Perilous Seas (26 page)

He
crouched down and recoiled before the familiar stench of gnome. Gnomes were
scavengers and carrion eaters, tolerated in many places because they removed
every scrap of garbage. They were certainly better than alternative vermin such
as rats, but never pleasant companions. No one but a gnome would ever enter a
gnome burrow-except that Rap now seemed to have no choice. Even a moment of
hesitation was bringing back his compulsion to chase after the little boy.

Very
reluctantly, and holding his nose, he ducked through and straightened up at
once, gagging and retching. His eyes watered.

This
was no burrow. He was inside a huge hall, whose walls soared up like great
cliffs of masonry to an indistinct luminous fog that hid the ceiling and shed a
dim bluish light over the rest of the vast space. There were many deep shadows,
though, not all of which seemed readily explainable.

The
floor was carved from the living rock, buried now below an oozing carpet of
corruption-gnomes did unpleasant things at their front doors to discourage
visitors. Here and there his farsight was blocked, or at least blurred, as if
by ancient, forgotten barriers. He could see shapes that didn’t feel
quite solid, including gigantic rings of stone set in the walls; other shapes
he could sense and not see in the dimness. The whole place had a sinister,
sorcerous feel to it. And it stank worse than any pig farm he could imagine.

On
a low stone wall at the far side of this enormous chamber sat his elusive quarry,
the little boy. He, at least, was real. He was watching Rap with an
understandably satisfied grin, while again stirring the inside of his nose with
a finger.

Water!
That parapet enclosed a circular pool of water! Holding a hand just below his
nostrils in the hope.that the smell of his own skin would overcome the other
smells-it didn’t-Rap limped carefully across the vast room. There was no
way he could avoid treading in filth, but he hoped not to slip and sit down in
it. The water, when he reached it, proved to be coated with green slime, but he
brushed that aside with his hand and knelt to drink. Although it tasted about
the way he had always suspected stable washings would taste, he was dried out
like a raisin, and he sucked up bucketfuls of the odious brew. At least he
could be sure that gnomes would not have been using it for bathwater.

Then
he sank down on his buttocks and wiped his face with his hand, and realized
that he was sitting in the mire after all. What the Evil did it matter?

His
second word of power seemed to have granted him some occult ability to ignore
pain, and he suspected that without it he would be screaming. He knew it was
there, though-his butchered feet, his joints, his muscles-but at last the
compulsion had gone, the spell was lifted, and the mere act of sitting down at
last brought a wave of fatigue that threatened to push him over into instant
sleep. And the pain came rushing in as soon as his attention faltered. He sat
up straighter, suppressed the pain, and glared blearily up at the boy who had
led him here.

“I’m
Rap.”

The
boy sniggered.

“Don’t
you have a name, sonny?”

The
boy removed his finger long enough to say, “Ugish,” and giggle. He
had more teeth than a pike. And sharper. “You’re a sorcerer, Ugish?”

A
bigger grin and a head shake. Gnomes were by preference nocturnal, but Rap had
met them in Durthing. He had seen them in Finrain and on his trips to Milflor.
Their eyes were very large, and round, showing almost no white. In daylight
they showed almost no pupil either, only a shiny black iris. Ugish’s eyes
were large, but different-the whites bright amid the dirt, and the irises
bronze, with an intense luster. So perhaps there was more than one type of
gnome.

Not
all the inhabitants of Krasnegar had been notable for their personal
cleanliness and some were notoriously unpopular companions indoors, but no
other race seemed to enjoy filth as gnomes did.

Rap
tried a smile. “Then who-ulp! “

A
woman had emerged from a doorway and was striding around the end of the trough,
coming toward them. Rap quickly pulled up his knees and clasped his arms around
his shins.

She
was no gnome-tall as he, and of a striking build. At first he could not even
guess at her race. She wore a loose dress, dirty, sleeveless and short, and so
tattered that it was indecent, but she moved with grace and poise. She was
every bit as filthy as the boy, her skin color indeterminate and her long hair
a disgusting slimy tangle halfway down her back. Then he saw the sweat-washed
tufts in her armpits, and they were bright gold.

