Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic) (10 page)

All
the simple routines of the temple exploded into a frenzy as a stuttering,
trembling Nance pushed me into a heavy, jewel-trimmed robe, covered my face
with layers of painted color, and tugged my hair into fancy swirls.

She
hovered over me, her fists clenched, her eyes brimming tears. “No, no, that is
not right, I cannot do it, wait, let me try again!” She flew at me with her
combs and jeweled clasps.

“Nance,”
I gasped, covering my head with my hands to prevent her from pulling out my
hair in her efforts, “what are you doing to me?”

“Don't
you hear the horns? Sit quietly, don't muss that robe. He will be here before
we are ready! Hold this comb, there, it will have to suffice, hurry now,
Stargazer. Pray to the Daughter that you do not forget the chants.”

Two
days ago we'd lounged on a grassy hillside watching clouds. The sun had slowly
crossed the sky and Nance had pouted at its hurrying. Today she acted like she
wanted to reach up and stop it altogether.

“I
will not forget the chants. Ouch! That's my scalp you're tearing.”

“If
you forget the chants, you will have no scalp to tear.” Rushing in front of me,
she crossed the temple courtyard and threw back the heavy bolts on the temple's
double gates, and then a guard slowly walked each heavy gate open on its
groaning hinges. Nance's fingers dug into my wrist.

The
guard, who usually lounged against the wall, now stood in a rigid pose, one
hand crossed over to his sword hilt, elbow out, the other arm straight and
pressed against his side. He would have made a cute model for a toy soldier.

With
her head held high, spine straight, Nance walked stiffly through the gates.
Beneath her headdress of fluttering scarves and jewels, her round face was a
mask of white powder applied so heavily it totally hid her freckles. Her eyes
were framed by ovals of ash black filled with lavender powder on the lids. Her
round mouth was painted to form a thin line of blood red.

She
had painted and powdered my face in similar fashion.

Only
Nance's shining eyes, open so wide they appeared to bulge from her head, showed
her terror. I felt her hand shake as she released her grasp and stepped in
front of me.

A
line of guards marched behind us. As we wound down the hillside, throngs of
people edged the path. Their unusual silence as they joined the moving crowd
finally drew my thoughts away from the smothering heat of my heavy robe and
itching face powder. I glanced back to see the growing length of the
procession, and then saw the horror in the face of the guard who walked
directly behind me. Must have committed some blunder in turning my head, don't
ask me what.

Quickly
straightening my shoulders, I stared forward and moved only my eyes beneath
half-closed lids to gaze at the faces of the crowd. They all wore the same
expression. Terror. Above the usual odor of unwashed bodies rose a sharper
stench of fear.

From
somewhere in the distance a horn sounded. Across the valley and up the other
hillside the huts of the city stood out in their shadows, sagging shacks of
grayed wood and piled rocks on dry earth. Above them rose a cloud of dust. It
spread, settled across the hills like a drifting fog, then parted so that in
its center I saw the first glittering armor on a horse and rider.

Surging
forward like the water of a flooding river, the line of warriors wound down the
pathway toward us until we could see clearly the red and yellow banners flying
from headgear and from the bridles of the horses.

A
pebble slipped between my foot and the sole of one of my sandals. I started to
bend over to remove it. Some hunch nudged me. I glanced at the crowd. Their red
faces were wet with perspiration even though the day was cool. Okay, unless I
wanted a major increase in pain, I knew I better walk on the pebble while
keeping a smiley face.

Like
the army on the far hill, we wound down the pathway. When we reached the flat
land, all the watchers dropped back so we two templekeepers led the procession
to greet the returning army. We met at the valley's center. Lights, camera,
action.

Nance
held up her arms. Our followers stopped.

Nance
chanted, “The Daughter of the Sun rejoices at the safe return of her beloved
and faithful champion, Kovat, ruler of rulers.”

Raising
my powdered face to echo the chant, I stared up past the enormous beribboned
horse and its rider's armored body into the meanest, ugliest, most distorted
face I ever saw. My mouth hung open and if I was supposed to say something, I
lost it. Behind me the procession echoed Nance.

