Adventures Of Myhr Part 12

"Sorry, old man, would you repeat the question?"

"The magical source by the bell tower. The wizard. I want that person tracked down before sunset. I've told you to do that, why isn't it done?"

"Yes, I remember, but the captain of my house guard is the only one I can trust for such a task and he's not back from . . ."

Botello exploded again. The wordidiot dominated the outburst. "You didn't hear a d.a.m.ned word I said!

I told you to see to itpersonally !"

"You did not. I distinctly recall you wanted me to make sure the person was swayed to our side. You never said anything aboutmy going to look into it. In fact, I got the impression you preferred me close bythe mirror in case you needed to talk. Certainly if I'd known you wanted me out and about I'd have done so ages ago-"

Another crash of pain. This time Cadmus cried aloud. He lay still for a much longer period. Various fragments of thoughts came drifting to him, the largest being that he wasn't getting paid nearly enough for this abuse. He was a clan lord, dammit, one of the oldest houses in the province with heaps of honors ama.s.sed by his ancestors. Why shouldhe have to put up with being treated like some inferior servant's dogsbody?

Grimly, he choked on the fact that he had no choice in the matter anymore. Botello owned him. Not completely, but nearly so because of his a.s.sistance in his experiments. Gawds, if anyone found out, he'd be ruined.

Cadmus had thought it a lark, just a harmless bit of fiddle faddle and an excuse to visit Darmo House and feast his eyes on Filima during dinner. By the time he understood that all the castings performed in the cellar were for a more sinister purpose than improving scrying skills, it was too late. He should have known better, he really should. There were plenty of cautionary tales about that sort of thing, but Cadmus had never been much for reading, and the money had been right there on the table, enough to keep his tottering household going for months.

Too late now.

"Wake up, Cadmus, I know you're not that hurt."

He groaned, pushing himself away again. "What? What do you want?"

"The wizard. I felt him, I still feel him. He's like a great bonfire of power."

"You're sure it's a man?"

"Yes, I am now. He's so powerful his energy is coming through even during the day. That's why I tried manifesting this soon. There was enough to bring me through, but the flow was cut. He must have gone to ground in a shielded area. I had to take from Filima. The stupid b.i.t.c.h has power, but not nearly what's needed for the job."

Cadmus shut his eyes a moment to hide any reaction he might give about the name-calling. Botello's att.i.tude toward his widow had gone very sour in the last two weeks. Being in h.e.l.l might account for his constant bad mood, but he was quite over the top whenever she came into the conversation. "Then you shouldn't have to bother her in the future."

"I'll do whatever I please with her!"

"Yes, of course. I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you again once you've solved this bodily displacement thing. I was wondering . . . why were you trying to come throughher mirror? Wouldn't it make more sense to come through mine? Itis larger, you know, less of a squeeze for you."

"The doorway size doesn't matter, it's the power. The aetheric structures I set up at Darmo House are still in place and tuned to me. I should have manifested in my work-chamber, but the mirror there is broken. Hers is the closest in proximity to it. It was my bad luck she happened to see me coming through, but good luck so she could provide a boost. Ifyou'd just held out a moment longer . . ." Cadmus had held as long as he could. He'd made an honest effort. It rankled that his hard work went unappreciated. "Her mirror might be broken now. That cat fellow did some mischief, I warrant."

"Then find out who he is. I never heard her talk of any clowns in cat masks in that traveling troupe she danced with. Maybe he's an old lover sniffing after her money.My money. Find him and tell me what's going on over there, but get to that wizardimmediately !" Botello's distorted image in the mirror went black as he cut their link.

Blinking, Cadmus woke up a lot more. d.a.m.nation, if anyone was ent.i.tled to Filima's money it was himself. He'd put significant labor into his pursuit of her; time to start forging ahead in earnest. Gawd knows he was more Filima's type than some scruffy entertainer hiding under a cat's mummery. Maybe the fellow was covered in warts or had a horrible skin condition. If he didn't now, he soon would. Cadmus had a spell for that lying around somewhere in the house. . . .

Of course Botello was something of a snag in the marriage stratagem. Cadmus had been reasonably sure Botello would stay bodily displaced, since in the history of known magic-not to mention ordinary life and death history-no one had ever escaped h.e.l.l before. Displaced or truly dead, he should have been there for keeps, but he'd somehow set up a route out that might work for him, providing he had enough power. Even the h.e.l.l-river was insufficient to the task, but this new wizard might upset the applecart in a bad way.

Perhaps . . . if he were taken out of the picture. Botello would be none too pleased losing a power source to feed from, but to h.e.l.l with him. Literally.

Cadmus did not relish violence, but, as a necessary means to an end, was confident he could inflict it.

The means was easy enough: most magical Talents were highly allergic to cold iron-especially in the form of a blade-thrust to the heart. Hmm. Yes. There were possibilities in that. Cadmus rose from his chair and escaped his scrying chamber, fresh purpose lending him new energy and nerve. Now where the devil had the butler hidden all the dueling weapons?

