Shandie sank down again on the arm of his wife’s chair. His face was taut. ”Why did nobody stop him?”
“Because nobody knew!” the dwarf rumbled in his sepulchral voice. ”Except maybe Bright Water, and she was too crazy to care. I think he was extra careful with her brood, anywayhe made his compulsion secondary to hers, to take effect after she died. So she didn’t mind. Now he’s cornered all of the sorcery in Pandemia!”
The crowded room fell silent as the mundanes struggled to comprehend the disaster. Sagorn sat down again, also, muttering and shaking his head.
“So although he has no real sorcery of his own,” Shandie said, ”he controls an army of sorcerers? How many?”
“Scores, maybe hundreds. All eager to help. And the little snit may have his own sorcery back too now, if the Covin’s been able to break Rap’s spell. ”
“Surely it was the wardens’ duty to prevent such an abomination?”
“It was, but they didn’t know it was happening until Bright Water died. ” Raspnex’s eyes were hard as flint. “They brought me in as the new North in the hope I could stop him, because I knew him and how he thinks. But it was too late.”
The imperor looked around the group, but no one had any comments. “What does he want?”
The dwarf snorted. “Everything! I told you—the greater his power, the more fearful he is! He knew he’d become a threat to the Four, so he feared the Four, because they were the only power that could threaten him. That’s how he thinks.”
“That was why you came to the Rotunda today?”
Thunder rumbled in the ambience. “Of course it was! Why are you so stupid? We expected him to strike when we answered your summons at the enthronement, so he could swat all four of us at the same time. Probably he’d have blasted us as he blasted Ag-an, years ago. Grunth and I got the jump on him. We made you imperor, sonny, but it isn’t going to do you any good.”
Shandie frowned. “And why destroy the thrones? Zinixo did that?”
“No! I did!”
“The four thrones were occult,” Rap said. This conversation was a stupid waste of time! Nevertheless, the imperor had a right to know, and Rap himself had no idea what was going to happen next. If Zinixo’s Covin had already infested the city, then the situation was as close to hopeless as he could imagine. “They were portals into the wardens’ palaces. He could have forced entry through them.”
“I thought you didn’t know all this?” the imperor said.
“I didn’t, earlier. Partly I’m working it out as I go along, from what Raspnex told me as he came in—you weren’t privy to that conversation, is all. He hasn’t used sorcery on me yet, although he could. And you’ll have to take our word on that. You can’t trust anyone now, your Majesty. Once Zinixo’s votaries pin a man down, he’s theirs. As Raspnex says, Legate Ugoatho would be a logical first choice. He’ll serve Zinixo from now on, to the death. They all will.”
“To what purpose?” Shandie demanded grimly.
Rap shrugged. “He’s mad, he sees danger everywhere. The imperor is powerful, so he must be loyal to Zinixo—everyone must, who has any sort of power at all. He’d make everyone in the world love him, if he could.”
“Where are the Four?”
Rap looked to Raspnex. “Good question!”
“Gone,” the dwarf said. “Most of their votaries have been stolen from them. Lith’rian panicked first and fled to IIrane. Olybino was next. He’s just vanished. Can you imagine what Zinixo will do to those two when he gets his hands on them? No, you can’t possibly imagine. Even I can’t. But it will be long and nasty—that I do know.” He pulled a face. “And I’m not on his friendship list either.”
“And Grunth?”
The dwarf shrugged, rolling his eyes.
“So Zinixo will imprint me with a loyalty spell?” Shandie demanded, glaring.
“Slow, isn’t he?” the warlock said, in an aside to Rap. ”Of course. It will be easier than proclaiming himself imperor. The Impire is just too big for him to ensorcel everyone, and a dwarf imperor would not be acceptable—he would always be frightened of revolution, see? But you will reign for his benefit. You will serve him loyally to the end of your days.” He jabbed a finger like a crowbar toward the child asleep in Eshiala’s lap. ”And so will she, and her children after her! You know how long sorcerers live.”
