Warlock - The Warlock Enraged Part 2

"What is it, then? One of his petty barons gathering arms and men?"

"I would it were; of that, I've some experience. This, though, is a matter of another sort; for the rumors speak of foul magics."

"Rumors?" Rod looked up from the map. "Not reports from agents?"

"I have some spies in the North," Tuan acknowledged, "yet they only speak of these same rumors, not of events which they themselves have witnessed."

Rod frowned. "Haven't any of them tried to track the rumor to its source?"

Tuan shrugged. "None of those who've sent word. Yet I've several who have sent me no reports, and mine em- issaries cannot find them."

"Not a good sign." Rod's frown darkened. "They might have ridden off to check, and been taken."

"Or worse," Tuan agreed, "for the rumors speak of a malignant magus, a dark and brooding power, who doth send his minions everywhere throughout the North Country."

"Worrisome, but not a problem-as long as all they do is spy. I take it they don't."

"Not if rumor speaks truly. These minions, look you, are sorcerers in their own right; and with the power they own, added to that which they gather from their sorcerer-lord, they defeat the local knights ere they can even come to battle. Then the sorcerers enthrall the knights, with their wives and children, too, and take up lordship over all the serfs and peasants of that district."

"Not too good a deal for the knights and their families,"

Rod mused, "but probably not much of a difference, to the serfs and peasants. After all, they're used to taking orders- what difference does it make who's giving them?"

"Great difference, if the first master was gentle, and the 14 second was harsh," Tuan retorted. His face was grim. "And reports speak of actions more than harsh, from these new masters. These sorcerers are evil."

"And, of course, the peasants can't do much, against magic." Rod frowned. "Not much chance of fighting back."

Tuan shuddered. "Perish the thought! For peasants must never resist orders, but only obey them, as is their divinely appointed role."

What made Rod's blood run cold was that Tuan didn't say it grimly or primly, or pompously, or with the pious air of self-justification. No, he said it very matter-of-factly, as though it were as much a part of the world as rocks and trees and running water, and no one could even think of debating it. How could you argue about the existence of a rock? Especially if it had fallen on your toe...

That was where the real danger lay, of course-not in the opinions people held, but in the concepts they knew to be true-especially when they weren't.

Rod shook off the mood. "So the chief sorcerer has been knocking off the local lordlings and taking over their hold- ings. How far has his power spread?"

"Rumor speaks of several baronets who have fallen 'neath his sway," Tuan said, brooding, "and even Duke Romanov, himself."

"Romanov?" Rod stared, appalled. "One of the twelve great lords? How could he fall, without word of it reaching us?"

"I could accomplish it-and I am no wizard." Tuan shrugged. "'Tis simplicity-close a ring of iron around his castle under cover of night, then hurl an army 'gainst his barbican, and siege machines against his towers. Invest the castle, and trust to thy ring of knights and men-at-arms to see that not a soul wins free to bear off word."

Rod shuddered at Tuan's sangfroid. "But he had a couple ofesp- uh, witches, guesting in his tower!"

"More than 'guesting,' as I hear it," Tuan answered, with a grim smile. "They were thoroughly loyal to Milord Duke, for he had saved them from the stake and embers. They've been of great service tending to the ill and injured and, I doubt not, gathering information for him."

Rod frowned. "They must have been very discreet about 15.

it. We make it a practice, in the Royal Coven, not to pry into the minds of anyone except your enemies."

"Or those who might become so," Tuan amended. "Who's to say his witches did more? Nay, once Catharine showed them the way of it, and thou and thy good wife did aid her in forming that band into a battle-weapon, all the lords did leam, and followed suit."

"And Romanov's witches couldn't give him enough ad- vance warning?" Rod pursed his lips. "This sorcerer is ef- fective. But speaking of mental eavesdropping, that's a way to check on the rumors. Did you ask any of the Royal Witchforce to try and read Romanov's mind?"

"I did. They could not find him."

"So." Rod pursed his lips. "What minds did they hear, to the North?"

Tuan shrugged. "Only what should be. The plowman followed his oxen, the milkmaid coaxed her swain-naught was there to bring alarm, save that the warlock who listened, could not find the minds of any knights or barons."

"How about vile thoughts, from evil sorcerers?"

Tuan turned his head slowly from side to side.

"So." Rod's gaze strayed back to the map. "On the face of it, nothing's wrong; it's just that the Duke of Romanov seems to have taken a vacation to parts unknown, with all his aristocratic retainers."

"Thou dost see why I do suspect."

Rod nodded. "Sounds fishy to me, too... not that I can't understand why the n.o.ble Duke would want to take off for a while, though. I've been feeling a bit too much stress lately, myself.... Gwen?" He turned, to find Gwen standing near. "Been listening?"

"I have." She smiled. "And I do think thou dost make a great coil of naught."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say we're making a lot of fuss."

Rod locked gazes with Tuan. "Where's the weeping and wailing? The yelling and hair-tearing?"

'"Tis even as thou sayest," Tuan turned to Gwen. "I do not see great danger here. Lady Gwendylon-only the abuse of witch-power, over those who have it not."

"And witches ganging up on normals," Rod added. "But that can all be cured by even more witches-from the good 76 guys. After all, we have a vested interest in the public's opinion of witches, dear."

