Wizard Of Rentoro Part 3

In Rentoro, did they exist in reality? Did the Wizard have the mental powers to pick up a whole army of mounted and armored men and hurl them hundreds of miles?

That was as hard to accept as the airplanes. If the Wizard had that kind of mental power, he wouldn't need the army. He would be able to stand on a hilltop, say to himself, "Let the walls of Dodini fall down," concentrate his mind-and a thousand miles away the walls of Dodini would crumble into rubble. He didn't do this, although it would be an even more powerful weapon than machine guns or airplanes. Therefore he probably couldn't do it.

But what did he do?

Blade shook his head in exasperation. There was no doubt about it. The mystery of the Wizard of Rentoro took the b.l.o.o.d.y cake, when it came to weird mysteries!

There was also no doubt about what he had to do. He had to seek out the present Wizard himself, whoever the man might be and whatever the dangers involved in approaching him. There was nowhere else to get the answers he needed-although he might not get them even there.

Deciding on his next move was always a load off Blade's mind. He stood up and flexed his arms and legs. Then he asked Lorya, "Do you know the way to the Wizard's castle?" She stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. He laughed. "Never mind. We'll talk about it in the morning. Let's get some sleep."

They curled up under a pile of blankets and spare clothing, snuggling together for warmth. Blade thought he saw a disappointed look on Lorya's face when he only patted her shoulder as he lay down. He ignored it. Neither of them needed anything but a good night's sleep, not after this day and not here in the woods, with the damp earth under them and the wet leaves still shaking down drops on them.

Blade slept and his sleep was filled with strange dreams. He saw himself walking through the streets of London, entering J's office, talking with the man, being called by his full name. Then he saw a burning medieval town and himself standing in front of a pile of blackened timbers that had once been a house. He had the feeling there were many other things, even stranger, but he remembered none of them.

They awoke to find blue sky visible through the branches. The roads would be drying out, speeding their travel and easing the burden on the heuda, It seemed to be in fairly good shape as it browsed quietly on the ferns, but Blade wanted to go on spearing it as much as possible. They had to keep ahead of the Wolves' search and that would be easier mounted than on foot.

The fire was down to ashes. Blade churned the ashes into the damp ground to conceal their campsite while Lorya packed the gear. Then they mounted and rode back on to a trail bathed in sunlight.

As they moved out into the light, Blade threw back his head and opened his mouth. Then he shut it abruptly. There were many things he might have to do in this Dimension, but there waas one thing he would not do.

He would not sing, whistle, or even hum, "We're Off to See the Wizard."

Chapter 9.

Blade planned to stay clear of anything larger than a farming village until both he and Lorya were so heavily disguised that their own mothers wouldn't have recognized them. In the villages and farms there were also men who would bear tales to the Wizard, but not quickly enough to help the Wolves in their search.

To confuse matters further, the Wolves would doubtless expect anyone who'd so openly rebelled against the Wizard to be making a dash for the borders of Rentoro. What lay beyond those borders was unexplored wilderness, with land that would grow no crops and forests swarmed with wild animals and savage cannibals. Here and there a handful of outlaws had carved out a small territory for themselves, but were so busy defending it that the Wizard could afford to ignore them. The borderlands offered nothing to tempt anyone-except a man who'd slain three of the Wolves. He might expect a more merciful death from the outlaws, the bears, or the cannibals than from the Wolves.

Instead, Blade and Lorya would be heading straight for the Wizard's castle, something few sane men in Rentoro ever did. Even those who gladly served the Wizard usually preferred to do so from a safe distance.

But-suppose the Wizard had tapped Blade's mind and read his thoughts? Blade wondered if this could happen without his being aware of it, and thought of last night's dreams. The problem was, he was dealing with a phenomenon far beyond not only his own experience but all of Home Dimension's scientific knowledge. There were no guidelines, only more educated guesswork.

He could be certain that he was nearly impossible to hypnotize. He could suspect that if telepathy existed, it involved something not too far from hypnosis. Therefore a man hard to hypnotize might also be very hard to reach telepathically, at least without his consent. That was as far as he cared to go at the moment. He would a.s.sume that neither the Wizard nor the Wolves knew which way he was going-and keep his sword sharp while he rode.

Lorya was uncomfortable with the idea of riding straight on to the Wizard's castle, but not frightened. She trusted Blade's judgment, and in any case a clean death held no real terrors for her. Her objections were all simple, common-sense ones.

