Upland Outlaws (10 page)

“Sire?”

“Remember some of the dreadful things Warlock Lith’rian said last year? About the Protocol?”

Ylo thought back to that rainy night in the forest of Nefer Moor and shivered at the memory. “Vaguely.”

The imperor frowned. “He was quite right! The Protocol has been perverted. It doesn’t give East a free hand with the legions. It says that only East may use sorcery on them, but the context is that he must use it to restrain the legions. That is his duty!”

“Then the dragons …” Ylo said.

“Yes! South is supposed to restrain the dragons. Lith’rian was equally at fault. And North is supposed to restrain the jotnaryou don’t see much of that in history!”

The two scholars were engrossed in reading the Protocol. Umpily was on his way to join them, but everyone else automatically looked at Raspnex. He scratched his beard, then shrugged like a boy caught in mischief. “They haven’t been misbehaving too badly lately, have they?” Inasmuch as dwarves ever smiled though, he was smiling.

“Did you ever read that copy in your palace, your Omnipotence?” Shandie asked, and his eyes had found their old brilliance.

“No… your Majesty.”

“Obviously the wording needs to be made more explicit,” the faun said, and chuckled. “The wardens’ responsibilities will have to be defined more strictly. Well, your Imperial Majesty? What do you think of our proposal?”

“Your New Order?” Shandie said dryly. “Your plan to reform the world?” He glanced around. “Lord Ionfeu?”

“It is a staggering concept, Sire,” the old man said. He exchanged smiles with his wife. “But a worthy one!”

“Do I understand correctly, though?” Eigaze said. “This new protocol would prohibit only evil use of power? Wellmeaning sorcerers could practice healing, or build bridges, or banish famine? Sorcerers need no longer hide? Sorcery could become a source of positive good in the world?” Her plump face bulged in an excited smile.

The imperor turned to the king of Krasnegar, who shrugged and nodded at the same time. “Why not?”

Shandie smiled. “Doctor Sagorn?”

The jotunn did not take his gaze from the ancient scroll he was studying. “Brilliant!”

“I agree, Sire,” Acopulo said without waiting to be asked. He pointed at some wording on the vellum, and his two companions nodded excitedly.

“Ylo?”

Ylo nodded-what choice was there?

“It appears to be unanimous! ” the imperor said. “Ma’am?” the faun asked, rising to his feet.

Eshiala had apparently been engrossed in entertaining Maya, but she looked up at the king. “A just cause is a nobler purpose than mere survival,” she said hesitantly, and blushed.

Shandie drew a long breath. “Well put, my dear. So, my sorcerous friend! My own view is that it’s a mirage of absurd idealism. It’s the most impractical, visionary, utopian dream 1 ever heard of. But, as my wife says, it is worth fighting for! “

“It’s also the only chance we’ve got!” Rap said.

“That, too!” Smiling, the imperor walked across to him and shook his hand.

“Certainly!” Inos said. “Of course there are some things worth fighting for. “

Could a thirty-five-year-old mother and a fourteen-year-old son ever agree on what those things were?

Gath was in his bed, and she was seated on the edge of it. Despite her thick fur robe, she was chilled. Her breath hung in the air like steam. Ice coated the leading between the black little casement panes. Yet many bedchambers in Krasnegar were colder. Peat glowed brightly in the hearth here, but few citizens could afford that princely luxury, especially this winter, when peat was scarce.

Only the tip of Gath’s nose protruded between his woolly nightcap and a huge drift of downy quilts. Even in the tiny candlelight, the tip of it was visibly pink, but at least it was undamaged. Hostile and suspicious, one gray eye peered up at her out of nests of many-colored swellings. The other was covered with a slab of steak. The broken tooth annoyed her most, though, and he was keeping that out of sight.

“Like Dad,” he said stubbornly. “Dad’s worth fighting for!” She sighed, searching for reasons that would make sense to him.