Gotta
admit, terror seeped through me and chilled my bones until my hands trembled
inside the folds of my robe. So this was the guy who controlled the minds and
destinies of every person present.

From
his high seat on his horse, Kovat the Slayer stared down at me. Across his
bulging chest muscles were rows of metal discs reflecting the sun, while bands of
gold circled his powerful arms. None of the luster of his armor equaled his
eyes, pale water-blue points of light. His ears and nose were missing bits. His
face was so twisted by slashes of old scar tissue, it was impossible to know
what he must once have looked like.

That
he could remove my head from my shoulders as easily as Nance could remove
jewels from my hair was clear. I fought to keep my expression an unreadable
mask while fear caused a river of perspiration to run down between my shoulder
blades.

When
the crowd quit chanting, Nance said, “The Daughter of the Sun and her consort
guide and protect their own.”

Raising
my hands slowly in the motions drilled into me by Nance, I repeated the
greeting. When I finished, the silence hung above the hills and the thousands
of inhabitants. Not even the wind had the nerve to snap a fluttering banner.

Kovat
the Slayer raised his sword, releasing the people from their invisible bonds
and all I could think was, Arnold couldn't have been more dramatic. The horses
pawed and snorted, the armor of the warriors clattered, and as the villagers
moved back from the path's edge, the warlord and his army continued up the
dusty road toward the castle.

After
they passed, Nance led our parade on a winding path between the huts, circling
the hill in a long procession before we returned to the temple. The guards
opened the temple gates. Nance and I entered, turned, raised our hands in a
sign of blessing, and then stood silently until the guards pulled the gates
closed. Nance slid the bolt into place.

“So
now you have seen him and survived.” She grabbed my hand and ran with me across
the yard and through the temple and down the corridor to our rooms, then
outside again to our small private courtyard. We both collapsed on the bench by
the door. “What do you think of Kovat the Slayer?”

“Son
of a bitch.”

Not
much of an answer but my brain was shorting out.

“I
wonder what he thought of you.”

“I'm
alive, if that means anything.”

“It
means he enjoyed victory and was feeling kindly toward all of us.”

And
what would he do on his return from a defeat? Maybe that was something I really
did not want to know. Or was I jumping way past unfair? Was I equating ugly
with mean, and if so, dumb me. The Decko boys, both con man and wizard, were
lookers, tall, personal-trainer trim, good bones, wavy hair, expensive teeth,
straightened, capped and whitened. Despite the pretty, those boys were mean to
the core.

That
night Kovat sent for me.

Stiff-faced
guards rapped on our gate and brought the message, then waited at attention
outside the courtyard wall so they could usher me to their ruler's presence.

After
a tearful, frightened Nance had dressed me once again in robes and jewels and
paint and powder, she hugged me and whispered, “I wish I could go with you, but
I dare not, as he did not ask for me. Be careful what you say to him. Behave
with the manners of a slave and the wisdom of a god.”

The
road from the temple to the castle wound below the wide, star-filled sky, my
familiar. It assured me I was not in some other universe or even some other
time or location. The constellations and the planets were exactly where I knew
they should be in the northwest sky. They were a good deal easier to see here
against clear black than in the brightly lit Seattle sky.

As
I walked toward the castle, preceded and followed by guards, my mind drew my
own horoscope and surrounded it with tonight's placements of the planets. Venus
protected the First House of Self while Mars formed an unpleasant aspect with
my future. And that meant?

Okay,
I am good at reading other people's horoscopes, bad at reading my own.

The
castle of Kovat, stone walls clumsily erected and clumped together to form a
number of bare, square rooms, was similar to the temple but much older. In an
odd way it was typically northwest, an ongoing remodel with new wings stuck any
which way and corridors and floor levels not always matching.