"The castle of the Wizard is also the lair of his Wolves. For many miles outside the walls they keep a close watch. How shall we pa.s.s through them to reach the castle? Do we slip in by night?"

Blade shook his head. "No. We go in by day. That way no one will think us people who have anything to fear from the Wolves."

"Then the Wolves will surely find us."

"Yes, but we can say that we have business for the Wizard, and for him only."

"Will they believe us?"

"Lorya, I have been in many lands and met several men who behave like the Wizard. Their servants go in mortal fear of displeasing them and would not dare risk turning aside a man who says he has business with their master. Believe me, the Wolves will not lift a finger against us."

"And then? After we enter the castle? What do you hope to do?"

"Meet the Wizard. I am traveling to learn as much as I can about each land I visit."

"Why?"

"I am curious."

Lorya shook her head. "I think a better word might be mad." She laughed. "Perhaps the Wizard will also think you are mad and let you go."

Blade wasn't sure what he wanted the man to think. Even if the Wizard turned out to have nothing but swordsmen and dungeons at his command, facing him in his den would be a risky business. If it hadn't been for the strange powers the Wizard might have, Blade would have been quite willing to study him from a safe distance.

Blade and Lorya kept to the trail all morning, then spent the afternoon cutting across country. They camped for the night in the forest a mile from a small village. In the chill darkness of the early morning, Blade slipped into the village and stole a heuda for Lorya. They were on the move again well before daylight, and did not stop until evening, twenty miles away from the village and anybody who might recognize the stolen animal.

That was how they made their way across Rentoro toward the Wizard's castle-one improvisation after another, always with the idea of confusing their trail. Lorya cut her hair short, darkened her skin, and dressed in man's clothing, pa.s.sing as Blade's servant. Blade acquired one set of clothing after another, each a little fancier than the one before it. He paid for the clothes, for Lorya's saddle, for their food and wine, and for their lodging at inns or farmhouses with pieces of the gold necklace.

Blade did not explain who he was, and no one asked him to do so. Each piece of the necklace was worth a year's wages for a skilled worker. No sensible man would risk losing that much money by asking pointless questions.

There was another reason for people's lack of curiosity, as Lorya explained. "In Rentoro, a man like you, who travels without saying why, is almost always high in the service of the Wizard. Such men often take lodging, meals, heudas, even women as their natural right. If one of them is generous enough to pay, no Rentoran in his senses is going to argue."

Rentorans might not go to the Wizard's castle, but even the children knew where it was. Day after day the directions grew more precise, and day after day Blade pushed on faster. An eagerness to get to grips with the Wizard and dig out his secrets was beginning to fill him. Lorya saw this and found it more and more difficult to hide her doubts. Sometimes Blade caught a glimpse of her when she didn't think he was looking, and her face was drawn and troubled. Dark circles grew under her eyes, and flesh melted off her already slim body.

On the eleventh day they reached the last village on the road to the castle. South of the village, white wooden posts with the wolf sign in green rose on either side of the road. They marked the beginning of the area patrolled by the Wolves. No man willingly pa.s.sed those posts without some very good reason, and not all those who did came out again.

The village itself was no more than a dozen houses, four of them inns with stables attached. The inns all looked prosperous, for there was money to be earned from the Wizard's servants as they pa.s.sed back and forth on their master's business. But even that money could not make men happy about living here in the Wizard's back yard, with the Wolves never more than half an hour's ride away. All the men and women in the village had a hunted look, and there were only a few children.

Blade stopped in sight of the village, but well out of earshot of any of its people, and motioned Lorya up close beside him.

"We spend the night here," he said. "Then I ride on, to the Wizard's castle."

"Alone?" Her eyes widened. "But I-"

"Let me finish. I hope to be back within ten days, for better or worse. If I am not back within ten days-"

"I can ride in after you."

"No. Wait another five days. Something quite harmless may have happened to delay me. At the end of the extra five days, sell everything you can spare and ride north as fast as you can. Find some town where no one knows you and use the rest of the gold to settle there. Perhaps you may be able to return to Dodini someday, but it will not be safe for a year or two at least.

"If I'm not back in fifteen days, one of two things will have happened. Either I'll be dead, or I'll have had to flee so quickly that I'd be putting you in danger by trying to pick you up. Either way, you won't do anything by going to the castle except fall into the hands of the Wolves and throw your life away for nothing."

The woman seemed about to protest, but Blade raised a hand and continued. "Lorya, you've had more than your share of bad luck in your life. But that life isn't over and your luck could change. Give it a chance, why don't you, instead of getting yourself killed at twenty?"

