Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic) (28 page)

They
had traveled some way past when Tarvik whirled his horse and raced back. I’d
been afraid he would. Since I had last seen him, he had picked up the old dog
and lifted it on to his horse. It was in front of him, stretched like a worn
rug across the base of Banner's neck.

“You
will delay us, Stargazer,” he complained.

“Go
on without me, Tarvik. Nance and Lor and I need to return to the temple.”

“You
have left something behind? I will send a servant for it.”

“No,
not that. Tarvik, you are right. Erlan can track you easily in this mud. He's
bound to follow to get the supplies. Maybe I have a trick to persuade him to
stop.”

Tarvik
squinted out at me from the shadow of his hood. The winter sky reflected in his
eyes. “What do you plan?”

“It's
too complicated to explain. I'll tell you later. Go on now and we'll follow
soon.”

The
muscles of his jaw hardened. He caught my wrist. “No, if anyone remains to face
Erlan, it must be me and my guards.”

“We've
had this conversation. No way can you outfight his army. You'll end up dead.”

“And
what will keep him from killing you?”

Unless
I could come up with a convincing sales pitch, he would halt the procession.
The brat refused to drop his gaze from mine or loosen his grasp. I needed
something outside his understanding and within the boundaries of his
superstition to keep him moving. I knew only one word to do that.

“Magic.
I have magic that will defeat Erlan. I wish I could keep you here to help, but
if you hang around, so will your guards. Erlan has to find the city deserted or
the magic won't work.”

Tarvik's
hand slid to cover mine, his grip crushing my fingers. For a moment I thought
he would pull me off my horse. Tarvik's lower lip jutted out.

At
last he said softly, “Have your way, Stargazer. I know my father believes in
your magic. Besides, you aren't going to listen to me, are you?”

He
wheeled off, dashing after the guards on his horse. Its hooves cut moons in the
mud path. I wished I could leave as emphatically, in case he glanced back at
me. But no matter how I pulled on Black's reins, the horse would not turn. I
crossed my wrists on the back of its neck and leaned my forehead against them,
unable to go in any direction until Nance and Lor returned to guide the stupid
beast.

It
did occur to me that despite my education, I lacked the simple skills required
to be an effective barbarian.

CHAPTER
17

Two
long, ice-edged days after Nance and Lor left me, at my insistence, I still had
no idea how I was going to handle my part of the plan.

They
didn’t want to leave me alone but we couldn’t think of another way to outwit
Erlan. The three of us worked for a day raking snow across the mud. We
carefully broke tree limbs to imitate storm damage while hiding signs of the
retreat. If Erlan's scouts searched beyond the near woods, they would pick up
the trail, so it was up to me to stop them at the castle's edge.

The
temple, stripped of its altar cloths, jewels, robes, dishes, and other
ornaments, was as cold as the inside of a refrigerator. Heavy hanging lamps
remained in the ceiling. I would need them when Erlan arrived. So I lived in the
dark to save candles.

Each
evening I built a small fire in the courtyard and huddled beside it, allowing
myself one fire a day to heat my supper. Most of the city's firewood was gone,
carried off to the valley hiding place. My fire consisted of branches torn from
the thicket near the castle.

To
mutilate the castle shrubbery probably carried a penalty of death by freezing
in a cell, but as there was no one to accuse me, and I might soon freeze
anyway, I slashed and burned.

If
Kovat, rather than Erlan, came stamping into the courtyard to howl at me about
damaged trees, I would be pleased to see him alive. There was the possibility
he and his warriors traveled a half-day behind Erlan's army and had simply not
been seen by the scouts. If so, I could grovel a little and then point out to
Kovat that my intentions were to protect his boy from truly unloving relatives.

But
as I had little faith and less hope, I concentrated on what had to be done.

Sitting
by the fire with my cup and bowl, I went over and over our plans. When my head
ached with thinking, I drifted off to pleasanter memories, camping on the
plateau with Nance, telling stories by the fire with Tarvik. Eating in wildly
expensive restaurants with Darryl.