And
her eyes! They were very large, and oddly slanted, their irises gleaming with a
wonder of rainbow fires, like opal or mother-of-pearl. So her skin would be
golden also; she was an elf. He had glimpsed a few elves in Milflor and
Finrain, but never close to. He could not tell her age, but he thought she
might be very beautiful if she were clean.

And
now Rap understood Ugish’s eyes, although he had never heard of a gnome
halfbreed before.

Rap
hugged his knees tighter as she stopped and bobbed a hint of a curtsy to him.

“I
am Athal’rian, of course.” She smiled rather vacantly, making faint
cracks appear in the coating on her face. She scratched her scalp
absentmindedly.

“I’m
Rap, ma’am. I ... I haven’t any clothes. “

She
frowned. “Oh, but ... Well, Ugish, give him yours for now. “

Grinning,
the boy untied the rag that was all he wore and held it out to Rap, who
recoiled in disgust. It was not something he would willing touch with a long
stick, but he did not want to offend his hosts. Gnomes were normally shy and
inoffensive, but they must have feelings like anyone else, and elves certainly
would.

So
he accepted the tattered relic and its passengers, and rose to his feet with
all the dignity he could feign. Fortunately the cloth was not long enough to
tie around his hips, so he just held it in front of him like a towel, not
letting it touch him. It was even less adequate for him than it had been for
Ugish.

He
could not stand without swaying.

Athal’rian
smiled again and offered a black-nailed hand. “You are welcome to Warth
Redoubt, Sorcerer. It is long since we had company for dinner.”

Rap
gulped and ignored the hand, as both of his were occupied. “I am no
sorcerer, ma’am. I am merely an adept-and a very new one, at that.”

She
looked puzzled. “But I thought Ishist said you were using mastery on a
... Oh, dear! “ She was staring down-at his feet, Rap was relieved to
see. “Don’t those hurt? Ugish, run and tell your father to come.”

The
boy shrugged and sauntered away, taking his time and idly kicking at fungoid
growths sprouting amid the ordure on the floor.

“You
must forgive us, Adept! My husband must have thought ... Tut! Do, please sit
down.” She waved at the edge of the trough.

Rap
perched himself on the crumbling stone and reluctantly spread the slimy rag
over his lap. Then she again offered a hand to shake, and he had no choice but
to accept. He hoped she hadn’t expected him to kiss it.

Still
standing, Athal’rian began to talk in a tuneless singsong. “It is
wonderful to have visitors! I haven’t cooked a proper meal in ages. I
mean, one gets used to gnomes’ tastes, but ... well, it was nice to dig
up some of Mother’s old recipes. Ishist made some really fresh things for
me to use. Eating at table will be a good experience for the children. I
thought he said three of you? “

Even
sitting, Rap was swaying with fatigue. He wondered whether he was mad or she
was. Or both. “My friends have less power even than me, ma’am. They
are out there somewhere.”

“Tsk!
Well, we must have them brought in at once. There are leopards and other bad
things out there. This is wild country, I’m told. “ She peered
vaguely around the great empty chamber. “Do you dance, Adept Rap? “

“Er,
not very well, ma’am.”

“Oh.
“

Rap’s
eyelids began to droop, and at once a fire of agony consumed his feet. He
jerked awake again. Keep talking . . . “Ma’am, what is this place?”

“Place?”
His hostess smiled, and for a moment said nothing more. Then her wits lurched
into action again. .”We call it the Mews, but of course we just use it
for-” Rap had already seen what it was used for. “-but it was a
mews, long ago.” She gestured apologetically at one of the walls, and Rap
saw that there was an archway there, blocked up. But originally it would have
been big enough for ...

“Dragon
mews, ma’am?”

Another
pause. “Dragon stables? We don’t bring dragons in here. “

“The
castle is very old, though? “

“Older
than the Protocol, Ishist says. “ She laughed.

“And
now?” Was it just a refuge taken over by gnome squatters, or was there
some reason for Rap to have been dragged here?

“Now?”

“This
castle, ma’am? Who owns it?”

“Owns?”
She smiled at his left ear for a moment. “Well, my husband-he’s the
great sorcerer Ishist, you know-he’s dragonward. Has been for many years.
So we live in Warth Redoubt. It’s a very important job, but somebody has
to do it.”

