The Magician of Hoad (34 page)

“You want to replace my father?” asked Dysart. “I don’t see him going along with that. He’s given up too much to be what he is, and he’s not going to surrender kingship easily.”

“I don’t want to replace your father,” Carlyon cried. “It’s been said before, but I’ll say it again. Your father has set up a time of peace. He has dedicated his kingship to a time without war… a time of negotiation, and he has succeeded to a considerable extent.”

“And it’s done well for Hoad, hasn’t it?” Dysart exclaimed. “The trade between Hoad and the Dannorad has brought prosperity to both. Young men have the prospect of growing into middle age—”

He was interrupted once again.

“But what about
me
?” Carlyon yelled, releasing a sound so unexpected that Dysart jumped with shock, and the little room seemed to shake with mad echoes. “I’m a true man of Hoad,” shouted Carlyon, “and I struggle to live out there on that wretched rock, ruler of what they choose to call an island kingdom. But it’s a dog of a place, a tamed dog chained to the mainland. Sometimes I come into Diamond
and stand at the King’s right hand so I can be displayed, but I have no function in a time of peace. I’m not allowed to marry in case I have a son who would grow up to challenge the sons of the King. Oh, I have women. I’m certainly not the pure virgin the Hero is traditionally supposed to be, feeding all his energy into heroism, but believe me, I make certain I don’t have any embarrassing children.”

Dysart had speculated about this chilling possibility in a long-ago conversation with Heriot. He had been nonchalant about it back then, but suddenly unexpected horror welled out of him, stiffening the line between nose and mouth, twisting the corners of his mouth down, and forcing his eyes to close, in case Carlyon took offense at anything he might read there. But Carlyon had already seen something of Dysart’s shock.

“Do you think I like what I am forced to do?” he cried, smashing his fist sideways against the wall. The blow must have hurt him considerably more than it hurt the stone, but he gave no sign of pain. “Do you think I like impaling a pregnant woman or a newly born child? I want to move beyond such necessities. I want to be a twin King to your father. I want some life other than the damned empty peace of Cassio’s Island. If I am not allowed the thrill of war, I want a wife. And Betony Hoad would be happy to entertain me with one or the other. Or both!”

A long silence fell. Dysart didn’t know what to say. The structure of his world was going through further disintegration. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked at last.

“I want to tell someone the truth,” Carlyon said. “But there’s something more. I’ve watched you over the years,
just as I watched your brothers. One of you tried to replace me. We know about that. And Betony Hoad wants to be as close as he can to being a god. He wanted to take on the power of the Magician, but the Magician has escaped and lost himself in Hoad, or so Betony tells me, and I think he is telling the truth. He may have the Magician tucked away somewhere, or it may even be that the Magician is dead. I certainly wouldn’t put it past that brother of yours to have had Heriot Tarbas killed and cooked and served up as a meal in the hope of digesting him… absorbing the nature of a Magician. But what I want is what I think
you
want. I want you to be King of Diamond and to declare that the Hero can be a man, not a symbol, who can marry and own estates on the mainland and be chief among the Lords of Hoad.”

So much had been said. Dysart felt his thoughts twisting madly. “My father is still alive, and my brother is still the heir to the throne,” he mumbled.

“I think your father wants a reason to replace your brother,” Carlyon said. “He is determined to wring a possible King out of Betony Hoad if he can, or, failing that, he wants a reason to replace him. He has seriously underestimated your brother’s desperation. At this moment you are a hostage, and so are several others who are your father’s men. Lord Glass, for example, is imprisoned in rather less attractive circumstances than these. I think Betony Hoad would have had him killed, and I certainly think he would have enjoyed killing you… but at this stage hostages have a value, and he is enjoying his power. He can’t afford to alienate me. Most here in Diamond are deeply confused
about where their duty lies. They are loyal to the King, but your brother is very much the
sign
of the King. They are puzzled by the forces I brought with me. But after all, I am also a sign of the King.”

Dysart felt rather than saw Carlyon shrug. He lay on his bed, obstinately staring up at the sloping stone ceiling. “Does my brother know you are talking to me?” he asked at last.

