Brokedown Palace (24 page)
Authors: Steven Brust
He turned away and rummaged around the stable until he found
a good, strong rope. Then he came back. “Here now, horse. It seems that I cannot use my powers against you directly. But try this!”
a good, strong rope. Then he came back. “Here now, horse. It seems that I cannot use my powers against you directly. But try this!”
He tossed a rope end into the air, and immediately drew upon his power. Like a snake, the rope wrapped itself around the horse’s right foreleg just above the knee, then its left foreleg, then attached itself to the side of the stall. Sándor tied the other end to a hitching post. He found more rope, this time tying the horse’s head so it couldn’t move. The horse made no effort to resist.
“There!” said Sándor. “Perhaps that will keep you out of mischief for a while.”
The horse still said nothing, but Sándor had the uncomfortable feeling that it was laughing at him.
“Perhaps, Your Majesty,” said Sándor, “you should now use Állam.”
The King, his temper under control, said, “No. Not without first speaking to Miklós.”
Sándor nodded. “As you wish.”
“Let us go,” said the King. “I have seen enough.”
They left the stables without looking back. As they passed through the courtyard, Sándor said, “Do you agree with me, now, Your Majesty?”
“That the horse may be responsible? Yes. It is very possible. With or without Miklós’s knowledge.”
Once more, as they walked by the idol of the Goddess, Sándor made a sign with his right hand.
They stopped and looked at it—tall and graceful, it was white in the pure daylight, but was now turning gray in the sunset.
The King said, “Does she have something special to do with your powers?”
Sándor nodded. “She has everything to do with them.”
“They come from her?”
“Not exactly. It is more that she is the personification of those powers. I ask for her guidance in their use, and her help when I need it.”
“I see. Has she ever failed you?”
Sándor chuckled. “With her, it is hard to know when she has helped, and when it would have worked out anyway. I believe that is how she wants it. I can say that I have never failed when it most mattered. I am still here, after all.”
The King nodded. They stood silent for a moment longer. Sándor seemed to see a glittering light in her eyes.
“I imagine you will need her help soon,” said the King.
“Yes,” said Sándor. “I imagine I will.”
The King grunted. “Than I hope you have it—for all our sakes.”
A moment later he said, “You know, do you not, that Mariska thinks we can build up the strength of the walls and contain the tree that way?”
“Yes,” said Sándor. “I heard her.”
“Can you use the power of Faerie for that?”
“I think so,” said Sándor.
They continued on into the Palace. Sándor stopped and addressed the guard at the door. “Tell Viktor that he is to have Prince Miklós’s horse watched at all times. If it does anything, we are to be notified. Furthermore, no one is to untie it. No one. Do you understand?”
The guard nodded. László and Sándor continued into the Palace proper.
“Well done,” said the King.
Sándor grunted. “What will you do about the horse, Your Majesty?”
“I will speak to Miklós about it. I want it dead, or out of here.” Sándor heard that his voice trembled with rage and he regretted bringing it up. Or did he?
“Let me know what he says,” said Sándor.
S
O, YOU WISH TO KNOW OF THE OLD KING, EH? JÁNOS, his name was. János the Sixth. Did you know how he met Teréz, his Queen? Well, he was a lad of sixteen then, and used to take himself around the countryside visiting places, and playing his fiddle everywhere he went. One day he came across a man who was looking for a cow that had wandered off. Now, János was dressed no different than you or me, for he wasn’t a King yet, you see. So the man didn’t know him at all, and just complained about how his cow was missing.
O, YOU WISH TO KNOW OF THE OLD KING, EH? JÁNOS, his name was. János the Sixth. Did you know how he met Teréz, his Queen? Well, he was a lad of sixteen then, and used to take himself around the countryside visiting places, and playing his fiddle everywhere he went. One day he came across a man who was looking for a cow that had wandered off. Now, János was dressed no different than you or me, for he wasn’t a King yet, you see. So the man didn’t know him at all, and just complained about how his cow was missing.
“Well,” says János, “we’ll find your cow for you, I think,” and starts playing on his fiddle. Well, he had hardly started when up comes the cow, with a calf at her side. The man thanked him, of course, and said he could have the calf, in payment, but János just laughed and walked along.
As you may guess, this story spread pretty fast. Soon, everyone was talking about it from one end of the River to the other. János found that he couldn’t go anywhere without being asked to bring back a cow, or a goat, or a horse, or a pig, or even a rooster. But he
didn’t mind, he just walked around playing his fiddle, and every time he found a stray, the man who owned it would offer him one of its young, but he always turned it down.
didn’t mind, he just walked around playing his fiddle, and every time he found a stray, the man who owned it would offer him one of its young, but he always turned it down.
