Emperor and Clown (56 page)

Southward,
the magic portal was a darkness where the magic casement had been, flanked by
windows in the two smaller side arches. Sunrise or sunset was streaming in
through those.

The
only furniture was a massive chest, so that must be what she had been brought
to see. She crossed to it and tried the lid.

“Different
password,” Rap said. “Shandie.”

“Why
Shandie?” The lid came free in her hand. “Just easy to remember, hard to guess.”

She
looked at the contents-hundreds of washleather bags.

“Gold,”
Rap said at her elbow. “Never knew a woman go through money like you do, but
that lot ought to keep you in pins for a while. The big bag there is your
crown. I can’t find the original, so I expect the imps took it, but that’s an
exact duplicate.”

Crown?
Who cared? She dropped the heavy lid and turned to him with tears starting in
her eyes. “Rap, if this means-”

“Yes,
it does. Now come along.” He put an arm around her waist and led her over to
the portal. He said, “Holindarn!” and opened it and they both recoiled at the
bright afternoon sunshine in Kade’s private parlor. Smoke puffed from the
fireplace, but not so vigorously as last time.

And
Kade, who had been sitting reading a book, jumped to her feet in alarm.

“She’s
all right,” Rap said. “Just about out on her feet though. She’s hardly slept.”

“Everything’s
fine,” Inos said. Sharp guilt pangs reminded her that she had not been keeping
Kade informed.

“Yes,
dear, I know,” Kade said. “Well done! Now sit here.”

Between
them, they guided Inos to a rose-patterned chair. Old age was really making her
legs shaky these days. Her joints had forgotten how to bend. Someone put her
feet up on a footstool, and someone else tucked a pillow behind her.

“She
just ate,” Rap said. “A hot bath and about ten hours in bed should do it. No
one will go looking for her in the castle, but she’ll relax better here.”

Inos
stared up with bleary, resentful eyes while Kade went hurrying out to organize
and Rap perched on the back of a chair, one foot on the floor, one dangling. No
tattoos now. Hair a bird’s nest. Stupid face with wistful expression. That was
her man and he was leaving her.

“I’m
going, Inos.”

“I
can tell.” She was too weary to argue, and that was why he had chosen this
moment. Arguing with Rap was never productive, anyway. Pigheaded idiot!

“You’ll
do all right,” he said. “You’ve been doing all right.”

“I
couldn’t have done anything without you.” It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair!

“That’s
true, but I’ve haven’t done much since the first night except throw out money.
I gave you no advice, you know-none! You knew what to do by instinct. I’ll keep
an eye on you . . .”

“I
love you. You love me. But you’re going away.”

“And
you want to know why. And I can’t tell you. Oh, Inos, dearest, I’d tell you if
I could!” He stared at her in dismay. “Listen-the words are more than just
words, obviously. They may be the names of demons or elementals. I don’t know
that, but it seems reasonable. The elemental is bound by its name and must
serve whoever knows it. Makes sense, sort of. Then when you share a word of
power, you give the poor old elemental one more person to serve, so its power
is ... Well, you get the idea.”

With
her head back on the cushion like this it was hard to keep his face in focus.
Hard to keep anything in focus. The warmth was drugging her.

“And
the words are more than just words in other ways, like not showing up to magic.”
He rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “They don’t even like to be talked about.”

She
didn’t want his lecture. She wanted him to hold her and stay with her always.

“And
of course they are hard to say.” Rap rose to his feet and straightened. “Except
that they don’t want to be lost. When I thought I was dying in Azak’s jail, one
of my words got very agitated in case it was going to be forgotten. I think I
would have found it easy to tell that word to someone then.”

Inos
was going to ask a question and she had forgotten what it was and she wasn’t
sure her mouth would work very well just now.

“So
sometimes the words behave almost as if they’re alive themselves.” Rap took a
deep breath, and she realized foggily that he was having trouble telling her
all this.

Pain?
Painful to talk? Painful to tell a word? “What about five words?” she murmured.
“Explain what happened to Rasha, and almost happened to you.”