“I didn’t see anyone as I came up here, but I expect there were those who saw me. However, your brother wants my cooperation. Your father and his troop are on the way back from the Islands, and Prince Betony Hoad has sent a ship to meet them, and maybe to explain that he has taken you, along with Lord Glass and others, as hostages. Your brother and I want to negotiate for change in Hoad, and we think this is a way of getting your father to agree.”

“My father might set you free from the restrictions of being a Hero in a time of peace,” Dysart said, “but I don’t see how he can make Betony Hoad into a Magician, or any sort of god. Or even a King! Three Kings, counting you, might be too many even for Hoad.”

“There are many possibilities. Your father might enjoy embracing a hermit’s life out in the Islands,” Carlyon said easily. “And if you were your brother’s immediate heir, who knows? The Master of Hagen might change his mind about marrying his daughter into the Dannorad. And accidents can happen, even to men like Betony Hoad. You might become King rather sooner than seems likely at present. There are so many possibilities. Help me, and I might be able to help you.”

Dysart stared back at the Hero and saw for the first time that Carlyon was becoming much older than he had been. The huge complications of finding his own longings so entangled with those treacherous possibilities Carlyon was suggesting somehow reduced Dysart to a man without any power of judgment. “It’s all too much,” he said wearily, shaking his head on its thin pillow. “I don’t know what to do.”

Carlyon stood. “All you have to do is think about it,” he said. “Weigh one thing against another.” He moved to the door and turned the key in the lock, but didn’t open it immediately. Instead he turned back, looking down at Dysart. “Just don’t spend too long thinking,” he added, smiling. Then he vanished into the space beyond the door, and Dysart heard bolts being slotted carefully home again.

What sort of life is it?
thought Dysart. “What sort of life is it?” he muttered. “What sort of life is it?” he suddenly screamed at the stone walls. “What’s happening to me? I’m Prince, yet I’m a prisoner. I’m a Prince of Hoad, and Hoad is so much more than Diamond and Guard-on-the-Rock. It stretches out in all directions, and yet, right now, Diamond seems to be all that matters. And Linnet! What’s happening to Linnet out there in the wilds of Hagen… treacherous Hagen?”

But the walls merely turned his tormented questions back on him, until Dysart turned too—turned on his narrow bed and tried to bury his face in the thin pillow.

***

Two days later the King came home. Light caught the sails on the horizon, briefly at first and then more confidently.

“We’ll arrange a decorative reception,” Betony said to Carlyon, watching this approach from one of the balconies of Guard-on-the-Rock. “Of course my dear father will be expecting me, but he might be surprised to see you.”

“Not for long,” Carlyon said briefly. “He knows I am discontented with my heroic function and how empty I find it now that I am older. But I suspect the trap was laid for you and not for me.”

“Was it a trap?” Betony asked, smiling first at Carlyon and then at the wizard Izachel standing at his shoulder, also staring at the horizon, and gesturing in the air above his head.

“Oh, I have no doubt your father wanted to precipitate some crisis… something that would justify him in clarifying the succession. I think he was hoping we would do what we have done—define ourselves in some significant fashion. But I don’t think he expected anything like this level of extremity. I don’t think he anticipated that I might ride into Diamond bringing all the authority of the Hero with me.”

“Well, if he wanted to precipitate a crisis, he has succeeded,” said Betony in his most cordial voice. “We are Prince and Hero together. And”—he glanced at Izachel— “Magician, too.”

“There’s nothing there we can make use of in Izachel,” Carlyon said rather bitterly. “Heriot Tarbas saw to that at the time of your wedding. Any trickster down in the city markets could outdo him these days. He’s nothing but a ruin.”

In the beginning the ships were little more than flickers along the horizon. The wind was hounding them onward, and their sails winked in reflected sunlight. As they moved toward the long wharves at the mouth of the Bramber, a crowd edged out to watch them come in—a crowd made up of Lords and their small courts, men and women of Diamond, and lines of soldiers, the Hero’s own men interspersed among the men of Hoad. They ranked themselves, bringing order out of their confusion, with the men of Diamond looking sideways at the forces of Cassio’s Island, then stepping away from them as if they might contaminate one another.

