Emperor and Clown (60 page)

Hononin
took Firedragon to the stable to rub him down and bed him with the other
horses. One of those others was Evil, but he was well tethered, and Firedragon
himself was much too weary to make trouble.

Shadows
leaped over the rough stone walls and the dirt floor. The wind howled around
the slates, and blew puffs of eye-watering smoke into the little cottage. In
the distance surf pounded the shingle.

Then
the old man returned to kneel at Rap’s feet and rub his toes with horny hands
in exquisite torture. By then Rap was just able to speak.

“How
is she?” he croaked.

“Don’t
know,” the hostler said in his usual grumpy fashion. “I been here since
afternoon. But she wasn’t in good shape when I left.” He took the mug from Rap’s
shaking hand and refilled it with more soup from the pot on the hob.

“She
said you’d be coming,” he muttered. “Called me in while the bell was still
ringing. Said you might be coming soon.” He shook his head wonderingly. “She’s
got quite a way to her, for such a slip of a girl. She looks at a man with
those green eyes! Suddenly whatever else he wants to do just don’t seem
important any more. After, I wondered if she’d just gone crazy. Decided I’d
better come see, anyhows. There was only one road you could come, and I figured
you’d need a change of mount at the least.”

“You’re
a good m-m-man, Master Hononin!” Rap said through his insanely chattering
teeth. “How long t-t-till the t-tide?” His farsight showed the causeway, but
the ink-dark sea ran swiftly over it, driven by the rising wind.

“Near
to noon. You’ve got lots of time to sleep. I ought to go check again on that
old plug you were riding.”

“He’s
d-d-done me p-p-proud!” Rap agreed, his words almost lost in the clattering of
ivory.

“
‘Stonishingly like a stallion we’ve got up in the castle.”

“That’s
j-just your imagination. How’s that big black to ride?”

“Murder.
Just brought him along for the outing. Think you could handle him?”

“Likely.
Tell me about Inos.”

“Well,
she’s queen now. You know that?” The old man peered sourly at Rap with rheumy
eyes. “Met a fellow once, couple a’ years ago, near enough. Came to my door one
morning. Looked just like you, ‘cept he had goblin tattoos around his eyes. Was
running with a goblin, too.”

“We
fauns get around,” Rap said uneasily. The explanations he was going to need!

Hononin
grunted. “Sailors last summer ... brought some odd tales of goings-on in Hub.
Seems there was a faun sorcerer-”

“I’m
not a sorcerer!” Rap sniggered. Joy! The burden had gone. “I am not a sorcerer!”
He grinned at the old man and caught a faint answering smile.

“You
don’t dress well for the climate, you know that? Meet many other travelers in
the forest?”

“I’ll
tell you everything tomorrow, I swear!” Rap mumbled. “Tell me about Inos!”

The
old man left off torturing Rap’s feet and threw more driftwood on the fire. “Today
... No, yesterday. It’s morning now. She had the great bell rung, so everyone
went running up to the castle to see . . .”

It
had happened much as Rap had feared. Typically, Inos must have acted at once,
as soon as he had departed. Having summoned as many of her subjects as she
could assemble in one place-not in the Great Hall, though, but out in the
bailey which was largershe had climbed on the wall by the armory steps and had
shouted out her words of power for all to hear. She had fainted after the third
and been rushed indoors by the housekeeper and the seneschal. But she had
rallied before the people could disperse and had insisted on going out to them
again and destroying her fourth word, as well. No one knew what gibberish she
had been trying to say. Krasnegarians in general had no knowledge of the words
of power, and if any of those present had any inkling, they had not explained
to the others. She was assumed to have had a brainstorm.

To
tell a word weakened it. To broadcast it to hundreds or thousands of listeners
would reduce it to nothing at all.

Rap
would not have believed it was physically possible. He was not surprised that
Inos had collapsed completely at the end. The council had been summoned, but
then Hononin had gone off to gather some horses and bedding; he had caught the
morning tide with minutes to spare.

And
that was why there had been a fire and food and dry blankets waiting for the
exhausted traveler. And until the tide allowed him to go to Inos, Rap had
nothing better to do than enjoy them.

As
his eyelids began to droop, he realized that he was free of pain at last; he
was actually going to sleep, for the first time since before Winterfest.

