Dave Duncan – Faery Lands Forlorn – A Man of his Word. Book 2

And that was not the worst of it. He stumbled over his words as he tried to explain.

“For God’s sake give me that gown!” Thinal yelled. He was dancing around in the nude, while Rap was waving the bundle to and fro to emphasize his warnings. Arms folded, Little Chicken was leaning against a mossy tree trunk and glowering sullenly at the argument.

“No!” Rap said, putting the robe behind his back. “You’re going to call Sagorn aren’t you and you mustn’t because it isn’t safe and don’t you see—”

“What do you mean, mustn’t?” Thinal put puny fists on bony hips and puffed up a scrawny chest.

“That’s magic! No, you’re not a sorcerer, but that’s sorcerers’ magic you’re using. Don’t you see? Magic can be heard! Bright Water told me. Every time I use my farsight I’m using magic. Every time I calm a watchdog, or you pilfer something, or Little Chi— Sorcerers can feel magic, or smell it, or something. And that’s a sorcerer’s tower up there! Why didn’t we think? Of course there would be a sorcerer here in Faerie—right?”

Thinal grabbed for the gown, and Rap whirled it away. “No!”

“Yes!” The little thief was dancing with fury now. “Evil take you! I can’t run around like this all day. People’ll come!” Automatically, unable to help himself, Rap scanned—and saw. “Soldiers!” he wailed. ”In the market! And down there, as well!”

Two squads of legionaries were marching into the market from opposite directions. Sunlight flashed on sword and helmet, on cuirass and greave, while shoppers scampered out of the way. Another band approached on the dockfront road. The centurion’s bellows came floating up over the roofs and through the trees.

“Give me that robe, young man!” Sagorn said sternly. Rap blinked and obeyed. Little Chicken went scrambling up a tree to see over the bushes. The old man pulled the robe on and began buttoning. It was an expensive-looking garment, formal wear for a gentleman.

“Gather up Thinal’s clothes,” he said. “We may need them later. Hand the money to the goblin. He looks more likely to be entrusted to defend it than you do. How many men?”

Rap told him—legionaries were lining up along the whole edge of the market, at least a full century. Seaward, the men had their swords out already and were pouring into the buildings, pushing through to find back doors facing the hillside, and where necessary. clearing a path by hurling furniture and people aside like weeds.

Sagorn winced as he thrust his feet into Thinal’s sandals. “Is my hair all right? Very well, come.” He set off down the trail, moving with the slow care of the elderly on the slippery.

“There’s no way out down there!” Rap said. He wondered what jail was going to be like. Theft and murder would bring the death penalty, most like, or at least a lifetime in irons. His legs trembled with the urge to start running.

The old man spoke without taking his attention off the path. “I doubt that they are looking for me, lad. And I shall vouch for my servants—both of you. I can talk down a centurion, I promise you.”

“Not this time,” Rap said. “There’s no one else on this hillside but us, no one at all.”

Sagorn stopped, carefully turned himself around, and glared.

“Will you stop using your farsight! You said yourself that it may attract attention!”

“Then stop using your brain!” Rap yelled. “You’re occultly smart, aren’t you? So every time you think, even—”

“Dolt! You are an idiot! How can I not think? Tell me what you saw. ”

“The path goes to an alley between two buildings, very narrow-single file. It’s packed solid with legionaries. They’re coming through some of the buildings, too, and they’re lining up along the bottom of the slope.”

The old man frowned, considering. “Then they have been directed to us, and your observation about magic was well founded. It may be necessary for us to split up and meet again later. There used to be a very fine inn called the Elves’ Crystal. No, it may be gone by now. We’ll meet at—”

“I’m not meeting anyone!” Rap said angrily. “I don’t want to stay here one minute longer than I need. If I can get away, then I’m going!”

Jotunnish blue eyes flamed below the snowy brows. “Young fool! Go near a ship and you’ll spend the rest of your life in fetters.”

“I must get back to the mainland!”

