RS01. The Reluctant Sorcerer (11 page)

“Aye, that I did, and didn’t it almost crush me when it fell?” said Mick.

“Where is this chariot now?” asked Shannon, still not entirely convinced.

“’Twas broken in the fall,” said Mick. “And then McMurphy’s foolish bull attacked it, and Doc had no choice but to blast it with a bolt of thunder.” “Aye, ‘tis true,” McMurphy added. “ ‘Twas nothing left of it but bits of roasted meat scattered about.” “Hmmm,” said Shannon, pursing her lips thoughtfully and staring at Brewster with new interest. He certainly did not look like a mighty sorcerer, she thought. He dressed strangely, but there was nothing noble or fearsome about his appearance. She knew that most sorcerers took great pains to look noble or fearsome, preferably both at the same time, and if they couldn’t manage that, they at least sought to look striking. This one did not even look striking. He looked rather rumpled, and there was something about him that brought to mind a little boy. A lost little boy. She decided to find out more about this sorcerer.

“Leave us,” she said to the others. “All of you, back to the Roost! And, you farmers, back to your turnips and your milk cows! I would speak more with this sorcerer, alone.” Some of the brigands exchanged nervous looks and Dirty Mary’s fancy girls hid smug little smiles behind their hands, but no one questioned Shannon’s orders. They all left, with much scraping of benches and shuffling of feet and clinking of swords and other accoutrements, until only McMurphy, Mick, and Bloody Bob were left with Shannon and Brewster in the hall.

She raised her eyebrows. “Well?” she said.

“You mean us, too?” McMurphy asked innocently.

“I said that I would speak with the sorcerer alone, did I not?” she said, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“But Mick and I are his apprentices,” protested McMurphy unwisely.

“Uh ... and I am his loyal retainer,” Bloody Bob added.

“Retainer, eh?” said Shannon, “Well, if ‘tis your teeth you’ll be retaining, theti you’ll do as you’re bloody well told, you great ox. As for you ‘apprentices’...” “We’re going, we’re going,” McMurphy said hastily.

Mick glanced uneasily at Brewster.

“So long as you would not object, of course,” said Shannon, her voice dripping with irony as she turned to Brewster. “Far be it from me to order your apprentices about,” she added with a nice dollop of sarcasm.

“Oh, no, I have no objection,” Brewster said.

“How nice,” she said wryly. “My thanks for your indulgence.” She gave him a little mock bow and then turned to the others. “Out!” With uneasy glances at Brewster, they departed without another word, leaving him alone with Shannon.

“So,” she said, coming around the table and stepping up onto the dais, “now we may become properly acquainted.” She came closer, gazing at Brewster with an intense, predatory look.

“You shall be my first adept,” she said. “And I do hope you are. Adept, that is.” “I beg your pardon?” Brewster said.

“Of course, if you really are a wizard, you could strike me with a spell,” she continued, drawing nearer. “Or perhaps a thunderbolt. You could have me completely at your mercy.” She reached out and grasped the lapels of his jacket with both hands, then abruptly pulled him toward her and gave him a kiss that would have weakened the resolution of a priest. (Some priests, of course, have more resolve than others, but this is merely a figure of speech. Suffice it to say that Shannon’s skill at kissing was exceeded only by her willfulness.) Brewster’s eyes were wide with astonishment as Shannon broke off the kiss, smiled, and said, “You see, I also know how to cast a spell.” She unsheathed her sword and swept off the surface of the table with the blade, sending goblets, meats, and fruit baskets crashing to the floor. Then she tossed her sword aside, swung him down onto his back on the tabletop, sat astride him, and ripped open his shirt. Now, it is a recognized fact of life that most men are intimidated by self-confident, aggressive women. This is because men, generally speaking, like to feel that they are in control. And most women know that so long as a man thinks that he is control, he’s not too difficult to manage. Shannon understood this very well. She was an expert at making men think they were in control, when she was actually controlling them quite subtly. However, when she chose to, she could also take control directly and there was nothing subtle about it whatsoever. She knew that both approaches had their uses.