Elsewhere in Rumpock, at Overduke Anton's Palace Anton writhed in a death-struggle with the bedclothes. His body ran with sweat, eyes rolled up in their sockets, limbs thrashing. He fought to wake himself from the dream, the nightmare, groaning like a dying man.

Someone had hold of his shoulders, shaking him hard.

"Come on, honey, come out of it!"

Velma. Sweet, sensible Velma. He managed to open his eyelids enough to glimpse her concerned face, which was very close to his.

"That's it, stay right here with me," she said. "You're safe."

His body relaxed as he gratefully exchanged illusion for reality. "Oh, gawds."

"You said it, honey." She lay next to him, arms cuddling him tight. He liked that, reaching for her, holding her desperately hard.

"Oof! Easy, now, I'm breakable at this angle." She shifted to a more comfortable position with his head on her bare shoulder, settling in to stroke his brows and hair.

He breathed deeply of her flower perfume, trying to will away the lingering shreds of his latest dream.

"Must have been a bad one," Velma commented after awhile. "I've never seen you like that before.

Scary. I've got an uncle who has those kinds of fits, but only after he's been in a tavern for a week."

Anton grunted. "The price of my Talent. They've been getting worse. It's that d.a.m.ned river."

"I know. What was this one about?"

He shook his head. He didn't like to share the really bad ones with her. She didn't need the burden.

"Oh, come on, honey. If you aren't gonna see a doctor about them you need to talk to somebody. Might as well be me."

After a time he sighed, picking one of the lesser visions to relate. "I saw something trying to break through from another world. There was a black room and a table with a hole in it, but instead of a floor showing under the table it was a doorway, a tunnel. A creature was coming through."

"What kind of creature?"

"A h.e.l.l-being. Huge. There was smoke and clouds obscuring things, but I saw its eyes, heard its voice, a horrible squalling shriek, like all the souls that ever died crying in torment at once. It was reaching toward me. All I could do was watch. Couldn't run or fight."

"No wonder you got into such a state, and in the middle of the day, too."

That troubled Anton, as well. Usually his nastier dreams took place at night when the veils between the worlds were thin. He'd hoped to catch up on his sleep with a nice afternoon nap-after a little healthy leisure fun with Velma. She'd enthusiastically helped tire him out, but not enough to dispel the visions.

"I think . . ." he said, "I think it's going to get worse. Soon."

"Can you do anything about it?"

"I don't know. Probably have to call a meeting of the remaining Talents in the city. Gawd, I hate meetings. They expect me to hand them all the answers, then they debate about them for hours."

"You need to do that delegation of power stuff."

"Tried that. Appoint one of them to do something and he appoints a committee, then they swill wine over an endless series of meals before coming up with exactly nothing in their 'study.' I should have it so easy."

"You'll have to get tough with them. Declare an emergency, a call to arms. Rumpock hasn't had a decent crisis in decades, so they take the peace for granted. You've traveled, seen what it's like in other provinces. You know what's needed to pull them all together." He made a rumbling sound, turning it into a grim chuckle. "Yes. They won't like it much, doing some real work."

"You won't like it much, you mean." She twiddled his earlobe.

"Hmm?"

"You've got a nice comfy throne without a lot of work or hard decisions to make. Makes a guy lazy."

Had it been anyone else but Velma making that accusation he might have gotten a little cross. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am, but you can prove me wrong. Call the Talents in for a meeting and kick their b.u.t.ts into doing something. You can exaggerate the vision stuff, stir them up."

"I won't have to exaggerate."

"I was afraid you'd say that, honey."

He reluctantly dragged himself from her side and got dressed, but came back to kiss her forehead.

"You're lovely," he told her, then left for his audience chamber. Carrying her smile in his memory was much better than that d.a.m.ned vision.

Perdle was at his worktable at the far end of the chamber. He looked up as Anton stalked across the long hall.

"Good afternoon, my lord."

Anton changed course, guided by Perdle's voice. He just made out a blurry figure next to one of the windows. "h.e.l.lo, Perds. What's the news on that cat-masked fellow?"

"None, my lord. The welcoming honor guard I sent out for him hasn't returned yet."

"Honor guard? Why send that many for a casual invitation?"

"Keeps the troops on their toes, sir. Makes them feel useful having something to do. The drills get boring for the poor chaps. Besides, does the city good to see their overduke's colors marching on the streets.

Rea.s.sures them that authority is in place and on the job."

The palace colors were black and silver, flashy, but hardly vibrant; Anton thought Perdle's expectations were a touch inflated, but knew his heart was in the right place. "Very well. Let's hope they don't scare him off. What about Lord Cadmus? Has he replied to his dinner invitation?"

