Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic) (5 page)

I
had been well schooled, but somehow no one ever mentioned what to do about a
handholding, sword-carrying guy.

Dusk
fell before we reached the city. He lifted me back onto Banner. I considered
telling him to cup his hands into a step to give me a boost and let me swing up
myself, then had this mental picture of me flying head first over the stupid
stallion and crashing back to earth. Decided against that.

He
leaped up behind me, made a clicking sound at Banner and we wound up a low
hillside. We stopped on the top of the hill, where an evening breeze ruffled
Banner's mane and blew my hair across my face. Tarvik reached around me,
brushed my hair back from my eyes, and then I saw it, a city unlike any I had
ever seen. It stretched across a line of low hills. Our journey upward had been
gradual, and now I looked across a valley of low hills surrounded in all
directions by blue mountains, a valley in the Olympics and good Lord, at the
moment I realized how very little I knew about my home state because I had
certainly never heard of a hidden valley in the mountain range. More, I had
been told only hikers were allowed in these mountains. A misinformation like
that could get me killed.

Something
reminded me of ice cubes being dropped inside my collar to slide down my spine,
one of those fun/misery childhood tricks. I felt my skin tighten, my breath
stop, my mind flash danger signals. I grew up in a world where reality often
clashed with common knowledge, that's what Mudflat was all about, but whoa!
This was hallucination. Oh. Maybe. Had Roman and his creepy friends slipped me
something? And when was I going to wake up?

Inside
an outer ring of tents were hundreds of huts, tumbledown shacks built of wood
and rock, red in the late afternoon sun. They covered the lower slopes and were
separated only by dusty paths and flickering cook fires. At the crest of the
centermost hill large, ugly stone structures surrounded by walls gave a clumsy
unity to the sprawling city. Help. I was way past lost.

“Is
this a private park or nature reserve or something?”

Pointing
at the stone buildings, he said, “That's the castle. I think I will not ride into
my city with you looking thus.”

When
I turned on the horse to look over my shoulder and see what he intended to do,
he reached his hand into the front of his tunic and pulled out a scarf of
coarse linen dyed in stripes of red and blue.

“Put
this over your head,” he said, draping it about me. I tied the scarf under my
chin. He pulled its edges forward to shadow my face. “Turn this way, there.
Your hair shows in back. Sit still.”

He
caught my long hair in one hand, wound it in a coil and shoved the ends under
the neckline of the back of my shirt.

“I
wish you would stop treating me like some small child to be pulled this way and
that,” I complained.

“I
am treating you like a girl I wish to keep alive for a while.”

“Do
you always carry a scarf in your tunic?”

“Yes,
it is a token of my promise.”

“What's
that mean?”

“The
scarf belongs to Alakar, the lady I will wed.”

“
Oh, that kind of promise. And would your girlfriend gladly share her scarf with
me?” Was this a game engagement or were we talking real life girlfriend here?

He
gave only a grunt for answer, dug his heels into Banner's sides and sent us
rushing down the hill. I caught at the mane and clung. By the time we reached
the city, twilight shadowed the tents and huts. Occasional torches lit the
paths between. We passed close to groups of people squatting at evening fires
stirring their cook pots.

Tarvik
rode outside the edges of the firelight. A few people glanced up, then ducked
their heads and stayed motionless until we passed. Couldn't guess who they thought
I was. The girlfriend-owner of the scarf? The word that crowded into my mind
was “surreal.”

The
dirt path wound up the center hill and ended at a gate in a stone wall. On
either side stood guards, their spears gleaming in the faint light.

One
raised his spear and said, “Welcome, son of Kovat.”

“Where
is my father?”

“He
is gone, my prince.”

“Gone?”
His arms stiffened around me. “Gone where?”

“He
led his army south this dawn.”

“Why?”

“I
do not know, my prince. I will open the gate for you.”

“No
need,” he said and jerked the reins to turn his horse around. “Do not know,
indeed,” he muttered in my ear. “They know full well but won't admit that they
know all that goes on in the castle.”