Rap
opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head. “Sorry!” He
turned to stare out the window at the winter sunshine. “Someone told me once
that Zinixo was the most powerful sorcerer since Thraine. I bested him! But I
can’t . . .”

“Olybino
said that what happened was impossible.”

“It
damned nearly was. The dwarf was a pushover compared to that. But I was mad
then. I couldn’t have ... done what I did ... if I hadn’t been so mad at the
dwarf. I hated him so much . . .”

She
gave up. “And you won’t tell me why you’re going away.”

He
spoke to the window pane. “Inos ... When two people are in love ... They like
to hold hands, and hug each other, and kiss, and ... Well, be affectionate in
all sort of intimate ways.”

“You
astonish me.” She yawned enormously. Very vulgar.

“One
thing leads to another. I’m sorry if this shocks you, but I’m a sorcerer, and I
can see through walls, and, well, I’m afraid I’ve seen what happens . . .”

“I’ve
been told all about it.”

“You
have?” He sounded surprised. “Well ... that’s why I’m going away. I don’t trust
myself not to go totally out of control.”

For
a moment the absurdity cut through her fog. “Rap! Oh, Rap! I want you to go
totally out of control! The sooner the better!”

He
turned and stared at her, shaking his head. “I don’t mean that exactly. Well, I
do. Of course I do. But I might not be able to control what else . . .”

Again
she wondered why he was having so much trouble in saying what he wanted to say.

“Sorcerers
can marry,” she protested weakly. “They don’t marry sorceresses.”

“Inisso
was married. Olliola was his wife’s name.”

“But
they didn’t know more than . . .” He groaned and stopped.

“You’ll
come back, though? Soon?” He hesitated and she said, “Promise!”

“All
right. I promise. Before winter.”

“Sooner!”

“No.
Oh, Inos! It isn’t you, love!” he said huskily. “Believe me, it isn’t you! And
it isn’t Krasnegar. We’ve seen a lot of the world, haven’t we, between us? And
I know I haven’t found anywhere I like better than dowdy little Krasnegar. It’s
dull, but it’s honest and it’s friendly. It has no wars or injustice or
oppression. You must feel that way, too, don’t you?”

She
nodded wearily.

He
had moved. He was kneeling by her chair, but his whisper came from a long way
off. “Inos ... If I said you could come with me; if I said we could go and live
together always in a wonderful place and never have any worries ever again ...
What would you say to that, Inos?”

“Duty?”
she murmured. Silly question!

She
felt a very soft touch on her forehead ... Then Kade was shaking her shoulder
and saying her bath was ready, and Rap had gone.

Slowly
the days began to lengthen. Slowly Inos’s life shaped itself into a routine.
Slowly her reforms began to show results.

The
lumber expedition was successful beyond her dreams, and three others followed.
Apparently no one had ever thought of sledges before. The wood was green, of
course, but there was plenty of it. Either the goblins did not notice this new
activity, or they did not care, and the only injuries were a few toes lost to a
combination of frostbite and inexperience. The wear and tear on the horses was
more worrisome, but Inos had shown even the elders that new ways could be
better, and her reputation suffered no harm.

Babies
began arriving, and most of them were accepted and loved as they expected to
be. Neither they nor their mothers could be blamed for their existence, and
life was a precious thing in the bleak north. Krasnegarians rallied together to
welcome and cherish the smelly little darlings.

Tea
parties with Kade became a regular part of Inos’s life, and a wonderful
relaxation. Kade, having organized Kinvale to her satisfaction, was available
to help in other ways, also. Her shrewd common sense was worth a dozen
councils.

“This,”
Inos explained one sunny afternoon in her aunt’s parlor, “is List Number One.”

Elegant
in a rose cambric tea gown, Kade accepted the scroll with a well-manicured
hand. “Adzes, awls, bishop ... A bishop? Really, Inos! A bishop in a shopping
list?”

“And
at least two chaplains. That’s just the repairand-restore list, to get us back
to where we were. Now here’s List Number Two, stuff we need to replace the land
traffic the goblins have blocked. It’s mostly salt and some foodstuffs, but we
do need fresh livestock to build up the herds, and the sailors won’t like that.”

