A Man Of His Word - Perilous Seas Part 13

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 ent.i.tled 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, d.a.m.n 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 p.r.o.nounced 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.

"Why not?"

"He's dyinga"or at least very sick. He really did have some sort of seizure. And he told you the word!" Jalon shuddered. "That hurt! G.o.ds, that hurt him! And then . . . Well, it's amazing he had the strength to call Andor. " He screwed up his face at the memories of approaching death.

So Rap had killed Sagorn! Even if he was not in any true sense dead, none of the gang would ever dare call him again. Revenge was a very sour fruit.

And what of his soul? Sagorn had not seemed especially evil, although the G.o.ds would know more of him than Rap ever could.

Sagorn had tried to steal Rap's word of power. That was an evil to cancel out a lot of good. But the man was not truly dead! How could his soul go before the G.o.ds for weighing if he wasn't dead? Would it remain forever in some sort of limbo, holding unreleased forever the spark of residue, the balance that should go to join the Evil or the Good? The undead dark?

G.o.d of Fools!

Gathmor had been sitting hunched up. Now he lay back gingerly, wincing as if something hurt. He glanced suspiciously at the other two, alert for traces of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Rap!" Jalon said. "You used power against a dragon!"

"I know. I'm trying not to think about it." The warlock of the south might be on Rap's trail right now. "Let me talk to Darad, please." That would be magic, but Oothiana had said the transformations were too brief to be located.

Jalon blinked, seemed about to argue, then nodded. The giant jotunn appeared in his place with a stupendous splash, sending waves surging across the pool. Gathmor, taken by surprise, tried to sit up and obviously regretted the hasty move.

Darad looked hard at Rap, then opened his mouth in a huge crocodile grin, displaying his fangs. Rap was tensed, prepared to jump up and treat him as he had treated Gathmor, but there was no need. The fighter's face was hideously battered and disfigured with tattoos, yet as easy to read as a child's, and it was filled now with great amus.e.m.e.nt.

Chuckling hoa.r.s.ely, Darad offered a hand larger than Rap's foot. "Thanks, faun! You sure fixed them!"

Rap clasped hands, saw the inevitable squeeze coming, and calmly bettered it. Darad looked comically astonished at the resistance, then alarmed, and finally howled very satisfactorily, raising flocks of birds from the trees. Rap released him, suddenly ashamed. He was no better than they were, these crude, s.a.d.i.s.tic jotnar! No, he was worse because he was cheating, not using honest muscle.

Unabashed, gently ma.s.saging his damaged hand with the other one, the ogre resumed his grin. "That primpy, prissy Sagorn! You made him look pretty stupid!"

"Liked that, did you?"

"Loved it!" The wolf teeth flashed again. "Been waiting a hundred years for him to get what's coming to him! He was a snotty, smarta.s.s kid, and he only got worse. But you watch that Andor! Don't trust him!"

"I won't." Rap studied the dim-witted warrior for a moment. "How about you? Will you take the same deal?"

Darad nodded vigorously. "You bet! You can count on me, sir! You'll get this spell off of us if anyone cana"and it won't take you a hundred years, neither! I'm your man, Master Rap!"

He meant it! Even as a mundane, Rap would never have been deceived by Darad. His new occult sense of truth detected no reservations, and now he could readily see that Darad was a born follower who preferred having a superior around to tell him who to kill or maim. Once he gave his word he would be more loyal than Andor or Thinal, and infinitely more reliable than Jalon, within the narrow bounds of his abilities. Amazing!

But Rap had not yet said he would accept this new henchman, and his hesitation had provoked a very worried expression on the jotunn's grotesque features. He could have no real conscience, but he apparently had some sense of justice. "Sir?" he muttered. "I guess I did a job on your face back on the boat there. Got a bit carried away, see? If you want a few free ones to make us even . . . well, I'd understand."

So Darad would humbly stand still while Rap systematically battered his eyes? The image was enough to make the new adept explode in his first genuine laughter for days, and the resulting perplexity on Darad's face only increased his mirth.