Further
and further from reality. If I told him I rented out my basement to a troll,
would he be surprised? Had these people been playing out this act so long that
they now believed it and how long was so long? Maybe they were a combination of
teachers and students with months of summer vacation.

Was
it like those language camps people attended? I had a friend who went to a
Portuguese language camp once, English spoken for only one hour a day at
suppertime, and she said success was when she realized she was dreaming in
Portuguese. Lordy, did they dream in barbarian?

We
rode past a clump of small trees to another gate in another wall and more
guards who saluted him. After lifting me down from the horse, Tarvik handed
Banner's reins to the guard, then caught my elbow and pulled me toward the
gate.

“Stop
pulling me everywhere!”

“Be
silent a moment longer,” he whispered, his breath hot on my ear.

He
rapped on the gate, shuffled his feet impatiently, rapped again and then tried
to push the gate open.

“Who
knocks?” whispered a girl's voice.

“Tarvik.”

From
within we heard a bolt slide. When the gate opened, a lamp flickered in the
shadows and lit a small round face, pale, freckled and framed by a tousled mass
of light hair.

“Who
is with you?” she whispered.

“Let
us in, Nance, and I will show you.”

We
entered and the girl bolted the gate behind us. Then she led us across an empty
courtyard and through an open doorway. She moved to the room's center,
stretched her arm above her head and touched her lamp flame to the wicks of a
circle of candles that hung from the ceiling on a metal chain. The candle light
cast shadows in the corners of the bare room. Here too were the sparse
furnishings of the tent, the low table with a few bowls, the pile of shaggy
bedding on the floor.

“Look!”
Tarvik cried and pulled the scarf from my head. My hair tumbled loose and fell
across my shoulders.

The
girl gasped. “She is an outlander!”

“Look
closely, Nance. Who do you see?”

He
smoothed my hair with quick nervous strokes, brushing it back behind my ears
and then running his hand over the top of my head and then down my back.

I
stood motionless, wanting to scream at him to stop touching me. Instead, I
clamped my mouth against my fury and held my breath. Until I figured this whole
deal out, I needed to stick to my “suck up to him” plan.

The
girl approached, her light eyes fear widened, her childlike mouth open and her
tongue pressed against her upper lip. Slowly she circled me as though I was a
bush and she searched for berries, while I stared at her.

She
barely reached my shoulder in height, but then, none of the men were much
taller than I and I am average height. Her hair was lighter than his and had
more curl, blond but without the yellow brightness, and appeared to have been
chopped off with blunt scissors, standing out in all directions from her head
and barely covering her ears. It fell forward across her forehead to brush her
thick eyebrows. Her blue eyes were a shade darker than his, a gray blue, and
framed by short white lashes.

She
wore this sleeveless tunic of rough linen, dyed in stripes similar to those in
the scarf Tarvik carried. It hung almost to her knees but was slit open on the
sides from hem to hip, no belt, no zipper, nothing to make it fit, just a
pull-over-the-head straight cut. Her face, arms, even her legs, were covered
with tiny freckles.

She
drew in a quick breath, reached out a small hand and caught a strand of my hair
between her fingers. She rubbed it as though feeling the texture.

“Yes!
Yes, you're right. Where did you find her?”

“In
the forest. She says she flew over a mountain. I do not believe that.”

“Oh.”
She pressed her small hands to the sides of her face and stared at him.
“Tarvik, they promised.”

“Never
mind now. Where is my father?”

“Kovat
has gone south. Word came that the warlords of Thunder gather in the highlands
and he seeks to cut off any plans of invasion.”

“He
should have sent for me!”

She
frowned but didn't answer.

“I
think he sent me on that hunting trip so I could not go on this raid with him,”
Tarvik stormed.

“You
may be right. He came here before he left and prayed to the Daughter to protect
you and guide your rule of the city in his absence.”

“I
would rather go with my father and fight! I am no child to spend my days
overseeing a city. I suppose I must return to the castle and send for my men.”