Well, you probably know what happens next, but I’ll tell you anyway. One day a man comes up to János and says, “Are you the János with the fiddle who has been finding strays everywhere?” And János says he is, and the man says, “Well, we haven’t been able to find our daughter for a week now, and that isn’t like her at all.”
So János says not to worry, and he sets out looking for the daughter. Well, he travels for a while, and pretty soon he crosses over into Faerie. Right there, on the other side of the mountain, she was lying asleep, and elfs were all around her. So János looked closer, and oh! but she was a pretty. Only fourteen years old she was, lying on a bed of roses, her hair all done up in ribbons, and János fell in love on the spot.
So he went there, and asked the elfs how she came to be sleeping. The elfs said they’d done it, because she was so beautiful and they wanted to look at her. János said he wanted to take her home, but they’d have none of it, and they had swords and like that, and looked mighty angry. Well, János plays on his fiddle, and pretty soon along comes a calf, only by now it’s grown into a bull. And a horse. Then a billy goat and a big hog and a rooster. Then more and more of them. All of the animals János had been offered came running when he called them, because after they’d been offered, they were really his, you see.
So they charged down out of the mountains like nothing you ever saw before, and the elfs gave out a shriek and ran off. Then János tried to wake up the girl, but he couldn’t. He was trying to think of what to do when the first bull comes up to him and says, “Master, if you can play your fiddle for as long she’s been asleep, she’ll wake up again.”
Now by this time she’d been sleeping for a hundred days, but János didn’t let that stop him. He took out his fiddle and played, and played, and played. He didn’t stop to eat, either, so pretty soon there was nothing left of him but bones, but he still didn’t stop. And sure enough, on the hundreth day, she starts to wake up.
Then János says to the bull, “You were right, but I can’t let her see me like this, I’m nothing but a pile of bones because I haven’t eaten in a hundred days.”
The bull says, “Don’t worry, master,” and it gives out a bellow, and all the other animals come running up. The goats brought him cheese, the roosters brought eggs, the bulls brought wine, and they had everything you can imagine. So János gobbles it all down until he had flesh on his bones again, and just about then the girl wakes up, sees him, and falls in love right there.
So all the animals bring them home again, and János goes up to the man and says, “Here’s your daughter back, but now I want to marry her.”
And the man says, “Well, you’ve done me a good turn and I’ll be in your debt as long I live, but I can’t let anyone marry my daughter who can’t give her a good life.”
So János says, “That’s pretty fair, so I should tell you I’m the eldest son of the King, and I’ll be King when he dies.”
“What?” says the man. “You’re János the Prince? Why, your father died a hundred days ago, and the whole country has been looking for you to make you King!”
“Well, they need look no more,” says János. “I will be King, and your daughter Teréz will be my Queen.”
And that is just how it was. If you don’t believe me, ask my father. He was right there with me, and we saw the whole thing.
The Stable
M
IKLÓS STOPPED IN THE SMALL DINING ROOM AND helped himself to one of the loaves of fresh bread that had been put out for the family. Not stopping even to butter it, he went out to the stables to speak to Bölk.
IKLÓS STOPPED IN THE SMALL DINING ROOM AND helped himself to one of the loaves of fresh bread that had been put out for the family. Not stopping even to butter it, he went out to the stables to speak to Bölk.
There was much on his mind. Not only was the tree growing in his room still a mystery, but what about Vilmos and his strange reaction to it? And, more immediate, there was Sándor’s offer to him. He had been awake half the night thinking about it. Why such an offer? Should he accept? What would it mean? Certainly, it would give some direction to his life.
His feet kicked up dust in the courtyard. He saw a guard all in shining red standing straight and tall next to the entrance to the stables. Miklós motioned him away. The guard moved; Miklós stepped inside.
His gaze fell on Bölk, tied by the neck and legs. A gasp escaped his lips, and red fury filled his heart. He rushed up to the horse, crying “Bölk!”
“I am well, master. This is nothing.”
“Nothing?” cried Miklós. “It will soon be nothing!”
He was looking around for a cutting implement when the guard stepped through the doorway.
“You!” called Miklós. “Lend me your sword.”
The guard looked uncomfortable. “I cannot, my Prince.”
“What? You cannot? Then use it yourself to cut these ropes. I will not have this horse tied up!”
“I am sorry, my Prince, but I am commanded not to let anyone undo them.”
“By whom?” snapped Miklós.
“The captain gave the order, my Prince.”
“Viktor? I will deal with Viktor. Now lend me your sword, quickly.”
“I cannot, my Prince. The captain says the order has come from the King himself.”