Rap
tried to work that out and felt himself slide away down the slope to sleep
again. Again a jolt of agony focused his attention and jerked him awake. He was
surprised to note that three small children had appeared and were clustered
around Athal’rian, clinging to her and regarding the stranger with deep
suspicion. They were all naked, filthy, and stinking, all smaller than Ugish.

And
they all had the big, gorgeous eyes. Each set was different-blue, magenta, rose
pink-but all had the same intense brilliance. Most crosses resembled one parent
more than another, just as he himself looked mostly faunish, and the only
features these little gnomes had inherited from their elvish mother were those
lustrous bright eyes.

“What
exactly does a dragonward do, my lady?”

“The
dragonward. There’s only one! He keeps the dragons from straying beyond
the Neck, of course. They keep nibbling away at the fence, and he has to keep
putting it back. And he counts the hatchings and doles out metal and spells the
fire chicks never to fly over water. It’s very important!” She
stooped to hear what one of the children needed to whisper to her so urgently.

What
sort of a woman would marry a gnome? Live like a gnome? Let her children live
like gnomes?

And
obviously the dragonward was a warden’s deputy, like the proconsul of
Faerie. “So your husband works for the warlock of the south, ma’am?”

Athal’rian
glanced up, beaming, her opalescent eyes flashing amber and viridian. “That’s
right, Warlock Lith’rian! Have you met Daddy? “

Ishist
was the first tubby gnome Rap had ever seen. His bald scalp did not reach to
Athal’rian’s breasts, but she stooped to hug and kiss him as if
they had been apart for some days or weeks, and he rose on tiptoe to return the
embrace with what seemed to be equal affection. He had arrived with an escort
of six fire chicks, and they now swooped and soared around the lovers, shining wisps
of yellow and orange light in the murky dimness. Five of the six were the sort
of incorporeal flame-being that Rap had seen before, brilliant wisps of no
settled shape or substance, and some were no bigger than hummingbirds. The
sixth, though, was the size of a seagull and visibly solid, a sinuous silvery
dragon body writhing within a nimbus of fire. Flying with much more purpose and
confidence, this one came swooping over to inspect him.

He
froze nervously while it circled. He was sure he had not summoned it, and he
hoped that the sorcerer would know that. Before he could decide whether he
ought to send it away, it glided in and landed on his shoulder, heavier than he
had expected, uncomfortably warm against his ear and neck, like a freshly baked
loaf. Its claws were both sharp and very hot. He had to divert some of his
pain-suppression efforts to the points where they were digging in, and his
farsight saw beads of blood fizz and darken. It also kept shifting its grip. He
did not care! The chick’s corona turned bright blue, and when it rubbed
its warm, scaly neck against his, he felt a wash of pleasure that was
astonishingly enjoyable. It was a romp with a puppy. It was a dog’s
tongue and tail telling him he was the nicest guy in the world. It was almost as
good as kissing a pretty girl. Now he understood Bright Water’s pleasure
at having a baby dragon as a pet.

He
raised a hand to stroke the smooth, hot scales, and the fire chick purred in
his mind, radiating love, blazing up in washes of blue flame brighter than all
the five others together, even casting shadows where there had been none
before. It felt so good Rap wanted to weep.

There
were now six young gnomes gathered around Athal’rian, ranging from Ugish
down to a pocket-size baby. The baby was crawling off on business of its own,
but the others all burst into shrill laughter at Rap’s conquest of the
dragon.

And
Ishist had turned to stare, with his bulbous gnome eyes as round as black
buttons. He was no cleaner than his wife, and much older. The fringe of hair
around his scalp was probably gray-even Rap’s farsight could not be
certain-but his face was certainly entrenched with wrinkles like ditches. His
beard was the most nauseating thing Rap had ever seen near to a human face. He
wore some sort of uniform, anonymous in a stiff coating of dirt, and the front
of its tunic gaped over a pot belly. Barefoot, he squelched forward through the
muck to peer at Rap more closely.

The
wall on which Rap was so uncomfortably sitting was no higher than a normal chair,
and yet his head was higher than the gnome’s. Rap decided to remain
seated, and tried not to show nervousness as he was scrutinized by the hard
black eyes.