Perilous Seas (29 page)

Rap
thrust his fork into the stag’s head, and one of its soggy eyes winked at
him. He recoiled and then glared reproachfully at the sorcerer, who seemed to
be totally engrossed in biting lumps out of a shapeless mass that might have
been a bird’s nest. Ishist, Rap suspected, had a dangerous sense of
humor.

Athal’rian
had noticed his hesitation. “Is that knife not sharp enough, Master
Adept?”

“Quite
sharp enough, ma’am! I am letting the pleasures of your conversation
distract me from my duties.”

“Oo,
flattery! But Daddy always says that wit is the finest sauce, and a meal
without discourse has no flavor. Let me see ... Who is proconsul of Faerie at
present?”

“Lady
Oothiana, ma’am.”

“Oh!”
Athal’rian seemed taken aback. She glanced uneasily at Ishist, then her
eyes wandered briefly over the children. “Don’t do that on the
table, Shuth. Go to the Mews. Dear Oothie and I took viol lessons together. How
is she?”

Rap
cursed under his breath, feeling he had chosen to ride at a dangerous fence. “She
is very well, ma’am.”

“I
forget if ... Did she finally marry that musclebound soldier? What was his
name? Yodello?”

Tricky
takeoff, landing unseen ... “Yes, she did, ma’am.” Athal’rian
bit her lip and seemed to slip away into a memory. “He was very pretty.
Too pretty for a man, you know. “

“Yes,
ma’am.”

The
glorious opal eyes came up to stare along the table at him, and their fires
flickered through a mist of tears. “He wanted me to marry him, but Daddy
had promised me to Consul Uppinoli’s youngest.”

Ishist
frowned. “My dear-”

“How
furious he was when I told him I would rather wed a gnome!” She looked
hesitantly down at Ishist, and seemed suddenly aghast at what she had said.
Then she smiled. “And I was right!” She bent for another kiss.

The
conversation ended when two of the smaller boys began to fight over the last
rat and then pulled it apart in a tug of war. Darad leaned sideways in his
chair and threw up everything, triggering Gathmor’s reflexes also. That was
bad. Even worse was the way the children all rushed over to clean it up.

The
visitors stood while Athal’rian departed with her brood, sent away by an
angry-looking Ishist. The table vanished abruptly, and so did all the chairs
except the sorcerer’s.

Obviously
the time had come to talk business. Rap walked forward, aware that his two
companions were following closely and leaving everything to him. He was an
adept, and they were relying on him to save them. But he was also the cause of
their danger, for he had used power against a dragon. He had violated the
Protocol that had ruled Pandemia for three thousand years.

He
stopped before the foul little sorcerer, who was lounging back in his high
chair and picking his teeth with a slender bone. The seat was so much too big
for him that his muck-laden bare feet stuck straight out. His bulging black
eyes were unreadable.

Gruffly
the gnome said, “Thank you, Master Rap. I’m grateful.”

That
made no sense at all! Rap had done nothing to earn the sorcerer’s gratitude-it
must be a trick. Yet why should a sorcerer need to use tricks?

“For
what, my lord?” Then Rap remembered that he was not supposed to give the
gnome titles. But apparently it did not matter, for Ishist just shrugged
inscrutably and switched his gaze to the two sullen jotnar.

Rap
knew how hard this must be for them. They had grown up around gnomes. All the
towns and cities in the Impire had gnomes to keep down the vermin and deal with
the garbage, and all large ships carried one or two, but there had been none in
Krasnegar. He had not met gnomes until he was an adult, and then he had merely
filed them away in his mind as another race of people new to him, like fairies
or trolls. Gathmor and Darad, humbly waiting to hear their fate from this squat
and squalid old ragamuffin, must be feeling as if a mongrel dog had suddenly
ascended the Opal Throne and started barking orders.

Come
to think of it, Ishist did rather resemble a pug dog, with his pop eyes and
upturned nose, with the bloodstained cake of hair around his mouth and all
those teeth he was picking.

With
a shiver of fear, Rap realized that the sorcerer might still be reading his
thoughts.

The
ugly old man flipped his toothpick away and scratched reflectively at the hairy
bulge protruding above his belt. “Sailor, you are an innocent mundane
caught up in occult matters that do not concern you. You are free to go.”