"I think we're about quits," Rap said, catching his breath. "You sold me to the goblins. I set my dog on you. Little Chicken began the eye work, but I gave the orders. Princess Kadolan burned your back, so we'll count that in, too, right?" Then, as Darad nodded and leered his agreement, Rap had a vision of himself walking up to Inos's aunt and blacking her eyes to settle her account, and that absurdity convulsed him in more howls of mirth, while the two jotnar sharing the pool with him exchanged puzzled glances.

Perhaps his merriment was reaction to a narrow escape. It could just be excitement at his new powers. It was certainly not very manly. Rap forced himself back to sobriety, and shook Darad's hand again, in civilized fashion, and the deal was made.

So Andor and Jalon and Darad would help. Sagorn was effectively dead. Thinal they must not call, not here in dragon country. Rap had no illusions of holding off a dragon if there was real gold in the neighborhood. He relaxed for a moment, still enjoying the warm soak, and also relishing his new adepthood.

He could listen to the distant murmur of dragons. His farsight was sharper and had a greater range. His ability to outbrawl Gathmor suggested that he would find he was expert at any skill he had ever practiced. He was as persuasive as Andor now, and he could read expressions in a way he had never dreamed was possible. His face was less blistered than Gathmor's, although he had been closer to the dragon; the sc.r.a.pes on his toes had stopped hurting. He seemed to be healing very quickly, and he wondered what other abilities he might uncover in himself during the next few days.

He turned to meet Gathmor's scowl. "You want to get even with Kalkor?" The jotunn nodded warily.

"Then I suggest you stick around, too. There's another prophecy: I meet Kalkor again."

Gathmor's pale eyes showed interest. "You'll let me have him?"

"You couldn't handle him. Darad mighta""

The warrior growled. "Not a hope, sir! We tried a friendly bout once, and he mashed me. Half my ribs and a broken jaw, and he wasn't much more'n a kid then. Fists, swords, axesa"he's the best."

That was an ominous report, because Darad also had a word of power. Either Kalkor had more native ability, or his word was much stronger.

Or else, like Rap now, he knew more than one word. But that worry was far in the future.

"I want to hear the whole story," Gathmor said, "before I commit myself to anything."

It was his own fault he hadn't heard it all long since; Rap had tried to tell him often enough. "We can talk as we go. It's long enough to last till Zark. "

"What next?" Gathmor heaved himself up stiffly. "We going to get on our way?"

Rap's farsight nudged him, and he turned to stare at the watcher on the bank. Where had he come from?

He did not seem worrisome. He was standing on a fallen log and smiling shyly, although the smile was partly hidden by his handa"he had a finger up his nose. A gnome's nose was not much more than two holes in his face.

The sc.r.a.p of rag around his loins was filthy beyond belief, and too tattered to serve its purpose; the natural mud color of his skin was visible only where sweat streaks had loosened flakes of dirt. Rap was sorry to discover that his sharp new farsight could detect the teeming mult.i.tudes within the odious tangle of the boy's hair. His head would have reached to Rap's navel; he was about thirteen, maybe, depending on how fast gnomes aged. The only clean places on him were two very gorgeous, bronzetinted eyes.

Seeing he had the men's attention, he grinned more broadly and beckoned with his free hand. Then he jumped off his log and ran in among the trees.

Darad lurched to his feet, with Gathmor right behind him. They plowed across the pond in twin tidal waves, heedless of Rap's shouts.

It took a great effort of Will and was only possible because his farsight still kept the boy in sight, but Rap managed to go the other way first and grab up five of the six wooden sandals. He wanted the sixth and the gowns, too, but the urgency of the summons became unbearable and tore him away. He ran around the pond on bare feet and followed the others.

