“And the words are more than just words in other ways, like not showing up to magic.” He rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “They don’t even like to be talked about.”
She didn’t want his lecture. She wanted him to hold her and stay with her always.
“And of course they are hard to say.” Rap rose to his feet and straightened. “Except that they don’t want to be lost. When I thought I was dying in Azak’s jail, one of my words got very agitated in case it was going to be forgotten. I think I would have found it easy to tell that word to someone then.”
Inos was going to ask a question and she had forgotten what it was and she wasn’t sure her mouth would work very well just now.
“So sometimes the words behave almost as if they’re alive themselves.” Rap took a deep breath, and she realized foggily that he was having trouble telling her all this.
Pain? Painful to talk? Painful to tell a word? “What about five words?” she murmured. “Explain what happened to Rasha, and almost happened to you.”
Rap opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head. “Sorry!” He turned to stare out the window at the winter sunshine. “Someone told me once that Zinixo was the most powerful sorcerer since Thraine. I bested him! But I can’t . . .”
“Olybino said that what happened was impossible.”
“It damned nearly was. The dwarf was a pushover compared to that. But I was mad then. I couldn’t have … done what I did … if I hadn’t been so mad at the dwarf. I hated him so much . . .”
She gave up. “And you won’t tell me why you’re going away.”
He spoke to the window pane. “Inos … When two people are in love … They like to hold hands, and hug each other, and kiss, and … Well, be affectionate in all sort of intimate ways.”
“You astonish me.” She yawned enormously. Very vulgar.
“One thing leads to another. I’m sorry if this shocks you, but I’m a sorcerer, and I can see through walls, and, well, I’m afraid I’ve seen what happens . . .”
“I’ve been told all about it.”
“You have?” He sounded surprised. “Well … that’s why I’m going away. I don’t trust myself not to go totally out of control.”
For a moment the absurdity cut through her fog. “Rap! Oh, Rap! I want you to go totally out of control! The sooner the better!”
He turned and stared at her, shaking his head. “I don’t mean that exactly. Well, I do. Of course I do. But I might not be able to control what else . . .”
Again she wondered why he was having so much trouble in saying what he wanted to say.
“Sorcerers can marry,” she protested weakly. “They don’t marry sorceresses.”
“Inisso was married. Olliola was his wife’s name.”
“But they didn’t know more than . . .” He groaned and stopped.
“You’ll come back, though? Soon?” He hesitated and she said, “Promise!”
“All right. I promise. Before winter.”
“Sooner!”
“No. Oh, Inos! It isn’t you, love!” he said huskily. “Believe me, it isn’t you! And it isn’t Krasnegar. We’ve seen a lot of the world, haven’t we, between us? And I know I haven’t found anywhere I like better than dowdy little Krasnegar. It’s dull, but it’s honest and it’s friendly. It has no wars or injustice or oppression. You must feel that way, too, don’t you?”
She nodded wearily.
He had moved. He was kneeling by her chair, but his whisper came from a long way off. “Inos … If I said you could come with me; if I said we could go and live together always in a wonderful place and never have any worries ever again … What would you say to that, Inos?”
“Duty?” she murmured. Silly question!
She felt a very soft touch on her forehead … Then Kade was shaking her shoulder and saying her bath was ready, and Rap had gone.
4
The unseasonably fine weather continued. A couple of days after Inos’s private chat with the imperor, an elegant brougham made a long trip southward through the winding thickets of Hubban urban sprawl, until it came to a rattling halt on a narrow street in a nondescript district somewhere on the prosperous side of slum. A few spectators watched from the street, and more from behind window drapes. Fine carriages came by often enough, but never carriages escorted by four Praetorian Hussars, with their fine horses and shiny plumed helmets. Those splendid young men seldom strayed so far from the palace.
Their tall but rather chinless leader doubled over in the saddle to peer in the brougham’s window.
“This is the place, I think.” He pointed at a plain, weathered door at the top of a short flight of steps. Kade had never used that door, but her bedroom window had looked out on this street. She recognized the mismatched buildings opposite. “Very likely.” The hussar swung a long leg and dropped nimbly to the road. “I’ll announce you.”
“Wait!” Kadolan said. “That would be a great honor, Tiffy, but I think I’d better come with you.” Frowning, he opened the door to hand her down.
“Why?”
“Well, there might not be anyone home if just you went. You are rather intimidating, you know.” Tiffy blushed scarlet with pleasure. “Oh, I say! Do you really think so? Intimidating?”
Beaming proudly, he guarded her from perils unspecified as she mounted the stoop. Then he yanked the bellrope hard enough to bring every firecart in the city, although Kadolan had already seen a drape twitch. For a few minutes nothing happened, then the door opened.
“Doctor Sagorn!” she chirruped.
The old man looked both heated and bothered. His hair was awry, his garments disheveled. He nodded sourly to Kadolan and blinked at the shiny breastplate beside her, the ferociously scowling boyish face above it.
“My house is honored, your Highness.” Sagorn stepped aside to admit her, not disguising his reluctance.
Tiffy eyed the lintel and began removing his helmet. Kadolan laid a hand on his arm. “This will be rather a private meeting, Tiffy.”
“Oh?” He peered distrustfully at Sagorn. “A medical matter, Tiffy.”
“Ah!” With a final warning pout at the discomfited physician, the hussar refastened his chinstrap and went clattering down the steps to the street to wait.
Kadolan did not recognize the room to which she was shown; but she had seen its like elsewhere—a typical medico’s sanctum, dread and drear, although this one could have been brightened considerably by cleaning its leaden-paned casements. It came complete with chairs and desk and ominously stained table. The shelves lining its walls bore many impressively weighty books, plus hundreds of bottles labeled in illegibly cursive script, racks of butcher implements of all sizes, and more complex instruments of unguessably horrible purpose. The obligatory skeleton hung in a corner, grinning through a shroud of cobwebs. Anonymous nasty things floated inside jars. Much less to be expected were two large trunks, one already roped closed, the other open and half filled with books, clothes, and more medical equipment. Kade chose the better of the two chairs. Sagorn settled on the other. He ran a hand through his hair, smearing his forehead with grime. He was sulking. “You are planning to leave town.” Kade found she could not make a statement so obvious sound like a question.
“How did you guess?”
“May I ask why?”
He glared. “That should be even more obvious.” She shook her head. ”It seems illogical when the imperor himself wishes to consult you. Your prosperity will be guaranteed for life, I should think.”
“Prosperity? Bah!”
He rose, tall and grim, and began pacing the office, his slippers making unpleasant gritty noises. “You know well enough how we have guarded our secret, and for how long! Now we are unmasked! Our curse will become common knowledge. We shall be the laughingstock of mundanes and the prey of sorcerers! The imperor may reveal us to the wardens. And all this disaster has befallen us because we answered Holindarn’s plea and went to Krasnegar!”
“You are being quite ridiculous,” Kadolan said calmly. “Nobody is revealing your secret. The imperor merely seeks your counsel regarding the Duke of Kinvale. Master Rap has done all he can with sorcery, but he suggested your skills would still be valuable. As for sorcerers and wardens—if you have any trouble with them, then I suggest you mention that you are a friend of his. From what I’ve heard, that will stop any of them.”
Sagorn shot her a startled glance as he shuffled by. He did not speak. Kade let out her annoyance one more notch.
“What is even more surprising is that you are doing your own packing. I should have thought you would have delegated that to younger hands. Or is your decision subject to argument?”