The Honorable Barbarian

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

eISBN: 978-1-62579-213-6

Copyright © 1989 by L. Sprague de Camp

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

Electronic Version by Baen Books

http://www.baen.com

First Printing, July 1989

I

Eomer's Cowbarn

"Hold me closer!" whispered Adeliza to Kerin, Evor's son. "Put your hand here—What's that?"

"Who's there?" roared Adeliza's father Eomer. "Is someone with you, Adeliza? I'll come in to see."

Adeliza whispered: "Run, Kerin!"

Kerin scrambled up. A glance at the floor of the barn below the hayloft revealed, by moonlight streaming through the open door, Eomer's bearded face staring up the ladder and a knotty, brawny hand upon a rung.

Kerin's sight had become adapted to the darkness of the barn. Perhaps, he thought, the farmer's had not. In any case, he could not stay put; nor could he descend the ladder with the burly Eomer starting up. Stepping to the end of the loft, he sprang and came down on the planks below in a crouch.The impact shook him; but then he was on his feet and running. Behind him came Eomer's bellow:

"I know you, Kerin son of Evor! Come back here!"

The boards of the cowbarn boomed beneath the farmer's boots. Clear of the portal, Kerin risked a backward glance. Into the moonlight lumbered Eomer, waving a sickle and roaring:

"Come back, ye losel! I'll serve you so ye'll deflower no more virgins!"

Younger and leaner, Kerin quickly outdistanced his pursuer, who stopped for want of breath. Kerin heard his final shout:

"I'll shoot you down on the highway! I'll bring an action at law! I'll tell your mother on you!"

Reaching the road, Kerin settled down to a steady jog, breathing hard. He cast a resentful upward glance at the silvered moon, whose light had betrayed him. He thought: What now? I shall soon return to Kortoli with my brothers; but that wouldn't stop Eomer from lodging an action. And I fear the toils of litigation worse than I do Eomer's sword or crossbow, or even than his accusing me to my mother. Or he'll hire a witch to bespell me. . . .

Kerin sat with his kin in the house of his sister and brother-in-law in Ardamai. His sister and her husband were present; so were Kerin's widowed mother and his two brothers. Kerin's sisters-in-law were elsewhere; Jorian's wife Margalit managed the clock business during the brothers' holiday in their native village.

Sillius, the tall, graying elder brother, said with an irritating air of superior logic: "At least, Kerin, you might have avoided a full-moon night with a cloudless sky. Then you could have told Eomer it was one of Adeliza's other swains. They're ever slinking about, I hear."

"So I was an ass," said Kerin, angry at himself. "But what to do? Submit to a crossbow wedding?''

Jorian, the big, burly middle brother, grinned through his black and bristling beard. "Na, na, laddie. We don't crave a fanatic like Eomer in the family."

"What's he fanatical about?" asked Kerin.

"It's the new cult that fellow Ikbar brought from Fedirun. His deities, I understand, are a desert god and goddess, daft about modesty. I hear a lawfully wedded pair must ask the priest's permission to enjoy their connubial privileges. And he would abolish the public baths, having a horror of nudity. The devout are forbidden to bare the least smidgin of skin to a fellow sinner. Speaking of which, my lad, art sure you went not in unto the lusty Adeliza?"

"I am sure, Jorian. I ought to know. Actually, all I had in mind was a little kissing and fondling. But she—ah . . ."

"Had more advanced ideas," put in Kerin's sister Basina. "Adeliza's a lass with a hot notch in her crotch. Were she to conceive, none but the blessed gods would know, of a dozen swains, which yokel was truly sire."

"And Kerin's an obvious target," said Sillius, "since 'tis known in the village that our business prospers. But for Eomer's intervention, our lad's virtue had gone with last year's snows."

"Eomer yelled something about deflowering virgins," muttered Kerin. "My conscience wouldn't have let me—"

"Ha!" said Basina. "She's no more virgin than I. If anyone had been deflowered, 'twould have been our Kerin—unless he have already taken care of that unbeknownst to us. Eomer doth but lay the foundation for a claim against us, either a legal alliance or a payment in cash. He knows as well as the next that Adeliza's been playing the local charity box, so he watches for a chance to marry her off.''

"The world hath gone rotten," said Kerin's mother Ethelin. "In my day, nice girls didn't. That is how one told them from the rest."