Downstairs, the dinner party continued. It was turning out to be very subdued for an affair attended by twenty-five adolescents, lacking its host and one guest. The medics said Brak would be all right, but no one could mend a boy’s broken tooth except a sorcerer, and the one sorcerer she knew almost certainly wouldn’t. Most likely it would abscess and have to come out. All her life, she was going to recall this day every time her son opened his mouth.

“Your father is worth fighting for, of course. But you weren’t fighting for him, Gath! He wasn’t there. If he was in danger from a bear, or goblins, or a gang of raiders, then you would be right to go to his aid and fight for him. That wasn’t what happened. You were fighting because someone called him names, and that’s not the same thing at all. “

He stared at her stubbornly, saying nothing. This lecture was a father’s duty, not a mother’s. He probably knew exactly how long it was going to continue, and every word she was going to say. He was hurting, inside and out, his doubts worse than his wounds. Doubts about himself, doubts about her, doubts about his father.

“What exactly did Brak say?”

“He said … He said my dad had run away to live with the goblins. He said he had goblin wives.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Course not! ” But the pain in his solitary eye increased. Doubt.

“Did Brak say he was a sorcerer?”

Gath thought for a moment. “Not today.”

“What do you answer if the boys say that about your father?”

“I say, `What if he is? That’s his business.’ “

“That’s a good answer, a very good answer, because it’s true. But your father’s a king, and if his royal duties require him to go away for a while, then that’s his business, too! Can’t you just say that? “

Silence. Hurt, angry silence.

“You could say that, Gath, and you know it! You weren’t fighting for your father. You were fighting in case they thought you were afraid to fight. And usually that’s very silly. “

Except that this was Krasnegar, not the Impire. Gath looked like a jotunn so his peers judged him as they judged jotnar. And so did he. An imp they wouldn’t bother with, but he was blond and big for his age, like a jotunn. He must think of himself as a jotunn, although he was normally the least quarrelsome boy she had ever known. Everyone knew that jotnar would accept any odds.

She tried another tack. “You must have known what was going to happen when you went to meet Brak and the others.” Pause, then a grudging whisper: “Yes. I knew.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Because I knew I would go.” No hope there!

“You won’t go anymore!” she said sharply. “From now on, you stay in the castle. Is that clear?”

Even with so little of his face visible, the sullen, rebellious expression was obvious.

“Is that clear?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

But the fight with Brak had happened within the castle, so house arrest wouldn’t do much to solve the problem. There were dozens of adolescent jotnar living in the palace, and townsfolk could stream in and out as they pleased. She couldn’t declare a state of siege just to stop kids brawling. Not in Krasnegar. And if word got around that the queen was protecting her son, then he would be fair game for everyone, even imps.

“So your father is away on business? There’s nothing odd about that! Other boys’ fathers go out of town-trappers, whalers, fishermen-“

“He didn’t tell anyone.”

Ah! “Since when has your father had to ask Brak’s permission to go on a trip?”

The humor didn’t work; she hadn’t expected it to. Gath’s permission was what they were discussing now, even if Gath himself didn’t know it.

“He didn’t have time to say good-bye to you, dear. I told you-he had to leave on very short notice. He didn’t know he was going when you went to bed.” She thought back to that tragic evening. “Did you? Did you know?”

Gath blinked. “I can’t see tomorrows.”

“No, but I recall you looked sort of surprised at one point. Did you suspect?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Wasn’t sure. Maybe a little, I did.” A big disappointment might throw a longer shadow than little things, and a father’s disappearance was a very big disappointment to a fourteen-year-old. Rap had promised the whole of the following day to the children and been gone when they awoke. She sighed. “Listen, you big lummox! Maybe one day you’ll be king of Krasnegar. Kings have to keep their private lives separate from their royal duties, and you’re going to have to learn that. Your father doesn’t go around fighting everybody!”

“If someone said bad things about you, he would!”

He probably would. It was much easier to imagine Rap throwing a punch than it was to think of him calling out the guard and laying charges of lese majesty. That was certainly not an option for Gath when his friends jeered. No hope there, either.

She tried another tack. “I know he broke a promise to you. Do you think he would do that, or stay away this long, or miss your birthday-except for something really important?”