We
entered through a courtyard and a wide doorway, then walked along a corridor
lined with closed wood doors and a guard by almost every door. The guards' eyes
moved, following us, but they stood silent in their heavy leather vests laced
over wool tunics. Sheathed swords hung from their belts. A few servants hurried
by, heads bowed, carrying trays.

The
stale air smelled of cooking and animal skins and ashes and unwashed humans.

A
large scruffy dog stretched across one doorway. It raised its head to look at
me, before settling chin on paws. At a recessed archway the guards were met by
more guards who announced my presence, then stood back. Guess I had no choice
except to enter alone. From their expressions it was obvious they didn't plan
to accompany me further.

Standing
in the opening, I briefly glanced at the room in front of me, moving only my
eyes beneath the shadow of my lashes. I have thick dark lashes and I learned
young that if I hold my lids half-closed, people don't see my eyes move. The
room was somewhat larger than the others but almost as bare, with a food-laden
table at one side and piles of sheepskins in the corners. By the dim light of
wall sconces I could see the upper walls were decorated with the painted
likenesses of animals and warriors.

Kovat
the Slayer sat on a fur draped chair in the center of the room. His chair was
placed on a platform, probably so he could look down on everybody else. Behind
him on the platform stood Tarvik, dressed in a fur-trimmed tunic and thigh-high
boots, and to either side stood two guards. With a slight nod, Kovat dismissed
the guards.

They
walked past me, their faces rigid, as though they believed that if they glanced
at me, even with their backs to their ruler, he would know and be cranky. You
don't want cranky in somebody called the Slayer.

Although
the room was undecorated, Kovat was not. Gold ornaments circled his arms and
hung from his ears and around his thick neck. His tunic was made of a black fur
that looked as soft and supple as velvet and his leather boots were dyed dark
red and oiled to a glow. A band of gold set with jewels rested on his yellow hair.
His hair was thick and of the same color and texture as Tarvik's hair, and his
head was the same shape, but because of the scars, I could not guess what his
face had once been.

I
met his stare, dared not blink, and didn't like his expression at all.

His
voice, a scratched roar as though strained by constant shouting, echoed against
the walls. “Who are you?”

I
repeated my memorized lines. “I am the keeper of the temple of the Daughter of
the Sun.”

He
waved impatiently. “I know who Nance and Tarvik say you are. Now I ask you once
more only. Who are you?”

My
mind blinked at the question. Did he mean that if my answer displeased him, I
was dead meat? At such times, I think, the truth is the only chance worth
taking.

“I
come from the same people as the Daughter and her consort.”

The
silence left me a moment to imagine my spine melting and my blood turning to
sand. Terror flooded Tarvik's face. Well, shucks, he hadn't coached me about
what to say.

Kovat
the Slayer stared through my eyes to my very thoughts. “If this be so, what
magic do you possess?”

Magic?
What magic had the Daughter possessed? Why had he spared her? Looking at him
was enough to tell me he did nothing by whim.

Okay,
the safety of Nance hung beside mine in this spider's web. Better come up with
an answer that would intrigue him.

“I
study the stars and from their messages can see the future.”

His
eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “You study the stars? What does that mean?”

“I
chart their travels in the night sky and see in them what will come to be.”

He
grunted. “The magicians of Thunder see the future in fire. They are often
wrong.”

To
argue with him the accuracy of the priests of Thunder would be a mistake.
Wouldn't go there, hadn't a clue about the extent of their abilities. All I
could do was hope his curiosity about my claim to magic would keep me alive
until he gave me a chance to read his stars. Then he would have to wait for the
predictions to prove out. Or not. I’d be smart to predict a major event in the
very, very distant future.

Elbow
on knee, he leaned his chin on his upraised fist and glared at me.

“Tell
me this, woman. Will my next raid on the followers of Thunder bring me
victory?”

“Tell
me the moment of your birth and a day to work my calculations, and I will give
you an answer.”

Did
a smile almost raise the edges of that hard mouth? In his eyes something close
to amusement flickered, as though he saw me as a new challenge.

“I
was born at midday, twenty days past the Day of Equals, thirty-nine years ago
come next spring.”