Magic Casement (21 page)

Andor
guffawed. “If you knew how many collar studs I lose, you wouldn’t
ask! No, not farsight.”

The
wings were folded away again.

“Then
what’s your talent?”

Andor
grinned more widely. “Girls!”

“Oh!”
Rap knew that he must not show his distaste, or he would seem like a
narrow-minded provincial. Andor was a sophisticated citizen of the Impire. Rap
knew of his reputation, but he had always thought it to be mostly jealous
gossip, wild exaggeration like the stories of men being kicked to jelly in
alleyway brawls. He would certainly not believe that of Andor, even if the
girls part were true. “I’d be willing to trade,” he said.

“Not
likely!”

“But
why are you telling me this? Why aren’t you out exercising your talent?
All the girls are in holiday mood.”

“You’re
probably not drunk enough yet, but I’ll risk it. I’m leaving.”

Rap’s
first thought was one of despair. Krasnegar seemed suddenly unthinkable without
Andor. “What? Why?”

The
bottle was thrust back at him. “Take a big drink. Listen! I’m
leaving, because I’m bored. I thought a winter in the north would be
exciting, but it’s dull as shelling peas.”

“Who’s
going with you?”

Andor
shrugged. “I’ve knocked about the world a lot. I thought Id just
take a horse and go.”

“You’re
crazy! Mad! Mad! Mad! What about the green men?” Andor shrugged, took the
bottle back, and stretched out his legs. “I’ve been asking about
them. I’m told that one man is usually safe. Goblins respect courage and
they honor a solitary traveler. A group may get into trouble.”

“Fingernails!”
Rap shuddered. Goblins murdered travelers in horrible ways. It was said they
would hand a man a pair of tongs and demand a fingernail as road toll. If he
had the courage to pull out one of his own fingernails, they would let him go.
If he didn’t--they didn’t.

“The
only alternative is an armed escort, at least a dozen. Better two dozen. And I
can’t afford to hire that many.”

“Andor,
this is the northland. The cold is a killer. It’s not like hiking across
a desert or somewhere warm. You should take someone with some experience.”

There
was a pause while the candle flame danced in silence. “I have a better
idea,” Andor said. “By the way, merry Winterfest!” He pointed
to the bundle on the bed.

“You
shouldn’t have!” Miserably Rap leaned elbows on knees and buried
his face in his hands. From the wine or from embarrassment, he felt sick.

“Will
the boots fit? A man’s feet are usually the first part of him to stop
growing.”

“They
look all right.” Rap did not even turn his head to look at the
bundle-mukluks and fur trousers wrapped in a parka, fur from young polar bears,
lined with the down of ducks... garments of a quality he could never hope to
own in his lifetime. He did not have to open the damned parcel. “It’s
very, very kind of you, Andor. No one’s given me a Winterfest present
since my mother died. But what could I give you in exchange? Horse buns?”

“It
is a bribe, of course,” Andor admitted cheerfully. “I was hoping
that you might agree to share. Yours seems to be stronger than mine, so a
sharing would be a gift to me. “

“Share
what?” Rap looked up in both hope and puzzlement.

“You
tell me your word and I’ll tell you mine. Two words make an adept. On my
trip, I’ll be safe from cold and goblins both-if you’ll do that for
me.”

Unhappily
Rap shook his head. “I don’t have a word. The king asked me; I told
him the same. Do you think I would have lied to my king? I know no word of
power. These horrible things just started happening to me by themselves.”

“You
must have a word! It’s too late to deny it, Rakkie-boy! Yes, they’re
usually kept secret, but yours is common knowledge now.”

Rap
remembered how his lecture from Sagorn had been cut short. “The king told
me that there were dangers in knowing a word. What dangers?”

“Gods,
man!” Andor almost shouted. “They’re valuable! Incredibly
valuable! They’re magic-proof themselves, so they can’t be
extracted by sorcery, but every sorcerer in the world always wants one more
word, to become more powerful. One of these days someone’s going to nail
you to a post and start heating irons! That’s another reason we should
share-we’ll be much safer as adepts, because we’ll have abilities
we don’t have now.”

