right. Even though the landscape was as dismal as ever, he felt a whole lot better than he had before.

“Er, Memo,” said Samzing at last.

“Yes, Samzing?”

“What
was
it you spied with your little eye?”

“Total dumpsville.”

“Total dumpsville?”

“Yes. This place is a total dump. It’s the only thing you can see here, and total dumpsville begins with a ‘t,’ doesn’t it?”

Staring down at Memo, Samzing’s face took on an expression of abject disgust that matched Flip’s own feelings perfectly.

“And you accused me of cheating?” cried Sir Tombin with another guffaw.

“It’s a perfectly valid answer,” said Memo stoutly, his spectacles slipping sideways with the vehemence of his emotions. “How can you tell me it’s not?”

“By moving our lips,” replied Flip with heavy sarcasm. “That’s how.”

“Why, you—”

The thirst for vengeance swelled the memorizer’s hugely magnified eyes. Only Samzing’s firm hand stopped Memo from crawling out of the pocket intent on pulverizing Flip.

“I think we should take a rest here,” said Sir Tombin.

Unobserved by Flip, they’d come abreast of the first sign of any vegetation they’d seen since coming into the Shadow World, aside from the occasional scrap of straggly black grass. Long ago, the things gathered in a little circle by the roadside had been trees; now they seemed like the black fingers of
mummified hands upraised in prayers of mourning for the life they had once had. They offered no real shelter from the swordthrusts of the wind, but the little party of travelers huddled in the middle of the glade the trees formed as if the trees did.

“A good cheerful fire and a hot meal in our bellies; that’ll improve our spirits, what?” said Sir Tombin, sounding as if he were having difficulty convincing even himself. He produced tinder and flints and tried to get a spark to jump. After a few minutes, one did, and the tinder started to smolder feebly, giving the impression that it really didn’t want to. Samzing and Sir Tombin pulled some fallen black twigs and branches closer, and eventually a reluctant flame spread.

“There, doesn’t that feel better?” Sir Tombin rubbed his webbed hands together in triumph.

“If you say so,” muttered Flip. He’d almost forgotten how cold the wind was while they’d been arguing over Memo’s stupid game (Flip was sure it had been Memo’s idea, not his own) but now, with the dead trees creaking all around them, the chill was inexorably creeping through his bones once more.

“Go and look in Snowmane’s saddle bags while I tend to the fire, will you? There’s a good chap,” said Sir Tombin to Samzing.

Samzing returned after a few moments carrying a couple of leather bags filled with nuts for the two smaller adventurers, mushroom pies for Sir Tombin and himself, and some bottles. There was nothing for Snowmane, which worried all of them, but the stallion didn’t seem concerned as yet.

“Well,” said Sir Tombin a little while later, covering his mouth. “Where did that come from?”

“The beer,” said Samzing. “Qarnapheeran beer always does that to you. Especially if you drink it too quickly, which you did. Ah, I remember in my student days …” His eyes went dreamy for a second or two, and then he pulled himself together. “These pies are a lot better than anything they gave us to eat back then. When I was at the wizards’ university all the food we ever seemed to get was slops. We often used to speculate about where those slops might have come from, I can tell you. The most inventive explanation I ever heard was—”

“Quiet, dear boy,” said Sir Tombin, raising a hand.

“Oh, come on now,” scoffed the wizard. “We’re all doughty adventurers here, men of the world, know what I mean? I’m sure none of our stomachs are so tender we can’t—”

“No. Listen.”

They held their breath, even Snowmane, and listened.

At first, all Flip could hear was the groaning of the dead branches overhead and, more than anything, the shrieking of the wind. It appeared to have abated
a little, but only a little: it still shrilled like one tormented. Then he caught another sound before the gale whipped it away.

A scream.

“Someone’s in trouble,” he breathed.

“You heard it too,” said Sir Tombin, nodding. The Frogly Knight put his hand on the hilt of Xaraxeer and lurched unsteadily to his feet. Flip thought for a moment that the Qarnapheeran beer must have been stronger than it tasted, but then he realized that it was only the wind that was knocking Sir Tombin off balance.

“Can you tell which direction it came from? Anyone?” said Sir Tombin.

“Over there, I think,” replied Samzing, also rising, his beard-swathed face stern. “It sounded like a child. A girl child.” He pointed through the murky air.

Flip could just make out a band of darkness hugging the ground. Another of those dilapidated stone fences, at a guess.

The wizard reached down, scooped up Memo and Flip and put them in his pockets, then he was running closely behind Sir Tombin as they headed toward the wall. The Frogly Knight had drawn Xaraxeer from its scabbard and was holding the great golden sword high above his head, but even that weapon’s warm light seemed cowed by the gloom of the Shadow World.