“Oh, has it?” said Miklós. He glanced around the stable, but was unable to find a knife. He turned back to the guard. “For the last time, I command you—give me your sword.”
In answer, the guard turned away, leaned out the window, and shouted something that Miklós couldn’t quite hear. Then he turned back.
“Very well,” said Miklós. He allowed the Power to flow through him. He had called for the Power when startled, and he had called for it when calm. Never before had he used this extra sense, this appendage, in the fullness of rage. It came to him and filled him, until he thought he would burst with exhilaration, and he realized how much easier it would be to attack the guard directly, rather than to use subtlety and skill. He resisted the temptation; he had made his decision rationally and he knew that to change it now would indicate that his emotions had power over his intellect.
Raising his hand, he stared at the hilt of the sabre at the guard’s belt. At first, it seemed that his right forefinger was joined to the hilt by a single strand, thin as a spider’s web. But then the strand
became a string, then a cord, then a rope. Miklós began to pull, and the sabre slid freely out of the guard’s sheath.
became a string, then a cord, then a rope. Miklós began to pull, and the sabre slid freely out of the guard’s sheath.
At that instant, however, the door burst open and two more guards stood in the doorway. Miklós’s concentration was broken and the sabre fell to the floor. No one moved for a moment, then the guard picked up his sword, staring wide-eyed at Miklós as he did so.
The Prince composed himself to begin again, this time to take it forcibly from the guard’s hand. But Bölk spoke then, saying, “It is not necessary, master.”
Miklós turned to him. “What?”
“You need not.”
“Why?”
“Because,” said Bölk, and he reared back. The rope holding his head broke as if it were the thinnest twine. He reared again, the ropes holding his legs stretched, frayed, and snapped. Bölk shook his head, and rope fragments fell from him, lying on the ground like dead snakes.
“The more tightly I am bound,” said Bölk, “the harder I am to contain.”
The guards backed out of the stable, turning to run the last few steps. Miklós nodded.
“I think I will speak to my brother now. There is no call for him to have done this.”
“Perhaps not, master. But neither is there reason for you to speak to him about it.”
“Why not?”
“If for no other reason, because it was not his doing. It was the wizard.”
“Sándor!”
“Yes. He took ill many of the things I said to the King, and—”
“Said to the King? What did you say to the King?”
“Things not to his liking, I think. I asked him to justify his reliance upon the Demon Goddess.”
“But—very well, then. I will have a word with Sándor.”
“Will you, master? What sort of word?”
“One he will not soon forget!”
“I think you plan to attack him.”
Miklós hesitated. “And if I do?”
“Then I am curious, master. With what weapon?”
“I—” Miklós frowned. Then he said, “You are the one who spoke of attacking. I only said I would speak to him.”
“It is foolish to speak to an enemy without a weapon to hand, master.”
“Then you think I should do nothing?”
“Master, never in the long, long years of my existence have I counseled anyone to do nothing. I merely question what it is that you plan to do, and why.”
“Why? Because he had no right to bind you!”
“Because I am your horse?” There was, perhaps, the least trace of irony in Bölk’s voice as he said this.
Miklós snorted. “From which I am to conclude that no, you are no one’s, right? In that case, why do you keep calling me master? And even if you are not mine, he doesn’t know that. And don’t claim that you can take care of yourself. You didn’t. If there was a reason why you didn’t, you’ll have to explain it to me.”
Bölk was silent for a while, then he nodded. “You grow, young master. I am pleased. For now, I only say that no good will be done by a confrontation with the wizard on my behalf, and I ask you not to start one.”
Miklós chewed his lower lip. “Very well.”
“Good. Now, did you have a question to ask me when you came in here?”
“Heh. Many.”
“Start with the first then.”
“What is it that is growing in my room?”
“What does it look like?”
“A tree. What do you think it is?”
“To be honest, master, I can’t manage even to guess. Tell me about it.”
“It is strong, so that Viktor could not scratch it with his sword. Vilmos could not gather the will to pull its roots out. Sándor could not harm it with the power of Faerie. Brigitta thinks it is beautiful.”
Bölk considered this. “Brigitta thinks it is beautiful, you say?”
“So she has told me.”
“Then it is. Brigitta is not likely to be wrong about something like that. But you don’t find it beautiful?”
“Two days ago I spoke to you about not feeling something, when I think I ought to.”
“Ah! You think you should see beauty in it, but you don’t. Is that it, master?”
“Well—”
“Yes?”
“The last time I looked at it, for a moment … I don’t know, Bölk.”
“I don’t understand this thing, master. It is important, somehow, but it escapes me. I mislike this.”
“It is evil, though. Isn’t it? I know Brigitta thinks it beautiful, but a thing may be both evil and beautiful, may it not?”
