“It took all six of them to do it,” Rap said, with obvious satisfaction.
“Well, he’d lost his temper by then,” Hononin observed solemnly.
“You see, ma’am . . .” Rap hesitated, and then drained his glass. ”As soon as she left this afternoon, to come here, I went down to the cells and issued a royal pardon. Ma’am, I had to! I mean, I can’t hide behind Inos’s skirts all the time! Not if she really wants me to be . . .” he scowled, and said, “king! “ as if it were an obscenity.
“So where did your, er, injuries come from?”
Rap shrugged. “Krath and I went off to the Beached Whale to celebrate, of course.”
Hononin cackled. “They’re renaming it the Sunken Whale. Some sailor made a joke about fauns, so Krath put his head through a plank table. His shipmates didn’t approve, but Krath’s three uncles were there. Soon everyone joined in, and things began to get violent . . . Haven’t seen such a free-for-all in years!” Surreptitiously he winked at Kadolan.
For a moment she was startled, then she understood and carefully suppressed a smile. This was Krasnegar they were discussing, not Hub. If Master Rap was ever to be more than the queen’s husband, he would have to establish his credentials, and the hostler was implying that he had made a good start.
“Then I am sure that Inos will understand,” she said. “But don’t expect instant forgiveness! Perhaps we should go now . . .”
Rap fidgeted and stared down at his hands. “She’s going to be upset?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Very upset?”
“Extremely upset.”
He looked up with dismay. “I don’t want to upset her.” She felt puzzled. “Then you should have waited until after the wedding.”
He nodded miserably. “Then . . . Will you promise not to tell her . . . both of you?”
Quite perplexed now, Kadolan said, “She can see for herself.”
Rap groaned. “I mean this.”
Black eyes and split lip disappeared. Kadolan jumped. “Oh !”
Hononin uttered a low growl. “You told me you weren’t a sorcerer anymore!”
Rap nodded, looking completely dejected. “That was true when I said it. Ma’am . . . can you remember your word of power?”
“No . . . no, I can’t!” Kadolan had sensed something inexplicable when Inos was destroying the words. She’d attributed the feeling to mild dyspepsia until Rap and Inos had come bursting through the magic portal that evening to tell her that the magic was destroyed and they wanted a quick wedding and everything was wonderful. And now she could not even remember what her word had been.
Rap glanced at the hostler. “They’re great long, gibberish things, you see. The only reason people can remember them at all, when they’ve only heard them once, is that they’re magic in themselves. They’re magically memorable.”
Now Kadolan began to understand and was hard put to hide a sudden excitement. ”So when Inos destroyed them . . .”
“She just stunned them!” Rap said crossly. “Or some of them. All those hundreds of people who heard them three days ago . . . now they’re starting to forget what they heard.”
“The words are coming back, you mean?”
He nodded glumly. “Seems so. Some. And because I have this natural talent for sorcery . . . I think that’s what it is. I seem to be the one they’re coming back to.”
“Well, I don’t see why you’re so miserable! I still don’t understand why Inos tried to destroy them in the first place.”
“Because the G-G-Gods . . .” He stuttered, —and gave up. “It’s hard to explain. But it doesn’t matter now. I asked Inos if she could remember what the words were, and she said no. So; as long as she doesn’t remember, we’re all right. I don’t think I’m going to get all my power back, anyway.” He waved a hand to indicate his eyes. “This . . . it’s just an illusion. I’ll need to show my face tomorrow, back in Krasnegar . . . You won’t tell Inos, though?”
Nor had Kadolan ever understood why he didn’t like being a sorcerer, but that was not her business. A little magic had always come in handy for ruling Krasnegar. She rose, and Rap sprang up also.
“I shan’t tell her—if you do something about the lint on your collar!”
This obvious blackmail made him scowl as ferociously as Hononin ever had. Then the lint vanished, as did the wrinkles in his coat. The lace of his cravat stiffened and began to shine like fresh snow. The buckle of his belt sparkled and his hair settled into shiny waves.
“Much better!” she said. “Oh, much!” Suddenly he was an astonishingly handsome royal bridegroom. How romantic! “Inos will be delighted!” Impulsively she kissed him. He looked startled, and then grinned bashfully. She was astonished to discover that he was shaking. Rap, nervous? Rap who had faced down pirates and sultans . . .
“Thank you,” she said. “And you do promise to behave yourself this time, don’t you?”
“Behave myself?”
Rap, who had overcome goblins and dragons . . . “Not disrupt the ceremony by brandishing swords?”
“Of course not!”
Rap, who had challenged warlocks and—she suspected—even the Gods Themselves . . .
“Or coming in on a horse . . . backward?”
“Certainly not backward.”
“Or running away?”
“Ah!” Rap said darkly. “Now that is beginning to seem like a good idea.”
“Don’t worry, Kade,” Hononin said cheefully. “I’ll keep him there if I have to run him through with my sword.”
Rap, who would be a faithful, loving husband and a solid, honorable king . . .
Suddenly Kadolan’s eyes started to do what they always did at weddings. She turned away quickly and headed for the door. Rap strode by her and threw it open. She curtsyed. “After you, your Majesty!”
“No! Please, ma’am! I don’t want to be called that!”
“Surely that is for the queen to decide? Or do you intend to overrule her all the time?”
Rap turned scarlet. “Overrule her? Of course not! Never! Inos is the queen! I’m just . . . just . . . Oh, God of Fools! . . .” With a muffled noise that sounded vaguely nautical, he strode out into the corridor, where he continued to mutter angrily.
Hononin leered like a gargoyle and offered Kadolan his arm.
“Sorcerer or not,” he whispered, “any man who falls in love that deep hasn’t got much hope, has he?”
“None whatsoever!” she agreed quietly.
They chuckled in unison and followed Rap out. And the door closed behind them.
Irksome words:
The play is done; the curtain drops,
Slow falling to the prompter’s bell:
A moment yet the actor stops,
And looks around, to say farewell.
It is an irksome word and task . . .
Thackeray, The End of the Play