As they neared the wall, Sir Tombin slowed down and motioned urgently with his free hand for Samzing to do likewise. They began creeping forward, crouching lower, until they could peek over the top of the haphazardly piled stones. Flip took the opportunity to leap from Samzing’s pocket and clamber up among the cracks and crevices of the wall until he, too, could see what lay beyond.

Two white-robed figures stood pointing their swords at a bundle of clothing on the ground. Flip blinked and realized that the bundle was a curled-up girl.

“
Ena ena, tam shado
,” the girl pleaded.

“So, to deepen your crimes, you speak Tamshadi to us, filthy creature,” roared one of the two swordsmen. “The forbidden language. Do you not know that speaking it is punishable by a slow, lingering death?”

“Shall we take care of her right now?” said the other.

“No, Casspol. You know we cannot do that. She must be made to tell us where her confederates are before she gasps her last. To the castle dungeons with her. We shall have the pleasure of … cajoling her into confession.”

Bending to grab the girl’s arm, the other man laughed shortly. “You always were the finest of motivators, Tanktite.” As his robe fell open, Flip could see the gleam of brilliantly silver armor beneath.

Sir Tombin let out a bellow and the men stopped their task of pinioning the
girl. With a clatter of falling stones, the Frogly Knight hauled himself up and over the wall. As he landed on the far side, he once more raised his sword.

The two Shadow Knights drew back toward the girl they were clutching between them.

“Lower your sword, frog,” said the taller of them, the one named Casspol. He had dropped his sword, but from somewhere he had produced a short, evil-looking blade that he was holding across the girl’s throat. Her eyes, huge with fear, seemed to be staring straight at Flip, who was frozen on the wall by her gaze.

“If you take another step,” snarled Casspol, “this vermin’s life will pay the forfeit.”

Sir Tombin grunted in frustration. If he attacked, he could surely despatch these two scum with relative ease despite the armor they bore, but not before the girl’s throat was torn out and her lifeblood splashed to the ground. Slowly, slowly, he lowered the golden blade until its tip pointed to the foul black earth.

“A wise choice, frog,” observed Casspol, making the dagger disappear as swiftly as it had come into his hand. “Her life will last a little longer, and so will yours.”

Crouching on the wall and keeping as still as possible, Flip thought that Sir Tombin’s choice, far from being wise, was one the Frogly Knight might regret for the rest of his days.

The other armored man, Tanktite, sniggered with all the cruelty of a bullying schoolchild. “Of course, living can be a little tough in the slave mines, which is where you’re heading, you fat meddler.”

Sir Tombin’s shoulders slumped. Flip could see he was thinking as fast as he could of a way out of this.

Samzing vaulted the wall with astonishing ease, as if he were a lithe young man rather than a creaky-limbed old one. “Under what authority do you decree my friend will be sentenced to these mines of yours?”

The two Shadow Knights started at the wizard’s abrupt appearance. It was lucky, Flip thought, that the dagger was no longer at the girl’s throat or she’d have been dying already through accident.

Casspol recovered first. “And who are you?” he boomed.

“Samzing, wizard of Qarnapheeran, at your service.” Samzing bowed sarcastically. “I ask you again, by whose authority do you set yourselves up to be judge, jury and executioner?”

Tanktite laughed again, derisively. “A vagabond conjurer questions us? What further marvels will this day bring? Why, we act by the authority of Arkanamon, the master of all this world, of course. This girl is a spy sent here by the bitch of
the bright realms, Queen Mirabella, is she not?”

“
Ena ena, tam shado
,” said the girl again, her voice cracking in terror.

“I sincerely doubt it,” snapped Samzing. “I think she’s merely a poor peasant you’ve decided to pick on for your sadistic games.”

“Is there something not entirely clear to you, conjurer?” retorted Tanktite. “She’s a spy if we say she’s a spy, and that’s the end of it. Understood?”

“She’s no spy,” Sir Tombin intervened. “She’s just a child.”

“And you two fools are felons as well. You are charged with being abettors of a spy. Are they guilty or not guilty, Casspol?”

“Guilty,” rumbled the larger of the two Shadow Knights. “To the slave mines with them.”

Memo gave a thin scream of distress from the wizard’s pocket, and it was this sound that spurred Flip out of his immobility on the rough stones. He couldn’t bear to see his friends succumb this easily to the belligerence of the persecutors.

He let out a shriek of wrath and began to jump up and down on the top of the wall, drawing everyone’s attention.

The two Shadow Knights began to snigger.

“How dare you laugh at me, you swine?” he squeaked furiously. “How dare you laugh at Flip, the Adventurer Extraordinaire, famed throughout the three worlds?”

The two Shadow Knights went from sniggering to laughing out loud.