Gathmor
scowled, shot a glance at Rap, and said, “I’ll wait for my
shipmate. “

“As
you wish.”

“No!”
Rap said. “For the Gods’ sake, Cap’n-”

“I’m
staying.” Gathmor folded his arms and set his jotunn jaw, looking every
bit as stubborn as man could be. He stepped back a pace and scowled. Rap saw
that argument would be useless, and was again miserably aware that he had led
the man into this danger.

The
gnome’s jet eyes had moved to Darad. “We’ll handle the gold
problem next. Call Thinal.”

Darad
grunted in shock and looked reproachfully at Rap.

“He
didn’t tell me,” Ishist said. “If I have to force the change,
I may hurt you.”

The
threat worked. Darad’s gown crumpled toward the floor, uncovering Thinal
within it. He bent his arms to stop it falling off him completely. Then he just
stood there, staring at the gnome in terror. He was bare from the elbows up,
hugging himself, and gradually turning pale all over. As usual, he was unshaven
and ratty-haired. His teeth chattered with a curiously metallic clink.

Somewhere
a dragon roared, and then another.

Thinal
choked, worked one hand free of the overlong sleeve, and spat something into
it.

“Pass
it over.”

Another
roar, closer. The little thief shuffled forward with the folds of his robe
tangling around his feet. He thrust the gold into the sorcerer’s hand,
then backed away quickly. Ishist flipped the coin; it rose in a gilded flicker
and never came down. The dragon roars died away.

The
sorcerer glared very sourly at Thinal for a minute or two. “You have
unpleasant ideas about gnomes, guttersnipe. I’m tempted to ... but then I
don’t like scroungers skulking around my castle, so it’s mutual.
Call Andor. “

Thinal
had just time for a quick nod before he vanished, not having spoken a word.
From his point of view he had made a fast escape, which was all he would care
about.

Andor
raised the gown and adjusted it properly on his shoulders, somehow transforming
plain homespun into elegant mens wear in the process. He was clean, freshly
shaved, washed, combed. He bowed.

“The
honor of meeting the famous dragonward-”

“Quiet!”
The gnome wrinkled his pug nose, causing the entrenched dirt around it to
writhe and flake. He glanced at Rap.

“They
get worse all the time. Do you want them around, or shall I not bother? “

Rap
was befuddled again. “My lord?”

Ishist
shrugged and told Andor, “Call Sagorn, then.”

Andor
stiffened. “Your Omn-”

“One
more word of flattery and I turn you into a troll.”

“But
the old man is-”

“I
know. Call him.”

Andor’s
mouth opened, then he nodded in understanding. He vanished.

Sagorn’s
face was the color of wood ash, a shade only a jotunn could ever be, and then
only when close to death. He swayed as if about to fall. Before Rap could move
to catch him, the sorcerer did so, with magic. The old man steadied. Color
flowed back into his cheeks, his eyes flipped open. In a moment he took a deep
breath and straightened. His face took on a healthy glow and even seemed to
swell, becoming less gaunt and haggard than before. Suddenly Sagorn looked
about ten years younger, and fitter than Rap had ever seen him.

He
stared at the gnome for a long moment, as if waiting for the transformation to
reach completion, or perhaps to see if there was more to come. Then he bowed.

“I
am truly grateful, Sorcerer. It feels as if you found every ache and hangnail. “
His voice sounded stronger, too.

Ishist
scratched at his beard, digging stuff out of it. “I found a few problems
you didn’t even know about. Tumors, for example. “

Sagorn
bowed again, and there was an ironic amusement twinkling in his pale-blue eyes.
“I thought the prophecy of the dragon signified my death, but it seems to
have brought me a new lease on life. I admit I have been prejudiced against
gnomes, Dragonward, but I shall regard them differently after this. “

The
gnome grunted skeptically. He turned his gaze on Rap. “Sorcerer,”
Sagorn said hastily. “There is another-”

“No.”
Ishist scowled horribly at him. “First of all, I just tried, and I made
no impact at all. Your Orarinsagu must have been enormously powerful-it’s
much too strong for me. You’ll need a warlock or a witch, likely. And
second, that would make five of you around underfoot, and your word of power
would be shared six ways. So, no. “ He switched his attention back to Rap
again.

“You
have demonstrated power within South’s sector, boy. By ancient custom,
your words belong to him.” He waved a black thumb at Sagorn. “His,
also, of course. “

“I
used mine first in the north,” Rap said cautiously.