Lorya said nothing, but her hands were shaking slightly and she kept her head carefully turned away from Blade. He did not feel particularly good about having to leave Lorya behind, to wait in an agony of suspense while he faced the Wizard, but there was nothing to justify taking her any farther into danger.

He could see now that he'd made a mistake in taking Lorya with him this far. Yet it would have been death to leave her in Dodini, and he hadn't realized she might come to care for him the way she obviously had. d.a.m.n! He'd been remarkably slow in a matter where he was usually alert. Now he'd contrived to drag another innocent person deep into danger, after swearing a mighty oath he'd do everything he could to avoid this happening again!

He urged his heuda forward. "Come on, Lorya. Let's see what the inns have in the way of wine. They've got to have something better than the purple vinegar we drank last night!"

Blade came up the winding stairs, hearing the wood creak under his weight and ducking his head to get under the low beams. The stairs were swept clean of dust, but still smelled of old wine, unwashed human bodies, and the oil from the dim, guttering lamps that shed a faint orange light.

Blade reached the top of the stairs and turned right, down the hall leading to the inn's half-dozen private rooms. To the left were the three large communal chambers, each with beds for a dozen people. Blade thought of sticking his head inside one, to see what kind of people were snoring away there, then decided against it. In this village people were very careful to keep to themselves, not asking others' business or even meeting others' eyes.

Blade decided he would not ask Lorya to wait for him here. A few hours in the grim atmosphere of this village was already making him edgy. Two weeks of it would make the poor woman a nervous wreck. He'd send her ten miles back up the road to the village of Peloff and the Inn of the Blue Swan. She could wait more safely and much more comfortably there.

Blade reached his room, turned the huge iron key in the lock, pushed the door open, then stopped abruptly. The sleeping pallet beside the bed where Lorya had been lying was empty. He scanned the room quickly. The candle still burned in the candlestick by the head of the bed; and everything else was as it had been when he left. But the room was as completely empty as if Lorya had been spirited away by magic.

Blade's hand went to the hilt of his sword and he took a step forward, surprise and the beginnings of fear rising in him. The fear was not for himself, but for Lorya. Had the Wizard's powers reached out and struck at her, or had human agents come after her? He drew his dagger and took another step forward, trying to look in all directions at once. Possibly- Then Blade heard the unmistakable sound of a deep breath from behind the door, the only part of the room his eyes couldn't reach. He froze in mid-stride, then started to turn. A moment later came an unmistakable, uncontrollable giggle. Blade whirled around and slammed the door behind him. Lorya stood there, shaking with laughter that she was vainly trying to keep silent. She was shaking so hard that she had to brace herself against the wall to keep from collapsing on the floor.

She was also entirely nude.

Blade's breath went out of him in a whistle of pleased surprise. Then he wanted to laugh at himself. A fine spectacle he must have been, entering the room as though a hungry tigher waited to leap out at him. No wonder Lorya finally broke into giggles! Of course it was a dangerous joke to play on a man with his training, who became a deadly fighting machine the moment his suspicions were aroused. But he didn't have to tell her this and spoil her fun, not on this evening, the last time they might ever see each other.

So he said nothing. Instead he stepped forward, bent, and swept her up into his arms. She let her head drop back, arching her neck and exposing her throat to Blade's lips. He noticed that her breath was coming fast, and a tendon in the slim neck was vibrating like a plucked harpstring.

This didn't surprise Blade at all. When he raised his lips from her throat, his own breath was coming in gasps, as if he'd just run a couple of miles at top speed. His strength seemed to have doubled so that he was holding Lorya, not a small woman in spite of her slenderness, as easily as if she'd been a child.

He held her for a moment longer, then turned, carried her over to the bed, and laid her down on the quilt. She lay on her back, her arms at her side and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising and falling with her quick breathing. She kept her eyes fixed on Blade as he pulled off his clothes. In the dim light those eyes seemed to be twice their normal size and Blade could have sworn they were glowing like a cat's.

Lorya suddenly wriggled and laughed softly. "I wonder what anyone would say if he could spy on us-the Wizard's man and his 'servant'. Of course, some of the Wizard's men are said to have a liking for boys."

"They might wonder at first," Blade said, smiling. "But not for long. No one who got a good look at you could think for a moment you're a boy."

