Emperor Mage (24 page)

"The
Great Ones can find another instrument! Why didn't you tell them so?"

"I
did tell them, you horn-headed idiot. They didn't listen. She didn't listen. If
you have a complaint, you take it up with the Graveyard Hag."

A woman
appeared in the doorway behind the horned man, drying her hands on a cloth. She
was graceful and solidly built, firelight from indoors gleaming on her
pinned-up golden hair. "Weiryn, does the badger want to sup with us?
We—" Looking past the man's shoulder, she caught her breath; one hand went
to her cheek. Man and badger turned to see what had gotten her attention.

Weiryn
pointed at Daine, but it was the badger who spoke, "There! You said she
would be fine, and here she is. You know what that means! You never should have
left her there—"

"If
you were so interested in fathering, you shouldn't have put her in my care.
She's old enough to get into her own tangles, whether you like it or not."
The badger sighed. "I'll take them back. Talk to the Great Ones if you
want, but I think it's too late. Can't you feel things moving forward?" He
trundled down the path toward Daine and Kitten. "This place isn't for you.
Turn around—"

"Badger,
that's my ma," she protested. "And— my da?"

"Yes,
yes; you should listen when the Banjiku tell you things. Turn around."

She
obeyed, and fell into a mass of rolling gray clouds.

When
she opened her eyes, she was flat on her back. The badger stood on her chest,
claws digging into her shoulders.

—Idiot
kit!-—he snarled. —You drained your life force for this. You're supposed to use
a spark, just a spark, to wake them up!—

She
blinked dazedly at him. "How was I to know that, pray? You didn't tell me
anything. You just breathed on me and left."

—Nonsense,
Of course I told you.— Daine shook her head. —No— The badger climbed off her. —
Then I kst my temper, at being used to place this on you, I should have taken
time to explain. It VMS a grievous mistake, and a disservice to you,—-

Kitten,
much vexed, chattered at the badger, punctuating what she had to say with
earsplitting whistles.

Daine
groaned and covered her ears, while the animal god turned on the immortal,

—W
hen
I wish for your opinions, dragonling, I witt ask for them. Silence!—

Kitten
subsided, muttering under her breath.

Daine
sat up. "Kitten was there with me," she said, frowning.

—Of
course,—the badger said—Dragons go where they will, even the young ones.— He
snorted rudely. —• Pesky, interfering creatures.—

Kitten
made an equally rude noise in reply.

Daine
heard a rapid clicking, as if something bony ran on the marble tiles. Instantly
she checked the mountain-runner nest. Not only was the standing skeleton gone,
but the eggs had hatched.

—That
is why it killed you,—said the badger, peering at the nest. —You woke them all
What -were you thinking of? The energy to spark this waking magic has to come
from wild magic. Waking the whole nest drained you. You'd better Jind a way to
draw the spark from other sources. 1 can't bring you back from the Divine
Realms whenever you make a mistake and die.—

"Die?
But—I thought—humans go to the Black Gods realms when they die."

-~-Human$
do. You will have a choice, the Black God's kingdom or the home of your father,
when the time comes. You must be careful not—— What do you lot want?—

His
question confused Daine, until she noticed the mountain-runner skeletons to her
left, the ones from the nest. Seven of them were only a foot tall. The last was
the eighteen-inch skeleton. All watched the badger, the tilt of their small
skulls giving them an odd look of attentiveness.

"Oh,
no," she whispered, and covered-her face with her hands. "However do
I explain this! Badger, I can't be going about waking up dead creatures. I'm

not

—No,
but the Graveyard Hag granted you this power to

further
her own ends,—he retorted. —I am sorry, my kit. I was not given a choice.—

"She
can push you around?"

—In
Carthak, which is her own, she can do whatever she pleases. Here she is one of
the great gods. In Tortallyou would be safe,—he snarled. —We would be safe from
her: She is only a minor goddess anywhere but the empire. Here, Bright Mithros,
the Threefold Goddess, all but the Black God must bow to her; and she is the
Black God's daughter. In Carthaki matters he listens to her.—

"Lovely/'
Daine grumbled. "The boss god of all Carthak wants to get me in hot water.
Next time I get the notion to travel, I'll remember this and stay at
home." She sighed and looked at die mountain-runner skeletons. One, braver
or more foolish than the rest, had crept forward, and reached out to touch the
badger s coat.

—Don't
you dare— snarled the badger. The mountain-runner leaped back and tripped on
its bony tail.

Kitten
rushed over to place herself between the downed lizard and the badger, scolding
loudly, the color in her scales turning pink.

"Kit,
hush! He didn't mean to frighten the little one. Someone will hear; please be
quiet."

The
badger sighed. —It is time for me to go, and for you to return to your room.—
To Kitten, he said, —If you do not behave, I will tell your family that Daine
is spoiling you, and that they had better take you from her care ij they do not
wish you to be ruined jor life.—

Kitten
shut up with a last cheep.

Daine
hid a smile. Looking at the mountain-runners, she said, "But what about them?
I cant hide these. And I've no idea of when they'll go back to sleep. The
lizard-bird I woke at Master Lindhall's was still up and about when we
left."