Ishist
nodded. “Yes, and in West’s sector later. It’s very odd that
neither of them imprinted you with a loyalty spell. If they did, I can’t
find it. But you’re an odd case all round, lad. Neither of them could
foresee you, could they?”

“I
don’t think Zinixo tried, but Bright Water said she couldn’t, my
lord. “

“Ishist,”
Ishist said softly, showing his myriad teeth in a smile.

“Ishist.
“

“That’s
better! You’re an adept, and we sorcerers must stick together! But if
Bright Water tried and failed, then I certainly won’t succeed. You’re
the first person I ever met that I can’t foresee, though. All I get is a
sort of white blur. It hurts! Did she explain?”

“No.”

“I
wish I had a preflecting pool handy . . .” The gnome sighed and leaned
back to stare up at the ruins of what had once been a magnificent roof. For a
moment nothing moved except wraiths of dust, swirled across the floor by eddies
of wind. A dragon rumbled in the distance.

Ishist
straightened, as if reaching a decision. “Take a seat.”

One
of the vanished dining chairs magically reappeared at Rap’s back. He sat
down obediently, aware the Sagorn and Gathmor had been left standing, wondering
why the old gnome was favoring him so much over them.

“I’m
imprinted, Rap,” Ishist said. “You understand that? A votary. Most
sorcerers get trapped by their warden sooner or later-it’s why so many of
them try to become wardens themselves, instead. Whenever a warlock detects
magic at work in his sector, he’ll try to track it down and lock it up
with a loyalty spell. He may not do anything more about it than that ...
depends how many words and votaries he has already and what his needs are. I’m
dragonward for Warlock Lith’rian, and very happy in my work. Perhaps he
spelled me to enjoy it. I don’t know, but it feels like worthwhile
employment, and the quarters are ideal for gnomes. “ He leered.

Rap
smiled, also, thinking of the ancient heroes who had built this enormous
redoubt and how appalled they would be to see it now.

The
bottomless black eyes fixed on him. “And I’m happily married. “

Was
that happiness also a spell? “I can see that, Ishist.” Rap spoke as
matter-of-factly as he could manage. “And Athal’rian seems to be
very happy, also. I’m sure you love each other and you’re proud of
your family. They wouldn’t be my choice of children, and I would not be
happy living here, but my tastes are different-not better, just different ...
That’s the best I can do,” he added uneasily. Who was he to pass
such judgment?

The
gnome chuckled, glancing briefly at Sagorn and Gathmor. “It’s a lot
better than most can. Yes, she’s happy. Misses her family sometimes. Her
father hadn’t been around for five years or more, but he turned up a few
months ago, in a hurry, one evening. Needed a fire chick. None of my business
whyhe’s the boss. He brought it back the next day. That’s the only
baby dragon that’s left here in years. It was Lily you met.”

He
waited, giving Rap time to think. The fire chick could hardly have been a gift
or a bribe if it had been returned the next day.

So
despite what Bright Water had told Zinixo, she must be in league with Lith’rian.

“What
exactly does a fire chick do to magic?”

Ishist
smiled nastily. “All magic gets unpredictable around all dragons, young
or old. You’re only an adept, so Primrose ought to have charred you to
ash yesterday, yet you almost drove her out of her wits. Poor thing was
gibbering when she got back here! On the other hand, the occult fence across
the Neck has been there for thousands of years, and all the greatest sorcerers
in history have worked on it, yet the worms just seem to eat it. They throw off
their bindings sometimes and fly over water. I don’t know why Bright
Water wanted a fire chick, or why Lith’rian loaned her one-but I expect
they had their reasons.” His button eyes twinkled.

Bright
Water had been around for centuries, and must know all the tricks there were to
be known. Zinixo, of course, was new to the warlocking business and ... Rap saw
that his reverie was causing the gnome to smirk approvingly. They were on the
same track.

“Why
can’t you foresee me?”

“That
I don’t know either.” For the first time the gnome seemed to
hesitate. He turned to look at the jotnar, and they both spun around without a
word and walked away. When they reached the nearest window, they stood and
stared out at the unworldly scenery, sage and sailor chatting cozily side by
side, while the wind ruffled their hair and tumbled the flow of their gowns.
Ishist’s somber eyes came back to Rap.