Emperor and Clown (29 page)

“That’s
a long story.”

His
face hardened. There was a strange, unfamiliar strength there, and no sparkle
in the big gray eyes. He had changed. But so had she-they weren’t children
anymore.

“You
are Rap, though?”

“I’m
Rap. And Azak ... Well, never mind Azak.”

“Rap,
what’s wrong? There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” She could not see what
could possibly be wrong now. Rap was alive, and she wasn’t ever going to
believe him dead again unless she saw his head on a pike, and-”Oh, Gods! Of
course! Kalkor’s here, Rap!”

He
nodded. “I know that.”

“The
casement ... Did you meet a dragon, Rap?”

“Yes,
I did. Here’s your aunt, Inos.”

Belatedly
Inos spun around to Kade and embraced her. If she couldn’t hug Rap, then Kade
was next best thing, maybe.

But
Rap had been right. Monarchs did not enjoy being kept waiting, and they could
send armed men. Ythbane did so, and in a minute Inos found herself being firmly
escorted back up the bank, and then standing between Azak and Kade under the
awning, although the shower had almost ended. Kalkor was in the group, also,
snow-white teeth shining within a pink-streaked face, studying her with a
contented smile that struck her as completely insane.

And
Rap. They weren’t all lined up before the throne like errant children, but she
felt as if they should be. Epoxague was in the group and even Eigaze, although
she was hardly involved, and even the unfortunate hussar who had agreed to
bring Kade over. He looked more frightened than any of them.

Then
Kade was formally presented by Eigaze, which explained why she was included.
The court party was now clearly divided into those involved in the Krasnegar
affair and the great majority who weren’t, and most of those outsiders were
perforce standing outside the awning, openly scowling at this new symbol of
status.

The
little prince was staring at his own shoe buckles, shivering and ignoring
events all together. Ythbane nodded in approval of Kade. “Yes, the reports all
mentioned that Inosolan was accompanied by her aunt. Obviously you have had
some strange adventures, ma’am.”

Kade
simpered, which completely concealed whatever she might be thinking. “But none
more exciting than this moment, your Highness!”

Formalities
disposed of, she was waved back. The white-faced hussar was explained and
excused, and he departed with very long strides. The regent fixed a bleak eye
on Epoxague.

“Well,
your Eminence? Have you any further surprises left to brighten our day?”

“No;
your Highness,” Epoxague said. “I am being surprised myself now.”

“You
may be more surprised yet,” Ythbane retorted sourly. “This is hardly the place
. . .” For a moment his attention went to the great crowd around the campus. It
was obviously thinning out now. Some ominous clusters of activity hinted at
casualties being attended, but there had been no disaster. Yet the roads would
not become passable again for a while yet. He shrugged.

“But
we might as well get started. And who is this young man? A goblin supporter,
obviously. A faun?” He glance around. “Jotnar and a djinn. A troll! We have a
motley assortment of participants!”

Kade
spoke up quickly. “His name is Rap, your Highness, a retainer of my late
brother’s. He has been accompanying me on my travels.”

Oh,
very neatly done! The regent nodded and lost interest in Rap. How fortunate
that Inos had not embraced him!

But
why had Inos not embraced him? She had spread her arms and then been somehow
distracted, or stopped. Had Rap done that? That called for sorcery, surely. And
he had not said how he had escaped from Azak’s jail, although obviously Azak’s
horrible story had been a basket of lies. This strange melancholy ... was Rap
oppressed by the thought of the duel with Kalkor? She knew she must not keep
staring at him, but her eyes wouldn’t listen to her. Rap himself seemed to be
studying the old imperor, who slept on in his carrying chair, a shriveled relic
swathed in a tasseled wool rug, oblivious now to all events in the great realm
he had ruled for so long.

“Sultana
Inosolan!” Ythbane fixed her with a glittery gaze, and she jumped. She was
suddenly aware that the regent’s reported influence on women was no myth.
Small, and not especially handsome, he was yet dominating the assembled court
much more than a mere throne ought to account for, or all his jewels and
finery. Despite that absurd wooden chair and the ugly canopy above his head, he
was projecting power and dignity. No one else was talking. Only Kalkor seemed
unimpressed, silently observing proceedings with a silent sneer on his demonic
and grotesquely bloody features.