“No. “

“Well, it is important! Terribly important! I can’t tell you what it is. I don’t even know all the details myself, but I trust your father, and so should you! I told you he’d gone away for a couple of days. Then I told you that it was going to be longer. I couldn’t tell anyone else that, just you and Kadie, because he sent me word by sorcery! Now do you understand?”

He nodded, almost imperceptibly under the covers. She shivered as the cold worked deeper through her furs; she wriggled icy toes in her boots.

“Gath, you know he’s a sorcerer! You know things that Brak and those louts don’t know! You know that your father went away by sorcery-or you can guess he did. He’ll come back by sorcery, too, as soon as he can. Stupid Brak and the others can only think that the harbor was frozen, so therefore he must have run off to the goblins. That isn’t true, and you know it. “

“Can I say so? “

“You can tell them they don’t know what they’re talking about. “

“I did. ” Gath closed his eye.

Oh, my poor unhappy baby!

She lifted the second piece of steak from the plate by the bed and placed it over the swollen lid. She kissed his forehead. “It isn’t easy being fourteen, Gath. I was fourteen once, and I remember. I think it may be even harder for boys than it is for girls. It’s worse than being fifteen, even. You’re big and strong already, and you have prescience. You can hurt people, even bigger people like Brak. Strength and power bring,responsibility.” She was about to demand a promise that he wouldn’t fight anymore, and then common sense told her not to be crazy.

Manhood was the problem, the manhood he looked for whenever he saw himself in a mirror, the manhood that was much farther off than he could believe … the manhood that would never be the universal answer he thought it would be. And boyhood betrayed.

She stood up. “Gath, I’ve known your father a lot longer than you have. He’s a fine man, Gath, a noble man. He’s a father to be proud of, in every way. I’m sure he doesn’t want you getting hurt just because a young jotunn thug filthy-mouths him.”

She got no answer, because the remark was irrelevant. Gath had been fighting for Gath, not for Rap.

“I know he wouldn’t have missed your birthday unless he had to. I know he wouldn’t have gone away unless he believed that what he was doing was very, very important.”

She took the candle, shielding it with her hand as she walked across the room.

“Good night, my darling. I still love you. You were wrong to fight Brak. I’m sorry you were foolish, but I’m proud that you are brave.”

She heard a quiet sniff as she closed the door. She bit her lip. Rap, whatever you are up to had better be worth this!

Newer world…

but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

— Tennyson, Ulysses

Nobody seemed to be thinking about lunch, except Ylo.

White Impress rolled gently on the slate-gray waters, heading from nowhere to nowhere, and he sat alone and neglected in a corner.

At the far end of the deckhouse the politicians were at workthe imperor, the king of Krasnegar, Sagorn, Acopulo, and Ionfeu-all clamoring like a verbal smith’s shop as they heatedly shaped a new protocol to rule Pandemia for the next few thousand years. When the scholars’ bickering became too personal, then king or imperor would crack a joke. The others would laugh respectfully and calm down. Old Ionfeu spoke less than anyone, but the others always seemed to agree with him when he did. It was an exercise in dreaming, but perhaps dreams were all that remained now.

Hardgraa had gone below and was undoubtedly catnapping, being a veteran campaigner who knew how to take sleep when it was available. Off by themselves, impress and countess chatted quietly, watching over the

child dozing on a nearby sofa, under a blanket. The Jarga woman was still steering the ship, her iron endurance more confirmation that she had occult power to sustain her. The dwarf stood outside in the cold, resting his forearms on the rail and staring stonily underneath it at the horizon.

He might be taking a last occult look at the fishermen’s smack now fading into the skyline mist. Lord Umpily had departed an hour or so ago, bome off in that cockleshell at the price of a gold crown. With him he had carried a magic scroll and many false good wishes. As soon as he had been out of earshot, Shandie had said, “How long do you suppose he’s got?”

King Rap had shrugged. “A week if we’re lucky. “

So everyone was busy except Ylo, who had nothing to entertain him except the realization that it was almost twenty-four hours since he last ate. Of course he could ask one of the sorcerers to magic up a meal for him, but he wasn’t going to. He would get himself laughed at for oversleeping and missing breakfast.