He
would never taste his mother’s chicken dumplings again.

Hononin
had undoubtedly saved Rap’s life by being at the cottages in the night; in the
morning Rap returned the favor. A full winter blizzard howled over Krasnegar,
and only his farsight let the two men find their way across the causeway. Rap’s
mastery kept the horses under control, but as soon as the travelers reached the
dock, Rap left his companion and rode hard to the castle.

The
first person he met in the stable was Lin. He had grown taller, but mostly
plumper. Behind a misty mustache, Lin was a very typical imp.

“Rapt”
He stared as if seeing a ghost.

Rap
sprang from Evil’s saddle. “Where’s Inos?”

“She’s
not well. But, Rap, where in the world-” Rap took him by the throat. “Where’s
Inos?”

“In
the P-p-presence Chamber,” Lin stuttered, eyes bulging.

“Look
after my horse!” Rap roared, and sprinted out the door.

Now
he dared not even try to cross the bailey on foot; he raced around the long
way, staying indoors. He met dozens of people, in twos and threes. They backed
out of his way with startling eyes. Shouts of “Rap!” pursued him. One or two
tried to stop him, and he pushed them aside and kept on running.

He
crossed the Great Hall while many of the staff were sitting down to their
lunch. Snow had coated the windows, the fires burned bright in the gloom,
fogging the air with a haze of fragrant peat smoke. Nevertheless he was
recognized, for he had been the only faun in the kingdom. Cheerful chatter died
away, and heads turned. He ran to the Throne Room, heading for the stair. And
there his way was blocked by Kratharkran, just descending. Tall and
barley-haired, he was so like the young raider Vurjuk that Rap recoiled.

“Krath!”

“Rap!”

Krath,
Rap recalled, had been appointed a member of the Council-Inos had told him. “How
is Inos?” A dark frown came over the big man’s boyish face. “Not good. Where
did you come from, Rap?”

“Never
mind! I must see Inos!”

The
smith shifted his feet so that he blocked the doorway-all of the doorway. He
folded his arms. Yesterday Rap could have blasted him to Zark. Today he could
not force his way past Krath with a sledgehammer.

“She’s
resting!” the jotunn said, regarding the stranger with deep suspicion.

“But
is she conscious?”

“No,
she’s not. The doctors are planning to bleed her, if you must know.”

“Bleed
her?” God of Fools! Krasnegar had never been renowned for the quality of its
medicine. Holindarn had sent to Hub for a doctor when he fell sick. There would
be much better doctors in Kinvale.

Rap
took a deep breath and forced his wits to work. Guile was what was needed here.
Fortunately, Krath had always been a trusting sort of fellow.

“Krath,”
he said, “she’s my wife.”

“He
says he’s her husband,” Krath squeaked.

Inos
lay on a makeshift bed in the Presence Chamber, one floor above the Throne
Room. Her face was pale, her eyes closed, her hair a flood of golden honey on
the snowdrift pillow. Tall candelabra had been gathered around the bed to give
light, and the medics were hunched around her like vultures. Six or eight
others stood around watching, making the room dark and crowded, and the only
one Rap recognized was Foronod-=the strangely aged Foronod with the eyepatch,
leaning stoop-shouldered on his cane.

The
covers were up to Inos’s chin, so the leeches had not started yet. Kinvale was
beyond the magic portal, six floors higher up the tower.

Foronod
made a scoffing noise. “That’s the first I’ve heard of a husband. Can you prove
it?”

“Yes,”
Rap said brashly, and strode forward with all the swagger and confidence he
could muster. Why, oh, why had Inos not settled for nullifying three words and
left him an adept?

A
portly black-clad doctor backed away reluctantly, and Rap went down on his knees
by the bed. “Inos! It’s me, Rap!”

No
reaction.

“We
are waiting for your evidence, Master Rap,” Foronod snapped.

Wits
churning, Rap rose to his feet and glanced around. “If you will ask the others
to leave for a moment, Factor, I shall be happy to explain.”

The
old man’s lip curled in a faint smile of contempt. “I don’t see why a
certificate of marriage need be so private. Produce it.”

“I
liked you better in the blue doublet you wore at the Harvesthome Dance, Factor.”
Rap turned to Krath. “You drink a lot for a member of council, lad. You were
the one who threw up behind the awards table.”