Okay,
that memory wasn't so good, because it ended with me hiding behind a dumpster.
Forget that and think about hot showers, coffee, and deli food heated in the
microwave.

Was
Tarvik right? Did Erlan believe in lifedrainers? Too late now to change plans.
If we guessed wrong, forget my horoscope, ignore the long lifeline circling
around my thumb. Signs of natural life spans were no protection from violence.

Worse,
suppose Erlan's route crossed with Ober and Alakar as they traveled homeward?
The scout hadn't mentioned her, but Ober might now be doubling back with
Erlan's army. I could outwit stupid, superstitious Erlan. But I'd had a try at
outwitting Ober. It was not easy and not completely successful. Would she pay
any price to get even with me, take any chance? Kinda thought she would.

Was
Nance right? Was Ober a sorcerer? And what the hell powers did a sorcerer have?
I'd met my share of mages and there were never two alike. Actually, the thought
was somewhat consoling. Out in the big bad world there was only one Ober.

When
my fire burned to embers, I wrapped myself in my cloak and sheepskin and slept
at the fire's edge. The courtyard was no colder than the empty rooms of the
temple, and far less frightening. Here I could see the clear winter sky. The
familiar constellations sparkled like frost.

Venus
dazzled. Its aspect offered some protection in Tarvik's chart. Would that it
did the same for me. Okay, if I had the choice, this time I'd give Tarvik the
luck because he really needed it. All I had on my side now was Mercury, a brief
reflection in the sunset before it flickered out below the horizon, a
reflection in my mind more than in my vision. I knew where it was even if I
couldn't see it. Mercury made no promises at all.

And
each day Erlan's army moved closer to the deserted city and me.

Sometimes
I almost longed for a horse to ride. Maybe if my life depended on it, I could
mount a horse by myself and manage to make the right sounds and tugs on its
reins to send it racing across the hills, carrying us both in the opposite
direction from the destiny that marched toward me.

However,
Lor had taken Black so he and Nance could travel fast.

With
no reason to squeeze through the opening to the stable to keep my whereabouts
secret, I walked freely around the outside of the temple and castle, leaving
the gates and doors open. I wandered through the castle, idly noting the
corridors and courtyards, peering into the banquet room with its long tables
and benches and the scenes of Kovat's past victories painted on the walls.

A
sound sent me into panic. Scraping. Foot dragging? I flattened against a door
and tried to breathe.

My
heart banged away so loudly anyone could hear it.

Listen.
Hold my breath and listen.

Spreading
my fingers against cold stone, I slid slowly to the edge of the recessed
doorway, leaned out, looked up and down the corridor. Did a shadow move? Maybe
not.

Then
I heard it again, a low scrape, from the direction of the wide double doors
that opened into the castle on an entry to make the base of a T-shape with the
corridor. Big front entrance, not used much, lit up on the nights of banquets
with masses of candles. I'd left those doors pushed open, back against the
inner walls, so I could wander and get as much light from outside as possible.
Dumb idea, maybe, because if it made entering easier for me, it did the same
for whoever was slowly shuffling toward me.

And
me without so much as my Swiss pocketknife that Tarvik took and never gave
back. Daggers, swords, arrows, used to be lots of them hanging on the walls.
Everything had been packed up and taken away and why hadn't I thought to ask
for a club or a scary looking knife?

Scrape,
slide, thought I'd pass out

Then
the sound turned to fluttering. A tumble of dry leaves blew through the open
doors and past the corner and now I could see them, dry leaves, just stupid dry
leaves stirred and pushed by a draft. I was some weird kind of Superwoman, out
to save the city and terrified by dry leaves.

I
stumbled on down the hall, away from the entry.

The
old dog no longer lay outside its usual door. Could have used him, not that
he'd be much use, but I could have maybe yelled, “Killer dog here so get out
before I let him loose!”

I
opened that door, the one the watchdog used to watch, and wandered into another
poorly ventilated room. Like all the rooms, it was empty. Chiseled into one
stone wall was the outline of a crown. It was touched up with bits of flaking
paint, faded on the gray stone. An odd decoration, perhaps someone's attempt to
make the place more pleasant. Ah. This must be Kovat's chamber, and was it he
or some long ago warlord who marked it as the chamber of the ruler? I wandered
back out and truly wished the old dog was still there in the doorway. I would
have welcomed a sleepy nod.