“Yes, indeed. I wish I could see this tree for myself.”
“I also wish you could. But I can see no way to arrange it.”
Bölk chuckled. “I wouldn’t fit through the door.” And he added, “Yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pay no mind.”
“Heh. All right, then. Since I cannot think of a way to make you smaller, I will return and study it some more.”
“Tell me what you learn, master.”
“Heh again. More likely
you
will tell
me
what I learn.”
you
will tell
me
what I learn.”
He walked back into the courtyard, blinked in the sunlight, and looked around. Several of the guards sent unreadable glances at him, but no one seemed to be looking for him. Strange. There had been plenty of time to have alerted László or Sándor. Was there some deception here? Had it not really been they who had given the orders? Or were they unconcerned with what he did? Or were they waiting?
They were probably waiting.
He walked past the idol and looked up at it. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the Demon Goddess was glaring at him. He shook his head.
Near the gate, a coach with four white horses stood ready. He saw a figure leaning against it, and the feather in the cap indicated Miska, the coachman. Miklós approached him.
“The Countess isn’t leaving, is she?” he asked.
Miska smiled ironically and shook his head. “No. The Count is returning to his home to make preparations there.”
“I see. Well, does this mean I am to get no more stories?”
The coachman looked at him carefully, his weathered face serious for a moment. “I don’t think you want to hear any more stories, my Prince. If your horses will bear you to the end of yours, that will be enough. But I have something for you,” he added, reaching under the seat of his coach. He pulled forth a bottle of
pálinka
, and handed it down to Miklós.
pálinka
, and handed it down to Miklós.
“Thank you, Miska.”
The other nodded. “Think of me when you drink it.”
Miklós stared at him. “Fare you well then, good coachman.”
Miska smiled. “Fare you well, my
garabonciás
.”
garabonciás
.”
Miklós turned his back on the coach and entered the Palace. He stood for a moment just inside the door and ran his finger along a crack in the sandstone wall. The wall had been painted white, and the paint was new, but the jagged crack could not be painted over. In other spots, the sandstone had crumbled, rather than cracking, and Miklós could see depressions in the wall.
“Is there something wrong, my Prince?”
He turned, taking a moment to focus in on the guard—what was his name?—who stood at the door.
“No, nothing, Károly,” he said at last. Then he added, “If Sándor or the King should be looking for me, tell them I am in my old chamber.”
He watched Károly’s reaction closely, but the guard only nodded. “Károly,” he said then, “I am sorry about your hand.” The other flushed, the color of his face nearly matching his uniform.
Just as Miklós had said, he went to his old chamber and stepped past the curtained entrance. The tree had grown again. Now it was touching three walls; only on the wall with the bed was there a little space left. And now, everywhere that it touched a wall, the leaves seemed to curl backward, as if the tree were bracing itself to push. The ceiling had certainly stopped the upward growth, yet as Miklós looked closely, he saw nothing that made him think the tree was exerting pressure.
He sat down on the floor of the chamber and stared up at the tree. He thought once again to try to see beauty in it, if for no other reason than to have more to say to Brigitta, whom he seemed unable to get out of his mind.
Yet other thoughts intruded. The change in László—could he really trust it? The wizard—what of his offer? And more than these, the strange feeling that had come to him in the stable, flooded with the power, alive in a way he had never been alive before. It had felt so strange … .
On impulse, he tried something he had never done before. He relaxed in his seated position against the wall, took a deep breath, and opened the Pathway just a little. The Power came to him, as slowly as he wished, but he did nothing with it. He held it inside himself, and let it build.
He felt as if he were glowing. Tiny lines seemed to run across his eyes, and he seemed to be floating. He stopped the flow from the Source and concentrated on holding the energy within himself. He discovered that his eyes were closed and he opened them.
The air around him shimmered. Were there more lines, running through the room, around the tree, through the window, to the doorway? Were they real or imaginary? He discovered that he could allow himself to see them or not, and a kind of euphoria came over him. Yes, everything was connected—he could see that now. He saw the joining of tree to floor, and realized that it was not a
wrongness
, but a necessity. Yes. Everything was as it was because it must be that way. The levels of connection between himself and his world were breathtaking. And all of it so easily controlled. Just a tap here, or a nudge there, and—was this what Sándor was offering him? His heart beat faster. That felt wrong so he ordered it to slow down, and giggled when it did.
wrongness
, but a necessity. Yes. Everything was as it was because it must be that way. The levels of connection between himself and his world were breathtaking. And all of it so easily controlled. Just a tap here, or a nudge there, and—was this what Sándor was offering him? His heart beat faster. That felt wrong so he ordered it to slow down, and giggled when it did.
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