Inos had not yet managed to start Kadie talking, apparently. “You were very, very lucky that she found you, and she has been very kind to you. I understand why you feel as you do. But tell me this: What does Thaile get out of your friendship? What do you provide her in return for all the help and care she has given you?”
Kadie just sniveled.
“I said you can’t treat a friend as a pet, Kadie. You can’t behave like a pet, either. If you pester Thaile too much, she may not want to be quite as friendly. You must be considerate in return for her kindness.”
Rap was wading into the sea, eyeing the big breakers ahead. He’d learned to body-surf back at Durthing, years ago, and it would be fun to try that again. Perhaps not today, though.
Kadie now: “. .. doesn’t mind. She’s told me so lots of times.” Sniff! “Says I’m good company for her ‘cause she—’ Sniff! “—doesn’t have any friends here, either. They killed her baby!” Weep.
Undertow sucked at his knees and a glistening green wall rose up menacingly in front of him.
“Do you know why sorcerers never marry other sorcerers?” Inos asked.
The breaker hung in the sky, light shining through it. He dived into the base of it and was snatched underneath, through cool green silence.
Inos still: “I don’t suppose she could. Words of power don’t let themselves be talked about. But I can tell you. I’m probably the only person in the world who can tell you!”
Rap’s head broke surface and he struck out seaward, hearing the crash of falling surf behind him.
“ . . don’t know any words now. I’m the only ex-sorcerer in the world, and so I’m the only person who knows these things and can also talk about them. So listen. Four words make you a sorcerer. In most cases a fifth word will destroy you. Almost nobody has enough control over magic to stand the power of five words. It’s an overload, too many bales on the camel. Anyone who can survive, though, is a demigod. Like the Keeper. Like your father was once. Demigods are enormously strong, far beyond ordinary sorcerers, but they live in constant pain, fighting the power trying to destroy them.”
“Destroy them how?” Kadie whimpered.
“Well, I saw a sorceress learn a fifth word and she burst into flames like tinder.”
The next swell lifted Rap heavenward in cool bliss, not far from a bobbing white bird, a feathered boat with a cynical gold eye.
“Yes, it was horrible,” Inos said. “She burned away completely. And that’s why sorcerers mustn’t fall in love with other sorcerers. They daren’t! Men and women making love are not always, er, well, not always quite in command of what they do or say. It would be too easy to share a word of power at such a time.”
“Thought they were hard to say!” Kadie objected, watching her mother with red-rimmed green eyes.
Rap sank downward into the trough, relishing the effort and unfamiliar exercise.
“In this case it’s different,” Inos was saying. “Because there’s love involved. It’s a special case. Maybe sometimes sorcerers do fall in love and deliberately do share five words, but then something completely different happens.”
Inos was doing remarkably well! Rap took a deep breath and submerged.
“Your father and I had this problem, you see. Two people plus five words plus love . . .”
“What’s the matter?” Kadie demanded.
Rap chuckled to himself, fighting himself down into deeper, darker green. He’d been expecting this. From the expression on Inos’ face, she was experiencing a sudden attack of nausea.
“There’s more than just the words keep that secret, dear. The Gods don’t . . . Ouch!”
In the depths of the sea, Thaile appeared to him.
“Rap? Your Majesty?” she said. She was perfectly audible, and apparently completely dry down there.
“What “ Taken aback by this apparition, Rap released a cloud of bubbles and began to choke.
“We need your help, Rap. Come, please.”
Suddenly he was standing in a forest-stark naked, soaking wet, convulsively coughing up saawater.
5
Ylo checked the lathered roan and slid from the saddle. He landed her a grateful pat or two on her wet neck, for the poor brute had given him all she could. He tied the reins to the hurdle. It was a nasty thing, woven from thorny branches and lashed to the hedge at both ends with strong-looking rope. He had no time to take his dagger to it, and no need. He squeezed through under one end of the barrier, scratching himself mightily in the process. He took off down the road.
As soon as he was hidden by the hedge he doubled back to the edge of the gap and waited, his heart a pounding hammer in his chest.
He glanced behind him. Eshiala was nowhere to be seen. Then she came into sight out of a dip. She was well down the lane and still going, although the gelding was obviously tiring. She twisted around to look for him and he froze, resisting an urge to wave—if she saw him dismounted she might be stupid enough to come back for him.
Hooves drummed on the turf and the roan whinnied. He stooped to find a rock, a heavy rock, the sort of rock that might knock a rider off his horse. He had left the mare blocking the gap—would the horseman dismount to move the barrier? The hooves slowed. Then the hurdle creaked as the frightened roan tried to back out of the way. The hooves drummed harder and ceased abruptly. Ylo hurled the rock. As soon as it left his hand he knew it was aimed too low. Man and horse came through the air and the missile struck the horse just below its eye.
It was enough to throw the beast off its landing. It came down on knees, neck, shoulder, rump high in the air, mount and rider one huge mass of flesh toppling together. The mailed man clanged on the road and the horse rolled on him.
That left two. In a momentary silence Ylo heard more hooves coming.
The man he had felled was obviously no longer a threat. If the Gods were feeling kind, then his horse might just be well enough to ride. It struggled to right itself, hampered by its rider’s foot caught in a stirrup, then collapsed again. Dog food! The Gods were not benevolent. Ylo felt much worse about the horse than the man.
He looked for Eshiala. She had reached the bottom of the hill, was heading for another gate. One more field to cross and she would be at the water. He wanted to cheer. Don’t stop now, my darling! Go! Go! Go!
The sound of hooves grew louder. The roan mare whinnied and backed away, ripping off half the hurdle and leaving a barrier scarcely knee-high.
Ylo drew his sword.
Rap stood in the shadow of a forest, mostly beeches and chestnut. Beside him were Archon Thaile and several other people. Nudity in other people was nothing to sorcerers, who could see through stone walls. Nudity in oneself was something else. Even before he had stopped throwing up saltwater, he created a pair of trousers on himself. They turned out the same surprising shade of purple as the chairs back at his Place, but that didn’t matter. Beechnuts prickled his feet, but shoes could wait, also.
Thaile he recognized, and Raim, and the other two were archons, whose names escaped him. They were standing at the top of a low cliff, sheltered by bushes. Below the cliff, trees sloped gently to a river. Beyond the river lay fields and farmland that could only be the Impire, probably Qoble.
He stopped coughing. “You called?” he gasped.
“Can you see what is happening?” Thaile demanded. Everyone was studying something on the far bank. Tension crackled in the ambience and his levity had been misplaced.
“No.” His farsight range was sadly restricted now.
He was granted power in a surge that shocked him. It brought vision that would make a hawk blink, and then he saw everything. A woman was riding a chestnut horse, clutching a child in front of her and going down a lane at breakneck speed, heading for the river. Farther away, half a dozen horsemen came in pursuit, spread out all the way to the skyline at the height of land. They all wore the chain mail of legionaries and at least three sported the white crests of centurions. One man had come a cropper trying to jump a hedge and was sitting on the grass clutching his right ankle. His horse grazed peacefully nearby, seemingly unharmed.
There was another horse and another man, a civilian. He had dismounted at a gate and left his horse behind in the field. He was waiting in obvious ambush for the first of the pursuers. What chance did he think he had against horsemen?
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