Golden Torc - 2 (32 page)

"I accept your challenge, Creative Sistersubject to your filling our sacred cauldron here and now, demonstrating the validity of your right to challenge. And first, you shall extirpate the thing I place therein!"

There was an explosion and an ammoniacal stench. The woman leapt back as a slimy apparition materialized out of the golden kettle. Its body was sinuous but without scales, dripping foul mucus. There were pores along the heaving sides like small portholes. Groping filaments the size of elongated human fingers fringed its head. It resembled a monstrous eel, perhaps meters in length and nearly a meter in diameter, oozing forth from the cauldron toward Mercy while Aluteyn watched with folded arms and a sour smile. The creature had no proper mouth. Its head terminated in a species of funnel lined with carunculated ridges; inside gleamed row upon row of sharp triangular teeth. From the gullet of the monster protruded a tongue-like member as thick as a human forearm, studded with rasps.

"Good God, what is it?" cried Bryan.

"A lamprey fish, I'd say-or a simulacrum of one, more likely, unless he had this fellow stashed away and magnified him. Not a particularly ingenious effort. Perhaps Aluteyn thought your lady's sensitivities would be overcome by its horrid appearance. But she doesn't seem to be intimidated ... ha! Watch!"

Mercy stood her ground with resolution as the thing hung over her, its horrid lips aquiver and tongue groping for prey.

"The Craftsmaster has given you a fish!" she cried in a loud voice. "I will give you its accompaniment!"

There was a second detonation, together with a great cloud of steam that swathed Mercy and the giant lamprey swaying above the cauldron. Abruptly, the stench in the air vanished.

There was another aroma, one that was not only pleasant but mouth-watering-and quite familiar to Bryan the former Londoner.

The vapors parted and there stood the auburn-haired sorceress with her huge kettle filled to the brim with small things that were golden-brown and smoking and giving off that delicious fragrance together with a complementary smell of fried potatoes.

Mercy began scattering the kettle contents to the crowd.

Bryan collapsed in laughter against the wall of the alcove, as much from relief as from any other emotion. "Oh, my dear! That's showing him!"

Ogmol said, "I presume this is some human in-joke." The throng of Guild members and nobles were catching the tidbits that Mercy threw and devouring them with hilarious cheers. Aluteyn turned his back on the scene.

Lady Eadone declared, "Let it be noted that the challenger, Lady Mercy-Rosmar, has demonstrated her right to meet Lord Aluteyn Craftsmaster in the manifestation of powers. Until that time, let the two of you dwell in the peace and fellowship of our Guild. This extraordinary assembly is now adjourned."

"Lady Mercy-Rosmar farspeaks you through me," Ogmol said to Bryan. "She has perceived our presence behind the curtains because of the-er-cri de coeur you uttered when you realized she was placing herself in peril by issuing the challenge. She wishes to reassure you. She further asks that you meet her tonight in the Creators' Forecourt, where she will arrive in her caleche at twenty-one hundred hours. She wishes to discuss important matters with you."

"Assure her that I'll be waiting."

The Tanu-human bowed in a strangely formal manner. "I must go now to present the results of our survey to my Awful Father."

"Yes, of course. Well, why don't I wander back to my rooms for a bit-and then a swim. Will you join me later?"

"I fear not, Bryan. The interview with the King may take some time."

"Well, give him my compliments." The anthropologist was jovial. "Later, I'll tell him myself what a good job you've done. I've never seen anyone pick up cultural theory so quickly. Perhaps the King will authorize us to do a broader study along these lines. I'd like to continue working with you, Ogmol."

Still displaying the air of distance that was at variance to his usual friendliness, Ogmol held out a golden-furred hand for Bryan to shake. "I've enjoyed working with you, too, Bryan." He opened the secret door and held it while the anthropologist slipped inside. "Good-good luck to you, Bryan! And thank you for the hangover pills!"

Before the startled human could reply, the sliding panel closed in his face. He was alone in the dim passage between the walls.

"Funny." Bryan took out the pale-green rectangle of his survey and stared at it. "We did a workmanlike job, given the short time available. An interesting overview, all in all. Old Thagdal should be pleased with it."

But why, then, had Ogmol seemed apprehensive? Bryan hadn't a clue. "Perhaps I've been too close to the study during these hectic weeks," he told himself. "As a half-blood, Ogmol may be making a subjective evaluation of the survey relative to some exotic criteria of his own."

