Forward the Mage by Eric Flint & Richard Roach

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just don’t want to hear it. And to answer your question, the reason I was carrying Hildegard’s message is because she asked me to. She said the Sisters were being watched too closely.”

“This is a long way to come just as a favor.”

Another sigh. “Tell me about it. Halfway across Grotum, a good part of it on foot, with a knife fight at the end of the trip. And I never did get to deliver the message.”

“Can’t be helped. Zulkeh left yesterday. Just as well, all things considered. The Fangs would have taken him before he finished his first sentence, replete with arcane allusions to the classics.”

“Is he really that bad?”

The male voice snorted. “The world’s greatest pedant, my dear Gwendolyn. I take it you’ve never made his acquaintance?”

“Don’t meet too many pedants in my circles.”

“I should think not!”

“Must you roll your eyes like that?”

Mad cackling. “Such intolerance! Quite odd, really, given your extreme ideological views.”

The female voice snorted. “Eight-foot-tall lunatics who can afford to buy their own private insane asylums don’t qualify as members of the downtrodden masses.”

“I should hope not! But tell me, what exactly was this message you were to deliver?”

Silence.

“Oh, come, come, Gwendolyn. If you can’t trust a madman, who can you trust? After all, who’d believe me anyway? Can you picture the scene? It’s marvelous! Myself, strapped to the rack—wouldn’t fit actually, they’d have to build one special—the dungeon filled with Inquisitors and Cruds and Fangs! The great ones! Cardinal Ignomini! The Angel Jimmy Jesus! God’s Own Tooth! They speak! Their voices filled with hate! ‘Tell us, Wolfgang, what were you doing down there in the secret passageways leading off from the abandoned death house?’ Myself, screaming with pain! ‘Oh! That feels good! Excruciating agony! Just what the head psychiatrist at the asylum recommends—’ ”

“Wolfgang!”

“What? Oh, sorry. But the man’s a genius, you know? A giant in the field of psychology. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, strapped to the rack, screaming with ecstasy. ‘I was talking with the notorious agitator Gwendolyn—the demoness herself! The Queen of the Railroad. And she was telling me how the Abbess Hildegard asked her to hike all the way across Grotum—just as a personal favor, you know?—in order to tell Zulkeh, the world’s egghead supreme, that he was mixed up in Joe business.’ And then—”

“How did you know?” demanded the woman’s voice. A voice now frighteningly harsh.

“But it’s obvious! Why else would Hildegard get involved? And why else would you agree to come?”

“I didn’t do it because of Joe! Can’t stand all this Joe nonsense. It’s one of the reasons I’d never join the Sisterhood. It’s idiotic. We’re all supposed to stand around contemplating our navels. And meantime Ozar gobbles up Grotum along with the rest of the world. Let the poor starve! Let the dwarves be butchered!” Her voice assumed a clipped high-pitched tone. ” ‘When Joe comes back, dear, these things will all get straightened out. In the meantime, we must do our best to salvage what we can.’ ”

“I must say, that’s quite a good imitation of Hildegard. My favorite aunt—I’m really very fond of her. She’s quite mad, you know? A classic obsessive-compulsive—especially when it comes to her correspondence with God! The head psychiatrist at—”

“Wolfgang!”

“Oh. Sorry. Where was I? Other than in a state of lunacy? Oh, yes. You were about to tell me the message you were to deliver to the wizard.”

“I was not. Besides, you seem to know all about it already. And while we’re on the subject, just exactly what were you doing in the death house?”

“When?”

“When you came out and clubbed the rest of the Fangs, you idiot! What were you doing here?”

“I was watching you, actually. There’s a peephole in the door. You were marvelous. Just marvelous! Hacking and hewing Fangs right and left! Reminded me of this ax murderer we have in the asylum. Wonderful man, really. Of course, the head psychiatrist took away his ax. Can’t blame him, I suppose. Therapy’s difficult with an ax in your skull, even if you’re the world’s greatest psychiatrist. But it was horrible the way the poor madman wailed and—”

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