If Brewster was, indeed, as powerful a sorcerer as the others claimed, then he represented a potential threat. She had seen how quickly he had upset her system and had everyone in Brigand’s Roost and the surrounding farms at his beck and call. Mick, who was hardly the gregarious sort, had a fascination for the thaumaturgic arts and if he was going to be this sorcerer’s apprentice, then he would have less time for making arms and brewing wine, which were both commodities the brigands needed. McMurphy and the other farmers would have less time to tend their fields and provide the Roost with produce. Bloody Bob had even sworn allegiance to this sorcerer as his retainer, as if he were a king or something, and the other brigands had actually been working here, performing physical labor, which was unheard of. She’d seen the signs of it when she rode up to the keep. Her brigands, working? Nay, she thought, this wouldn’t do at all. This was clearly a threat to her leadership and one that needed to be dealt with quickly and decisively.

She knew that taking on a sorcerer entailed a certain amount of risk; however, this sorcerer was nevertheless a man and men were all pushovers. The thing to do was take control of this situation in no uncertain terms, and do it quickly. She was confident of her abilities to arouse passion in a man and she knew that if she took the initiative in a firm, aggressive, brook-no-nonsense manner, she would quickly gain the upper hand.

The more important a man was, she’d learned, and the more power he wielded, the more susceptible he was to being dominated. Especially by a woman. Deep down inside, it was what they really wanted-to have the pins knocked out from under them by a strong, maternal figure who would tell them what to do. hi her own uneducated way. Shannon was quite the student of human behavior, particularly male behavior, and she felt confident that this was the proper course to take. Besides, the guy was kinda cute.

“Uh... excuse me,” Brewster said as she started to undo his belt, “but I think you have the wrong idea. You see, I happen to be engaged.” “Engaged in what?” she asked, momentarily thrown off her stride by the zipper and the little metal hook on the waistband of his gray flannel trousers. She frowned with puzzlement, uncertain how to proceed.

“Engaged to be married,” replied Brewster.

“Oh,” said Shannon, plucking at his waistband uncertainly. “You mean you are betrothed? What matters that to me?” “Well, it matters to me,” said Brewster. “And I expect it matters to Pamela, as well.” “Pamela? Is that the name of your intended?” The hook on the waistband popped free and Shannon uttered a satisfied “Ah! I see.” “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive, you understand,” said Brewster, looking up at her, “it’s just that I love Pamela, you see, and, well... I guess I’m a bit old-fashioned when it comes to this sort of thing. Besides, we hardly even know each other.” Shannon had finally figured out the zipper. She pulled it down, and her face lit up with a childlike delight.

“Oh! How clever!” She pulled it back up again, then down, then up, then down and up, repeatedly, like a kid with a new toy.

“I mean, you said so yourself,” continued Brewster, over the sounds of zipping, “ ‘tis a bit early to presume friendship, isn’t it?” “What?” said Shannon, looking up from his trousers to his face.

“I said...” “I heard what you said,” she replied irritably. Somehow, this wasn’t going according to plan. “Who said anything about friendship?” “Well...” Brewster hesitated awkwardly. “I mean, that is my zipper you’re playing with, isn’t it?” “Zipper?” said Shannon. She zipped it up and down a couple of times. “Oh! I see. It does make a sort of zipping noise, doesn’t it?” “Yes, well, ripping open someone’s shirt and unfastening their trousers does presume a certain degree of intimacy, doesn’t it?” said Brewster.

Shannon frowned. She wasn’t used to being distracted like this. Or to men being recalcitrant in such a situation. “Intimacy?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “What has this to do with intimacy? You’re being ravished, you fool!” “Oh,” said Brewster. He cleared his throat. “I see. Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d really rather not be ravished right now, if you don’t mind.” “You wouldn’t?” “No, I wouldn’t,” Brewster said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re very good at it, but I’d really rather not.” “S’trewth!” said Shannon. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. I’ll have you know that most men would go quite out of their way to have me ravish them!” “Oh, I’m sure of that,” said Brewster, “and my reluctance is no reflection on you whatsoever. It’s just that I happen to be spoken for and I think commitments are important, don’t you?” Shannon sighed. “Well.. .I suppose.” “This doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” said Brewster.

She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him with interest. “You are a most uncommon sort of man,” she said. “Your Pamela must be quite a woman.” “Well, so are you,” said Brewster diplomatically. “Actually, in some ways, the two of you would probably have much in common.” “Would we, indeed?” said Shannon with surprise. “Is she an outlaw, too?” “No,” admitted Brewster, “but she can be rather unconventional. She’s also intelligent and very self-assured. Of course, she doesn’t carry a sword, but she does look good in leather.” “Hmm,” said Shannon, sitting back on Brewster’s legs.

