“I need to know about the imp,” she said. “We’ve lost him, now he’s stopped his pilfering. He’s been using some other sort of power; very strong, but so brief that I can’t locate it. Little Chicken I’ve met. He was badly shocked, but he’ll be all right.”
“Shocked, ma’am?”
“Would you like to be run through with a sword?”
“No, my lady. Please not!” And Rap was astonished at his own reaction. “I’m glad! I am really glad! I thought the soldiers had killed him.”
She shrugged. “I arrived just before he ran out of blood. I was too late to save three of the legionaries, though.”
Tragic, maybe, but there was something almost funny about one young goblin killing three armed Imperial soldiers and maiming however many others the sorceress had healed. “I’m glad to hear he survived, ma’am. I shouldn’t be, because he hates me, but I’ll be happy to see his big ugly face again.”
“You will. Tell me about the imp.”
“Thinal, my lady? That’s a long story!” Rap leaned his elbows on his knees and scowled fiercely at the harbor as he tried to recall everything he knew about Thinal’s gang. He’d begin with Sagorn coming to visit the king, which meant explaining about Krasnegar, and then Jalon . . . and Andor . . . and Darad . . .
Once he was started, he spoke very fast, faster than he ever had before, gabbling the words but never hesitating, pulling the story out of his memory in a smooth string, event after event in logical order, hardly having to think. He was vaguely grateful for the sunshade he was holding. It was similar to the lady’s, but he had no idea where it had come from or when she had given it to him. He was even more grateful for the beaker of cold lemon cordial, although he did not remember getting that, either. Every few minutes he would pause and gulp some of it, and the beaker never seemed to run dry. He wondered in spare moments how it felt to do magic like that.
But he had little time for thinking of anything but his story. Almost before he stopped swallowing, his tongue would be racing off in full spate again, so fast that he wondered how she could comprehend a single word. She interrupted only once, though, asking for more details about the events in the fairy village.
Finished! He took a long draft and waited hopefully to hear if he had pleased her. The shadows had moved. His jaw ached. And the lady did not look pleased. She was staring at her hands and biting her lip, her eyes shielded by long lashes. “You’re a good man, Master Rap.”
Astonished, Rap took another drink.
She blinked. “I would apologize, if it meant anything. I would make recompense if I could. I can only assure you that I would never have done this to you had I . . . had it not been necessary.”
“Done what, ma’am?”
“Put you in truth trance. I’ll let it wear off slowly, so I don’t give you a seizure.”
Rap chuckled. “I should be worried, shouldn’t I? You’re a sorceress!”
She sighed. “Yes, I confess it. And you have occult powers yourself, don’t you?”
You don’t have to answer that, said a voice in his head. Deny it. She can’t tell if you lie about that.
She had cured his ankle and the bump on his head. And he didn’t like lying. Especially not to pretty ladies.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened. “How many words?”
“just one.”
“One word and you have mastery over animals? And people?”
“No, just animals. And I have farsight.”
“An occult genius, and in two manifestations?” She was surprised by something. “But words can’t be detected with magic. The truth trance wouldn’t have worked for that. Why did you tell me?”
“I’d already given myself away, hadn’t I? You could hear it, or feel it, or something?”
“The mastery, not the farsight. Even the most powerful sorcerers have difficulty detecting the sights being used. As soon as you started meddling with the hippogriffs, though, we had you.” She smiled quizzically, inviting comment.
“That’s what they’re for? Sorcerer traps?”
She nodded, amused. “I doubt if they ever caught a mere genius before, but mages and sorcerers can never resist the monsters. Even adepts give themselves away sometimes. I’ve never heard of one just admitting to it, though. Your honesty may get you into trouble.”
“I’m not in trouble now?”
“Well, yes you are. By the way, I am Oothiana, his Imperial Majesty’s trusty and faithful proconsul of Faerie.”
Rap jumped up and bowed. Then he felt very foolish, standing there holding a parasol, so he sat down again. A proconsul was a very important person, a deputy of the imperor. She seemed much too young to hold such a post. Of course she was several years older than Inos, who was a queen, but that was different.
She raised her head and looked sadly at him with black eyes that took his breath away.
“Your story is fascinating, Master Rap. The trouble is, it doesn’t make sense. You and Thinal followed the goblin through the magic casement—but magic casements don’t do that. It might have been combined with a magic portal, I suppose, but a magic portal has to be specific, I think.” A small frown marred her perfect brow. She was amazingly flawless. Rap could not find a single freckle or mole to spoil her perfection. “I suppose it may be possible. I’ll ask. But you have certainly told me the truth as you know it, so I must assume that someone has planted a falsehood in your mind.” She bit her lip again. “And I’m afraid I know someone who will try to get it out.”
Rap was horrorstruck. “I haven’t lied to you, my lady! I told you everything I know about Thinal and the sequentials.”
Her sudden smile was a fair dawn after a stormy night. “I didn’t ask you the right question, did I? Well, do you know how you came to Faerie?”
“Yes, ma’am. Bright Water sent me.”
Color drained from Oothiana’s face as from a flower struck by killer frost. After a minute she said, “Tell me what you know of Bright Water!”
“She’s witch of the north, one of the wardens of the Four . . .”
Rap’s tongue started to gallop again. This tale was shorter because she now knew much that he could leave out. He finished and took another swallow from that inexhaustible, ever-cool beaker.
The second story pleased the lady not at all. It seemed to worry her greatly. She laid the handle of her parasol across her lap and twirled it idly to and fro, using it as a toy instead of a sunshade, clearly not thinking of it at all.
“I have not handled this well,” she muttered.
“My lady?”
“I never guessed one of the three would have the impertinence—the sheer, brazen audacity . . . How could I have known?”
She stopped and turned to look landward. Rap became aware that legionaries were coming, running along the harbor road, and the crowd was scattering to give them passage. He ought to be alarmed, he knew, but he stayed calm, either because of the lady’s bewitchment, or just because he was with her and she was the imperor’s deputy—so she said, anyway.
The soldiers ran in columns of two, all laden with full armor and bulky packs topped by mattocks and axes; with three javelins apiece, and swords and shields. That must be a terrible load for a man and a terrible pace, too, in this heat, and Rap could almost hear the sweat splashing off them as they pounded by on the far side of the broad street. One or two were staggering, eyes bulging in scarlet faces.
He turned to the lady, who was watching the procession with an expression of disgust.
“Punishment?”
“Partly. Is it fair? No, of course not. But two hundred men failing to arrest three juvenile vagrants must naturally be punished.” She grimaced even more strongly and looked away. Gradually the sound of boots and clanking armor faded into the distance. Rap felt uneasy and puzzled.
“You arrived before dawn,” Oothiana said, smiling again as if nothing had interrupted their talk. “That explains why none of us felt the ripples.” She paused, and Rap had a strange feeling that she was not really speaking to him, that she was rehearsing excuses. What could possible frighten a sorceress who was also proconsul of an Imperial province?
Oothiana might be a very nice person when she wasn’t governing or ensorceling. Maybe she wasn’t as young or graceful as she seemed, in her simple white robe and silver sandals, but somehow he felt that much of her was genuine. Her manners certainly were. The Rasha sorceress had appeared far more beautiful, and carnal. She had almost driven him out of his mind. Consumed by love for her—all right, lust—he would have done anything to please her, but he’d never for a moment thought he’d like her.