Chasing the Phoenix (9 page)

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BLACKTHORPE R

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AVENSCAIRN DE

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PLUS PRECIEUX?

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Though every hair on his back bristled with supernatural fear at this eerie sight, Surplus bowed deeply. He was, after all, a rationalist, a citizen of the Demesne of Western Vermont, and above all a gentleman. “You know me?”

The apparition's eyes, though they focused on him, did not look real.

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IN THE GENEMILLS OF SHELBURNE

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WHERE YOU WERE CREATED, THEY

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THINK YOU DEAD. IN LONDON, YOU

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BURNED BUCKINGHAM LABYRINTH

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TO ASHES AND MUCH OF THE CITY

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AS WELL. IN MOSCOW YOU CAUSED—

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“Enough! Your purpose, dread spirit?”

The lady's robes continued to lash in the infinite nothingness. A small, cruel smile blossomed on her porcelain face.

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I KNOW WHAT YOU

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DESIRE ABOVE ALL.

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Drawing himself up, Surplus said icily, “I assure you otherwise.”

Confusion flickered on that unearthly face, and, briefly, its lips twisted like maggots in agony. The luminous lady wavered like an image seen underwater, solidified, then wavered again.

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TELL THE HIDDEN KING THAT

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HIS PHOENIX BRIDE AWAITS

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DEEP UNDER FRAGRANT TREE.

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Effortlessly floating up so that Surplus had to throw his head back to meet her eyes, the lady then bent over almost double, so that their lips all but met. He saw now that what he had taken for her face was actually a mask and that there was nothing behind it. “I do not fear you,” he said, “or anything you might say.”

Gusts of laughter rose up out of nowhere, growing to a wind that shredded the fluttering robes like sheets of tissue paper and sent the mask tumbling away like a leaf.

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YOU LIE, PUPPYKINS,

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FOR WE KNOW WHY

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YOU FLED FROM THE

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LAND OF YOUR BIRTH.

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“No!” Surplus cried and, throwing an arm before his eyes, found himself falling over backward into a sea of mocking laughter.

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FRAGRANT TREE,

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OH MOCK HERO—

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TELL YOUR KING.

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*   *   *

“SIR?” VICIOUS
Brute said. “Sir, are you well?”

Surplus shook himself. “Is the … lady … gone?”

“Lady, sir? No, sir. Nobody here but us. You touched one of them vines I warned you about and fell over and went into spasms for a bit. Then you woke up.”

“I saw…”

“Whatever you saw, it was an illusion, sir. Trust me. I know the spirits of this mountain and they never tell you a true word.”

“Well,” Surplus said. “A false vision, you say?” And again, “Well.” He shook himself and, with the aid of Vicious Brute, stood. All his flesh was pins and needles but he seemed to be unharmed. Surplus had already decided to share this strange event with no one—the Hidden King most emphatically included. In his experience, some messages were best left undelivered. “At any rate, I doubt it was of any import.”

They started up the trail again. At least an hour passed before Surplus asked, “Have we far to go?”

“No, sir, not really. We're almost there.”

“Good.”

Up the darkening gorge they went, occasionally clambering over collapsed walls or splashing across the stream when their path switched sides. Until finally they came to a shallow slope covered with loose masonry and broken tiles. Clattering noisily, they made their way up and out of the ravine to find themselves in a clearing with a dozen or so rustic huts and lean-tos, crudely crafted from branches, rope, and straw.

At last they had come to the bandit camp.

The noise of their ascent had alerted the bandits of their approach. Some fifteen or sixteen rough-looking ruffians, many of them women and all armed with swords, pistols, and improvised clubs, had come out to confront them.

For a still instant, the two sides confronted each other in silence. Then a slim woman with hair as red as flame cried, “Little brother!” and ran into Vicious Brute's arms. He lifted her up, bounced her down. On the ground again, she drew herself up, and he stepped back respectfully.

“You may kneel,” she said, “and report.”

But before Vicious Brute could do so, Surplus stepped forward and said, “Your brother is now a soldier of the Abundant Kingdom, in the pay of the Hidden King, and so of course he is not free to kneel before anyone outside of his proper chain of command.” To lessen the sting of his words, he smiled. “You are clearly the leader of this group of unallied commandos. If I may ask, your name is—?”

“Fire Orchid.” The bandit leader studied him, as if he were some species of large and unattractive bug. “Who—and
what
—are you?”

Surplus formally introduced himself, adding, “As to what I am, I have, in my day, played many parts.” Turning casually to his donkey, Surplus began untying the saddlebags. “I am a gentleman, an adventurer, a wanderer, and a soldier of fortune. Currently, I am acting as an emissary for the Hidden King, whose destiny washes over these lands as irresistibly as the tides. Of that, we shall speak later. For the moment, what matters most is that I have brought food.” He lightly tossed a cured ham to the nearest brigand, who dropped a broken rake handle to catch it. “Food enough for a feast.” He produced bottles of liquor and distributed them to eager hands. “Since I came here uninvited, it seems only fair that I feed you so that we may afterward converse as friends.”

Fire Orchid did not look at all pleased. But she only said, “Very well. We can, as you say, talk afterward.”

