“Nothing. Almost nothing. I give you my word without conditions—if I win, I withdraw the legions, whether your sorcerers have aided me or not. But they may tip the balance when the battle is joined, and I hope that you tell them so. If I win, I shall retire to the borders Abnila recognized. If Zinixo wins, he will rule the world and everyone in it. I am your better bet.”
“Bah, Promises!”
The sorcerer said, “Gods, Leader! He means it! He really does!”
This time the silence was even longer, as the rebel balanced future hope against old hatred. He had forgotten his supper. Inos thought she could hear whispers amid the crickets’ chirps now, rustlings of excitement like dry leaves out in the dark woods.
“He means it now, perhaps.” Oshpoo sneered. “Because the dwarf has a sword between his thighs. But if he wins he won’t. Imps forget humility very easily.”
“I cannot do more than swear,” Shandie said softly. “I told you—anything I sign tonight is worthless.”
“And so is anything you swear.”
The woods had fallen silent, even the crickets. The offer had been made. Apparently it had been refused.
Inos swallowed and wet her lips. “I witness the imperor’s oath,” she said, “and will see that my husband is informed of it. If gnomes aid his battle, he will know on what terms they fight. He is a man of his word and he has never left a debt unpaid in his life.”
Oshpoo turned his baleful black gaze on her and snarled. “He is king of an arctic trading post. Will he curb the imperor?”
“Yes.”
Everyone seemed startled by that monosyllable, even Inos herself. It left an ominous aftertaste of truth, though. If the counter-revolution succeeded, then its leaders would rearrange the world, and not necessarily to the old pattern.
“Ishist said earlier that my husband stands out of the light,” she said. “He will not buy with false coin. For what it is worth, Leader, you have my oath on this matter also—that I will do anything I can to make Emshandar keep faith. I do not believe that my efforts will be needed, though.”
Ishist nodded.
The gnome leader glared at Shandie. “You would shake hands with a gnome on this?”
Shandie laughed, seeking to break the tension. “I will embrace you on it!”
“Oh, you really must be desperate!” Oshpoo stood up. Shandie rose to his knees and held out a hand to him. “Forget Highscarp, forget Abnilagrad, forget all of them. Let us put aside the past and agree to make a better world!”
“I will tell my friends what you have promised and let them decide for themselves.” Ignoring the offered hand, the rebel leader turned and walked away quickly into the trees, still carrying his log.
Imperor and queen looked to Ishist. The old sorcerer winked. They had won.
3
The sun was setting in Qoble.
Thaile sat under a willow on a riverbank, chin on knees, watching peaty brown water swirl below her. She wondered how water could be bright and dark at the same time. Opaque brown-black depths hinted at danger and currents and hidden trout, yet shreds of evening sky lay on the surface like pale silk. Cattle placidly grazed the lush pasture at her back and behind them in turn lay farm buildings, hedges, and orchards. A road led off to a town somewhere. This sleepy land was the Impire, populous and prosperous and peaceful, and months would drift by before those contented rural folk learned of the massacre at Bandon. By then the harvest would be garnered and the men would be readying their bows and dogs for the hunting season. Yet behind the summer of their lives lurked the menace of the Almighty and the shadows of war. It was all rather like the river, bright and dark at the same time.
The far bank was lower. There the river chattered over a stony spit, innocent and simple, skirting a marshy area of bulrushes and sedge. The woodland beyond that bore no sign of cattle or farms or people-undisturbed nature. A league away, a rounded hill humped up to form the skyline, but no chimneys or spires or haystacks rose over the trees. Innocent and simple? No, that land was Thume, and nothing was innocent or simple at all.
She felt heartbroken with longing and homesickness, and at the same time repelled by that sinister forest—she, a pixie who loved woods and wild places! She was reacting to the aversion spell, of course, and she could block it out if she wished, but her premonition told her that great danger lurked ahead if she crossed the river. She could see the sorcerous barrier like a faint mist, blurring the trees. Possibly her attention had already alerted the archon. Probably she had never been out of the Keeper’s ken since she left.
What was she to do? Danger or not, duty summoned her homeward. Thume was in peril. The College was in peril. Whom do we serve? The Keeper and the College. Duty and upbringing were calling her back. The ghastly evil of the Covin and the Almighty drove her. As the Keeper had warned, pixies were a legend now. Everybody knew that pixies were extinct; there was nowhere Outside where a pixie would be welcome or could rest. True, Thaile could make herself look like a dwarf, or a jotunn, or an oak tree, but even her paramount power would be hard-pressed to fashion a glamour invisible to all other sorcerers. Where would be the joy of it? She would live a lie all the rest of her life.
She must go home, across the river.
But what was she to do with the girl, this strange half jotunn, quarter imp, quarter faun? This black-haired, green-eyed young beauty? This queen’s daughter, sorcerer’s daughter, friend of imperor and warlock? Surely she was significant in some way.
Kadie was lying on the grass at her side, leaning on elbows, sucking a grass stem and contentedly watching the cows. She never strayed out of arm’s reach. As long as she was close to Thaile she seemed happy enough, and secure, but months of nightmare as the goblins’ captive had left her fragile as a soap bubble. Even sorcery could not cure a wounded soul.
Kadie, too, needed to go home, to family and friends and safety. She needed a long space of love and comfort and healing, but her home was blocked by the Covin; her family at best was scattered all over Pandemia. At worst they were all dead. “There it is, Kadie,” Thaile said. “That’s Thume.”
Kadie rolled over and sat up and regarded the far bank distrustfully. ”It doesn’t look very inviting.”
“That’s sorcery.”
“What happens if someone from this side goes across?” She frowned uneasily.
“They rarely do, because the spell makes them stay away. Sometimes people try, and then the archons see them and tell the Keeper. The Keeper decides. Usually they just vanish.”
“You mean she kills them?”
“Sometimes. Or turns them around and sends them back. It’s entirely up to the Keeper. Some Keepers have been more ruthless than others. Whole armies have disappeared in Thume.”
“But you’ll be all right?”
Thaile nodded sadly, thinking of that book of prophecies she had not been allowed to see. “I’m sure they’re expecting me back.”
“Then let’s go!” Kadie said bravely.
“You don’t really want to.”
“Yes I do! I know that’s just an aversion spell making me want not to. Back home we have a door like that. There’s a secret word you have to use if you want to go through it.”
Thaile smiled in wonder. “For a mundane, you have an astonishing knowledge of the occult.”
“Papa is a sorcerer. I told you. Even Gath is prescient.” She grinned nervously, still studying the far bank.
Thaile sighed. “And that’s another problem! The College would certainly class your family as Gifted. It means that you may have a Faculty for magic, too.”
Kadie glanced at her with apprehension. “Me?”
Thaile nodded. Gifted families were rare and seemed to be becoming rarer, although their women were not limited to two children apiece, as all others were in Thume. The College would only be following its normal practice if it decided to impose a background word on this waif to find out if she had Faculty. There were background words in Krasnegar, too, and one of them had turned her twin brother into a seer.
Even if Kadie had no Faculty of her own, the College might regard her as valuable breeding stock, a brood mare to improve the strain. Thaile could not bring herself to put that obscenity into words. She must make an effort to warn, though.
“Kadie, nobody from the Outside has been allowed into Thume since the War of the Five Warlocks, a thousand years ago. Even if I take you, the Keeper may send you away. Or she may make you stay forever.”
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