Then she saw that Evil bore no harness, no saddle. Bareback! She had only ever known one man who—Not again!
She surged to her feet, hindered and unbalanced by the weight of lace. She staggered, steadied, stared at the bashful little half smile, the ludicrous raccoon tattoos, the unkempt tangle of brown hair soaked with sweat. No! Impossible! He was dead! She swayed, the hall darkened. Again? The sun had not set yet; wraiths did not haunt in daylight. She had gone mad. She was hallucinating.
Then the intruder leaned forward, swung his leg, and dropped to the floor at Evil’s side. He staggered, steadying himself against the steaming, heaving black flank. His clothes were filthy and soaked and blood-spattered. He was convulsed by his efforts to breathe, pumping air in and out in harsh gasps as loud as those of his horse. Sweat trickled down his face, and every few seconds he would wipe it with a brawny bare forearm. Nevertheless he squared his shoulders and straightened. He bowed unsteadily to Inos. His glance wandered between Azak and Rasha a couple of times. He stretched his tattoos slightly at the sight of Azak’s finery, then chose Rasha and bowed to her. And finally to Azak.
The hall was filled with a silent, staring multitude, and still no one had spoken a word. The loudest noise in the room was the intruder’s breathing.
“The faun!” said Rasha. “How interesting.”
Again Rap smiled faintly, his usual diffident little smile that . . .
No! No! No!
“That faun is dead!” Inos shouted. “This is foul, cruel sorcery. Queen Rasha? Is this your doing?”
The green-shrouded sorceress shook her head, and Inos could not tell if that was anger or amusement glinting in those ruby eyes. And Azak . . . Inos quailed. Never had she seen such fury. Veins bulged on a scarlet face. He quivered, holding himself in by precarious power of will. The state wedding was a shambles, pomp had become farce, and no sultan of Arakkaran had ever been so shamed before his court.
“It is sorcery,” Rasha said. “But not mine. Who are you?”
“I’m Rap, ma’am.” He panted, then continued. “There are some wounded men out there. I may even have killed a couple. I hope I didn’t—”
“Leave them!” Azak roared. “It will be a kindness.” Rasha shrugged. The petrified guards at the door thawed back to life. Seeing the orderly discussion in progress at the dais, they began shamedly sheathing their swords and stooped to tend their wounded.
The audience seemed to shimmer in doubt and uncertainty. Then chairs scraped and clattered as the guests resumed their seats.
“Rap is dead!” Inos shouted . . . screamed? “You can’t be Rap!”
He smiled up at her wistfully, then patted the mighty foamspattered shoulder beside him. “Master-of-horse and sergeantat-arms both?”
Oh, Gods! Inos felt her knees start to buckle, and then Kade was at her side, holding her. Oh, blessed Kade! She clung tight. Rap? Not dead? Really Rap?
Idiot Rap! Maniac Rap! He’d fallen into the power of some sorcerer, and was being used to disrupt Azak’s wedding, and, and . . . Except that this whole monstrous disaster had a horribly Rappian sort of feel to it. Just the sort of thing . . .
“Whose work is this?” Azak asked hoarsely, of Rasha. She shrugged again. “Speak, boy.”
Rap was gazing witlessly at Inos. “Are you married?” he asked in a very small voice.
“Yes,” she said. “No. I mean—”
“Oh.”
Was that all he could say? Returning from the dead? Disrupting a solemn occasion of state? Turning her whole world upside— Oh, that was nonsense! It couldn’t be Rap. Not the same Rap. Not all the way from Krasnegar in less than half a year.
Azak reached for his scimitar, but Rasha held out a hand, warning him not to draw.
Rap licked his lips. “I bring a message to Queen Inosolan.”
“From whom?” Azak roared.
“From . . . from . . . I don’t seem able to be answer that, your Majesty.”
A handsbreadth of blade emerged before Azak was again stopped by Rasha. ”He’s been blocked, but it’s very shallow. There . . .”
“Thank you!” Rap said politely. “From Warlock Lith’rian, your Majesty. Majesties.”
Azak hissed in surprise.
“Let us hear this message, then,” Rasha said.