That was nothing less than the truth. Lorya was fine-boned and slender, almost lean. She'd had little spare flesh to begin with and the long journey across Rentoro had taken off much of that: Yet she was still beautiful, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s shallow but exquisite cones with dark nipples now risen into points, her belly extraordinarily taut and flat for a woman who'd borne a child, her legs simply breathtaking long for her height, strongly muscled, exquisitely molded. Those legs drew Blade's attention until he had to sit down on the bed beside Lorya and run his hands up and down them, from the feet up to the inner thighs and back down again. Under his hands her skin was firm, and seemed to be cool and warm at the same time.

Gradually his hands spent more time on her inner thighs, occasionally brushing lightly over the triangle of fine dark hair nestling between them. As Blade's hands worked, so did his lips, kissing Lorya's eyes, ears, and lips, again caressing her throat, working down to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and across the skin of her belly until she shivered and moaned.

Lorya, did not lie quietly under Blade's hands and lips. Far from it. Her own hands were making their own thorough exploration of his body, and her lips pressed against his as if she wanted to weld the two of them together. In the brief moments when her arms went around him, he could feel her wiry strength, feel her trembling, feel her nails digging into his skin.

At last there was no part of each other's bodies they hadn't explored with lips and hands. Lorya was quivering from head to foot, her eyes were closed, and from her open mouth came a steady whimpering. Blade's own breath rasped in his throat like sand, and his groin seemed to be glowing white hot. His lips returned to Lorya's throat again. She caught him with both arms, hands gripping his hair. He wanted to slip gently into her, but instead her legs seemed to fly apart and her hands tightened, dragging him down, dragging him deep within her' n a single fierce moment.

Now her legs rose and locked around Blade's waist, while her hands slipped down onto his back. Her nails dug in deeper than before, but Blade felt no pain. He couldn't have felt pain if he and Lorya had been hurled into a boiling cauldron. He could feel nothing but Lorya, swamping all his senses, enveloping him, surrounding his mind as she'd already surrounded part of his body.

He was slow to feel anything else. He was dimly aware that Lorya was moving under him as he moved within her, that her legs were clamping tighter and her hands were once again in his hair. He heard her moans rise and he heard his own breath coming faster and faster. Yet he was less aware than usual of the slow equisite climb toward the final release, the quickening, the twisting, his desperate efforts to hold back and the woman's desperate efforts to push on to the end.

He still knew when the release came. It came so nearly at the same moment for both of them that Blade and Lorya couldn't have said who was first, even if they'd cared about knowing.

They only cared that Lorya had to bite back a scream, then went completely rigid, arms and legs frozen. Blade gave a thick, gasping cry, and his powerful body thrashed and jerked. He cried out again, Lorya's breath hissed out of her body in one long sigh, then her teeth met in his ear as his head sank down on her breast.

They were a long time in that position, neither of them entirely conscious. Somehow Blade's weight did not crush Lorya underneath him and somehow she did not cry out from his pressing upon her. Finally they untangled themselves, but had neither the strength nor the desire to move far apart. Blade managed to pull the quilt over them before sleep took him.

They awoke at the dreariest hour of dawn and Blade found that Lorya's desire was also awakened. His brief thoughts of pushing her away lasted only until her hands and lips went to work. Then they came together with a pa.s.sion as great as the night's, and far more tender. This time Lorya wept as she lay in Blade's arms afterward. Blade himself would not have greatly minded hearing that the Wizard of Rentoro was dead and his castle fallen into rubble.

By the time they came downstairs, it was several hours into a gray, windy morning. Everyone else at the inn had already eaten breakfast, and the innkeeper grumbled about "slug-a-beds" as he served them porridge, cheese, and wine.

Then there was nothing to do but go outside, pack their gear, and ride off on their separate ways. They were back in their disguises as an agent of the Wizard and his servant, so there could be no affectionate farewells. Lorya mounted her heuda and rode off toward the north without a backward look. Blade watched until the slender, stiff-backed figure was out of sight in the misty rain that was starting to fall. Then he turned and looked the other way, down the road to where the white posts marked the beginning of the Wizard's personal territory. He mounted and spurred his heuda into movement.

He'd done his best for Lorya. She was on her way to the safest place within easy reach. She had the skill and determination she'd need to survive whatever happened to him, and she had all the rest of the gold.

He'd thought of taking some himself, but why bother? If the Wizard and the Wolves gave him a friendly reception, he wouldn't need money. If they didn't well, he'd either be on his way out of the Wizard's lands so fast he wouldn't be stopping to pay for anything, or he would never be going anywhere or paying for anything again.

Chapter 10.