The best way to take his mind off his stomach was just to study Eshiala. Guard her? Oh yes, he would guard her most jealously! That would be his role in the war! She was listening intently to Countess Eigaze, her profile showing the perfect classic beauty of the statue in the Imperial Library, with an expression as inscrutable. He remembered her happy smile in the pool’s preflection. He would make her smile like that, often. All the time! The pool had promised her with daffodils, but that did not mean he could not have her now, at midwinter, and still be her lover at daffodil time. He’d never tried a really long relationship like that before. It would be an interesting experience, and she was certainly worth it.

The door slammed as Warlock Raspnex came in. Countess and impress looked up briefly; no one else seemed to notice. The little man clumped across to a table near Ylo and then glowered at him. “Come here, lad.” He laid his elbows on the table, and had no need to stoop to do so.

Ylo felt shaky as he rose to obey the order-not from the motion of the ship, just from lack of food. But he was certainly not going to beg from a dwarf, not even a warlock dwarf. “Your Omnipotence?”

“Bah!.l told you that rigmarole’s defunct! You know my name; use it. “

“Of course, Raspnex,” Ylo said. “Do please call me Ylo.” He rested fingertips on the table and smiled down at unfriendly gray eyes colder than pebbles on a shingle beach.

“I’ll call you anything I want. Now, I need your help.”

In return for a snack, perhaps? “Help?” Ylo inquired uneasily. “What help can I give to a great sorcerer?”

“Well, not much.” Raspnex ran fingers like chisels through his iron-gray hair. “And I’m not a great sorcerer, I’m a middlinggood sorcerer. What I meant is I need to use your memory. I’d rather you agreed to let me do it than make me use force on you, but I will if I must. We need a conferral.”

“Huh?”

“A deed, a charter. Something imposing-looking with the imperial seal on it, transferring land. Shandie said you’d handled a thousand of them recently.”

“Er, yes. But I’m no scribe! And it takes days to do all that lettering and illumination and-“

“No, it doesn’t. Can you remember one where a sizable estate was gifted directly from imperial domain?”

Feeling very uneasy, Ylo said, “Emshandar deeded the Honor of Mosrace to the Marquis of-“

The dwarf slapped an oversize hand on the table. “Look there!” He removed his hand. “Now, think of that document. Pretend it’s lying there and you’re reading it. “

“I haven’t got that kind of memory!” Ylo felt panic rising. “Yes, you do, you just don’t know how to use it. Keep looking. Think about the deed. Don’t think about anything else.” Ylo was shaking and sweating. He didn’t want this ill-shaped little monster prying around in his mind, seeing things he shouldn’t, secrets like the preflecting pool and—

“For Evil’s sake get your mind of that woman!” Raspnex rumbled. “Can’t you at least wait until her husband’s gone? Your skull sounds like elk pasture in rutting time. Now think about that deed or I’ll make you think about it.”

Gods preserve us! Wasn’t this the sort of misuse of sorcery the new protocol was going to stamp out?

“I expect it is. ” Raspnex sighed roughly. “But we don’t have it in place yet. You’ve got a mind like a butterfly, know that? No control, no discipline. I’ll give you one more chance. How does it begin?”

Ylo closed his eyes and thought. We, Emshandar the Fourth, by … He opened his eyes. Yes! Very faintly, he could see the big historiated capitals and the black text following like smoke. He began to read the words aloud, and even as he did so, they flowed and solidified on a sheet of vellum congealing underneath. Incredible! He would never have believed he had remembered so much of something he had merely glanced at months before. He stumbled a few times when he came to the finer print, but that was mostly a description of Mosrace itself, which would not be important to the warlock, who only wanted the general pattern and would obviously change the details to suit his own…

“You’re daydreaming again,” Raspnex growled. “But it’s good enough. I can tidy it up.” He snatched the parchment and began rolling it.

“That’s quite a trick,” Ylo said admiringly. “You could deed me title to any estate in the Impire! “

“Can’t think why I d want to.”

