Magic Casement (26 page)

“That
wasn’t what I asked, dear.” Kade spoke softly, treading gently. “Who
is his father? Does his family have money? Land? Titles?”

Looking
suddenly much younger--looking rather like a cornered fawn--Inos said, “Those
things do not matter!”

“They
do not matter very much, I agree. A good man is a good man, and I believe that
you father might even accept a commoner, if he was a man of honor and good
qualities. But they may matter if Sir Andor deliberately set out to win the
heart of a princess by pretending to be something other than what he is.”

“He
did. Did win the heart of a princess.”

“Then
it does matter. Inos, you must see that?”

Again
Inos turned her head to study the snowy scene beyond the casement, the drifting
flakes. The big pendulum behind her stroked more seconds off their lives.

“Yes,”
she said at last. “I see. I do see, now. I don’t know--he told me
nothing about his family. “

“You
did not ask?”

“No.
I didn’t. I would now, I think... He is knowledgeable, very well
traveled. He has had very wide experience. And charm! Oh, Aunt, you must admit
he has charm!”

“Mountains
of charm! Ranges of mountains of charm. Very good company, I agree. Krasnegar
would be a much brighter place with Andor there.”

“Even
the jotnar would like him! In a week he would have the rock itself turning
cartwheels.”

“Polar
bears would bring him the catch of the day.” That had been a childhood
joke between Kade and Holi.

Inos
missed it. “He is obviously a gentleman. “

“Obviously
he acted like a gentleman while he was here.”

Inos
blushed furiously. “Yes, he did!”

“I
did not mean it that way, dear. He did not say when he would return? “

“No.
But he will! I am certain.”

“Then
we must just wait, I suppose.”

“And
meanwhile keep the parade going?”

“Ekka
says she has almost run out of candidates.”

“Good!
“

Kadolan
bit her lip. Obviously this conversation had served its purpose and should now
be drawn to a close, but she had one more necessary spoonful of wisdom to
administer. It also would hurt, but better to hurt more now, while Inos was
already upset, than to wound her again on another occasion. Still no word had
come from Krasnegar, and there should have been something. It would not be fair
to burden Inos with mere suspicions-and Kade kept reminding herself that they
were only suspicions-but time might well be running out, and the child had
perhaps forgotten the stakes in this game she was being forced to play.

“How
do you judge, my dear?”

Inos
frowned. “Judge what?”

“Whom.
How do you judge the candidates? Against Sir Andor?”

“Against
Father.”

That
could never be true. “Then you are comparing very young men in a
difficult and unfamiliar setting against a mature king in his own kingdom. Is
that fair?”

“Is
it fair that I should have to judge at all?”

The
situation was hopeless. Holindam had insisted that his daughter be allowed to
choose, and obviously she would have the Andor man or no one, and the Andor man
was not available. Maybe in another year or so, when she had grown up more and
had time to forget that first awesome flash of romance... all of which was
exactly what Kade had told Ekka half an hour ago.

She
sighed and rose. “Just be grateful that you have the chance to judge at
all, dear.”

“Is
that a threat?” Inos was reaching for her anger.

“Of
course not. I’m trying to give you a warning: Remember what your father
said. “

The
anger was held back, momentarily. “About what?”

“About
war. If the Impire and NOrdland went to war over Krasnegar... whichever side
won, do you think you would be allowed to choose a husband then?”

But
Inos had not forgotten the stakes. The Kinvale lacquer cracked to show the
frightened child hiding under the ladylike decorum. “Ah, yes! What a pity
Thane Kalkor is married! What a pity you and Ekka can’t invite him here,
also, so you could parade me around in front of that one!”

Kade
had no need to fake a shudder. “His manners would be the problem, dear,
not his marriage. If he fancied you, then he’d just give his current wife
to one of his churls and take you in her place. They do that all the time.”

Faint
daylight was seeping through the chimney hole in the roof when Rap was jerked
away by a snowy boot being wiped on his face. The nightmare figure of Darad was
looming over him, swathed again in furs, with his gap-toothed leer somewhere
near the ceiling.