She gazed down at him thoughtfully. “Is she... more beautiful than I?” “Well, I don’t know that I’d say that, exactly,” Brewster replied. “I suppose you and she are beautiful in different ways, neither more than the other, merely different.” “Is her form more pleasing to you?” “Uh no, I wouldn’t say that,” Brewster replied awkwardly. He was unaccustomed to such frank discussions of comparative female anatomy, especially when such an incomparable piece of female anatomy was sitting right on top of him. “Actually, I’ve never really thought about it.” Shannon raised her eyebrows at this. A man who never really thought about a woman’s body? This was a first. Perhaps sorcerers really were different. “She is clever, then?” “Well, yes,” said Brewster. “She’s very educated. She has doctorates in electrical engineering, mathematics, and computer science. She specializes in cybernetics.” Shannon frowned. She had no idea what those words meant, but they certainly sounded impressive. And then understanding seemed to dawn.

“Ah! She must be a sorceress!” “Uh... well... uh...” Brewster shrugged. “Yeah, what the hell. She’s a sorceress.” Shannon nodded, apparently satisfied with this explanation. “That makes a great difference, then,” she said. “ ‘Tis your devotion to the magic arts which binds you. This I can understand.” “Good,” said Brewster with relief. “Uh ... do you think you could let me up now?” “Oh, aye, of course,” said Shannon, getting off him.

Brewster sat up, feeling very much relieved. “You’ve torn all the buttons off my shirt,” he said, looking down at his exposed chest. And then he stood and exposed something else as his trousers fell down around his ankles.

Shannon’s eyes grew wide. “S’trewth!” she exclaimed. “Never have I seen the like of this!” “Umm... they’re called boxer shorts,” said Brewster with embarrassment as he hastily pulled up his trousers.

“What is their purpose?” Shannon asked in a puzzled tone.

“Uh... well...” Brewster hesitated. He had never been asked such a question before and it suddenly occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea. “They... uh... they ... er... it has to do with magic. It would be too complicated to explain.” “And the significance of the little red lips?” Shannon asked.

“Uh...” Brewster blushed, cursing the day Pamela had bought the shorts for him. She had thought they were cute and liked to see him wearing them. “Well... uh... it has to do with a spell, you see.” Shannon frowned, and then her look of puzzlement changed to a knowing expression and a sly smile. “Oh! I see. “Tis a spell of potency. Perhaps I was too hasty in letting you up.” “You’re not going to-“ Brewster began, alarmed, but Shannon chuckled and shook her head.

“Never fear. Wizard,” she said. “I shall respect your pledge of troth, for in truth, you are the first man I have met who is true to his troth.” “I beg your pardon?” Brewster said, “Could you repeat that?” Shannon shook her head. “I think not. It tangles the tongue. However, you are safe from me, for the sake of the beauteous sorceress Pamela. But never let it be said that a comely man escaped unravished from Black Shannon.” “I won’t say anything about it,” Brewster assured her. “As far as I’m concerned, nothing happened. All we did was talk.” “Nay!” said Shannon. “I said, never let it be said that a comely man escaped unravished from Black Shannon and I meant it, by the gods! I have a reputation to uphold, you know!” “Oh,” said Brewster. “Well... gee, I don’t think I’d feel right saying that you’d ravished me.” “Then say nothing,” Shannon replied. “None shall dare ask. You are a mighty wizard, after all, and I am Black Shannon. Let them think what they will.” Brewster cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I don’t suppose we can do anything about what people choose to think.” “Indeed,” said Shannon. “We shall be friends, then.” She held out her hand and they clasped each other’s forearms.

“Friends,” said Brewster with a nervous smile.

“But see here,” Shannon said, “you have placed me in something of a quandary.” “I have?” said Brewster.

“Aye, you have, indeed,” she replied. “You have all my brigands working here upon your... your works. True, ‘tis a great boon to have a sorcerer settled in these parts, but my brigands have their outlaw trade to ply, you know. I cannot have them working! They will have no time left to steal and plunder! You see my difficulty, do you not?” “Mmmm, yes, I see your point,” said Brewster, nodding. “However, has it occurred to you that you might be overlooking a potential for far greater profit?” “Indeed?” said Shannon, suddenly looking very interested.