Out at sea the advancing ships peeled away, swinging right and left, making way so the vessel with the glittering royal sign on its sail would be the first to dock. As it did so the musicians moved forward, coming into their own. The air rang with songs of welcome—both stately and joyous, songs that contrasted strangely with the mood of uncertainty surrounding the singers. A carpeted gangplank was
carried forward in a ceremonious way and laid between the ship and the garlanded wharf. The King of Hoad, crowned and resplendent in blue and gold, appeared on the deck, then crossed from sea to land.

A cry went up, welcoming him, but once again it was curiously restrained, as if those who cheered the King were uncertain about what would happen next, unsure if a welcome was appropriate, as if they thought the wrong judgment might bring incalculable retribution tumbling down on them. The King responded, facing his city and holding his arms wide in a formal embrace. For a moment he stood there, looking from Carlyon to Betony Hoad. Then music made yet another announcement, and, as if commanded even though he was the King, he moved forward once more, to place his hands on Betony Hoad’s shoulders and stare into his eyes.

“Dear son!” he said, but he said it in an entirely blank voice, entirely free of either dislike or love. Then he looked past Betony Hoad, studying the face behind him. “I would have expected Lord Glass to be attending you,” he said.

“Now, there’s a warm welcome,” Betony Hoad replied, as they bent toward each other, the King’s worn cheek touching the cool cheek of his son.

“And Lord Carlyon. I certainly did not expect to find you here on the wharf,” the King went on, holding out his hand to the Hero, who clasped it warmly. “What a pleasure!”

“I couldn’t hold back from being here to welcome you,” Carlyon replied, smiling. “Diamond is not Diamond without a King.”

The King’s eyes were running over the guards and soldiers lined up behind them. “You have come well escorted,” he said at last.

“Very well escorted,” Carlyon said. “These are only a few of the men I have brought with me. Prince Betony Hoad has been most hospitable.”

“I have rather fallen in love with the kingly function,” Betony Hoad said, and as he spoke he saw a sudden change of expression in his father’s face.

“Where is Lord Glass?” the King asked. “Where is Dysart?” There was something approaching emotion in his voice at last. He looked at Izachel, standing behind Carlyon. “Where is my Magician?” Betony Hoad glanced sideways at Carlyon.

“Lord Glass and Dysart are both very healthy,” he said. “And well protected. But we can’t discuss all that has happened while you have been traveling, not standing here in this irritating breeze. Let us advance grandly and allow Guard-on-the-Rock to take us in.”

***

And in due course they stood, just the three of them, in the King’s golden room in Guard-on-the-Rock, where the carved faces smiled slyly down from the high stone arches. The King peered briefly up at them with a moment of something approaching ease. They, at least, were giving him a welcome he recognized, something he could rely on. Then, his face hardening once more, he turned to his son and the Hero, gesturing at the chairs before the throne. But Betony Hoad and Carlyon were both already seated, staring at him with the confidence
of men who know they are in charge of the world.

“Well, have you enjoyed your time ruling Diamond?” the King asked Betony Hoad.

“Not particularly,” Betony replied. “But I have enjoyed undermining the arid tradition we represent. I have indeed felt like a man remaking the world, and I thank you, dear Father, for giving me the chance.”

“The world is not readily remade… not against its will,” the King said.

“But it longs to be remade,” Betony replied.

“And it
must
be remade,” Carlyon continued. “It is unnatural for any world to stand still. Lord King, I want the Hero to be more than an empty symbol banished to Cassio’s Island, only coming into Diamond to be waved like an old banner. Lord King, I want to be part of the active life of this city. I want to be your true twin… a true King… ruling beside you.”

“It is not possible,” the King replied. “You must know that. I am the King, first, last, and only.”

“First but not last,” Carlyon said. “My soldiers are spread throughout Diamond. And Prince Betony Hoad and I have your youngest son, along with Lord Glass and some of your loyal followers, in our power. We would hate to do them harm, but…”

“I wouldn’t in the least mind doing them harm,” Betony put in. “I long for some extreme entertainment, and watching experts harm Lord Glass would certainly have its pleasures.”

“Your men may be spread through the city,” the King said, ignoring his son and looking directly at Carlyon. “But
I have men of my own. You may even have the support of some of the Lords, but I know I have the support of others. And in any time of rebellion, I don’t think Betony Hoad would make a warrior King.”