"It's that easy contraceptive spell," said Sillius. "Morality has gone to the seven hells since Doctor Mersius' secret got out. But ere we settle the kingdom's social problems, let's deal with Kerin. We lust for neither Eomer nor his loose-lived daughter in the family." He gave Kerin a stern, thin-lipped stare. "For months we've talked of sending one of us to the Far East, to return with the secret of the Kuromonian clock escapement. Kerin has spoken of making the quest."

A little appalled, Kerin gulped. "Forsooth, I did but jest. Still and all, if all think I should. . . ."

"Oh!" cried Ethelin. "Ye maun not send my babe into unknown perils—to lands where they roast and devour a stranger!"

"As long as he stays out of reach of the Paaluans," said Jorian, "he's safe from that peril."

"But he is too young!"

"No younger than I, when I signed up for a hitch in the Grand Bastard's army."

"And he hath no such training for perilous adventure, as ye have—"

"Mother!" said Kerin, his backbone stiffened by his mother's attempt to baby him. "I may not be so big and brawny as Jorian, nor so seasoned in business as Sillius; but I am fit of body and sober of mind."

"And," added Jorian, "I'll teach him the tricks of the trade, such as gaining entry to a locked and bolted house. He managed that Estrildis business in Xylar featly enough, and we must all take our chances betimes. We'll send him forth with the best protective spells that money can buy; my friend the wizard Uller will give them to us at a discount." Jorian turned to Sillius. "We hoped to stay two more days; but methinks we'd best be aroad tomorrow, eh?"

Back in Kortoli City, Kerin heaved his duffel bag into the luggage rack on the back of the diligencia for Vindium, drawn by four glossy bays. He was as prepared for his adventure as a month's intensive training under Jorian could make him. He could handle the sword at his side, scale a wall, pick a lock, lie with a straight face, and speak rudimentary Mulvani and a few words of Salimorese. Several pounds of Kortolian golden eagles rode in a compartmented belt against his skin.

At the first overnight stop, Kerin, knowing he had to be up at cockcrow, turned in right after supper; but his roommate lingered in the common room, drinking beer. Kerin was glad, since the roommate, a beefy man named Garic whom chance had assigned to the room with Kerin, had not bathed lately, if ever.

Kerin stood before the spotted mirror above the washstand, scrubbing his teeth with a frayed twig. In the mirror he saw a young man of slightly above average Novarian stature, rather slim, with light-brown hair that hinted at Shvenish blood. He envied Jorian's blue-black mop and bristling beard. Looking at his own unlined and ruther unformed countenance, Kerin resolved to try again for a beard. His previous effort had foundered when it came in patchy, fuzzy, blond, and barely visible. Perhaps this time. . . .

A tinny little voice, like a tinkle of tiny bells, made him start: "Master Kerin!" Kerin was not sure whether he heard it with his ears or inside his head.

He whirled. At first he could see nothing by the single candle's amber light.

"Master Kerin!" said the voice. "Here I am!"

At last Kerin located the source. It was a floating spot of bluish luminescence, which rose and dipped like a hovering insect. Looking more closely, Kerin thought he saw something resembling a big butterfly fluttering about. But the pearly body supporting the glassy wings was not an insect's. Although not sure, he had an impression of a tiny naked woman, not much taller than the breadth of his palm. The apparition seemed translucent; when it fluttered between Kerin and the candle flame, the light was dimmed but not completely occluded.

"Now what—" began Kerin, recovering from his initial fright. "Who, pray, are you?"

"I am your guardian spirit," it said in a voice like the screak of a nighttime insect.

"Forsooth? And who appointed you?"

"My mistress; Erwina the Enchantress."

"You mean the witch of Ardamai?"

"Pray, Master Kerin! Call not my mistress a witch, any more than you'd term King Fridwal's queen a drab."

"As to that," said Kerin, "I've heard tales of Queen Clotsinda—" He broke off, remembering Jorian's caution against loose talk. The walls were thin; and in any case, how far could he trust this little spook? He continued: "Did Eomer's daughter put Erwina up to this?"

"Aye, spending gold she filched from her father's hoard."

"And what do you here?" persisted Kerin.

"I am to watch and ward you from harm, so you shall safely return to claim your bride."

"Meanst Adeliza . . ."

"Aye, Master Kerin. She is bound and determined to have you for spouse; for she holds you the prettiest of all her swains."

"Pretty!" snorted Kerin. "I never so much as hinted at wedding."

"She hath a different tale."

"In any case, I do not wish a guardian spirit. An iatromagus in Kortoli laid a protective spell upon me. So begone!"