In that overgrown riot of jungle, the tiny gnome boy had all the advantages. He could squeeze through bamboo thickets. He could roll or crawl under walls of thorns that three naked men dare not approach, or scurry like a beetle over marsh that would swallow them to the shoulders. He was fast and nimble and occultly inexhaustible. His powers included some means of telling direction, for he held to a straight course, and he never drew so far ahead that the chase seemed impossible. Always, his pursuers must believe that another two minutes would do it, and when they flagged from total exhaustion he laughed, and his laugh had some occult power also, for it drove the men on again like red-hot whips.

Rap easily caught up with his companions and handed over the sandals. He himself went barefoot, and soon they were all doing so, trying to gain speed.

His greatest problem was staying in contact with the others. He could easily have left them far behind, and the craving to do so gnawed at him like a starved rat. Darad had an occult warrior's strength, of course, and could keep up the pace and stand the punishment much better than poor Gathmor, who was only human and very soon exhausted. Rap took his hand and hauled him along, and their compromise pace was about what Darad could manage.

Eventually, as the hours pa.s.sed and the young gnome led them up into the hills, jungle faded into parkland, and parkland into moor, giving welcome relief from the whipping and slashing of undergrowth. By nightfall, though, the chase was over rocky ground that chopped at feet like knives. Unable to rest for a moment, still staggering along after the gaily skipping gnome with his bewitching laugh and his beautiful eyes, Rap and his friends climbed ever higher between the barren peaks, and the muttering of dragons was very close.

Man's worth something: No, when the fight begins within himself,

A man's worth something.

a" Browning, Bishop Blougram's Apology

SIX.

Life and death

1.

The Thume side of the mountains was a moister, kinder land than the desert to the east, with rich gra.s.s swaying underfoot and foliage-filled sky overhead. The air was friendly, heavy with woodsy scents. Inos could not identify the forest giants themselves, but among them she recognized some of the smaller, cultivated varieties she had seen in Arakkarana"citrus trees and olives, running wild. So whatever had destroyed the ancient folk of Thume had spared their orchards. She approved of fruit trees; unlike most others, they did something useful.

But she soon began to appreciate that even the others could be helpful. They cast shade, and shade discouraged undergrowth. The mules' little hooves swished through tall ferns, thumped softly on loam or moss. There was no obvious road, but the green tunnels of the woods were mostly quite pa.s.sable, leading from time to time out into gra.s.sy clearings that reminded her oddly of the tiny sunlit courtyards of Krasnegar. In the meadows, of course, the sun was fierce, but on the far side there was always shade again, more gloom-filled hallways pillared with ma.s.sive trunks that fanned out overhead into rafters, cross-braced with thin shafts of light. She knew the spruce of the taiga and she had seen hardwood forest near Kinvale, but nothing so magical as this.

For a long while the three invaders rode in silence. Kade was still uncharacteristically downcast, and Inos could only conclude that the uncanny encounter with the petrified army still weighed on her mind. She was old; any reminder of death must seem morbid to a woman of her years, but Kade would certainly spring back soon.

Azak was tense, vigilant, his eyes never still. Not wishing to distract him with conversation, Inos let herself become caught up in the birdsong. A steady flow of it filled the woods like musical rainbows. Once in a very long while she would see a tiny shape flash away; mostly the singers stayed out of sight and emptied their souls in chorus and counterpoint. A thousand years we have practiced, they said, waiting for someone to return and hear our song. Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!

Harness creaked and jingled, but the spongy ground m.u.f.fled the mules' tread. At times the river made itself heard, chattering busily off to the left somewhere, telling the way, promising it would lead them to its bigger brother and that together they would venture to the sea.

The beauty of the morning was a balm to all fears, pure gold. Nowhere could seem less accursed than this.

The approach of noon lessened the birds' symphony, and Azak was the first to become talkative, as he began to relax. He pointed out some of what his tracker's eyes were seeinga"ancient traces of buildings and trails, animal tracks and how old they were. Those scats were from a wild dog; domestic dogs' were less tapered. The bark of trees bore ravages of woodp.e.c.k.e.rs, the rubbing of antlers, old claw marks of bears.