“Inos!”

“Gods preserve us! When are you going to grow up, boy? Whatever was going to happen to Inos has happened long since. Weeks ago!”

Why couldn’t they understand? “I’m still going to find her,” Rap said, “if it takes the rest of my life. I’ll tell her I’m sorry or I’ll weep on her grave. And if not for her, then for me. So I’ll not be ashamed any more.”

“You have nothing to be asham— Oh, this is crazy! You do not belong in the world of royalty and politics and sorcery! Face facts, boy! You are never going to see Inos again. With your talent for animals your destiny is to find some kindly master who needs a good stockman; then you can marry a plump milkmaid and raise lots of wide-nosed babies.”

Possibly, but Rap was nothing if not stubborn. “I am going to go to Zark and find Inos.”

Sagorn threw up his hands. “What are the soldiers doing now?”

Rap made a quick mental scan, although he had not really ever stopped watching; he didn’t seem able to turn off his farsight when there was need of it. “Lining up, top and bottom. They’re almost ready, I think. They’re going to flatten us like mash in a press, between two lines.”

“Military exercise! Mere brute force, naturally.” Sagorn’s lantern jaw clenched, and his thin lips whitened. “Then I must leave, I think. Give me back those other clothes.” He began unfastening his robe again.

Creak . . . Little Chicken had decided he needed a club. He had begun by snapping a tree trunk as thick as Rap’s knee. It fell with a crash, flattening bushes far off. Sagorn shouted, “Stop that!” but the goblin ignored him, proceeding to break off a convenient length: Crack!

The old man threw down his robe, then lowered himself awkwardly and sat on it while he pulled on Thinal’s shorts, which were much too small for him. A bugle blared in the marketplace. “Here they come,” Rap said. “And here I go.”

“No!” Sagorn shouted, struggling back to his feet. “Wait! We’ll meet at Emine’s statue. Gods! A statue of Emine in plain view, and I still never realized—”

“No.”

“Wait! Fool! Don’t you see yet? If you really want to find your princess, there’s only one way you’ll ever do it. You know what’s here in Faerie! If you didn’t guess it before, then you must have done so when he killed the troll?”

Rap glanced at Little Chicken, who flashed him a tusky grin and twirled his giant’s bludgeon around like a twig. Rap would have needed both hands even to lift it. Horrified, he looked back at the gaunt old man.

“Kill more children? Is that what you want me to do? Is that what you’re planning to do?”

“Not necessarily children—I mean, not necessarily kill . . . But I must know!”

“You know where all the fairyfolk have gone!” Rap shouted. ”And why. That’s obvious! That’s awful! I won’t be part of that. I don’t want to be a sorcerer anyway. That’s certain!” He sensed movement and saw the two lines of men in leather and metal advancing abreast, one down, one up. But he also saw a squad of a dozen legionaries running down the path from the market, ahead of the main troop. “They’re coming! They may have farsight, too!”

The goblin uttered a ferocious growl and went racing off up the path.

“Little Chicken!” Rap yelled. “You come back here!”

He received no answer and he could sense the goblin still running, at a fearsome pace.

“Trash, come back!” But it did no good. “That’s it!” Rap said, giving up. “ ‘Bye, Doctor!”

Sagorn shouted, “Stop! Rap, it’s your only hope of ever finding Inos!” Anything else he said was lost in the noise as Rap plowed away into the bushes.

3

The hillside was a tangle of shrubs and saplings, a few mature trees and some crumbling ruins. There were thorns and stinging things and ankle-breaking snags galore; the underlying loam was slick and wet. For a few moments Rap could spare no wits for anything more than finding a route without losing his balance on the steep slope or scratching his eyes out as he plunged through thickets, racing and leaping along the hillside in the faint hope that he could outflank the lines of legionaries advancing in line abreast from above and below. Then he had a path mapped out ahead and could spare a tendril of thought to check on the pursuit. If his farsight gave him away to a listening sorcerer, then so be it.

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