Well, a little relaxation and he might noodle it out. Nothing like a good swim in Oggy's private pool to refresh his fatigued cortex. And then a drive with Mercy in the cool of the evening.

He got to thinking about her and the fish and chips, and went off chuckling. The puzzle of Ogmol-and the plaque in his jacket pocket-were completely forgotten. On the dark summit of the Mount of Heroes there was a small open meadow between twin crags, far above the College of Redactors and the city and the gunmetal lagoons. They sent the old carriage driver away to wait and stood side by side in the utterly silent night. It seemed that they had come to a place between two different skies-the one above all distant and frosty and old, and the one below warm and exciting with the twinkling lights of three kinds of people-the olive-oil flames lit by humans, the jewel-lamps of the Tanu, and the massed bonfires of the Firvulag making a festive display out on the southern flats.

"I think," Mercy said, "that my favorite thing in all this Many-Colored Land is the faerie look of the lights... and best of all when I see them from up high. Like this, from a mountain, or when flying with my Lord."

She took a small backward step so that his arms could come around her. Her hair met his lips as she swayed back against him. "But I forgot that you've never flown with us, Bry. My poor earthbound one! When I'm able to go alone and lift another, I must take you. But in the meantime, we have this here tonight."

She turned to him. The still-incredible thing began to happen again. Their minds and bodies came together in the ecstatic conjugation that seemed as far beyond ordinary sex as music was beyond noise. They lofted into ever-ascending levels of life-energy where balls of colored light pulsed and sang, clinging and crying out-she in triumph and he in wonder and a kind of defiance that dared the love to become love-death if this was the only way to prolong it infinitely. But it could not be, never was, and always there was the brink and the tumble into deep dark while the glaring colors shrank and receded and went out. And he, swallowed, sated, was enfolded within her and flown safely back over the hollow waters, hearing her hush him as he mourned the end (again), ever asking, "Why doesn't this sea reflect the stars?"

"Hush, love," she said. "Never mind."

They lay quietly on her soft cloak. When his mind steadied he was able to look at her starlit face and very nearly recall what the fulfillment had been like (again).

"It's enchantment, Mercy," he said. "You've bewitched me. Are you killing me, too?"

"Does it matter?" she laughed, taking his head into her lap. A fold of fabric wiped his eyes and she kissed the lids. "It can't go on, can it?" he asked. "After the Combat, he'll take you back to Goriah. Or will you stay if you become Lady Creator? Is there a chance you'll stay, Mercy?"

"Hush."

"Do you love him?" he asked after a while.

"Of course," she replied, her voice warm.

"Do you love me?" He spoke low, his mouth partially muffled in her gown.

"Would I be here with you if I didn't? Ah, my dear. Why must you always talk of loving and staying instead of the joy? Haven't you been happy? Haven't I given you all that I could, all that you could bear? Do you want the whole of it? Will nothing else satisfy you?"

"I can't leave you. Oh, Mercy."

The corners of her mouth turned up. "And you'd do anything for me, would you?"

He gazed at her smile and could not speak. She began to hum, and the words of the familiar love ballad formed in his mind by the power of hers:

Cupid is winged and doth range

Her country, so my Love doth change.

But change the earth or change the sky,

Yet will I love her till I die.

"And now we'll have one another again, sweet Bryan, and after that go down into the city. And you'll give me as a gift the little book you've written, the book that promises such terrible things for my Tanu people if they continue on as before with the humans and all. But you never intended your book to apply to me, did you, Bryan?"

"Oh, no. Not you."

"I'm one of them, after all, and always have been. He knows that and so do you."

"Yes... both of us know what you are."

"But it's really a most upsetting thing you've written, sweetheart, particularly if the wrong people such as Culluket or Imidol should read it and misunderstand. Not even Nodonn can control the entire Host. And they believe all humankind to be harmful. Even me. Even the dear loyal hybrids. But you weren't to know that, were you? How your little book could be the death of us all. You'd never foresee such an interpretation... so earnest, so civilized and sane, my love." Bryan was puzzled, lost in his dreaming. The survey? That was only his work. "It has nothing at all to do with us, Mercy. Nothing to do with you. Enchantress."

"Then give me your copy of it. Give it to me and never tell that I have it."

