A Magic King (14 page)

There was only one way to find out. She wouldn't stop until she found the answers she needed. And those answers were somehow locked in this thing she called a computer. So, for now, he would help her find what she needed. And then, after it was done, after she learned what she wanted to know, then he would bring her back to him.

"How can I help?" he asked, his voice rough with suppressed fear.

She didn't even glance up, but brushed a slick black bar against her clothing. "Is there a window here? Any place the sun shines in?"

Daken looked around. "No, not that I... Wait." He crossed the room to inspect an odd square of stone. "There used to be a window here, but it's been closed in."

She stood and joined him at the wall, pushing at the bricks with one hand. She held the black bar in the other. "Can you knock this out? Get us some real light?"

"Lamps, a few candles or torches would be easier."

"Yes," she said absently. "But it wouldn't be sunlight, and it wouldn't be nearly bright enough."

"But this window won't illuminate the room very well either."

"I don't care about the room." She rooted through a snarl of long coils, some black, some gray, some multicolored. "I can see well enough now."

"But then why—"

"Daken," she twisted around, holding up the black bar. "I need the light for this."

"But why would a rock—"

"Because it's not a rock. It's a solar collector. For power."

"A what?"

She started to reply, but the words never came. Finally she just shrugged. "It's too hard to explain. Can't you please just trust me?"

He waited a moment, watching her. Already he'd lost her interest as her focus shifted to a smooth black rope she pressed into the black bar. With sudden resolve, he crossed to her, stepping directly in front of her before she noticed him.

"Daken! You're stepping on—"

"Jane." He reached down and pulled her to her feet.

"What are you—"

He kissed her; long, hard, and with a roughness born of anger and desperation. She didn't struggle long, but he continued until he knew he brought all of her attention back to him, away from her ropes and stones. Only then did he end it.

"Listen to me, Jane. I will be your servant today. I will knock out the stones, though the Father alone knows what the Elven Lord will think of it. I will do as you bid me when you bid me, but remember, I do this today, for the sake of the prophesy, and because you want it."

She started to speak, but he held up his hand, pressing it against her soft lips. Her flesh stilled beneath his hand, but not before he felt the brush of her lips against his fingertips and the warmth of her breath heat his palm. His groin tightened, and he ground his teeth, focusing on the need for restraint.

"I will do this today, Jane. But tonight, we finish what we started. Tonight, you will come with me, and this," he glanced hatefully at the debris that had not only abandoned him, but now threatened to take her from him. "This will be forgotten. You will be mine." He pulled back his hand from her lips, already missing the contact with her.

She took a deep breath, a delightful pink tingeing her cheeks and lips. "I'll be your lover," she said. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, unable to resist the beauty of the desire he'd sparked in her eyes.

This time his kiss was gentle, tantalizing, and full of the promise of the night to come. She responded quickly, with an untutored eagerness that cut through his defenses. Their kiss deepened, lengthened, and filled him until his hands sought out the lush curves of her breasts. He could have her here on the floor, if he wanted to. In this, she was still vulnerable to him. This part of her, at least, was his. So he released her, not wanting to abuse her trust.

"Tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and husky. 'Tonight we will do this as it should be done."

She nodded, and he was gratified to see her gaze was completely trained on him, the computer things forgotten.

"You are so beautiful, Jane Deerfield. So beautiful that I, King of Chigan, will knock out a stone wall in the House of Prophesy at your command." Then he left her to study the stones he would need to remove.

"You're doing this," she said, as she walked with him to the wall, "because it's the only way to fulfill your mother's dream for you."

He paused, trying to fathom her words. "My mother dreamed I shouldn't come here until I was twenty-four. That has already been fulfilled."

"Not her dream when she was asleep. Her dream of her son fulfilling this prophesy." She dropped to her knees to study a pile of what looked like dusty junk to him. "I'm not only doing this for me. I'm doing this for you. It's what you want, isn't it?"

He toyed with the hilt of his dagger, rubbing his finger over the smooth stone embedded at the base. "I want the prophesy to be fulfilled," he said carefully.

"And assuming I can get this monster up and running, you'll fulfill it. You'll bring a great deal of information to your people. Here try this on the wall." She pulled out a small hatchet that had once been painted red.

He took the blunted weapon, then faced her and bowed his most formal salute to her. "I thank you, Jane Deerfield, for the gift you bestow on me and my people."

She grinned, bobbing her head awkwardly in response. "Uh, no problem. It's the least I could do for my computerized stud with a sword."

"Uh—"

"I know. I was joking. It's the least I can do for Daken, King of Chigan. Besides," she added, her voice fainter as it filtered through the back of a metal cabinet. "This might get you the pull you need with the Elven Lord."

He drew back the hatchet, aiming it at the crumbling mortar. "I had thought of that," he said, then he swung, embedding the blade in the wall.

They worked for another hour, and gradually Daken became aware of their audience. First it was only a few noises from the hallway. Then later, a young and very large mage opened the door and stood in the entrance, probably to keep the people who craned their heads around him from pushing their way into the room.

Daken wasn't surprised. They'd probably been watched from the moment they'd arrived in the House of Prophesy. Everyone knew of his mother's dream. She'd had no qualms about telling all and sundry of her son's great destiny. More than one person would have wanted to watch Daken's great moment if only to see him fail.

Daken pulled the last stone from the old window. He shouldn't have been worried about what the Elven Lord would think of this. If the Lord objected, Daken wouldn't have been able to pick up the hatchet, much less bury it in the wall.