*   *   *

BY THE
time the last of the food was cooked and eaten, night had fallen and the bandits had made most of the booze disappear. Surplus himself ate abstemiously and drank not at all, bringing the cup to his mouth frequently but only pretending to sip from it. Left alone with his thoughts, he found himself puzzling over the significance of the mysterious apparition he had seen earlier. So it was startling to look up and realize that the feast was over. Some of the bandits were staggering about in what might be a dance. Others lay drunkenly on the ground. Three of them were singing almost the same song. And Fire Orchid was staring at him intently from the other side of the fire. When their eyes met, she came over and sat down beside him, cross-legged. With her high boots and tight trousers, loose tunic, multiple silver bracelets, and the silk scarf tied about her neck, she looked the very prototype of a bandit queen. Her hair shifted colors in the firelight. “You aren't drinking,” she said.

“Nor you,” Surplus observed, “though you pretended to fill your cup frequently and occasionally surreptitiously emptied it in the weeds.”

“I think maybe it is time for me to show you what I have to offer.”

“I am at your disposal, madam.”

The mountain horses were kept in a nearby grassy sward, surrounded by a chest-high pole fence. Surplus and Fire Orchid stood for a while, watching them crop grass. They were everything they were reputed to be, chimerical creatures with the size and beauty of unaltered horses, the legs and paws of some enormous triple-jointed cat, and beaks that would have done justice to griffins. They looked like no creature Surplus had ever seen, and he could tell at a glance that they were swift as wildfire.

Fire Orchid bridled two of the steeds and threw a blanket over each in lieu of a saddle. Then she leaped up on one. “Well?” she said.

Surplus followed suit, flicked his reins in imitation of Fire Orchid, and almost lost his seat as the mountain horses bounded over the fence and up the mountainside.

Their steeds ran easily at first, and then, as Surplus grew surer of his seat, with increasing speed, until they were racing full-out, up the uneven terrain, weaving through the trees and leaping effortlessly over streams that appeared without warning before them. Wind in his face and pine scent in his nostrils, Surplus found himself whooping and howling for pure joy.

Up above the tree line they burst, where all was rock and lichen. Fire Orchid reined in her mountain horse and dismounted.

Surplus climbed down from his steed and stroked its mane. “You and I are going to be best friends,” he said.

“Hahhh!” it replied, and clacked its beak at him.

Fire Orchid released her mountain horse to graze and spread her saddle blanket on the ground, as if in preparation for a picnic. “Come sit next to me.” She patted the blanket.

“Shouldn't we hobble our mountain horses? So they don't wander off?”

“They are very smart. Aren't you, girl?”

“Yahhh!” Her mount bounced its beaked head up and down, then turned its attention to the grasses and lichens.

So Surplus did as she bade him.

“Put your arm around my shoulder,” Fire Orchid said. “As if you were my boyfriend. Yes, like that. See how nice I snuggle against you? Now. Talk to me about money.”

Assuming an expression of polite embarrassment, Surplus said, “Madam, there is none. Every penny the Hidden King had and all he could raise by mortgaging the resources of the Abundant Kingdom was spent on provisioning his army and resurrecting abominations from the past to employ as weapons. His soldiers are paid in promissory notes and the hope that there will be cities to sack.”

“I suspected as much when Vicious Brute did not return alone.” Fire Orchid placed her head against his shoulder. “Next question. Why are you here?”

“You and your family are a deceitful and dishonest batch. I say that with full respect. Vicious Brute told me you were villagers—yet no mere village can support a criminal dynasty. Such families are the flower of a large urban population. He implied you had seized the mountain horses by force, when such noble steeds as these would only be entrusted to the most warlike soldiers the army has, making such a feat improbable. My guess is that you are natives of Peace who bribed a corrupt official to leave the mountain horses unguarded one evening, then came here to negotiate their exchange for the advertised reward.”

“You are a very suspicious dog-man,” Fire Orchid murmured. She nuzzled her face in the side of his neck. “So if we are such bad sorts, why are you here?”

“I am here because I wish to recruit you—you and all of your family—into the army, to serve under my command.”

Fire Orchid drew away from Surplus. “I was not expecting that.”

“Madam, war is a fickle and unpredictable enterprise and one I hope to emerge from alive. A deceitful and ingenious crew of underlings would—”

Placing a finger against his lips, Fire Orchid said, “Shush. I understand everything now.”

“Thank you, I—what are you doing?”

Fire Orchid's breath was warm against the side of his face and her hand, having slipped inside his trousers and seized a very intimate part of his body, moved slowly up and down. “You are a clever fellow,” she said. “I believe you will figure it out soon enough.”

Which, of course, he did.

*   *   *

AFTERWARD, FIRE
Orchid lay back on the blanket, staring up at the stars. “I must be a very wicked woman to do such things with an animal-man like you.”

“On the contrary,” Surplus said. “It is not externalities that matter, but the soul that lies within. By looking beyond the superficial, you have displayed the nobility of your character.”

“No, I
like
being a bad woman.” She suddenly rolled over atop his prone body. Her eyes were bright and ruthless. “I think maybe I want to be wicked again. Even more wicked than I was before.”

So she was.

And then she was again.

And again.

Fire Orchid's enthusiasm bordered on the rapacious. But then, Surplus reflected, she had long been in the mountains with no male company other than members of her own family, so that was understandable. As was, for similar reasons, his own avid response.

After they had both played each other to exhaustion, Fire Orchid sat up, a black silhouette against the cold, starry sky, and, looking down on Surplus, said, “I think maybe you should marry me.”

Alarmed, Surplus sat bolt upright. “Madam! We hardly know each other. Our relationship so far is based entirely on passion—and even so great a passion as ours is hardly a fit basis for a lifetime commitment.”