Blade rode past the white posts at a canter, then slowed to a trot as soon as they were out of sight behind him. He wanted to spare the heuda even more than usual. He might have to ride for his life before this day was over, and he wanted his mount as fresh as possible.

It was two hours before Blade saw a single Wolf. During those two hours he rode steadily onward, stopping twice to let the heuda catch its breath. He rode with his sword belted on over his coat, ready at hand, and with one dagger in his boot and another up one sleeve. His crossbow was slung on one side of his saddle and a bag of bolts for it on the other side. He wasn't sure if the Wizard's agents ever rode up armed to the teeth like this, but he didn't care. In Blade's experience, few men ever died from having too many weapons ready to use.

The road was wide enough for three men to ride abreast and surfaced with hard-packed gravel. It twisted and turned in curves and sharp bends. Some of these curves and bends took it around hills or ravines. Others seemed intended to bring it within easy range of perfect ambush sites Twice Blade crossed small wooden bridges. He noticed that the roadbed of each bridge was made of loose planks, while the supports were held together by ropes and wedges. A dozen trained men could take this bridge apart in an hour, using nothing but their bare hands. An invader could still push cavalry and infantry across the stream and on across country. He could not do the same with the heavy wagons carrying food or siege equipment.

Just beyond the second bridge, Blade came to a farm, perched on a hill beside a bend in the road. Its fields were ma.s.ses of rank weeds and its barn was a sagging pile of decaying timber. No one had raised a crop here for many years. Yet the farm still had its uses as part of the Wizard's defense plans.

The walls of the farmhouse were loopholed for crossbows. A stout brick wall surrounded the farmyard. Near the top, black iron spikes, sharp and freshly painted, jutted outward from the brick. A wooden barrier crowned the wall and it also was loopholed. In the center of the farmyard rose a circular stone tower with a tiled wooden cupola and a weathervane on top.

Over the past century the Wizards of Rentoro had created a formidable defense in depth. Spies and Wolves made rebellion almost impossible, but the Wizards still weren't taking any chances.

By luck or through the Wizard's mistakes a rebel army might a.s.semble and march on the castle. It would not be able to use the Wizard's roads. Instead it would be forced to disperse and scatter across the country as it marched. Then the Wolves, concentrating with their unnatural speed, would come down on the scattered columns. An invader would be lucky to get within sight of the castle's walls.

At least Blade could now understand why he hadn't met any Wolves on the road. With these defenses stretching for miles ahead of him, there was no need to hurry in stopping a lone rider. The Wolves would be waiting for him where they could do so most comfortably, and they would speak to him when they found it convenient.

The farm disappeared around the bend of the road. Blade trotted into a forest and the heuda began to labor slightly as the road climbed a hill. Half a mile farther on he came out of the forest, back into the gray daylight, and found the Wolves waiting for him.

There were only three of them-one of the leaders and two men-at-arms. The men-at-arms wore their usual armor and weapons, but the leader was dressed more for dancing than for fighting. He wore a black tunic embroidered with gold and with silver lacing down the front, blue hose, a flowing red cloak with a fur collar-in general, the clothes of a Renaissance n.o.bleman on his way to a party. A white sash around the man's thick waist supported a blue-enameled wolf's-head badge and a jeweled dagger.

The face above the lace collar was less elegant. It was tanned, scarred, coa.r.s.ened by years of too much food and wine, but still hard and ugly. It was a face Blade had seen many times-the professional mercenary, without scruples, friends, or any place in the world except what he can win by his sword and loyalty to his chief. A dangerous man in a fight, but otherwise more accustomed to obeying orders than to making up his own mind, and therefore perhaps less dangerous to Blade here and now.

Blade rode straight up to the three Wolves, paying no more attention to them than to the rain. He pulled to a stop twenty feet away, just as the leader started toward him. One of the men-at-arms drew his sword, while the other unslung his crossbow.

"The Wizard gives you welcome," said the leader. His voice matched his face-rough, harsh, and much less polite than his choice of words.

"I come on the affairs of the Wizard," said Blade. Only a Wolf or an agent who'd served the Wizard for many years would use the forbidden proper name without betraying himself by nervousness or hesitation.

The man nodded. "It is written?" he went on, pointing at Blade's saddlebags.

"It is here," said Blade, pointing at his forehead. "It is for the Wizard, and none other."

"That may be," said the man. "It comes from-where?"

"From Morina," said Blade. "Some also from near Dodini." He'd picked those two cities well in advance. Dodini must have been giving the Wizard trouble, or the Wolves would not have attacked it. Thanks to Lorya he also knew a good deal about the place.