"Is this good?"

Jane stepped out from the small metal room she'd been working in. Daken hadn't at first realized how far this Room of Prophesy went back until she'd opened a metal cabinet and proceeded to walk deeper and deeper into it. There was a whole other world of green boards and colored wires he'd never suspected.

Now she came out of the cabinet, her hair covered in dust, her cheek smudged with dirt, and her face wreathed in a happy smile.

Daken pointed at the window. "Is this large enough?"

Jane looked up at him and frowned. "Nuts. The light's going."

"It is evening."

"Yeah, but we need sunlight."

"Would any light do?" he asked, peering into the sky.

"A candle or lamp is too dim. Same with a torch. A good bright light bulb would be fine, though it might take a little longer."

"What is a light-bub?"

"Light bulb. It's like a... a glowing ball of light. Self-contained. Not very hot, but very bright."

"A fire ball?"

"Well, yes. But not hot."

Daken waited a moment, sure what she needed would be provided. He wasn't disappointed. Moments later, a bright fireball appeared just outside the window. It was poised in the air like a small burning bird, stationary and very bright.

"How's that?"

"Wow! How'd you do that?"

Daken grinned, wishing he could take the credit. "I didn't do it. Someone in our audience did."

"Audience?"

Daken jerked his head toward the door and watched Jane's eyes grow wide.

"Where'd they come from?" she whispered.

"Does it matter?"

She shook her head. "No, I guess not." She turned to him. "They're here to see your big moment, huh?"

"They are here to see the prophesy fulfilled," he hedged.

Jane smiled. "Well, let's not disappoint them. Here, help me put this out." She brought the black bar and cord to the window, dangling it out under the light. "Hmm. Have we got something to lay this on? Like a table or chair?"

Daken glanced back at the young mage still guarding the doorway. The boy nodded and disappeared. Moments later, two youths returned with a table.

"How's this?"

Jane twisted around to see. "Great. Pass it over."

Once the bar was placed to her satisfaction, Jane turned around, resting momentarily against the cabinet, her expression relaxed as she watched two boys at the doorway. The first, the young mage in his dark blue robe, returned to his sentry position. But the other one, the young blond of about thirteen in servant's garb, hesitated just on the inside of the door.

"Hi," she said to him.

The boy nodded and brushed back a greasy lock of hair. Then he stared at her as if he were afraid she'd try to eat him.

"So much for my winning ways with kids," she muttered before turning back to Daken. "You know, I suppose they could come in if they stayed on that side of the room." She lifted her chin to the back of the room. "That would keep them from killing themselves trying to see around Mr. Dark Blue and Bulky."

"The mage is there to keep others from interfering."

"Oh. Can he keep them on that side of the room?"

Daken nodded. "If it will not disturb you, then..." he paused, choosing his words carefully. "It would be a kindness to them." The people in the hall were those who were not able to watch in more subtle ways, and Daken had always thought it unfair how jealously some mages hoarded their knowledge. It pleased him that Jane was kindhearted enough to allow the less gifted to learn of what they did. And if it did magnify the extent of their success or failure, that was how great moments in history were made.

Even if they failed, his mother would have been pleased with how notorious the event made her son.

"Perhaps we should limit the number to ten," he suggested. "There isn't much room."

"Yeah," Jane nodded, her attention focused on a strange series of holes in a strip of metal. "Whatever you think best." She suddenly glanced up, scanning the faces behind the young mage. "Which one's the Elven Lord?"

Daken stopped, realizing she had no understanding of the abilities of the people around her. "The Elven Lord and other high mages are undoubtedly watching through their crystals."

"Crystals? As in crystal balls?"

"Some are balls. Some are mirrors. Others use pools of water. It all depends—"

She waved it off. "I don't want to know." She looked around at the walls and ceiling. "It gives me the creeps to think of a dozen pairs of eyes watching my every move."

"It is more likely to be a hundred or more. The mages have their own way of communicating. We are probably being watched by wizards throughout the world."

"Swell," she muttered, her gaze sliding back to the holes. "Look. Can you direct traffic, then come on back and help me carry this equipment? I found a monitor back here that ought to work. Plus drives and the like. It may be crude, but I want to start small and build up to the big guns."

Daken hesitated, his voice slow. "There are guns back there?"

Jane glanced up. "You know about guns?"

"Yes. They are weapons. Ancient weapons whose secret has been lost."

"Good. Let it stay lost." She started to duck back into the cabinet, but he grabbed her arm.

"There are guns back there?" He couldn't suppress the excitement in his voice. A gun would be of great use against the Tarveen.

Jane hesitated. "No. There aren't any guns back there. It was just a figure of speech." She stepped away from him. Then she glanced up at the ceiling and projected her voice for all to hear. "No guns." And then she was gone, leaving him to handle the thorny problem of who to allow in the room and who to keep out.

* * *

Jane ducked through the cabinet into the main machine room. She knew exactly where she was going. She had stumbled across the item a few hours ago, but hadn't thought much about it. Or rather, she had thought a lot about it, but wasn't sure what to do with it.

Kneeling down before a small filing cabinet, she pulled open a drawer. A nine millimeter Beretta lay neatly on the dark metal. One magazine clip lay beside it. She lifted them both out of the small filing cabinet, absently flicking out a bullet from the clip.

What would she do with them? This land had enough weapons. She refused to be the snake who introduced modern guns to this small garden of Eden. They'd find it out fast enough on their own.