Rap
had found a tattered rug to wrap himself in and had even gained a place fairly
close to the fire by the simple method of throwing some of the smaller boys out
of the way. The older ones had found this action amusing and had not objected.
They had allowed him to drink from their communal bucket, but he had still not
been fed. His belly cramps came from hunger as well as the aftereffects of
Little Chicken’s haymaker.

Woodsmoke
from a single hearth, the rank stench of bodies and rancid grease, smelly rugs
on a packed dirt floor-the boys’ but was a smaller version of the adults’.
At the moment Rap was the only occupant. He had slept well and felt rather
pleased at that.

“I
came to say good-bye, Stupid. “

Rap
lay and scowled up at Darad for a moment, gathering his wits. “Good-bye.”
What else was there to say?

The
big man glowered. “This is your last chance, Stupid. “

He
had said that the night before. “What’s my choice, then?”

Darad
took a moment to answer, while frowning with the pain of thinking. “Tell
me your word and I’ll get you out of here.”

“Or
what?”

“Or
you get tested. Against Little Chicken.”

“What
sort of test?” Rap made a quick scan with his farsight and discovered
that the missing boys were all over in the big building, eating.

Darad
had struggled through to a decision, and now he dropped to one knee, poking at
Rap with a mitted hand the size of a small shovel. “They like lots of
wives, see?”

Rap
did not see, but he stayed silent.

“So
they get rid of the weaklings, see?” Darad sorted out another thought and
continued. “It’s their winter fun. When two boys are old enough,
they test them. The winner gets his tattoos. “

“And
the other dies?”

“Right!”
Darad smiled at Rap’s brilliance.

“And
I look like a pushover, so the chief’s son gets me?” Darad nodded
vigorously. “And you haven’t got a hope.”

“I
haven’t got a word, either,” Rap said. “Tell me yours and I’ll
get both of us out of here.”

Darad
jumped up furiously. “You think I’m crazy? Give you half my word?
You’re stupid.” He drew his foot back, and Rap hastily curled up,
waiting for the kick.

But
the giant merely laughed and stalked away, slamming the door. Relieved, Rap
rearranged his furs against the cold air. Then he watched Darad’s
departure.

Joyboy
staggered when that huge carcass scrabbled up onto his back. He didn’t
want to go, and the giant kicked him hard enough to bring tears to Rap’s
eyes. Eventually Darad prevailed and rode off into the forest, leading Peppers.

He
was heading south. Darad would have no interest in visiting Kinvale to warn
Inos of her father’s illness. There would seem to be no reason why Andor
should do so, either, were he to reappear in Darad’s place. But Inos must
be told-which meant that Rap would have to escape and do it himself.

Stubborn,
his mother had called him. Inos had, also, although usually she had preferred
pigheaded. Well, if stubborn was what it was going to take, then stubborn he
would be.

Rap
sat up, wrapped himself in fur, and again scanned the big house. He had never
felt hungrier, but somehow he was certain that he was not going to be fed. The
boys must have crept out very quietly, deliberately not waking him-big joke! He
was expected to run over and try to join them, so Little Chicken could have the
satisfaction of making him beg, and then refusing. Rap decided he could stand
the pangs a little longer, and postpone his captors’ satisfaction. If
torture was what they had in mind, then they would not let him become too weak.

He
began to puzzle again over the mystery of Andor and the monstrous Darad. What
was Darad? Man or demon? Would a demon be as lean-witted as that? The minstrel
Jalon had mentioned Darad, and Andor knew Jalon. They had all wanted his
word...

Then
something Darad had said finally registered. Revelation fell over Rap like
grain from a burst sack.

Give
you half my word?

That
was why Andor had refused to share! When you shared a word you divided its
power. If that was not so, then the words would be passed around like
jokes-everyone would know words.

Pandemia
would swarm with sorcerers. There had to be a reason why words were not freely
shared; and that must be it-sharing reduced their power!