Of course he did. And she lifted his head from her lap, laughing, and then leaned over him kissing and leading him on. When they had gone there and back (again), she summoned the carriage and driver and they drove down the mountain. Outside Redact House, as she expected, Nodonn and Culluket the King's Interrogator were waiting. "He's asleep," she told him. "The only other copies of the survey are in the possession of Ogmol and the Thagdal-and stored in the computer, of course."

"Ogmol can wait," Nodonn said to his younger brother. "And the King has his own reasons for keeping the matter secret. But he will seek the life of this man, this unsuspecting witness for the prosecution. You must keep him safe until the culmination of the Combat, Redactive Brother. He is vital to our cause. See that he is kept happy and unaware." The Interrogator nodded. "I understand fully, Brother Battlemaster. Our company cannot fail to be impressed when the human cancer affirms its own existence." He smiled at Mercy.

Two red and white clad attendants appeared and lifted the unconscious anthropologist from the caleche. Nodonn mounted and took the place next to his wife.

"Until later, then, Brother. We two will go to Creation House and see to the computer ourselves."

Culluket inclined his head. "Until later." He turned to lead the way into the caves deep within the mountain and the men carrying Bryan followed after.

10

NAKED AND WEEPING, THE SILVER-TORC GIRL CAME RUNNING from the King's chamber.

"Oh, dear," said Nontusvel, casting a significant glance at the Master of the Royal Bed. "Not again."

"It wasn't my fault, I swear, Queen and Mother!" the girl wailed. "I did everything! Everything!" She fell on her knees. The Master of the Royal Bed gestured and a gray-torc valet came up to wrap the shivering love-gift manquee in a robe of white satin.

"Get her out of here," the Queen ordered. "I'll see to His Majesty myself tonight."

The Master bowed. He and the servant hurried away with the sniffling girl. Nontusvel extinguished all the lights except one candelabrum of pink jewels. This she lifted on high and carried to the tall door embossed with the golden bearded mask. It swung open before her.

"My King, it is I," she said. "Be of good cheer." Only a few scattered gleams, like ruby and gold embers, lit the bedchamber of Thagdal the High King. There was an odd sound, a little like a gulping sob, and then a noise of someone blowing his nose.

"N-Nonnie?"

"Yes, dear."

The King sat on the edge of the bed, his mighty shoulders hunched, head down. "Failed again. The sword undrawn, the bow unloosed, the mightiest champion of them all laid low and humiliated. I'm done for, Nonnie. Finished. Not even that damned Lalage and all her tricks could conjure up a glimmer."

"It is all in your mind, beloved. You've been worrying too much."

She set the candelabrum down on the bedside table and stood before him, magnificent and comforting in a flowing peignoir of peach color trimmed in gold. Her flaming hair hung down, her arms opened wide, welcoming as her mothermind with its invitation: Rest in me.

She drew him up and they went out onto the balcony. It was very late. The moon was old, an ochreous sickle near the horizon, giving an unhealthy tinge of brass to the lagoon. "You must not be down-hearted," the Queen said. "What has changed? Are the Foe yonder on the salt any more confident of victory than they've been in years past? Hardly. We are strong and we will crush them, as always."

"It's not that."

"Aiken Drum, then? A clownish gadfly? Mayvar is senile and it is high time dear Riganone took her place as Lady Farsensor and Kingmaker. The boy knows quite well he would have no chance against the Battlemaster. Has Aiken Drum issued any format challenge for the manifestation of powers? Of course not! And he won't challenge by Melee Rules at the Combat, either. Nodonn will remain your heir-patient and loyal as always. And soon you'll recover your good spirits and your vigor as well."

The King shook his head. "It's not Aiken Drum. Two new things. I-I didn't tell you."

"Will you tell me now?"

"Brede has emerged from the room without doors. I may not have the operant woman, Elizabeth."

The Queen's screens shot up to conceal her elation. "The mating scheme with her is then-"

"Brede has placed Elizabeth's genes under the strongest taboo. The Shipspouse claims that the woman's destiny has been revealed to her. That it's not in accord with the scheme Gomnol and I favored. I haven't told Gomnol yet, either. I was afraid to! Can you imagine that? My genes plus Elizabeth's were going to engender a new superrace under Gomnol's guidance. And now she's taboo and I'm-I'm-"