After two days of relative relaxation, Rap was again having to discipline himself not to use his sorcerous senses. Off to the east, the overweening evil of the Covin hung over Hub like a foul cloud of darkness, although it conveyed no great urgency. Now it was resting, waiting, considering where to strike next, and he could dare to peer ahead a little into the shadows. He felt like a blind man in a lion’s den. To use premonition too boldly might betray him to the listeners or bury his will under an avalanche of despair, for the future was very black. Cautiously, therefore, he had sniffed out a day or so ahead, and he was virtually certain that he was in no immediate danger.
He longed with all his heart to go speeding back to Krasnegar—to be with Inos, to warn Inos, to save—Inos. To hug his children. That would be the worst possible thing he could do. He had written letters for Shandie to deliver.
With a sigh he brought his attention back to the terror-stricken imp on the other bunk. He found Thinal fascinating. When they had first met, he had seemed about the same age as Rap himself—a whiny, weedy guttersnipe with the fastest fingers in Pandemia and enough agility to scramble up a plate-glass window. Rap, Thinal, and the goblin—three youths lost in the jungles of Faerie, all boys together. They had not thought of themselves as boys, of course, and had not understood then that they were enjoying the good old days.
Thinal had never been a trustworthy friend, but they had shared misfortune together, and youth. Now they had nothing in common at all.
Rap was in his mid-thirties and Thinal in his early twenties, even if he was mathematically older than Sagorn. He was still short and slight, but he had displayed some manners around the imperor. Those, together with clean hands and well-styled hair, suggested that his talent had trended away from the cruder forms of robbery and flowered into something more sophisticated. He had refused to discuss exactly how he passed his days now, except to say he was in business. He would never come close to his brother, Andor, in either looks or charm, but he had developed a sort of appealing naivete. Surely anyone who bought anything from that innocent-looking young imp would find that it leaked or collapsed or suffered from fatal disease.
“Enjoying yourself, are you?” Rap inquired. Thinal curled a lip at him in a soundless snarl.
“Well, we’ll be ashore in an hour or two. As you know, I’m heading for South Pithmot and the Mosweeps. I would appreciate your company if you care to come along.”
The ratty face twisted into a smile. “Love to. Adventuring on the road with my friend Rap? Just like old times.”
He was lying, of course. He would vanish up the first available alley and when he was gone, so were Sagorn and Darad and Jalon and Andor, some of whom might have been willing to help. That was Thinal’s right, though. To compel loyalty with power was Zinixo’s evil game; the good guys must not use magic for immoral purposes, however great the temptation. This impossible idealism was the heart of the new protocol. Having invented it, Rap must not violate it on its first outing.
Thinal licked his lips. “Horses? Months and months of horses? Bug-infested taverns and bad food? Wind and snow and no skin on my ass? Ain’t my hinny. Save the world by yourself, King.”
“I’ll get lonely. Why don’t you call one of the others, then?” The little thief sneered maliciously. “I can’t! And it’s your blame. You’re the one who twisted the spell.”
“Been shirking again, have you?”
“Naw. They’ve been ganging up on me.”
It was possible, of course. Rap wondered what Thinal might have been up to that his companions disapproved of. Some major malfeasance, perhaps. ”Why?”
“Mind your own potage. Just know I’m overdue for some time, and I can’t cop out until I’ve done it.”
Rap snorted angrily to himself. He had not anticipated that problem. The rules he had imposed on the sequential gang compelled Thinal to exist about a third of the time. The limits were flexible, but if Thinal had fallen seriously short of his quota, then he truly could not call any of the others in his stead until he did some catching up.
“Actually I wasn’t thinking of horses. The Covin will be looking for a faun.”
Thinal sniggered. “A jotunn-size faun!”
“Yes. So I’m planning to buy a coach. I won’t be so conspicuous driving a coach. You can ride inside and read poetry.”
“Your father loved livestock.”
“I ought to change you into a frog and drop you overboard.”
“You don’t dare use sorcery!” Thinal looked alarmed, though, and that was hopeful.
“No. And neither do you.”
“Whatcher mean with that?”
“Come on! You’re not so stupid. You know what Sagorn concluded—your word’s worth more than your life.”
The thief thought about it, eyes narrowing. He seemed to have forgotten the peril of his position in a small boat. Now he had realized that he was a potential danger to Rap and that therefore Rap was a danger to him. He was calculating his chances of deceiving Rap, and trying unsuccessfully not to show what he was thinking. Double-dealing was second nature to him; he did not know how to be honest in anything.
“What choices I got?”
“If you want we can say good-bye in the first town we come to. You can head back to Hub.”
“What then, I rat on you?” Thinal asked cagily.
“You won’t. It would be suicide. Or you can come along with me and put a healthy distance between you and Zinixo.”
“Been nice knowing you.”
Rap shrugged. “You think you can resume your business career? Trouble is, your house is gone and you rattle the ambience.”
“I what?”
“Remember Oothiana, in Faerie? She could hear you stealing even before we got to Milflor. You make more noise than the others, Thinal. When you exercise your talent you shoot sparks, and the Covin will catch you soon, I’m sure.”
The poxy impish face paled again. “Truth?”
“I swear it.”
“Mean I gotta go straight from now on?”
“Jobbery will be very risky for you in Hub. Out in the boondocks you’d be safer.”
“Then I got no choice, do I?”
“Not much of one. I know this sort of jaunt isn’t your style, but I d like you along. I’m thinking of myself, I admit. Darad could be very useful if I get in trouble. So could Sagorn. I d love to go adventuring with Jalon again. I promise I’ll warn you if we start getting into danger.”
Thinal smiled weakly. “Then I suppose I’ll come. Y’know me, Rap. Honest work would kill me.”
Rap laughed and held out a hand to shake—not that such a gesture meant anything to Thinal. But he had come as close to being honest as he knew how. For the time being, that would have to do.
3
No one had presumed to instruct Lord Acopulo how he should proceed to Zark—he would have responded to such presumption with appropriate sarcasm. Nevertheless, the problem was meaty. He bore magic scrolls, a supply of gold, and missives addressed to the caliph, so he must avoid the attention of sorcerers, thieves, and soldiers respectively. He had farther to go than either Shandie or King Rap, and he was as old as the two of them added together. Half a year on horseback held no appeal for a man of his age. Nor did a long sea voyage, but it was the lesser evil.
The direct approach was often the wisest, as he had frequently advised the imperor. As soon as he was set ashore in Faintown, therefore, he sought out a secondhand clothing store. Then he headed for the nearest temple and said a brief prayer to the God of Truth to remind Them that major good must sometimes be served by minor evil.
The local priest was only too happy to send word to a member of his congregation, one of the wealthier merchants. That worthy citizen, in turn, was willing to demonstrate his fealty to the Gods by putting his chaise and chief gardener at the disposal of the stranded visitor. He had no use for them, anyway, that day, so they might as well make themselves useful by earning merit for their owner.
Thus, near to sunset that first day, Acopulo was driven in style to Wylpon, on the Great South Way. Anonymous in his new apparel, he caught the night stage south, heading for Malfin, on Home Water. Zinixo’s minions would probably be watching the traffic on the main roads, but they would not be looking for a priest.
He was ashamed to discover that he was enjoying himself. He had often wondered if he had missed his calling when he decided his brains would be wasted in the priesthood. This would be a unique opportunity to find out.