“What
will you do with her?” Nance asked, pointing at me.

He
shrugged, jutted out his lower lip, glared at me, then said, “Leave her here.
If you care to keep her alive, you must make her a templekeeper.”

Thanks
a lot for asking for my input, fella.

Before
the girl could argue, he threw open the door and strode across the courtyard
and slammed the gate closed behind him. He was big on striding in his fancy
boots, that boy, but what surprised me was that he did it like a dancer, light,
on the balls of his feet, his heels barely touching down. Oh right, most actors
study music and dance because there are a lot more chorus line parts out there
than there are speaking leads.

She
approached me cautiously, as though she expected me to attack her. That was a
new experience for me. I am definitely the desk job type, not built for mud
wrestling or anything.

“Do
you speak our language?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Do
you have a name?”

Back
to that, were we? I decided to try it on her and see if she challenged me.
“Stargazer.”

She
shook her head. “I do not know that name. I hope my cousin was right when he
chose to bring you here. You must do what I say.”

“Why?”

“I
can keep you alive.”

“Always
good, but what's your motivation?”

She
smiled suddenly and her round face dimpled. “You are not very bright,
Stargazer. Even I could see my cousin Tarvik wishes you alive. And he could
someday be ruler. I choose not to displease him.”

At
least the girl was up to answering questions and that put her way ahead of
anyone else I'd met since I'd cooled my feet in that stream. Maybe through her
I could find out what was going on. Although she spoke as though my life was no
big deal to her, she seemed to want my company.

At
the table she filled cups and bowls, then told me to join her. Avoiding the
really gross smelling hunks of mutton, I found enough to eat. The circle of
candles cast a wavering light, burning with an odd odor of wax, more like the
smell of cooking oil. What the hell were they using to make candles? Think
about it, every mall has a candle store and they all smell of perfume or
spices, so these folk must have been doing some back to nature gig and was I
ever unqualified to join.

The
floor was soil, scraped smooth, and the walls were hewn rock. No plaster or
paint, not even whitewash. Stranger yet, no window openings broke the solid
wall, only the door through which we had entered and another across the room.
Overhead the candle ring hung on a long chain. When my gaze followed the chain
upward, I saw in the ceiling a wide hole that opened to the night sky.

“What
is this place?” I asked. “A leftover movie set?”

Telling
me to follow, Nance moved softly to the far door and opened it. We stepped into
a dark, narrow corridor. Like her cousin, she reached back and caught my wrist,
but her grasp was gentle. She must have felt her way through the corridor or
moved from memory because there wasn't any light until we reached its end.
Through a doorway was a larger room, lit by seven of the hanging circles of
candles.

“This
is the temple,” she whispered.

She
let go of my wrist, caught my hand in hers and walked ahead of me, another
hand-holder. Maybe this was the Society of Short Hand-holders. I fought back a
giggle and realized I was so tired I was getting slaphappy. At one end of the
room on a long slab of stone a candle in a twisted stand flickered and
reflected its light off a small pile of gold objects. She led me to the stone
and pointed at a bowl beneath the lamp. It held several gold arm bands such as
Tarvik wore, and a pile of wilting flowers.

“My
lord Kovat's offering.” Touching her fingers to her lips, she added, “Look up.”

Damn.
Looked like an altar, all right, right out of a horror film, the kind where
they drag in the damsel, tie her down, then stand around and listen to her
shriek while waiting for the hero to rush in and save her. Hadn't seen anyone
today that I would count on to save me.

Painted
on the stone wall above the altar were dark shadow shapes of human forms.

Reaching
past me, Nance lifted the lamp until it lit the two figures drawn on the wall.
Whoa.

I
stepped back and studied the whole image. The woman's hair was long, dark
straight, and she had dark eyebrows and long lashes, no particular ethnic
group, just a generic mix like me. The man who stood beside her resembled her
in coloring, except for his eyes, and his face was thinner. There was something
familiar about them both. They would have blended in at a family picnic back
when my family was doing picnics.