Shandie? Umpily’s heart had started to pound. He could feel sweat trickling down his ribs. Which of the two was the real one? Had he been misled all this time? Had he betrayed his best friend, his liege lord?
“Fortunately,” Shandie said, smiling grimly, “there is little harm done. Their mischief was of no avail, except to deceive you and a few who were with you. I reign, as you see. The Four are all still at large, but we shall run them down in time, and they will suffer for their own sins and the sins of all their uncounted predecessors, back for three thousand years. The Almighty is with us.”
Umpily shot a quick glance at that blue chair. It was empty. When he looked back at Shandie again, it wasn’t. “But you did have an enthronement . . .”
“You were there?” Shandie looked surprised, annoyed, and then amused, in fast succession. “My, you are a dedicated old snoop, aren’t you? Well, yes, we did. And yes, it was a total fake. It seemed wisest to follow the ancient practices until the people can be educated in the new ways. That’s all. Why not?”
“S-s-sire?”
Shandie’s smile broadened at the word. “After all, what they don’t know won’t worry them. Not everyone will understand the truth at first. People can be misled so easily . . . even yourself. What you thought you knew was not very probable, now was it?”
“No, Sire!” Gods, what a fool he had been! What a witless, misguided, idiot!
Shandie waved his fists overhead in triumph. “And we shall prevail! The Almighty is with us, and we are his chosen vessels! Can you see the glorious future that awaits us, Umpy? No more will the evil Four crouch in their webs and roll dice with human lives. We are blessed among all generations! We shall see the Impire spread out to the four oceans and all men shall know the benefits of universal peace and tranquility. Did you meet the faun?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Did he .. .” Shandie was suddenly very intent. “Did he display his powers at all?”
“Very little. He made some garments. He claims that he is only a very weak sorcerer now, Sire.”
The imperor nodded, as if that were a satisfying piece of confirmation. ”Mm? But do we believe him, eh? Well, no matter. Time will tell.”
With difficulty, Umpily heaved himself to his feet. He had been cut almost in half by his belt and it was wonderful to breathe again.
Shandie threw an arm around his shoulders. “I shall be the first imperor to rule all the world! And you are my first and truest friend!”
Umpily was blinded by tears. He had never known Shandie to display such emotion—but justifiably, of course! No more wars? Universal justice and prosperity! It was a staggering, awe-inspiring concept.
“Sire, Sire! I have been a fool!”
“But no real harm done. You have missed a few good meals, I expect.”
“Worse! I have been tattling all this time to the imposter!” Hurriedly he pulled the little roll from his pocket. “This is a magic scroll, Sire. The imposter has its companion—”
Shandie snatched the parchment and opened it. His face darkened. “He limns a fair version of my hand, doesn’t he?”
Umpily had often found his ability to read upside down to be a useful knack. In the brief moment before Shandie rolled up the scroll again, he had made out the message: I am grateful. The Good be with you.
Insolence! That the evil charlatan should have the gall to invoke the Good! The scroll always managed a superb forgery of Shandie’s handwriting, of course.
“I shall hang on to this,” Shandie said thoughtfully. “Have you any idea where we might find him?”
“None, Sire. I left them all on the boat. I suspected that they were heading for the north shore.”
“And long since departed elsewhere! Well, no matter. They can cause little trouble . . . Can they? I wonder what they think they can accomplish. Did you hear any of their vile plotting?”
“Oh, yes! They talk of setting up a new protocol.”
“A what?” Shandie almost never showed his feelings, but now he turned quite pale with shock.
“A new protocol, Sire! They hope to bribe all the, er, unattached sorcerers in the world to rally to their cause by promising a new order.”
The imperor spun around and stared for a long moment at that ominous blue chair. He licked his lips. “New order? Was this the faun’s idea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course! And what exactly is he promising?” Umpily tried to remember all the crazy ideas that had been tossed around on the ferryboat. ”They will outlaw votarism, Sire. No sorcerer, even a warden, will be allowed to bind another to his will. They hope to establish sorcery as a force for good in the world . . .”
Shandie laughed, rather shrilly. “Well, I wish them luck! The attempt should keep them out of any real mischief, and we shall catch them soon enough. I feel sorry for my poor cousin. When we catch him, he will be restored to his wits and given full pardon. The Four will meet their just deserts. And that faun . . .” He stared again at the blue chair. He did not complete the thought, but Umpily shivered.
“It is good to have you back in our councils, old friend,” the imperor said. “I have convinced you? No qualms now?”
“None, Sire! None at all.” Oh, what a fool he had been to trust a dwarf and a faun!
“That’s good. And should you, in your dallying around the court, hear of any others voicing doubts, or criticism . . . of course you will inform us at once.” Again Shandie put an arm around Umpily, a most unusual gesture for him. The audience was over, they were heading for the door. “You will not speak of the Almighty One.” That sounded like a statement of fact. ”And your old quarters at Oak House are still as they were. We must find somewhere for you in the palace itself—and I don’t mean a dungeon! Now I shall let you go. If I know you, a small repast will be uppermost in your thoughts after that unfortunate misunderstanding.”
With Shandie’s familiar quiet chuckle, the imperor bade his old friend farewell.
2
Far to the north, near the eastern end of the Pondague Range, a galaxy of twinkling campfires nestled within the Kribur Valley. The winter dark was raucous with guttural male voices; the crackle of firewood blended with horses’ whinnies and the scream of dying captives.
The goblin horde under Death Bird had met up with the dwarvish army led by General Karax. Now the leaders were planning a combined advance southward, into the heart of the Impire. Four legions had been slaughtered in the last two weeks and there were no more in the vicinity. The road to Hub was unguarded; the capital lay naked and vulnerable as it had not been in centuries.
The dwarvish end of the combined camp was an untidy city of tents, but goblins would sleep under the sky, spurning this puny southern cold. The junction between the territories was an uneasy border, for the two races had never worked together before and their ways were different. Goblins sneered at the mailed dwarves and wondered aloud how fast those little legs could run. Dwarvish nerves were strained by the noise of the goblins’ barbarous amusement. The alliance was fragile.
Near the frontier dividing the two forces, but within one of the dwarves’ tents, Queen Inosolan of Krasnegar was attending to her toilet with the aid of a bucket of icy water. As she had lived in the same clothes for a week and had no clean garments to replace them, she had little hope of doing much about her disgusting condition. She could do nothing about her crushing exhaustion, either. She ached as she had never ached in her life. At fourteen, Gath and Kadie were withstanding the rigors of fatigue better than their mother, but all three were close to the breaking point.
The tent was shabby and well patched, typically dwarvish. It smelled bad, but it was roomy enough. The floor was muddy grass, and there was no bedding. At least it was shelter—there would be snow tonight, likely—and there was even a dreary little lantern, which qualified as a luxury by dwarvish standards.
“Mom!” Kadie squealed, peering at something she held pinched between her finger and thumb. “What’s this?”
“If it’s what I think it is, darling, it’s a louse.”
Kadie screamed and hurled the offending parasite from her.
Then she burst into tears.
Stripped to the waist, her twin brother Gath shivered over another bucket. He looked around briefly, before remembering that he was supposed to keep his back turned.
“I’ve got fleas, as well,” he remarked wryly. “Want to trade?”