"You didn't learn all this in the desert!" Inos said accusingly. Blood-red eyes twinkled. "In the mountains, the Agonistes. When I was small."

If that was a hint of some personal history she did not know of, he failed to add to it. He went back to the wildlife. Deer and goats for certain, he said, and probably wild cattle.

But no people. When the time came to rest the mules and feed the riders, Azak was joyful. No cut trees, no tracks, no fences, no smoke. There were no people in Thume, he said. Anything else he could handle, of course, except demons.

Inos smiled, and a.s.sured him politely that she trusted both his eye and his arm.

Kade said nothing, frowning around and biting her lip.

"This is a splendid place to make camp!" Azak proclaimed royally, encompa.s.sing the glade with a sweeping gesture of approval.

Inos had been lost in a reverie of plans for Hub. Startled, she suppressed a sn.i.g.g.e.r. At times that large young man a.s.sumed lofty airs that were not in keeping with his ragged robes and wildly bushy red bearda"nor with his posture, for his legs were very nearly as long as his mule's. He had ridden all across the mountains with his feet almost trailing on the ground, and he could probably dismount by walking backward on tiptoe if he wished. Still, even if habit still made him pontificate sometimes, he had proved far more adaptable than she would ever have suspected back in Arakkaran. He had watched his dominion shrink from a kingdom to a single caravan and then to two women, and he had never complained or seemed to feel slighted. He had turned out to be a superb woodsman just as he had been a superb ruler of a kingdom. Whatever the game, whatever the stakes, Azak played with all his heart, and with all the native skill of a born winner.

He had his faults, Azak ak'Azakar, but he was a magnificent chunk of royalty.

Yet why this sudden change of heart? He. had forced the pace ever since the hurried departure from Elkarath's caravan, so why a call to pitch camp now, with at least two hours' daylight left? They had no tent to erect and, while the clearing was a pleasant enough spot, it was no better than a dozen others they had seen.

Inos shot him a puzzled glance. "We hear and obey, Protector of the Poor, Beloved of the G.o.ds!"

"Of course!" A smile flashed out of his red bush like an escaping bird, but Inos was certain that the ruby eyes had read every thought in her head. Who would ever have believed that Azak could handle her teasing so well? How had he ever learned?

Then his eyes flickered a signal. Inos twisted around to look at Kade, who was bringing up the rear.

Idiot! Furious that she had been so thoughtlessa"and that Azak should have noticed what she had nota"Inos slid from her saddle, dropped her reins, and hurried back to Kade's mule.

"Aunt! Are you not feeling well?"

"Oh, I'm quite well, dear. Why are we stopping?" The paleblue eyes made a great effort to find their old sparklea"and failed. No matter what she said, Kade was not better; she was worse.

Whatever was wrong was taking a price. She was humped in her saddle, she seemed to have aged ten years, and for the first time in Inos's experience, her absurdly uncrushable cheerfulness had failed her.

"Azak thinks we should make camp now."

The news was not welcome. Kade twitched and looked around with evident alarm. "Oh, surely we can make a league or two before dark?"

"He thinks not. Here, let me help you down."

"Oh, I think we should continue!" Kade protested.

"Why?"

"The sheik? Queen Rasha?"

"The sheik is not going to catch us after all this time, Aunt. The mules need a rest." And so do you!

"Well . . . We might find a better campsite?"

"Azak insists that this one is perfect," Inos said firmly.

It was at least satisfactory, a gra.s.sy meadow in a wide loop of the busy river, with water on three sides and unusually bushy forest closing off the fourth. Even if the mules pulled up their pickets, they would not stray far unless the weather turned bad, and at the moment the weather was perfect: hot sunshine and cool breeze. Here and there the sward buckled in low mounds that hinted at ancient dwellings, perhaps a farma"given a little leisure time, those might be fun to explore for relicsa"and the only other landmark was a small copse in the middle, a dozen or so spindly trees. Inos knew enough of Azak's thinking now to guess his intent. He would embellish those saplings into an illusion of shelter, and it would have open ground all around. Practical man!