“Of course, you’d have to put a matching copy in the Imperial records. “

The little man looked up at him sourly. “I won’t risk it at the moment, because of the Covin, but it’s been done often enough.”

“What! You’re serious?”

“You ever heard of a dwarf joking?” Raspnex stamped off to join the male discussion party, leaving Ylo with his mouth open, wondering how many of the papers in the state archives were occult fakes.

At that moment, Eshiala rose and headed for the door. She glanced at him as she went by. He thought she was going to speak, then she changed her mind and swept by him as if he did not exist, being the Ice Impress. She seemed unaffected by the sudden stress of becoming an outlaw, but then she was probably under much less strain now than she had been the day before, playing for an audience in the Rotunda.

Gorgeous creature! Maybe even worth a dukedom. He knew if he were offered a clear choice now, he might yet take the woman. Even if he could enjoy only one long, lingering session of lovemaking he might. The very thought of her made his flesh burn. And Shandie was going to go off and fight his impossible campaign and leave his signifer to guard the royal family in his absence. From now until the daffodils bloomed-there was a challenge to speed a man’s heart!

Now the countess was alone, minding Maya and quietly munching candies. Well! She must have asked one of the sorcerers to produce those for her. Trust Eigaze! His mouth watered. He went across to the shabby armchair Eshiala had just left.

“May I join you, Aunt?”

Her plump face creased in a smile. “Of course! Have a chocolate? “

He accepted eagerly. “You are bearing up very well, if I may say so.”

“Oh, but this is exciting! I have never seen history being made before. I’m old enough, of course, but I’ve never been involved.”

“Not that old,” he countered automatically. He hoped that it was history that was being written in this grubby saloon, and not farce. “The historic Conference of the White Impress?”

“Winterfest, 2998!” She chuckled. ” `Who was present at the conference? Why was it held on a ferryboat? Discuss how Emshandar’s Protocol differed from Emine’s.’ Generations of school children will curse us for adding to their labors!”

“Can you tell me where we’re going?” he asked.

She looked surprised and automatically reached for another candy. “I suppose so-now Lord Umpily’s gone. Rap said it was better if he did not know … just in case. It’s not that they don’t trust him, of course.”

“Of course.” But Ylo wondered if that was true. Umpily’s loyalty was unquestionable, but he was not the most discreet of men. In a war against the Covin, one careless word would bring disaster.

“Have another chocolate. Not his fault, you understand, but no one can keep secrets from sorcerers.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Eigaze moved back to safer conversational territory. “As to where we’re going, you know the place.” Her eyes twinkled. “In fact, it probably belongs to you! It’s called Yewdark House. Remember it?”

“Vaguely.” He recalled sunny childhood days and misty memories of ponies and sailboats.

“That’s why Shandie wants you to accompany us, I think. You can be our host.”

“One of my aunts lived there?”

Eigaze nodded wistfully. “Lady Onnily. She and I were at school together. I visited her a few times at Yewdark. I remember you and your mother there once, when you were very small. But she didn’t live there very long, Onnly didn’t. It has rather a bad reputation, you know.”

Aha! More memories surged to the surface. “What sort of reputation? “

“Er … It’s supposed to be haunted. ” Eigaze chuckled and quickly ate two chocolates.

No, not haunted. Ylo recalled his oldest brother telling him certain stories about Yewdark, but Yyan had not been spinning a ghost yarn. He had spoken of omens, magic, prophecy, and Ylo himself. Yyan would have been about fifteen then, perhaps, and Ylo about nine, a good age for baiting. Naturally, Ylo had rushed off to complain to his father, and the consul had reluctantly confirmed the tales, while insisting that they had no importance. He had then forbidden all his sons to discuss them and given Yyan the thrashing of a lifetime to emphasize the point. It was that thrashing that had fixed the episode so firmly in Ylo’s memory.

“Haunted by whom? Or what?”

“Oh, I have no idea. It’s been empty for years, because of some fantastic lawsuit. Such a shame, because it used to be such a beautiful place.”