Kade
pursed her lips, and then tried List Number Three.

“That’s
an Inos-innovation list,” Inos said airily, waving a hand that was decidedly
not manicured. “Books and teachers and things, and furniture for the palace.”

“Musical
instruments? Five hundred pairs of dancing shoes?”

“Well,
they’re not all necessities, I admit. And of course all three lists come after
the usual trade that comes every year, like grain and medicine and spices and
dyes and sponge iron-”

“What’s
sponge iron? Well, never mind, dear. I don’t suppose I should be any happier
for knowing. Have some of this sponge cake instead.”

Bored
by lack of respectable company during the official mourning for Ekka, Kade was
delighted to act as Krasnegar’s business agent. She called in the merchants and
collected bids, she chartered the ships, and finally she insisted on paying for
everything out of Kinvale’s ample revenues. Ekka had caused much of Krasnegar’s
troubles, she said, and her estate should make recompense. Rap’s gold would not
last forever. Besides, how was Krasnegar going to survive in future if the
goblins stopped trading their furs?

Inos
had not even thought of that problem. She inquired and learned that the goblins
had not shown up the previous summer. No one seemed very worried, but she asked
Foronod to work out the figures for her, and he soon discovered that Krasnegar
depended on goblin trade even more than on trade with Nordland.

Queen
and factor agreed to suppress that worrying information, keeping it even from
the council-queen and factor were developing a reluctant respect for each
other.

Spring
came early, and the causeway cleared sooner than expected. The herds departed,
the boats were made ready. Life went on.

Slowly
Inos reestablished friendships and made new ones. Her crown set her apart,
though, and she had to accept that subjects, no matter how loyal, could never
be true intimates. Even at parties, she was alone. The old stories of Inisso
had been revived, and it was generally assumed that she had inherited his
magical powers. Odd packages of things like nails and medicines turning up from
time to time around the castle did nothing to dispel such rumors. She guarded
the secret of the portal to Kinvale; she thought that without that magical
escape, she would have gone mad.

The
ice cleared the harbor and the southern fleet arrived. The citizens were
astonished by the number of ships that came that year, and how many needed
items were suddenly available.

Foronod
continued as factor, but he was no longer capable of the infinitely detailed
supervision for which he had been renowned. Inos herself spent weeks on the
mainland, looking over his shoulder, watching, studying, and eventually almost
superseding him. An adept could learn to do anything.

The
goblins did come, although they now inexplicably refused to cross the causeway
and insisted on doing their bartering on the mainland. Queen and factor were
very relieved to see the first party arrive, and the bundles of stinking skins
the women carried. On impulse, Inos offered swords in trade, and the male
goblins were overjoyed to accept. She had plenty of swords and no use for them.

Only
after that first party had gone did it occur to her to read over her treaty
with the Impire. She discovered that it forbade her to sell arms to goblins.
Dear Emshandar!

The
nights grew longer. The harvest was gathered into the town, and that great task
was completed earlier than anyone could recall.

Every
day now Inos hoped for Rap. He had promised to return before winter, and she
knew he would keep his word.

He
had not faded in her memory, and no other strong lad had taken his place-or,
rather, the place that should have been his. She had spent long hours pondering
the inexplicable change that sorcery had produced in him, the hints he had
dropped, the curious glimpses she had caught once or twice of something in him
maddeningly just out of reach of understanding. Now she had a theory. It was
farfetched, but it matched her skimpy evidence.

She
also had a plan.

Inosolan
was not yet ready to admit defeat.

A
full moon was creeping over the horizon as Rap rode down to the shore. The air
was nippy and the ground hard, but there was no snow lying around yet. The God
of Winter had been neglecting Their duties. The tang of weed and fish, the
strident gull calls-it was all heart-rendingly familiar to him. Three wagons
were waiting on the tide, anonymous black shapes below the overcast sky. With a
broad border of ruddy sunset on one side and the silver stain of moonrise on
the other, earth and sea were melding into gray. The waves, though, bore
heraldic trim of gules-on-argent.