"Not yet, sir. The page bearing it was dispatched about three hours ago; he's not yet returned with a reply. Lord Cadmus might have shut himself into his Black Room to delve into this h.e.l.l-river problem.

He goes all incommunicado when he's playing with his magic, you know."

Anton pursed his lips to keep from making a crude observation about what sort of activities Cadmus might pursue when alone. Perdle could be quite oblivious at times. "Send another page to find out what's going on. I'd like to talk to Cadmus tonight. Now I've an errand for the rest of the house guard to run." "At once, my lord." Perdle shuffled his work papers together and made to leave.

"Hang about, let me tell it first."

"Ah, yes, just so, my lord." He put the papers down, striking an attentive pose.

Anton outlined his desire to have a meeting first thing the next day with the remaining magical Talents in the city. "All of them," he clarified. "Whatever their level of skill and experience, I want them here. You won't need to notify Cadmus, I'll tell him over dinner."

"There's quite a number of those people on night-duty, sir. From watching the h.e.l.l-river, you know."

"That's why the meeting will be one hour after dawn. They can go home and sleep later."

"Dawn, my lord? You plan to get upthat early?" Perdle seemed quite stunned.

"Yes, Perdle. I'm sure I can manage. Just have my tea ready as usual. I don't know how long the meeting will last, so notify the cooks they might have extra mouths for breakfast. You need to be there, too, and a few scribes to take notes."

"Sir, may I ask the prompting of such a gatherage? To summon them all on such short notice might be construed as an emergency.

You've gotten that right, old friend. "I had another vision."

"Oh. My sympathies, sir. Something of a serious nature, then?"

"They're all serious these days. See to it, Perds, there's a good fellow."

Anton left the audience chamber, his boot heels echoing hollow on the marble floor. He wanted air and made for one of the palace towers. The climb was a ch.o.r.e, but worth the effort. He pushed up the trapdoor to be greeted by a gust of clean, head-clearing wind.

Wanting solitude, he slammed the trap down again to discourage interruptions, and spent the next few minutes just breathing. He wondered how much longer that would go on. In addition to the h.e.l.l creature trying to break through, Anton had once again seen himself drowning in that d.a.m.ned river. This time its black fog was solid, viscous as jam. It had clogged his nose and mouth, blinded him, yet, strangely, he was still able to see Cadmus and that cat thing pushing him down deep. Anton had struggled and cursed and fought desperately, but they- He shook his head to dislodge the image. It was a deadly warning of some sort, whether literal or symbolic remained to be seen. The dreams weren't always specific. He'd long ago accepted that frustrating aspect of his Talent, but still, it was no easier to bear. Few friends in his inner circle could appreciate the burdens of precognition. Those who did not would congratulate him on his gift and express a desire to have it themselves. No doubt they thought it would help them at gambling. The better-informed regarded him with respect mixed with sympathy. Anton would rather chuck his gift in the Rumpock River with the rest of the rubbish and have a normal life, but one couldn't change what the gawds ordained. He might as well have wished to be taller or shorter. He was stuck, might as well make the best of it, as always.

Going to the waist-high wall of the tower, he stared out over his city, what he could see of it. His eyescould pick out the general shapes of structures, blobs of color, light and dark, the smaller moving blobs that were people navigating the streets. He thought some of them paused to wave up at him. Just in case, he waved back.

"Long live Overduke Anton!" someone called in the distance, sounding quite cheerful.

He waved again. It was nice to be popular, but was their affection well-bestowed? If he and the other Talents couldn't find a solution to the h.e.l.l-river problem, send it back to its source, they were all . . . well . . . doomed.

All too clear on his inner eye was the worst vision yet: the whole of Rumpock in flames with h.e.l.l-creatures everywhere greedily feasting on his hapless people.

Chapter Seven.

Back at Darmo House Debreban spun off nervous energy like a generator. After all the standing and playing fly on the wall in Filima's blue room he probably wanted to end our wait for Shankey and get going. I could tell by the way he buffed the floor with his boots. Watching people pace makes me dizzy. I blinked out of the hypnotic pattern. "If this Lord Cadmus is your boss, what are you doing over here?"

"Helping out Captain Shankey." He paused to look at a painting, a portrait of a Darmo ancestor, perhaps. Couldn't say much for the artist's skill or the subject's taste in clothes. Maybe that's why it was hanging in a drafty hall.

"You do that a lot? Helping Shankey?"

"First time, actually."

"Why now? Is it me?"

"Not that I know of. My lord Cadmus wanted me to . . . well, that's house business, nothing to do with you." He started up and down the hall again, but his rhythm was interrupted by the arrival of one of Filima's young pages, who came in carrying a purple-and-green cloak. Without a word he gave it over to Debreban, who thanked him and put it on. In full daylight the colors made my eyes hurt; in the shady indoors they weren't so bad.

"I gotta ask . . ." I began when the page was gone.