“No!” Shandie bellowed. “I won’t have it!”
The dwarf curled his big mouth into a sardonic smile. “And your so-beautiful wife? My nephew is oddly partial to female imps . . . Now don’t you wish you’d taken my advice?”
Shandie put an arm around Eshiala. “What is your advice now?”
Again the dwarf shrugged his barrel shoulders. “I may be able to get us out of here. May, I said. He’s so suspicious that he tends to be too cautious. He may not commit his real strength quickly enough to block me.”
That sounded like a very leaky lifeboat to Rap. As soon as the fugitives emerged from the shielding, they would be visible in the ambience. There was no hiding place in that featureless void, no way to outrun a superior force. Only power mattered.
“If I can escape . . .” Shandie said. “If we can . . . If you can get us out of here, what then?”
“Retire. Hide. You can’t hope to win your impire back, you know. Just go into hiding and maybe, in a couple of centuries, your descendants can come forward and claim their inheritance.” The mundanes stared at one another in dismay, while Raspnex curled his lip contemptuously at them; but in the ambience he was scowling up at Rap with a worried expression. “The kid’s taking a long time, isn’t he?”
“Let’s hope he’s still yours when he comes back,” Rap said pointedly. “Zinixo’s here, in Hub?” he added aloud. “Maybe. More likely not, not yet. But he’s sent his minions. I could smell ‘em.”
“So could I. And I’m not exactly his best friend, either, am I?”
Raspnex chortled, a noise of ice floes in a polar storm. “Not much, you’re not! You and your kingdom. Your wife and children. I bet the little turd has dreamed of you every night for twenty years, your Majesty!”
“Why did none of you warn me?” Rap said angrily.
“Because we thought you knew! Because we thought you were laying low—and because we thought you could handle the matter when you got around to it!”
“You mean you were all relying on me? Waiting on me to do something? Fools!” Rap had always assumed that the Four knew how he had lost his paramount power years ago. Probably such an absurdity had never occurred to them, and they had been frightened to spy on a demigod. Fortunately Zinixo must have made the same error.
“That’s obvious now, but we didn’t know that, did we?” the dwarf snarled.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t come after me already.”
“He didn’t know, either! But it won’t be long now. And he couldn’t try to settle with you earlier without alerting the wardens.” The warlock’s sneer was almost an offer of sympathy by dwarvish standards.
Rap thought of the battles in which he had defeated Zinixothe brutal one-on-one struggle when the dwarf had attacked him in the Rotunda, and then the greater battle when Rap had singlehandedly stormed the Red Palace, an avenging demigod blasting aside guards and defenses in fiery cataclysms, rending walls in pursuit of his fleeing prey. Zinixo would have forgotten none of that, especially his own screams for mercy at the end.
He thought also of Krasnegar, and Inos, and the children, hopelessly vulnerable. Gods!
“Suppose he does seize the throne,” Sagorn asked hoarsely,
“the Imperial throne, I mean, not Krasnegar—either in his own name or through a puppet—then what?”
“He will wipe out any threat, any threat at all. Any hint of disloyalty, any loose talk.” Raspnex threw contempt at the old jotunn, but Sagom had already analyzed the logic to its absurd conclusions.
“But it will be his Impire then, won’t it? So any threat to the Impire will be a threat to the Living God? The caliph, for example.”
Surprised, the dwarf nodded. “Exactly. The caliph is a threat to the Impire, so the caliph will have to go. The goblins are about ready to launch their big attack—Zinixo will smash them. Of course he’ll go after Lith’rian and the elves first.”
Sagorn snapped his teeth shut with a click. “He will rule the world,” he muttered.
“In a year or two, yes.”
“Is there nothing we can do to prevent this obscenity?” Count Ionfeu said. Old and frail he might be, but generations of imperial pride showed on his weathered features. Thousands of men like him had built the Impire, and he would sooner die than let it all fall into the hands of a dwarf.