“Sultana
Inosolan,” the regent repeated thoughtfully. “We can agree on that title,
surely?”

Inos
hesitated. Azak shot her one of his lion glares, but she resisted it. Rap was
alive, after all, and now she knew that Azak had always been a delusion.
Perhaps she had not been very fair to Azak, but then he had not been fair to
her at all. Her consent to the marriage had been extracted by open threat.

Always
she had assumed that Rap was dead, so she had never even considered him-not
since her father died, anyway ...

No,
that was not true. She had never thought of Rap as a lover. She had never
allowed herself to think of him that way, for he had been only a stableboy and
all her upbringing had insisted that she would have to marry a noble. That had
been her great error. Only after he had turned up alive in Arakkaran had she
realized how she felt about him, and then it had seemed too late. But it wasn’t
too late! Rap was alive, and her marriage to Azak had never been consummated.
It wasn’t a valid marriage yet.

To
bring that up now would really put the wolves in the fold.

A
lifetime with Azak? No-a lifetime with Rap! Evil take her upbringing!

Her
mind was wandering like a songbird escaped from a cage.

“Your
Highness?” she said, trying to school her face into Kade’s most witless
expression; feeling even more witless under it.

Ythbane’s
eyes narrowed. “You can hardly expect to be both Queen of Krasnegar and Sultana
of Arakkaran. Which is it to be?”

“Er
. . .” Inos looked up again at Azak’s murderous stare. Then she turned to look
at Rap, and for a moment saw ... Then it was gone. His face became completely
unreadable. What had she seen? Pain? Longing? He had crossed the world to be at
her side, and now come halfway back again. Surely she need not doubt what Rap
wanted?

She
was descended from a long line of kings. She raised her throbbing chin
defiantly. “Your Highness, my husband wishes to appeal to the Council of Four.
Until they have heard his petition and rendered judgment, then I cannot decide
where my best interests lie.”

“Ha!”
Kalkor crowed. “She does not recognize me as King of Krasnegar!”

“You
be silent!” Ythbane shouted. He glanced around. “Where is he? Ambassador
Krushjor! Come and remove this naked savage. Wash him and clothe him decently,
or throw him back in his cage if you prefer, but get him out of my-”

“Watch
your tongue, upstart!” Kalkor snarled. “Does this female recognize me as King
of Krasnegar? For if not, then I challenge her to a Reckoning.”

“You’ll
do no such thing!” Ythbane shouted. “We have had quite enough of that murderous
nonsense.” Azak’s harsh djinn voice boomed out. “Your Imperial Highness, the
jotunn assaulted my wife in your presence. Can you not apply suitable
discipline?”

The
court drew breath at the effrontery. Ythbane’s pallid face flushed bright. “Unfortunately,
not easily. He has diplomatic immunity. We could have him shipped across the
border in fetters, and that is beginning to seem like a very good idea.”

“There
is a prophecy,” Kalkor said.

Ythbane
looked startled. “What prophecy? Prophesied by whom?”

“Ask
the woman.”

Everyone
looked back at Inos.

“My
ancestor, the Sorcerer Inisso,” she said, “-he left a magic casement in his
tower in Krasnegar. It prophesied for me. It prophesied that Thane Kalkor would
fight a duel, a Reckoning.”

“He
just did,” the regent snapped: The Kalkor affair was entangling his court like
a net, and his anger was both obvious and understandable.

It
was also starting to make Inos jumpy, or perhaps it was all the eyes on her
doing that, although that was even sillier. “Not against a t-troll. And for me.
In the p-p-prophecy, his opponent-”

“Magic
casements do not prophesy,” Rap said. Now all eyes went to him.

“And
what do you know about magic casements, young man?” the regent growled.

“I
have some power,” Rap admitted.

The
watchers quivered. Suddenly, although no one visibly moved, there was a gap
around him. Even Inos felt a shiver of alarm-Rap had met a dragon, and dragons
belonged to the warlock of the south. It had been Lith’rian who had sent him to
Arakkaran. Who or what was this strangely somber Rap?

He
was Rap, wasn’t he? Really Rap?

Kalkor
broke the silence with a chuckle that raised the little hairs on the back of
her neck. “He is the one I fight.”

“We
want no more Reckonings,” the regent said, but he sounded less confident than
before.