I
even looked into the room previously used by Alakar and Ober. Now it was bare,
nothing but cold stone and a long heavy wooden table, not even a woven tapestry
to steal. Tarvik had replaced the missing stone that opened the wall to Ober's
room, and had closed his own secret door before he allowed the servants to
enter and remove the wall rugs. If he did not return to the castle, the
passageway would remain secret forever.

A
scent of perfumed oils hung in the stale air. Heavy, sweet, it was something
the barbarians valued. The women rubbed the oils in their hair and on their
skin to mask the ever-present odors of animals and sweat. When I closed my
eyes, I could see Ober and Alakar, their hair gleaming in the candlelight, long
thick braids shiny with oil.

I
walked slowly around the room, following the scent until I reached the table.
Leaning down to it, I could smell the perfume in the rough wood and I
remembered Ober standing at the table drawing odd signs and mixing liquids in
small bowls and vials. I had watched the neighborhood herbalist mix herbs using
similar bowls and had enjoyed the clean spicy balm. The fragrance faded in a
day or less.

Why
did this perfume hang in the air and cling to the table for so long? Perhaps
because it was in an oil base, I thought, and ran my hand around the edges of
the wood to feel for slick spots.

This
endless day I tried to dull fear with boredom. I knelt by the table, running my
hands down the legs, enjoying the smoothness of the dark wood, trying to do the
yoga thing of calming my mind. Never been much good at that.

My
fingers caught on an edge. It took me a moment to become aware. Then I knelt
and peered through the dim light, running my fingertips back and forth until I
realized there was a shallow drawer set in the framing below the tabletop.

It
did not have a handle. I prodded it, tried to slip a fingernail into the side,
hit it with my palm, and finally sat back on the floor and stared. I could see
the line of its four edges but no way at all to open it.

It
would be empty, of course, or maybe contain a forgotten brush or scarf. Nothing
of value. So what else did I have to do while waiting for my probable demise?

That
drawer was a challenge. My mind sharpened. I thought of every drawer in every
cabinet and table I had ever seen, and then I remembered hiding under tables
when I was small. I reached under the tabletop. It was open, its support beams
exposed, no shelf to seal it.

Flat
on my back, I slid part way into the table's shadow, reached up, found the
bottom of the drawer, pressed my palm against it and pushed it outward. Then I
had to wiggle myself out and onto my knees before I could stand.

Secret
doors, secret drawers. These folks would love wall safes.

Bingo,
the drawer was not empty. It held several small vials. I took them out, one by
one, and opened them. The first left a sticky coating of oil on my fingers.
Even holding it at arm's length, I could smell the perfume. I had never been
close to Alakar or Ober, didn't know what scent they used, but it was pretty much
overwhelming and what I'd expect of Erlan's girls. I wiped my hands on my tunic
to dry them.

The
next vial was dry pottery sealed with a cork. I worked the cork loose and shook
the vial. Liquid sloshed in it. It didn't seem to have any odor at all. It could
have been water, but I doubted Ober would leave anything as harmless as water
sealed up in such a small vial.

Poison?
Possibly.

After
setting down the vial, I picked up a small-lidded box made of hammered metal.
Turning it slowly in my hands, I found the almost invisible hinges, then ran a
fingertip along its opposite side until I touched the latch. Such a little box,
easy to tip, and did I want its contents making contact with my skin?

Perhaps
it was a harmless face powder. Or perhaps it was something else.

Nothing
brings out curiosity like boredom, waiting and stifled fear. I put the box on
the table, held it carefully by its edges, and pried up the latch.

The
box did indeed contain powder, a white powder, nothing meant to color the
complexion. On the streets of Seattle white powder could be almost anything and
probably not legal. As far as I knew, there was nothing like drugs in Kovat’s
land. Mead seemed to be their only indulgence. Oh right, that and hacking away
at anyone in hacking distance with their broadswords.