Robert Hughes - The Wizard in Waiting

Pelmen looked down at the peacock, who watched the actor’s retreat

“Nothing to be alarmed about,” the fool said. “He’s broad in the tail, true, but nothing to compete with yours.” As if in answer, the peacock fanned his feathers and stalked proudly away.

Bronwynn paced along the battlements, gazing westward toward the sunset. Somehwere out there was Rosha. But where? Why hadn’t he shown himself? Had he already forgotten her in all his feasting and honors, as Admon Faye sneered at least once every day?

A cool breeze swept along the parapet, and she tugged her wrap tightly around her shoulders and hung her head. She could hear a dull roar issuing from the open door of the castle’s central hall. Merchants had been arriving all day long from every direction, and the carnival atmosphere had driven her out into the twilight. The din the slavers normally set up at mealtimes had now multiplied into a head-splitting cacaphony. She’d run from the room in desperate need of some peace and quiet.

It wasn’t just the noise. The tension had been growing all afternoon as well. As every new contingent arrived at the gate, the rope of relationships tautened another notch. SmQes there were in abundance, and the jokes flowed around the tables as freely as the ale. But there was a chilling lack of humor to all this, and true good will seemed totally nonexistent. These men, whom Bronwynn had always supposed to be the best of friends because of the closeness of merchant cliques, were far from friendly. This assembly could be the most powerful force in the world, having far more impact on history than the grandest of her forefather’s armies. It depressed her to discover that not one of these merchants seemed to have a friend only momentary allies.

A lean dog had joined her on the walls, and it stood panting by her side, obviously begging her attention. She scratched its head absently and thought of the houses she had already seen represented here.

The conclave certainly didn’t lack for color. Besides the ever-present blue and lime of Flayh’s own house of Og-nadzu, a sizable group wore purple and red, the symbolic garb of Uda. Harm was here, in their solid burnt-orange tunics, and so was Blez, the house of pink circles on a field of gray. The Elders of Wina had arrived the night before, and Bronwynn had quickly grown used to seeing their dark brown diamonds superimposed on a rainbow assortment of backgrounds. Wina was a young house, only a couple of centuries old. It had forged a reputation as being a house that cared for the common peasant, and its patriarch had been leery of establishing too sharp a distinction in dress between Wina’s merchants and the people they served.

And yet, for all the cheery colors and all the cheerful talk, there was not a single breath of honest cheer anywhere in the castle. Bronwynn could feel the oppressive weight of the tension even out here. A dark mood clung to her she couldn’t shake it. As she stared up at the purpling sky a tear glistened on her cheek. “Poor old thing,” she said to the dog. “I guess all those people in your hall drove you out, too.”

“Actually I came looking for you,” said Flayh.

Bronwynn jerked away, grabbing her chest to still her pounding heart.

The bald power shaper gowned in red and white, stood where the dog had been.

Bronwynn glared at him, then turned her back and clutched both arms across her chest. “I take it you weren’t expecting me?” Flayh gloated. Bronwynn said nothing, and Flayh frowned. “You don’t seem very impressed.”

“Terhaps because I’ve seen the trick before,” Bronwynn snarled, “done much better, and not as a childish prank. Excuse me,” she said, and she started past him for the stab’s.

Flayh was a small man, but his fingers had steel in them. He grabbed her arm, and she yelped and stood still. “I said I came looking for you.”

Owl” Bronwynn cried aloud. “Say your peace then, I’m listening, but let gol”

Flayh released her arm, but gripped her eyes in his own. He challenged her will, drawing up the fear inside her as he’d attempted to summon Admon Faye’s. Bronwynn gasped, robbed of breath. She was seized by a sudden terror that the sorcerer found quite appropriate. “Good. You will continue to fear me, Bronwynn. I like for people to fear me.”

His eyes were swallowing her! Bronwynn choked, and her legs trembled helplessly.

“I’ve come to tell you why you’re here, Bronwynn. Perhaps Admon Faye has already made it clear, but hear it again from my lips. I intend to make you a Queen my own Queen, to be precise. Do you understand?”

Bronwynn nodded fearfully as she backed away from this creature who so terrified her.

“Stand where you are!” Flayh ordered, and Bronwynn’s sandals became one with the stone. “You’ve been chosen for this task only because it is expedient not because I feel you in any way suitable. I want nothing from you but obedience the obedience that proceeds from fear.”

“Yes… my Lord,” Bronwynn muttered, amazed that she would say such words, yet too frightened to resist.

“I assume you referred to Pelmen, when you belittled my power. I don’t know what spells he possesses, or what beast is his alter-shape, but I can assure you: when we meet in open battle, it is I who shall walk away, and not he. Mention of Pelmen provokes me! Do you understand!”

“Yes! Yes, I do!” the young woman choked out in a barely audible whisper.

“Very well then. You will accompany me to the hall. I want you present at each session, so that you’ll know my policies when I place you on the throne.” Flayh stepped closer and thrust his nose into Bronwynn’s face. “I desire to control all the three lands, and this time neither Pelmen nor any other meddler will obstruct me. Come.” Flayh spun around and descended the stairs, and Bronwynn found herself following him quite docily. It shocked her to realize how easily she’d broken under his eyes but he was, after all, a power shaper As they entered the brightly illuminated hall, she thought of something she’d heard Pelmen say months before: “Why is it that one who owns so much should want to control even more? It seems to me it would get boring…”

“All I asked for was a single day off a single day! Just to celebrate my daughters birthday with her and perhaps go visit my brother down the river. What does he say? What he always says. “No chance, Carlad.

Get back to your post.” Now what do you think of that!”

Rosha didn’t respond. He just rolled his hooded head away and leaned against the wall behind him.

“That’s what I thought, too!” Carlad snarled. “Wouldn’t even take it up with the General! Never gave it a chance. So, here I am, chained up inside this tower ”

“Wait a minute,” Rosha interrupted. “For your information, I’m the prisoner here, Carlad, not you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, has it ever occurred to you that I’m just as much chained to you as you are to me? Hunh? Has it?”

“How could I help it, Carlad, since you remind me of that every single day? Usually when you’re complaining about youLsergeant.”

“You’d complain, too, if he was your sergeant!”

“I think I’ve got plenty to complain about,” Rosha grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, just because you’re a prisoner here, you think you’ve got it rough. You get the best off the table, don’t have to work, you got that gorgeous Queen pawing you all day… real hard duty!”

“I don’t see you wearing a leather hood, Carlad,** Rosha said quietly.

“You don’t see me wearing…” That suddenly struck the guard as funny, and he cackled. “No, I guess you don’t see me wearing one, do you!” He laughed again, and Rosha joined in.

“Nor do I see this gorgeous Queen you keep raving about.” The warrior smiled ruefully.