The
badger scratched an ear. —Most of those you wake will sleep when the Graveyard
Hag's need, whatever it is, ends. Only a Jew will care to stay, when their kind
and their world are gone. As for these— He eyed them. They had crept around
Kitten and were stroking his fur with gentle forepaws. —They will go with me.
It is the least I can do. I made a mistake, not helping you to understand what
you can now cause.—

"Badger—do
all gods make mistakes?" He glared at her.

—Rarely.
1 have not made one in ten centuries, so perhaps I was due. Even the greatest
gods err now and again. When they do, the results are catastrophic.— He looked
at the dinosaur skeletons looming in the shadows. —Their world ended through a
god's mistake.—•

"Horse
Lords," whispered the girl, eyes wide.

The
badger looked at the mountain-runners. — Climb on. And no pulling my fur.——

The
mountain-runners lost no time in obeying. Clustered on the god's broad back,
they reminded Daine of nothing so much as children on a boating holiday.
"Badger? Does it hurt them to die again? Or if a mage blasted them,
say?"

—How
could it hurt flesh that is not thereP This awakening you give them is not true
life. When they sleep again, they will return to the otherworld that serves the
spirits of the People. Now, go hack to hed,— he advised. —And teU the Banjiku
that Lushagui never meant for them to he slaves.—

Silvery
light bloomed. It winked out, and Daine and Kitten were alone.

As they
sneaked back to Daine s room, the girl began to yawn. Her body ached as though
she had been pummeled. Gently moving Zek from the center of the bed to the side,
she got in next to him. Kitten gave a small croak, and the lamps went out.
Daine s last thought was of moving her feet to make room for the dragon, and
then she slept.

The odd
night she'd had didn't cause her to sleep late, but as she cleaned her face and
teeth, dressed, and brushed her hair, she felt as if a griffin had landed on
her. Kitten roused as she buttoned her shirt and uttered a forlorn cheep.

"No,
don't," the girl said, voice gravelly. "One of us ought to
rest."

Kitten
nodded agreement and went back to sleep. Zek, curled up on Daine's pillow, sat
up. You vanished, he said. Kitten got angry and vanished, too. Why didn't you
take me?

Daine
smiled. "I didn't know I was going anywhere, Zek, or I would have taken
you. Remember, I promised you'd be safe from now on. I won't leave you behind.
Now, go back to sleep." Ever agreeable, the marmoset obeyed.

Closing
her eyes, Daine reached with her magic for the emperor's birds: she wanted to
check then-progress. The moment she found them, she knew something was wrong.
Each appeared in her magical vision as a tiny ball of light. On a handful,
shadows dimmed their fire. Some of the birds were falling sick in the same way
as they had before.

Leaving
a note in the common room, she trotted along the shortcut to the aviary,
frowning. In conversation with Lindhall the previous day she had learned he
would never change the birds' feed without an excellent reason. He'd also said
that the emperor was too good with birds to meddle with their diet when they'd
been sick, and she believed him. Then why were they ill again, and how long
would it be until the disease spread to the entire flock?

When
she reached the door in the glass wall, she saw emerald fire around its edges.
Gingerly she touched the knob. If the magic was to foil intruders, it failed:
she felt nothing. She went in and closed the door quietly. When she turned away
from it, an oval patch of emerald fire hung in the air before her. It rippled;
the face of the Emperor Mage appeared. He was bare of all makeup save for the
black paint around his eyes, with only a few gilded braids in his casual
hairstyle.

"Veralidaine,
  
good
  
morning,"
  
he
  
said.
  
"I thought it might be you. Will you come to my table? I'm by the
door into the palace."

She
scuffled a shoe against the ground, not wanting to say why she was there until
she had a better idea of what was wrong. "Could I look at the birds first,
please, Your Imperial Majesty? They need me to check them over a bit, now
they've had a couple days free of the sickness." To excuse herself the
half-lie, she crossed her fingers behind her back, where he couldn't see.

"Far
be it for me to come between you and your charges." His smile was sweet,
if a bit melancholy. "You will come to see me, though? Once you have
spoken with them?"

She
didn't want to, but there was no graceful way to refuse. "Yessir."

"Very
good." The image faded; the fiery oval collapsed on itself and vanished.

Parrot
finches came to lead her up the curved stairs to a pair of stricken birds,
red-crested cardinals. They clung side by side to a branch well away from the
sun, blinking. She saw no signs of trembling, and their eyes were bright, but
she could feel the illness starting to work in their bodies. She gathered the
male into her hands.

What
have you been into? she asked silently so that the emperor wouldn't hear. What
have you been eating or drinking to make you sick again?

The
bird looked at her dully. He couldn't remember. He was fine the day before,
visiting all his favorite places. And he wasn't sick, precisely. Just a bit off
his feed.

She
opened her mind to his. The illness showed as black threads running along the
bird's nerves, growing toward his spine and brain. Once they reached those, he
would know he was sick. She bore down with healing fire, burning out every
thready trace.

When he
was well, she opened her eyes to find he'd marked her arms and feet with thick
white droppings. She frowned. The night she'd first come to the aviary, her
mind was too full of the thing she had seen and the work she was doing for the
birds' dung to register as anything more than the reason for the loss of a
pretty outfit. Now she scooped up a bit and rubbed it in her fingers. It was
heavy, almost pastelike. What it should have been was compact, wet, dark, with
perhaps a few undigested seed hulls mixed in.