“I
don’t want to be a sorcerer!” Rap cried. “I want to be a
man-at-arms and serve Queen Inosolan. That’s all I pray the Gods for! “

“Rap!”
Andor said impatiently. “Two won’t make you a sorcerer, but with
two you can be a champion whatever-you-want, including a champion swordsman.
You’ll be able to beat anyone in the world, except another adept or a
mage or sorcerer. Doesn’t that idea appeal to you? “

“It
sounds sort of sneaky. “ Rap surprised himself by grinning. Andor
chuckled and looked hopeful. “And in the forest I’ll be in no
danger at all. Well, not much.”

The
forest! Swordmanship forgotten, Rap came back to sad reality. “But I don’t
have a word to share.”

Andor
sighed and held out the bottle again. “All right! If you won’t,
then you won’t.”

Rap
slid off his chair, onto his knees. “Ardor, if I could, I would! I d give
you mine and not want yours, and I’d try to forget mine. But I don’t
have any magic words! I swear it! “

“You
must have! Don’t grovel-it’s not manly. Tell me how your mother
died and what she said to you the last time you saw her. The words are usually
passed on a deathbed.”

Rap
climbed back on his chair. He felt dizzy with the wine and sick to his heart.
He would oh-so-gladly tell Andor what he wanted to know if he could. Andor was
a good friend, the only friend he had, and he felt soiled and petty at refusing
him. “Jalon has one?” he asked. “He offered to share, too,
and I didn’t understand! “

“Of
course he does. No one could sing like that otherwise. “ Rap knew that
Andor had met Jalon. “Why not share with him, then?”

Andor
hesitated and then said, “We tried. We both know the same word, so
nothing changed. Now, your mother?”

But
Rap knew that there was no help there. As happened every few years, fever had
swept into the town from a visiting ship. People had been dying every day.
Anyone becoming ill in the palace was removed at once. It was his first year in
the stables. He had spent a morning mucking out and gone home, expecting his
mother to be there working at her lace, as she usually was, with his lunch
ready and a smile and a hug and a little joke about her working man. It had
been two days before anyone thought to tell him where she was, or why she had
gone. Even then he had not been allowed to go and see her. She had died on the
third day. So there had been no deathbed farewells, no secret words of power
passed.

He
told the story and Andor looked baffled.

“She
came from Sysanasso,” Rap said. “Perhaps their magic is different
and they don’t use words of power?”

“Yes
they do. I’ve been there.” Andor had been everywhere.

He
fell silent, looking sulky.

Despite
himself, Rap reached out with his mind and saw those glorious soft furs on his
bed. The thought of owning them was like the thought of a hot summer’s
day and a picnic on the shore with... with Inos or someone. He could not accept
such a gift.

“Well!”
Andor brightened again. “What I really need is a good sorcerer, as the
saying goes, but I shall find a companion, some man who is good with horses,
courageous, dependable...”

“I’m
glad to hear that, Andor. To go by yourself would be very foolish. I’m
very sorry you’re leaving, but I shall feel happier if I know you took
someone with you who knows the north. And I’m very grateful for the gift,
but I can’t accept it.”

“I
hadn’t finished! Here, last drop.” Andor handed back the bottle. As
Rap was draining it he said, “Courageous, dependable, preferably a seer-”

Rap
choked.

He
finally stopped coughing and gasping. “No! I’m not a trapper or a
seal hunter! I’m a city boy!”

“You’re
a man, Rap. A good one.”

Rap
shook his head. He certainly was not man enough for that madness-weeks of
trekking through forest, with wolves and goblins...

“You’re
a man!” Andor insisted. “Being a man is not a matter of whether
hair grows on your chin, lad. It’s inside your head. Some males never
make it at all. Being a man is rolling up your sleeves and telling the world
`Now I’ll play by the real rules-no more wooden swords. If I succeed,
then the credit belongs to me, not my parents or teachers or employers, and I
shall savor the prizes without guilt, knowing I earned them. And if I fail,
then I’ll pay the penalties without whimpering or blaming anyone else.’
That’s what manhood is, and it’s up to you to decide when it
starts. I think you made the decision that night on the beach, my friend. “
Friend? But what was this friend asking him to risk? Rap was very glad he had
declined that gift. Brave was good, rash was not.

