Lawrence Watt-Evans - Out of This World

“Squire Donald a’ Benton,” Raven named the next. His bow was more perfunctory than Stoddard’s, his green tunic considerably cleaner, his boots newer. He seemed about half Stoddard’s size, and in fact was no taller than Nancy’s five foot four, Pel realized. Like Raven and Stoddard, he bore a sword.

His green eyes darted about curiously.

“The mage Valadrakul of Warricken,” Raven said, gesturing at the last member of his party. “Now sworn to Stormcrack Keep.”

The wizard did not bow at all, but made an odd gesture with one hand instead. Most of his dull brown hair trailed loose, halfway down his back, while the rest hung in two narrow braids in front of either ear; he wore a long black vest, ornately embroidered in red and gold, that reached to mid-calf and mostly concealed a plain black tunic and breeches. The sheath on his belt was too small for a true sword, but held a good-sized knife.

“Mage?” Pel asked.

“A wizard,” Raven said. “A magician. One who works spells and brings forth wonders.”

Pel nodded, and tried not to stare. “This way,” he said, motioning toward the family room, herding the visitors ahead of him.

Valadrakul did not fit Pel’s image of a wizard. He was neither tall and imposing, nor small and wizened; his face was not long and hawk-nosed. He wore no robes, nor pointed hat, nor long white beard.

Instead, he was of medium height-five-nine, perhaps, or a bit over-and a little fat, with a pale, round face and a full brown beard, clipped short. His hairstyle reminded Pel of Val Kilmer playing the warrior in “Willow,” though it wasn’t exactly the same, and his outfit didn’t seem like anything in particular. There were no moons and stars, no pentagrams; the embroidery was a graceful floral pattern.

Pel stepped down into the family room to find three of the four strangers standing in the center, staring in all directions. Raven stood with the others, but smiled politely at his host and did not stare; after all, he had been here before.

“Have a seat,” Pel suggested.

Raven nodded and settled on the couch; the wizard, whose name Pel had not caught, took the other end. Squire Donald started toward the recliner, but threw first Pel and then Raven a questioning glance before sinking gingerly into it.

Stoddard ignored the invitation completely; he stepped back toward one wall, but continued to stand, arms crossed over his chest and feet braced apart.

Pel looked at his stolid pose and decided not to argue. Sitting down in that leather barrel the man was wearing might be difficult, and he looked as if he were accustomed to standing.

The man-at-arms looked incredibly out of place in that room, in his rough and archaic clothing. The other three weren’t so bad, but Stoddard simply didn’t fit in such a setting.

With a final glance at him, Pel decided against taking a seat himself; there were no good ones left. Sitting on an endtable seemed undignified.

“So,” Pel said, addressing Raven, “what brings you back?”

“Why, the same portal as erstwhile, of course,” Raven answered smoothly.

“No,” Pel said, “I mean, why have you come back?”

Raven smiled an acknowledgment of his slip. “As before,” he began, “we seek your aid. Have you heard aught of the sky-ship the Imperials sent hither?”

“No,” Pel replied. “And we should have, if it’s really there.”

“Oh, ‘tis real, beyond question,” Raven said calmly. Then he stopped abruptly and glanced at Valadrakul for confirmation.

“’Tis real,” the wizard said. His voice, which Pel and Nancy had not heard before, was a pleasant tenor. “We’ve not been deceived, I assure you.”

“It wasn’t on the news,” Pel said doubtfully.

“Nonetheless, the ship is real, and it reached your world,” Valadrakul said. “However, its magic did not work here; it plummeted to the earth and has not moved since. Its crew has been taken prisoner by the Earl’s men. This much we have learned.”

“The Earl’s men?” Pel asked, puzzled.

“The Earl of Montgomery,” Raven explained. “’Twas the county constabulary apprehended the Imperials. Are we not in the County Montgomery here?”

“We’re in Montgomery County, yes,” Pel said, still puzzled, “but there’s no earl. You mean it crashed, and the county police picked them up?”

“A county with no Earl? A Countess, then?”

“No, Montgomery County’s democratic,” Pel explained. “Or Republican, depending. We have a county executive, not an earl.”

Raven and Valadrakul exchanged glances. Pel looked at the others; Stoddard was staring straight ahead, paying no attention to anything so far as Pel could determine, while Squire Donald was studying the shelves beside him, fascinated, and might or might not be listening.

For the first time Pel noticed that Nancy wasn’t in the room; he turned, and saw Rachel watching from the door to the kitchen. Listening, he could hear Nancy moving about in the kitchen.

“Why call it a county, an there’s no count?” Raven asked, annoyed. “Neither earl nor countess, then where’s the county? Why not call it a shire?”

Pel shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “We do have a sheriff, I think, so yeah, shire would make more sense, but we call ‘em counties anyway.”

Raven waved it away. “It matters not a whit, then, who rules here, save that you understand your county police have taken prisoner the ten Imperials who came hither. And yes, their ship fell, and could not fly in your skies.”

Nancy leaned through the kitchen doorway and called, “Would anyone like a beer? Or anything? I can put the kettle on if you’d like tea or coffee.”

Stoddard turned a questioning look at Raven; Squire Donald glanced up from the bookshelves. Raven looked around quickly at all his companions, then up at Nancy.

“Beer would be most welcome, good lady, and our thanks.”

Nancy nodded and disappeared.

“All right,” Pel said, “so the cops picked up these Imperial stormtroopers. Why wasn’t it on the news? It’s not every day a bunch of people from outer space crash-land around here.”

“I know not,” Raven said, turning up an empty palm. “Perchance whoever retails your news has not yet learned of it.”

Pel considered that. If a spaceship really had landed, the government might try to hush it up-but he would be surprised if they actually managed it. He had never bought the Hangar 19-or 18, or whatever the number was-stories for a minute.

“Where’d it land?” he asked.

Raven looked at Valadrakul, who turned up his hands and said, “How are we to know the name of the place? It lies perhaps half a day’s journey to the north, traveling on foot.”

“But it’s in Montgomery County?”

“That, or your shiremen crossed the border.”

If the ship had come down somewhere out toward the Howard County line, that might explain how it had stayed off the TV news, so far; there was still a good bit of fairly empty countryside up that way, as Pel knew from driving the back roads to Baltimore on occasion.

“What are they charged with? I mean, why were they arrested?” he asked.

“The charges we were told are trespassing and vandalism,” Valadrakul replied. “I fear we have no such word as ‘vandalism’ in our tongue, so we know not what it means.”

“It means wrecking things just for fun,” Pel explained.

The story didn’t sound quite right to him; why would the county cops arrest a bunch of aliens on charges like that? Why weren’t the feds all over the place?

Then an explanation occurred to him, one which made the whole thing make sense, including the fact that the news media had not reported anything.

“They don’t think it’s real, do they?” he asked.