For
a moment there seemed to be an impasse, as if no one knew what should happen
next. The crowds were leaving, streaming over the bank and out of sight; the
legionaries were falling out and slumping on the sodden grass to rub their
shoulders and mutter curses. The rain was starting again.

And
Inos was thinking furiously. The casement had shown Rap fighting Kalkor, and
then it had shown him dying in the goblin’s lodge. If he did fight Kalkor, then
he survived, surely? Of course she didn’t want Rap to die at all, but if both prophecies
were inevitable, then she couldn’t do anything to stop them. And if they weren’t
inevitable, then she wanted to let this one happen and stop the second. That
was logical, wasn’t it?

If
he didn’t fight Kalkor, then she was going to have to yield her kingdom to the
thane. She could not bear the thought of the decent, humble folk of Krasnegar
being handed over to that monster.

And
as if he could read her thoughts.

“Do
you recognize me as King of Krasnegar?” Kalkor asked, blue eyes mocking.

“No!”
Inos said.

“Then,
by the God of Truth, I-”

“Stop!”
the regent shouted. “We have had one murder committed here today, and we want
... want to make it perfectly clear that . . .” He paused. Then his voice
dropped. “That, if there is indeed a prophecy, then we are going to have
another.”

Senior
courtiers hid astonishment behind welltrained nods. Ythbane drew himself up on
his throne, scowling. The lesser onlookers glanced at one another in worried
surmise. A whirl of.wind flapped cloaks and buffeted the awning. The shower
drummed harder on it.

“But
who will be the lady’s champion?” Kalkor asked with a cynical smile. “Sultan
Azak?”

Azak’s
face flamed dark mahogany. “Not me!”

“He
spat on your wife,” the regent said.

The
sultan glared murder at him, but he folded his arms and kept himself under
control. “Not me. I care nothing for Krasnegar.”

So
where now was the overbearing bully-boy of Arakkaran? Where was his prickly
djinn honor? Inos felt her lip curl in contempt, and did not care who might
notice.

Yet
she did not understand what was happening. Only Kalkor seemed to know that.

“You
will hire no more trolls,” the regent said. “Not after what happened to Mord.
If we allow this affair to proceed, then who will be your champion, lady?”

“Rap?”
she whispered.

Rap
said, “No.”

Ythbane
glanced from Kalkor to Rap and back again, as if he had had a sudden
understanding. “Is sorcery permitted in Reckonings?”

“Certainly
not,” Kalkor said.

“Then,
Sultana, we think you had best yield to Thane Kalkor before it is too late.”

The
bystanders had caught the hint. Kalkor had felled the Impire’s best gladiator
like a blind farmhand, and this strange young faun had admitted to being a
sorcerer.

If
not the faun, then who else could accept the match?

Kade’s
gentle voice intervened. “Master Rap--”Rap said, “No.”

Inos
clenched her fists. She knew Rap’s stubborn look, and there it was. “Not for
me, Rap. Think of the people of Krasnegar!”

He
shot her a glance of pure agony, then set his big jaw again. He said, “No,”
again.

The
wind thumped the awning, and the patter of raindrops speeded up. A few groups
of citizens still lingered, chattering or watching the royals in their
compound, but the great crowds had gone from the grassy bank, leaving it
tattered and muddy. The legionaries were forming up in their cohorts.

“This
is so disappointing!” Kalkor said, with a sneer. “Master Rap, what of your
destiny?”

Rap
said, “No.”

“Well,
perhaps I can reassure you. Krushjor!”

The
jotnar were huddled at the rear of the enclosure, well back from the awning, being
spurned by the gentry. Now the old ambassador stepped forward a pace and
called, “Thane?”

“Send
over our most recent recruit.”

“Now
what?” demanded the regent suspiciously. Bloodsoaked and half naked, Kalkor
bowed low, more in mockery than respect. “One of the persons included in your
Imperial safe conduct, Highness. An old friend of Master Rap’s.”

The
jotnar had opened their ranks to release a short, broad youth. He wore impish
garments, but he was certainly no imp.

Inos
glanced back at Rap. If Kalkor had hoped to elicit some emotion from him, he
had failed. Rap watched without expression as the newcomer walked forward. But
even back in Krasnegar Rap had possessed farsight. He must have known who had
been hidden in there.