“I
am proud to be your friend, Andor,” he said, struggling for words with a
strangely heavy tongue. “And if I thought my help would be of value, then
I would give it eagerly. But I think I would just be a liability to you.
Really!”

“The
king is dying.”

Right
on cue, the candle guttered and went out, leaving faint starlight and a long
silence.

“You’re
sure?”

“Sagorn
is. I’ve spoken to him. Do you want to hear it from him, or will you
trust me?”

“Of
course I trust you! When?”

“Can’t
say when. Not today or tomorrow, but he’ll never see grass again. That’s
what Sagorn says, and there are no wiser doctors than he.”

The
enormity of it felled Rap. All his life King Holindarn had ruled Krasnegar, a
remote, benevolent, all-seeing father to his people, and all the more so to a
boy with no father of his own. He had seemed as stable and permanent as the
rock itself. The thought that one day he might suddenly not be there was
impossible to grasp.

“Inos!
Oh, poor Inos! when spring comes, she’ll be waiting for the first ship to
bring his letters and instead it will bring that news. “

“Who
knows what news it will bring?”

“What
do you mean?”

In
the darkness, only his farsight told him that Andor shrugged.

“When
a king dies, his successor had better be on the spot and ready. “

“You
mean someone may try to steal the throne?” But obviously that was what
Andor meant-stupid question. Try to behave like a grown man, dummy! “Who
would do that?”

“Anyone
who thought he’d get away with it. Sergeant Thosolin has the armed men.
Foronod may think he’d make a better monarch than a slip of a girl, and
many would agree. Furthermore, the news is sure to reach Nordland before it
gets to Kinvale, and the temptation to the thanes will be fresh seal to orcas.
If Inos is not right here, then she has very little chance of ever becoming
queen. That’s my guess, anyway. “

The
injustice of it burned like lye. “Then why doesn’t the king send
for her? “

Andor
sighed and adjusted himself to a more comfortable position. “Sagorn says
that he refuses to admit he’s that sick. He can’t keep food down,
he’s in constant pain-but he’s not going to admit anything.
Secondly, he refuses to risk men’s lives. Which is stupid, since half the
men in town would volunteer. But he has forbidden any expeditions. “

Poor
Inos!

“Is
that the real reason you’re leaving, Andor? To tell her?” Andor’s
teeth showed faintly in the gloom. “It’s nothing to do with me,
laddie. “

More
silence, then he said quietly, “But we could travel together until we got
over the mountains. Once we’re in the Impire, it’s easy, and I
would see you on the right road for Kinvale. We could hire a guide, if you want
one, but you’d have no problem there. “

Rap’s
hands were shaking, and he clasped them together on his lap.

A
long pause...

“Wooden
swords, Rap? Or the real thing now?”

“I
have no authority! Who would believe me?” Andor did not even bother to
answer. Inos, of course.

“Appoint
myself? Disobey the king’s command?”

“Where
is your loyalty, Rap? To the king or to her?”

Darkness
and silence.

“If
you must choose-and now you must-then where is your loyalty? Do you not think
that Inos would want to be at his side in his last days?”

Rap
did not need to answer that question.

It
was a craziness. The odds were appalling. But Inos would want to be at her
father’s side, and Inos was his friend-or would be, were she not a
princess. Andor was right, as usual. In such an emergency, Rap must prove his
courage, prove his manhood to himself, and show Inos his to... loyalty.

He
shivered. He was not sure which scared him more, the weather or the goblins. He
had seen goblins hanging around the harbor. They were short, very broad people
with gray-brown skin and jet-black hair. They called themselves the green men,
and in certain lights their skin did have a greenish tinge in the brown, like
old tarnished brass. In summer the men wandered around wearing an indecent
minimum, each one usually followed by three or four women covered from head to
toe. But all the stories agreed that they practiced torture.

It
was a hair-raising thought-setting off with Andor on a journey through that
cold, a journey that would take weeks. The air itself could kill.

“When?”

“Now.”
Andor was smiling again now.

“Now?”

He
pointed to the window, which was glowing more brightly silver. “The moon
is rising. Everyone is so busy getting ready for Winterfest that we won’t
be missed.”

“But...
we need supplies!”