Andor
had not mentioned that!

Nor
had Jalon.

Nor
had Sagorn.

The
king had. “Remember to guard your secret,” he had said, thinking
that Rap would understand.

Now
he understood! Inspiration after inspiration flashed through his mind. Words
were usually passed on deathbeds. Sagorn had said so, and Andor, also.

Two
people sharing a word each got half the power. But the words had been passed down
for generations. Obviously they did not lose half their power at every telling,
or they would long since have disappeared completely. So! So-if two people
shared, they each got half the power, but when one of the two died, the other
had all of it again?

Right!
That was certain.

Died--or
was murdered.

That
was why it was dangerous to know a word.

And
why it would be even more dangerous to share one.

If
Rap had possessed a word to share and had told that word to Andor, then Andor
or his Darad-demon would have killed Rap at once, to gain the other half, also.

That
was something else that Andor had not explained.

Demon
lover:

A
savage place! as holy and enchanted

As
e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By
woman wailing for her demon lover.

Coleridge,
Kubla Khan

Forest Weeping

Soon
after Darad departed, the boys returned from their meal. Little Chicken
beckoned Rap and led him out across the compound, barefoot and virtually naked.
The air felt worse than ice water, freezing the tears that ran down Rap’s
cheeks. Within seconds he was shaking uncontrollably; his toes and ears were
numb: Little Chicken was wearing no more than he was, but he grinned at Rap’s
discomfort and sauntered at a leisurely pace to show how little the cold
bothered him. Their destination turned out to be a garbage tip at the back of
the big house, where scraps were being dropped out through a flap. Fleabag and
his pack were snuffling and growling as they scavenged among the remains.
Anything worth eating was grabbed by the nearest dog, which then raced off to
dine in private. Everything else was soon trampled and frozen to the ground.

Little
Chicken made eating gestures and pointed.

Rap
shook his head and turned away, but not before he had seen the gloating
amusement-a man would eat anything when he was hungry enough. Tomorrow, or the
day after, Rap would be at the garbage, disputing with the dogs for offal.

Back
in the hut, Rap soon discovered the rules. He could go out any time he wanted,
but he must not take any of the fur robes or the buckskins that lay heaped by
the door. Bare feet and his shorts were all he was allowed. That restricted his
movements like a chain on an ankle. Nor might he enter any of the other
buildings.

The
log house was home to thirty-four boys, ranging in age from toddlers up to
Little Chicken, who was easily the oldest and largest, and certainly the ruler.
Males had little to occupy them in the great forest in winter, for the women
did all the work. The boys spent their time in sleeping, combing their long
hair, and rubbing themselves with the well-matured bear grease that gave them
their loathsome stench. Thinking it might have some value for keeping out the
cold, Rap tried it himself, but the only advantage he could find was that it
stopped his skin cracking. He felt no warmer for it and thereafter he stank as
badly as the others. They also played complicated games with sticks and a
board; and they wrestled. Little Chicken loved wrestling, but there was no one
there large enough to give him a reasonable match. Rap would have been the
closest, but there seemed to be some reason why Little Chicken must not tackle
him, for which Rap was duly grateful. Little Chicken, therefore, would organize
teams bf the others, usually Fledgling Down and Cheep-Cheep, the two next in
age, but sometimes four or five of the smaller boys. Then he would take on the
whole team. He always won, usually ending by bouncing his opponents off the
walls.

Within
a few hours, and merely by sitting and listening to the boys’ chatter,
Rap began to uncover the secrets of the language. It used comparatively few
words, and only in simple ways. Many were exactly the same as the words he
knew, and many others were almost the same with certain sounds switched in a
predictable-fashion--th to t and f to p, and a few others. Soon he was making
sense of the talk.

Then
he made the mistake of asking a question. Little Chicken barked out, “Not
answer!” and jumped up. He scrambled across and arranged himself
cross-legged in front of Rap. “You speak now?” he demanded
intently.

“I
speak slow.”