Dear old Lady Eigaze was trying to change the subject, and normally she was far too skilled at conversation to get herself trapped like that-curious! What had she remembered?

Chairs scraped over in the comer. The conference was breaking up. The light was too poor for writing. Beyond the windows, the shore was drawing closer.

“Ion and I called in there a couple of weeks ago,” Eigaze said, in suspiciously vague tones. “On our way back to Hub, you know. One of the horses went lame practically at the gate. The weather was bad, and it was late. We called in to see if anyone we knew lived there now and might offer us a bed for the night.”

“And who does live there now?”

“No one. Well, remember Ukka?”

“No. “

“Onnly’s housekeeper. She’s still there. Old as the Protocol. ” Eigaze took another candy so that she could chew and not say more.

“Living there alone?”

“Apparently. Mad as a cornered badger. Ah, Ion!”

The old count sank onto the sofa, carefully not disturbing the sleeping princess. “Yes, my dear?”

“Tell Ylo about that lawsuit. Yewdark must already belong to him, mustn’t it?”

The gaunt old man’s stoop showed even when he was sittinghe leaned forward, always. He seemed to peer at whomever he was speaking to, which gave his conversation a sense of urgency. He smiled wearily at Ylo under his snowy eyebrows. “Well, it certainly belonged to the Yllipos, and Shandie told us he was going to restore their properties to you. So I suppose it is yours, lad. Or it will be, when this mess is cleared up. “

Some mess! That bloodthirsty old scoundrel Emshandar was barely a whole day dead, and how things had changed since then!

“But the lawsuit?” Eigaze said quickly.

“Oh, that? Well, even the closest-knit families have their squabbles, you know. Apparently there was disagreement over who owned Yewdark, and it went to court. “

“So?” Ylo recalled vaguely that the estate had been in the family for a very long time, which meant several centuries by Yllipo standards. Records could become very confused in such cases. There were no family quarrels now, with only one Yllipo left alive.

“Well, when the Yllipo Conspiracy … I mean, three or four years ago, when … ” The old man floundered.

“When Emshandar murdered Ylo’s family,” Eigaze said firmly.

“Well, yes. Most of the property was attaindered, you know. Consequently, the crown succeeded to all existing legal actions. Which meant that the imperor was suing himself in this case.”

“That’s absurd!” Ylo said.

Ionfeu smiled sadly. “But lawyers love such absurdities! The defendant claimed that the imperor could not be sued without his permission, and the plaintiff insisted that the imperor could sue anyone he liked—stalemate! I’m sure the barristers expected to build careers out of it. Anyway, the estate sank into a legal swamp, and it’s just sitting there, deserted. When Shandie asked if anyone knew of a good bolthole for us, Eigaze thought of Yewdark. It’s perfect! Shandie agrees.”

A country mansion on the shores of Cenmere, about a day’s ride from the capital? Ylo nodded thoughtfully. “Isn’t it a little too close to Hub?”

“That was discussed,” the proconsul said, “but King Rap thinks it’s a good idea to stay fairly close, and the warlock agreed. They should know how Zinixo’s mind works, if anyone does. Nowhere is really safe, you know. “

“But …” Ylo felt oddly uneasy at the idea of holing up in Yewdark, and he was not sure why. “This Mistress, er …”

“Ukka,” Eigaze said, beaming bravely. “She was your aunt’s housekeeper, and she was left in charge, and she’s still there.”

“Mad, you said?”

“Well … odd. She’s lived alone a long time. But she was quite delighted when we told her there was one Yllipo left alive. She’ll be overjoyed to see you.”

“Did she mention the Sisters?”

Eigaze shot a brief glance at her husband. “She … she may have done. Who were they, do you know?”

“They were sorcerers,” Ylo said. “At least, I think they were. Sorceresses, I mean. They lived at Yewdark-before Aunt Onnly.” He wished he could remember more of Yyan’s stories. “They prophesied. “

“Prophesied what?” the count demanded.

“Disasters.” Ylo racked his brains. “Disasters that I might or might not be going to survive.”

“What sort of disasters?”

“The destruction of the family.”