“That’s Death Bird’s nephew!” she cried.
“Well, he’s dead now. Serves him right. Give me something to wear, Mom! I’m freezing!”
Inos began to strip off her cloak. “But what happens when Death Bird finds out?”
Gath smiled weakly. “Dunno! I can’t see tomorrows.”
Questionable shapes:
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou com’st in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee.
— Shakespeare, Hamlet, I, IV
TEN
Minds innocent
1
“And then the bishop looked under the pillow!” Andor said. Rap had already been laughing. At that climactic punch line he almost fell off his horse, something he had never done in his life. His guffaws raised a flock of tiny red birds out of the hedges in terrified flight. The horses flicked their ears, but kept up their steady clopping.
When he had wiped away the tears and sucked some air back in his aching lungs, he gasped, “I don’t believe a word of it!”
“Absolutely true!” Andor said. “Strawberries everywhere! The Gods are my witness. Would I lie to you, Rap?”
“Well . . . it wouldn’t terribly surprise me.” But Rap grinned when he said it, because Andor had been grinning when he asked.
Three days with Andor . . . it was impossible to stay mad at Andor. His word of power could have no effect on a sorcerer, for a single word could only magnify an existing talent, but in Andor’s case that talent was charm. He had been purposefully wielding that charm on Rap for three days, in an unbroken outpouring of concern and reminiscences and funny stories.
They were riding up the wide valley of the Frelket. A day’s ride behind them, the river sank away in despair under palm trees and the sands of the desert. About a day’s ride ahead it would be a mountain torrent, but here it nourished a little local paradise, an oasis within the withered hills. Most of the native forest had been stripped from the flatland and replaced by rich farms; the valley walls were terraced as if combed by giants. The land looked alive and fertile even now—two days until second moon, and already there was a smell of spring in the air. The sun was hot, even at this altitude.
Second moon was the time for Timber Moot—Rap put thoughts of Timber Moot aside like an unwanted fish bone. He refused to believe that the Gods ever created indispensable mortals. Inos would find someone to deal with the goblins for her.
The Mosweeps were an icy curtain across the head of the valley, a parade of giants. Usually they were shrouded in cloud. Today they were close enough to touch, every pinnacle and glacier sparkling. They rose almost sheer from the foothills—up and up and up until they seemed to overhang. They had grown a lot since his last sight of them, a week ago. They were awe inspiring. They were daunting.
Noticing his interest in the scenery, Andor chuckled. “I was thinking, Jalon should see that! He’d go into a trance! Wouldn’t be able to speak for days!”
“Then let’s keep him ignorant, shall we?” Much as Rap was looking forward to meeting the minstrel again, he knew Jalon was capable of wandering off in a daydream and disappearing for hours at a time. This was no kindergarten. There were no more towns ahead. The Mosweep Ranges were colored Imperial on Imperial maps, but trolls had no maps. This was frontier country, where legionaries might appear at any time to ask travelers where and why they were going . . . which reminded Rap that he was not sure of that himself. ”How far do you suppose this road goes?”
“Quite a way, apparently. The villa up ahead is Casfrel, but there’s a trail goes on beyond. The army built it a couple of decades ago.” Andor flashed white teeth at Rap and adjusted his hat to a slightly more rakish angle. His finery would have looked stolen on Thinal, but Andor had style. He was one of those superb horsemen who could make their mounts seem mere extensions of themselves.
“Been doing a little research?” Rap inquired. He hadn’t let Andor out of his farsight, so when could he have? . . . Oh—last night, obviously. Or the night before.
“Just a little. Dear girl was one of those talky ones, so I guided her into productive channels. You do know about the escaped trolls, of course?”
“Acopulo gave me some names of places. Frelket Valley was one of them.”
“It was Casfrel,” Andor agreed. “Little more’n a year ago, a half dozen ‘agricultural workers’ went missing. Presumably they escaped up the river and into the mountains. The army went after them, but found no trace. ”
“With dogs?”
“Probably. It’s quite a racket, isn’t it?”
“Slavery is illegal. I don’t know how they manage to keep it secret.” Rap did know that Shandie disapproved strongly—so strongly that he had not explained very well.
Andor shrugged. “Casfrel is a big plantation, owned by some senator back in Hub. A troll is a sort of semi-intelligent ox, very valuable help around that sort of place. The army rounds them up on one pretext or another and collects the money. Helps pay the garrisoning bills. Political favors count, too.” He eyed Rap thoughtfully. “Who cares about trolls?”
“Shandie does. I do. Remember Ballast, on Stormdancer?”
”Frankly, no. I was traveling first class, you will recall.”
Rap hesitated, then returned the smile. “Yes, I remember.”
“Rap . . .” For once Andor seemed at a loss for words. “Look, I won’t say I’m sorry, because you wouldn’t believe me. But I am glad things turned out the way they did. Name of Evil! You were only a stableboy, and you had no idea how valuable that word of yours was, or what it would mean to me. And I didn’t just get you in a corner and call Darad to work you over, as I could have—I really did try to help you. Now, didn’t I? I helped you with your job and your education, and so on. Sure, I was trying to pry your word of power out of you, but who wouldn’t?”
Lots of people, Rap thought, but apparently Andor was trying to apologize. It was ancient history, almost a childhood memory for him, although to Andor it would seem more recent, only four or five years ago.
“It wasn’t what you did to me I minded. It was Inos.”
“But I was going to marry her! Gods, man! That’s the only time in my entire life I’ve ever offered to marry a girl and meant it.”
He’d tried the other way first, though, and he wasn’t saying how long he’d planned to stay married. Andor’s moral vision was sadly defective. He shot Rap a worried frown, then grinned. “And I appreciate what you did for the five of us, when you could. You kept your word. And right now, I admit, I’m enjoying myself hugely. You know how I like traveling! I never seem to get out of Hub anymore. Anytime I’ve tried in the past few years, or Darad’s tried, Thinal or Sagorn has gone right back home again.”
“You’re offering to help, you mean?”
“I want to help. I think you’re on a noble cause.”
He truly believed the words coming out of his own mouth at the moment, which meant nothing, because he would lie to himself as much as anyone. All the same, cooperation was better than opposition.
“Then I’m glad to have your help,” Rap said. “Gods know, I need all the help I can get! And, since we’re baring souls now, I’d better confess that my premonition is beginning to itch. There may be trouble ahead. ”
Andor’s radiant smile faltered. “What sort of trouble?”
“I don’t know. It’s vague. Maybe nothing. Maybe death.”
“I have just remembered I left a toothpick back in Ysarth.”
“I also have a hunch that says the risk is worth taking. It’s not much of a guarantee, and it won’t apply to you anyway.”
“Oh, I just love your attitude! Well, it won’t be the first time we’ve been through danger together, will it Rappie-boy?”
God of Villains! Only Andor had ever called him that, but who was the youngster now? “No, it won’t.”
“So if we’re going to be allies, you wouldn’t mind telling me what you’re up to, would you?”
“Thought you knew.” Rap was trying to read a road marker ahead. It looked like a boundary stone, and there was a subtle change in the fields beyond it, a hint of more prosperity, more fertility. This might be the start of the Casfrel estate that Andor had mentioned.
“The Mosweep Mountains are about five hundred leagues long and Gods know how wide,” Andor said impatiently, “mostly covered with jungle so thick you can’t see your hand behind your back. You expect to find sorcery in that mess? Really, truly? How? That’s what I want to know.”