"In truth," Gwen said firmly, "and we cannot have the folk afeard that witches will seek to govern by force of magic,"

"Of course not," Rod mumured, "especially when every right-thinking individual knows it has to be done by force of arms."

Tuan frowned. "How didst thou speak?"

"Uh, nothing." Rod turned to Gwen. "How about it, dear? A family vacation, wandering toward the North?"

When Gwen hesitated, he added, "I don't really think there's any danger-at least, none that you and I can't handle between us."

"Nay, surely not," Gwen agreed, but her brow was still furrowed.

"What, then? The kids? I really don't think they'll mind."

"Oh, certes they will not! Yet hast thou considered the trials of shepherding our four upon the road?"

"Sure." Rod frowned. "We did it in Tir Chlis."

"I know," Gwen sighed. "Well, an thou sayest 'tis for the best, my husband, we shall essay it."

2.

Rod turned the key in the lock, pulled it out, set it in Gwen's palm, and wrapped her hand around it. "Your office, 0 Lady of the House." He studied her face for a second and added gently, "Don't worry, dear. It'll still be here when you get back."

"I know," she sighed, "yet 'tis never easy to leave it."

"I know." Rod glanced back at the house. "I'll get half- way down the road, and start wondering if I really did put out the fire on the hearth."

"And thou dost, but call it out, and an elf shall bear word to me," Brom O'Berin rumbled beside them. "Mere minutes after thou hast uttered it, an elf shall spring out of the ingelnook to douse thy hearth-if it doth need."

"I thank thee, Brom," Gwen said softly.

The dwarf scowled, becoming more gruff. "Nay, have no fear for thine house. Elves shall guard it day and night.

Ill shall fare the man who doth seek to enter."

Rod shuddered. "I pity the footpad Puck catches! So come on, dear-there's nothing to worry about. Here, any- way. Time for the road." He grasped her waist, and helped her leap to Fess's saddle.

"May we not fly. Papa?" Cordelia pouted. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and a broomstick stuck out from behind her shoulder.

17.

18 Rod smiled, and glanced at Gwen. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. He turned back to Cordelia. "As long as you stay near your mother and me-yes."

Cordelia gave a shout of joy and leaped onto her broom.

Her brothers echoed her, drifting up into the air.

"Move out. Old Iron," Rod murmured, and the great black robot-horse ambled out toward the road. Rod fell into step beside him, and turned back to wave to Brom.

"A holiday!" Geoffrey cried, swooping in front of him.

"'Tis ages since we had one!"

"Yeah-about a year." But Rod grinned; he seemed to feel a weight lifting off his shoulders. He caught Gwen's hand and looked up at her. "Confess it, dear-don't you feel a little more free?"

She smiled down at him, brightening. "I do, my lord- though I've brought my lock and bars along."

"And I, my ball and chain." Rod grinned. "Keep an eye on the links, will you?... Magnus! When I said, 'Stay near,'

that meant alt.i.tude, too! Come down here right now!"

The tinkers strolled into the village, gay and carefree, smudged and dirty. Their clothes were patched, and the pots and pans hanging from their horse's pack made a horrible clattering.

"This is rather demeaning. Rod," Fess murmured. "Ad- ditionally, as I have noted, no real tinker family could afford a horse."

"Especially not one fit for a knight. I know," Rod an- swered. "I'll just tell them the last stop was a castle, and the lord of the demesne paid us in kind."

"Rod, I think you lack an accurate concept of the financial worth of a war-horse in medieval culture."

"Hey-they had a lot of pots." Rod grinned down at his own primitive publicity agents. "Okay, kids, that's enough.

I think they know we're here."

The four little Gallowgla.s.ses slowed their madcap danc- ing, and gave their pots and pans one last clanging whack with their wooden spoons. "You spoil all the fun. Papa,"

Cordelia pouted as she handed him the cookware.

"No, just most of it. Magnus? Geoff? Turn in your weap- ons, boys. Gregory, you, too-ah, a customer!"

19.

"Canst mend this firkin, fellow?" The housewife was plump, rosy-cheeked, and anxious.

Rod took the little pot and whistled at the sight of the long, jagged crack in the cast iron. "How'd you manage that kind of break?"

"My youngest dropped it," the goodwife said impatiently.

"Canst mend it?"

"Yeah," Rod said slowly, "but it'll cost you a ha'penny."

The woman's face blossomed in a smile. "I have one, and 'twill be well worth it. Bless thee, fellow!"

Which sounded a little odd, since "fellow" was a term of semicontempt; but Rod blithely took out a hammer and some charcoal, laid a small fire, and got busy faking. Magnus and Gregory crouched on either side of him, obstensibly watching.

"This is the manner of the Grafting of it, Gregory," big brother Magnus said softly. "Let thy mind bear watch on mine. The metal's made of grains so small thou canst not see them..."

"Molecules," Rod supplied.

"Aye. And now I'll make those molecules move so fast they'll meld one to another. Yet I must spring them into motion so quickly that their heat will not have time to spread through the rest of the metal to Papa's hands, the whiles he doth press the broken edges together-for we'd not wish to b.u.m him."

"Definitely not," Rod muttered.

Gregory watched intently.

So did Rod. He still couldn't quite believe it, as he saw the metal spring into cherry-redness all along the crack, brighten quickly through orange and yellow to near white- ness. Metal flowed.