He
had not made any friends with those remarks, but he had obviously sown some
doubts. Their faces were infuriatingly opaque to him now, but even without
insight he could see the hesitation and the old fear of sorcery. He had
transformed Andor into Darad, he had guided wagons, he had mysteriously
vanished from a locked room-now he had mysteriously reappeared. He had an
uncanny reputation.

A
sudden odor of scorched hair caused him to move away from the nearest
candlestick. He would not be a very convincing sorcerer if he set himself on
fire.

“The
last time we met, you were all marked up as a goblin,” Foronod said, his one
eye glinting angrily. He thumped his cane on the floor.

“And
you accused me of stealing horses. I made some improbable statements on that
occasion also, did I not? And I delivered my evidence. I showed you what Andor
really was.” Rap put on the most stubborn expression he could manage.

Foronod
glanced around the group, but he evidently decided that there was no one there
he wished to consult. “Very well, I shall humor you.” He limped to the stair
that led up to the Robing Room and opened the door. “Come with me and I shall
listen to whatever weird tale you have to recount this time. Mastersmith, you
had better accompany-”

“I
am staying here,” Rap said stolidly, “with my wife. You and Krath may remain.
Everybody else--out!”

“You
have no authority-”

“I
have every authority. I am the queen’s husband!”

“A
clerk? A herdboy?”

“Krath,”
Rap said without turning, “who was Inos’s closest friend?”

A
pause, and then Krath’s high voice said, “You were, Rap. Always.”

“Close
friend does not mean king!” Foronod snarled.

“It
does now.”

For
a moment the issue swung like a weathercock. Perhaps it was because the factor
had only one eye to glare with, or perhaps Rap still retained traces of a
sorcerer’s self-confidence, but he won the confrontation.

“Excuse
us a moment, ladies and gentlemen, please,” the old man said, scowling mightily.

The
doctors scowled back, then trooped obediently to the door. The others
reluctantly followed-most of them. One plump lady folded her arms and set her
chins obstinately.

“I
do not leave her Majesty unchaperoned!” she proclaimed.

“Mistress
Meolorne,” Rap said, gripping her elbow. “You did a splendid job up here on the
night Inos returned to claim her kingdom. I saw how you comforted all those
unfortunate girls, finding clothes and-”

“You
saw?” The haberdasher reluctantly moved her feet as Rap urged her to the door.

“I
saw. Now allow us a moment here and everything will be explained, I promise.”

She
stopped and would budge no farther. “I shall not leave her Majesty with three
men!”

“Even
when one of them is her husband?”

“Prove
it!” The flabby face stiffened, the deep-set eyes glowered at him.

It
would have to do, but he hoped she would not join in the violence. “All right,”
he said. He closed the door, surreptitiously sliding the bolt. “Now, come and
see this, gentlemen.”

He
moved back to the bed and lifted candelabra aside to make room. He bent over
Inos, as if looking for something. Foronod hobbled forward on his cane, Krath
lurched over with long strides, coming close.

To
fight any jotunn was foolhardy, and a jotunn blacksmith was a nightmare opponent.
The matter must be settled with the first blow, for there would be no second.
It was a despicable thing to do to a friend.

“I
love her, Krath,” Rap said sadly. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

“Do
what, Rap?”

Rap
swung around and put his fist with all the strength he could muster into the
young giant’s most vulnerable spot. Doubled over, Krath hit the floor with a
howl of agony and a clamor of many candlesticks, even as Rap turned the other
way and slammed a blow on the factor’s jaw, pulling the punch more than he had
intended-to strike a cripple was even worse. Foronod went down over a table, in
a shattering of glasses. Mistress Meolorne’s scream shattered others. Rap
ripped the bedclothes away from Inos and stooped.

He
had lifted her and was heading for the far door before Meolorne reacted.
She.charged at him, claws out, and he rammed into her with Inos. The fat woman
recoiled and sat down heavily on the rug. Foronod was yelling and struggling to
rise. Krath was retching.

Rap
staggered up the stairs with Inos a dead weight in his arms. He fumbled
awkwardly with the handle and stumbled into the Robing Room. He kicked the door
shut, reeled off balance for a moment, then managed to turn around and grope
for the bolt with hands he could not see below his burden. It slid with a
satisfying click.