Why was she so poised? Her eyes were gleaming, but her fingers were relaxed, and there was no air of anger or alarm. Her calm was astonishing. She was behaving like . . . like Kade, or someone.
Inos hugged Kade a little tighter, and felt the hug returned. She could not take her eyes off Rap. Her cheeks felt wet and she had no idea what her face looked like, so it was fortunate that no one could see it anyway. Except Rasha, of course.
And Rap. Oh, damn!
He was deeper, broader than he had been. And more confident. Manly. Not big like Azak, or a jotunn, but bigger than an imp. Or a pixie. Why did she think of pixies? Ugly flat noses? Rap on a white horse in her dream. When had she dreamed that? Several times, maybe.
“His Omnipotence said I should come and tell Queen Inos—”
“Silence!” Azak drew his sword all the way.
“Put that back,” Rasha said brusquely. “If you go against the faun, he’ll cut you to confetti. In fact . . .”
Azak’s scimitar vanished, and Rap’s sword, and Kar’s, also. The whole hall was disarmed then, for the wedding guests bore no weapons. The horse shivered into motion, clattering around and heading for the door, where the platoon of the family men fidgeted in baffled rage—and likely in fear, knowing that Azak’s vengeance would be bloody. They parted to let Evil leave. In a moment the doors closed as the last of the shamed and discredited guards followed the horse out.
By now the ceremony should have been long over, the guests on their way to the wedding feast. The light from the high windows was fading, and blushing, spreading blood on the vaults and pillars. Shadows drifted in like vultures coming to a massacre.
The departure of the horse left Rap looking small and lonely. He stood on the floor; the others were all on the dais, two steps up.
“Better,” Rasha said.
“He wants a good rubdown,” Rap agreed, folding his arms as if relieved of a worry.
“I meant . . . Well, speak up, Master Rap. The message?”
“That message will be delivered in private!” Azak snapped. ”And messages to my wife come to me first.”
Rap stretched his tattoos again at that and looked quizzically up at Inos. ”Are you truly married, your Majesty, and did you do this of your own free will?”
Her mouth was full of sand. “Yes. And yes.” Of course her choices had been limited, but she would not admit that now. A stableboy would not understand politics, of course. All Rap would see in Azak at the moment would be glittering riches. And big male animal.
What Rap thought did not matter at all.
Azak growled in fury. He took two strides back to the middle of the dais, snatched up the gold chain where it had fallen, and stamped over to Inos. She bowed her head in acceptance and he dropped the necklace over it. Then he marched back to the edge of the platform. “She is certainly married now, and if you address one more word to her, I will have you broken on the wheel. ”
Rap pursed his lips and shrugged. He had almost stopped panting and he seemed to be accepting the situation, accepting that he had arrived too late.
Too late for what?
“The warlock’s message?” Rasha said calmly.
“He told me to tell Queen Inosolan to . . . to trust in love.” Inos recoiled as if she had been struck, and again Kade’s arms steadied her. She pushed them away angrily. How dare he burst into her wedding like this! How dare he throw such vicious slurs! Yes, she had kissed him when they were children together; now he had turned her wedding into a circus and a bloodbath, and he wanted to lecture her about love?
Recklessly she threw up her veil and turned to face Azak, fearing she might be as pale as the lace enshrouding her. For her he had groveled before the hateful sorceress. Why else, if not for love?
“I have always trusted in love,” she declared loudly. “And I still do.”
He nodded in grudging satisfaction. “So the message was unnecessary, and we may now deal with the messenger.” Oh, Rap! Idiot Rap!
“Gutturaz!” Azak said loudly. “Lead our honored guests to the feast. And send in the guards.”
The big prince rose and bowed. Chairs scraped again as the congregation rose.
“I am staying!” Inos said firmly.
Azak glared, but did not overrule her. Gutturaz hesitated, for the rehearsals had not covered these events. Improvising, he gestured respectfully for the iman to precede him, then held out an arm for Kade. She shook her head, staying close to Inos. Pouting, the fat man beckoned the trainbearers to follow him and strutted off down the steps. Rap stepped aside and watched the dignitaries file past, heading along the aisle behind the tottering cleric. Front-row princes began streaming after. Only the soft-smiling Kar remained on the platform, and Azak, and the three women.