"Oh, but Master Kerin, I dare not defy Erwina's express command—"

"To the afterworld with your mistress! Aroint! Vanish!"

The sprite's glow dimmed, and Kerin heard a tiny sniffle. The tinkly little voice persisted: "You are a beast, Master Kerin! Here am I, essaying to carry out my duties; and far from appreciating, you spurn my earnest efforts! You are a harsh, unfeeling brute who hath wounded my deepest feelings!"

"Oh, stop sniveling!" said Kerin, touched in spite of himself. "Just keep out of sight and sound."

"How can I perform my duties—"

"Hush!" said Kerin, hearing the heavy tramp of his roommate in the hall. "Be invisible, spook; the other fellow's coming in. Hast a name, by the way?"

"Aye; 'tis Belinka. Now shall I—"

"Just disappear, Belinka!"

"But I must ask—"

"Not now; we'll talk when we're alone. Good-night!"

The door opened and the roommate lurched in. "Whom were you speaking with just now?" growled the man in an ale-thickened voice.

"Merely practicing a speech I must give," said Kerin. "Good-night, Master Garic."

The man grunted, sat on the stool, and wrestled off his boots. Kerin lay with closed eyes, hoping for no further converse. Then Garic rose with a muffled expletive.

"Some damned insect," he said. "Where's something to swat it with?"

"Merely a big moth," muttered Kerin.

"I can't stand bugs," snorted the man. "By Imbal's brazen balls, I'll get something!"

The man left on bare feet. Kerin said: "Belinka, if you disappear not, he'll smash you against the wall."

"Fiddle-dee-dee, Master Kerin!" came the bell-like voice. "He cannot touch me, because we Second Plane spirits do not here completely materialize. I fear him not! Anyway, why should you care? You like me not; you have no sympathy. . . ."

The tiny voice broke off as Kerin's roommate bulked in the doorway, carrying the paddle-shaped bat employed in the game of paddle-ball. He peered about in the scanty candlelight, then swished the bat through the air.

"Missed the damned thing," he growled.

"Calm down, Master Garic," said Kerin. "It's harmless."

Ignoring Kerin, the man took another swing. "Cursed thing's bewitched," he mumbled, his puffy visage crimson in the candlelight.

Kerin sat up to protest when a futile backhand fanned his hair. "Hey!" he cried. "You nearly brained me! Now put that thing away and come to bed quietly or get yourself out!"

"Futter you!" said Garic, bracing himself for another swat. "The fornicating thing's
laughing
at me! I'll not stand for that!"

He swung again. Enraged, Kerin climbed out of bed in his loincloth, stepped to the corner where his clothes lay piled, and seized his sword. "Now get out!" he snarled.

Garic took a step towards him, hefting the bat. Then the gleam of candlelight on the blade checked him. After a heartbeat's hesitation, Garic blundered out the door and slammed it behind him, leaving his distinctive odor awaft in the room. Presently Kerin heard his voice and that of the taverner raised in anger.

Kerin got back to bed, apprehensively awaiting Garic's return. A reaction made him shaky. Although he had traveled about Novaria, he had never threatened anyone with a sword. He thought of the horrid things that might have ensued if Garic had closed with the bat, including placing his neck on the block on a murder conviction. He had certainly bungled that encounter. Jorian would have known how to shrug off Garic's antics with a jest or an improvised verse.

It was all Adeliza's fault, thought Kerin, for setting the sprite upon him—but then it was his fault, too, for making up to Adeliza. Although he had not confessed it, he had taken her to the loft with a secret hope, despite pangs of conscience, of losing his irksome virginity. This many young men had done by his age—at least, if one believed their boasts of prodigious fornications.

"I told you he could not hurt me, he-he!" tinkled Belinka, turning on her full cerulean luminescence and dancing wildly about.

"Ha! You might have gotten me slain!"

" 'Twould have served you right, you unfeeling monster!"

Kerin sighed. Jorian's training had not included the getting rid of importunate sprites. "Please, Belinka, quiet down so I can get some sleep. What would Erwina say if, thanks to your help, I came back home in a box?"

"Oh, very well, O mighty Lord Kerin. Good-night!"

Garic did not return; the taverner must have found him other quarters. But Kerin still found slumber hard to attain. He cursed himself for having broken one of Jorian's rules. His brother had said:

"Above all, youngster, move briskly but quietly, drawing the least attention. No public displays, no boasts, no complaints, no disputes, and above all no brawls. And remember that flattery gets you almost anywhere."