“And what about King Rap? And Acopulo? And the warlock who risked his own life to save you?”
Shandie shrugged in silence.
“You’ve sent them off to the ends of the world to fight a battle for your sake, and a few hours later you desert the cause? What of your daughter and descendants? What of your cousin, and your wife’s sister, impressed into a vile crime for your sake?”
“I can rescue those two, anyway.”
Ylo took a deep breath. “You’re crazy!”
That should have provoked an earthquake. Shandie did try another glare, but it held none of the old fire that had once burned in those dark eyes, the imperious flame that had been the only notable feature in an otherwise unremarkable appearance. Now his face showed mostly a sick hopelessness. ”Sometimes it takes more courage to admit that you’ve been wrong than to continue making a fool of yourself.”
“This is sorcery,” Ylo said crossly. “The Covin’s putting ideas in your mind! This is not the Shandie I know.”
That impertinence produced a flicker of doubt.
“Reason it out!” Ylo insisted. “You have never made a major decision in your life and then changed it so quickly, and without any real cause! It’s a sending from the Covin! For two days you’ve been shielded from magic, but now you’re out in the open and they can get at you.”
Shandie’s shoulders slumped. He rubbed his hands togetherhe was half frozen, of course, but the gesture made him seem curiously vulnerable and indecisive. Perhaps that was because he so seldom gestured. “You could be right, I suppose.”
“Of course I’m right!”
“But suppose it’s the other way? Suppose I was deluded by Raspnex and the faun on the boat, and now I’m away from them I’m starting to think straight again? How can I know which is right?” His voice was a despicable whine, like a spoiled child’s.
For a moment Ylo was tempted. This was not his war, as Shandie had told him earlier. He was an insignificant pawn in the political game. He could abandon the cause, vanish into the teeming population of the Impire, and the Covin would never bother him. But if Shandie gave up without a fight and went back to court, then he would take Eshiala with him, and Ylo would never have a chance to enjoy the gorgeous body he had seen in the preflecting pool. That would not do.
“I’ll tell you how,” he said. “There is a way to test that! Let’s be on our way as we planned. In a week or so, we’ll have put some ground between us and Hub. We should be out of range of the Covin, and out of range of the faun and the warlock. Believe me, then you’ll be back to feeling as you did this morning.”
The imperor considered that, shivering convulsively. “I suppose you’re right. A big decision like that shouldn’t be taken hastily.”
Ylo breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Up you get.” He cupped hands for the imperor’s muddy boot. “The first thing we need is a comfortable inn—a hot meal, a room, and a couple of warm girls!”
Shandie pulled a face as he took the reins. “One girl and two rooms.”
Wiping his hands on his cloak, Ylo turned away to mount the other horse. ”You’re crazy and you always were crazy,” he muttered, but he made sure that Shandie did not hear him.
5
It was on a brisk winter morning, three days later, that King Rap caught himself whistling. Somewhat shaken by this discovery, he eventually decided that he was feeling almost maniacally cheerful. The faun in him took to a coach and four as his jotunn half took to ships, and a Krasnegarian could ignore the cold. He was far enough from Hub now to have escaped from the sprawl of satellite towns and rich-folk country mansions. The surrounding plains were lush with orchards and farms. He gloried in the scenery and fine weather—wind in his hair, sun on his back, ice crackling under the wheels, the stark beauty of branches against the frosty fields.
There was more to it than that, though. He was caught up in a sort of wicked juvenile glee at this mad adventure. Even a king could crave a change once in a while, and now he was a hunted outlaw. There could be no greater change than that. And his cause was just. If, by the grace of the Gods, Shandie and his tiny band of supporters could pull off the miracle they planned, they would have made a better world. If they failed—well, they would have tried. A man could take heart from that prospect, no matter how unlikely success might seem at the moment. With a little effort, Rap could probably recall some suitable proverb of his mother’s on the subject.
Thinking of his mother, though, brought on thoughts of prescience and young Gath, back in Krasnegar. That was not a cheerful topic. And he missed Inos as he would have missed both legs and an arm.
He had done well in his choice of horses, although the roan was weaker than the other three and might need to be traded off soon. They had a long way to go, so he was setting an easy pace for them. Who would question a faun driving a coach? He had thought to make himself some passable livery before leaving White Impress, so he looked the part.
At his back, the hatch clicked open. He twisted around to see Thinal’s gaunt face peering out like a ferret in a burrow. His nose was red with cold and the tip of it sparkled wetly.
“I’m hungry!” he complained. Whined.
Thinal was bored to distraction, that was the trouble with Thinal. Scenery and adventure held no interest for him. Nothing did, except extracting wealth from its rightful owners.
“Then you should have gotten up earlier and eaten breakfast,” Rap said crossly. He recognized the tone he used on Kadie at her worst, and stopped himself before he broke into a lecture on what happened to people who sat up until all hours gambling in bars. Admittedly Thinal had rattled the ambience very little, and he had won more than enough to pay for their joint board and lodgings. Gods knew how much he could have collected had he really tried.
“Wait an hour, and we’ll give the horses a rest.”
“You care more for them than you do for me!” Thinal snarled—which was perfectly true—and slammed the hatch shut on an obscenity.
Rap continued to drive on along the road, but his cheerful mood had dimmed. Obviously he was going to lose his traveling companion very soon, for Thinal would not endure much more bouncing around. A faun driving an empty carriage might be asked questions. Thinal himself Rap could do without, but he was potentially four other men, also, and they were handy accomplices in dangerous escapades, as experience had demonstrated, long ago. Pity!
At noon, Rap felt he had barely caught his second wind, but the horses needed a rest. He pulled into a stable yard in some anonymous little farming town. Only the great trunk roads of the Impire provided posting stations, and the inn he had chosen was a humble establishment. Thinal, the thief, stalked off in search of lunch, playing gentleman. The king of Krasnegar rubbed down the horses and saw to their needs. Fortunately his sense of humor was capable of appreciating the irony.
He joined the servants in the inn kitchen for a quick slab of cheese and rye bread, deflecting questions with vague tales of taking the master home for Winterfest. The only fauns who ever roamed the Impire were hostlers; despite his size, he was inconspicuous in that role. Nobody spoke of sorcery or politics or the new imperor, only the unusually cold weather and the price of grain. He was much more at home with these humble, honest folk than he was with royalty like Shandie. When the time came to dash out and rig up again, it seemed much too soon.
Thinal sauntered out, accompanied by a well-dressed middleaged couple—a portly, florid-face man and a lady even more so. Rap lowered the steps for them and held the door, keeping his face straight with extreme effort.
Thinal paused before following his guests into the coach. “Master Orbilo and his lady have kindly offered me hospitality for the night,” he explained airily. “Carry on along the river road and we’ll direct you where to turn off.”
“Yessir.” Rap touched his cap in salute.
“We shan’t be going far out of our way,” Thinal added, his eyes glittering with mischief. “And, boy . . .”
“Yessir?”
“Remember what I said about tiring the horses, or it will go hard with you.”
“I’ll be very careful, sir.” The king of Krasnegar bowed respectfully. As he closed the carriage door, he said a prayer that Thinal would be able to restrain his larcenous instincts. A little finger work would do no harm, but he might attract occult attention if he started romancing these worthy citizens about his grandfather’s lost gold mine.