The Warlock in Spite of Himself

The boy grinned. "Martin is my name." He paused to chuckle at Rod's startled look; he still hadn't gotten used to the mind-reading. "And what is strange is that you, a warlock, should not know the ins and outs of hearing thoughts.

"Aye." Toby nodded. "You are the only warlock we have known, friend Gallowglass, that cannot hear thoughts."

"Uh, yes." Rod ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek. "Well, as I mentioned a little earlier, I'm not really a warlock. You see…"

He was cut off by a unanimous burst of laughter. He sighed, and resigned himself to his reputation.

He reverted to his former line of questioning. "I take it some of you can hear thoughts as words."

"Oh, aye," said Toby, wiping his eyes. "We have one." He turned to the ring of listeners. "Is Aldis here?"

A buxom, pretty sweet-sixteen elbowed her way through to the front rank. "Who shall I listen to for you, sir?"

A spark arced across a gap in Rod's mind. A malici-ous gleam came into his eyes. "Durer. The councillor to Milord Loguire."

Aldis folded her hands in her lap, settled herelf, sitting very straight. She stared at Rod; her eyes lost focus. Then she began to speak in a high-pitched nasal monotone.

"As you will, milord. Yet I cannot help but wonder, are you truly loyal?"

Her voice dropped two octaves in pitch but kept the monotonous quality. "Knave! Have you the gall to insult me to me face?"

"Nay, milord!" the high voice answered hurriedly. "I do not insult you; I do but question the wisdom of your actions."

Durer, Rod thought. The high voice was Durer, practicing his vocation—the care and manipulation of the Duke Loguire.

"Remember, milord, she is but a child. Is it kindness to a child to let her have her willful way? Or is it kindness to spank her when she needs it?"

There was a silence for a moment; then the deeper voice of the Lord Loguire answered, "There is some measure of truth in what you say. Certain, there is something of the wanton child in her taking up the power to appoint the priests."

"Why," murmured the high voice, " 'tis an act against tradition, milord, and against the wisdom of men far older than herself. Tis in bitter truth the act of a rebellious child."

"Mayhap," Loguire rumbled. "Yet she is the Queen, and the Queen's Law shall be obeyed."

"Even should the Queen make evil laws, milord?"

"Her actions are not evil, Durer." The deep voice took on an ominous quality. "Reckless, perhaps, and thoughtless, and ill-considered; for the good they bring today may bring havoc down upon our heads tomorrow. Foolish laws, perhaps; but evil, no."

The high voice sighed. "Mayhap, milord. Yet she threatens the honor of her noblemen. Is that not evil?"

"Why," rumbled Loguire, "how is this? She has been haughty, aye, taking to herself greater airs than ever a Queen may own to, mayhap; but she has never yet done aught that could be construed as insult."

"Aye, milord, not yet."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"The day shall come, milord."

"What day is that, Durer?"

"When she shall put the peasants before the noblemen, milord."

"Have done with your treasonous words!" Loguire roared. "On your knees, slight man, and thank your God that I leave you with your head!"

Rod stared at Aldis' face, still not recovered from the shock of hearing two disembodied male voices coming from the mouth of a pretty girl.

Slowly, her eyes focused again. She let out a long breath and smiled up at him. "Did you hear, friend Gallowglass?"

Rod nodded.

She spread her hands, shrugging. "I cannot recall a word of what I said."

"Don't let it worry you, I remember it all." Rod rubbed the stubble on his chin. "You were acting as a channel, a medium in the purest sense of the word."

He threw his head back, drained his mug, and tossed it to one of the young warlocks. The youth caught the tankard, disappeared, and reappeared. He handed the tankard, brimming full, to Rod, who shook his head in mock despair.

He leaned back and sipped at the wine, looking up at the young faces around him, smiling and fairly glowing with the knowledge of their power.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked, with a wave of the mug that took them all in. "Listened to skull sessions like that one, I mean."

"Only of the Queen's enemies," Aldis answered with a toss of her head. "We often listen to Durer."

"Oh?" Rod raised an eyebrow. "Learn anything?"

Aldis nodded. "He is much concerned with the peasants of late."

Rod was very still for a moment. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What's his interest in the peasants?"

Toby grinned knowingly. "Hark now to his latest exploit! He hath brooded trouble 'twixt two serfs on the Queen's own estate. A young peasant wished to marry an old farmer's daughter, and the old man said nay. And the youth would've thrown up his hands in despair and let himself waste away with a broken heart."

"But Durer stepped in."

"Aye. He was after the young one night and day; for knowledge of the boy's suit spread throughout all the villages, and saw to it that the rumor was told with one question appended: Could the youth be a man who would let a doddard idiot rob him of the girl he loved?"

Rod nodded. "And the other peasants started throwing that up to the kid."

"Most certainly. Taunts and jeers and mocking— and the lad stole the girl away by night and got her with child."

Rod pursed his lips. "I imagine Papa was a trifle perturbed."

Toby nodded. "He hauled the boy before the village priest and demanded the lad be hanged for a rapist."

"And the priest said… ?"

"That it was love, not rape, and the fitting punishment was marriage, not hanging."

Rod grinned. "Bet the two kids were real sad about that."

"Their grief was so great it set them to dancing." Toby chuckled. "And the old man gave a heavy sigh, and would have judged it the wisdom of God, and blessed them."

"And Durer stepped in again."

"Most certainly. He was up before the Queen, when she was at table before all her lords and her ladies, crying that the Queen must prove the justice of her new order by declaring herself what was just in this case; for were these not peasants on the Queen's own estates?"

Rod grinned and slapped his thigh. "She must have been ready to spit in his eye!"

"Oh, you know not the Queen!" Toby rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. "She would most cheerfully have slipped a knife 'twixt his ribs. But the challenge must needs be answered; she must needs hear the case herself, when next she held General Court."

"General Court?" Rod scowled. "What the hell is that?"

"One hour each month the Queen opens her court to all in her realm who wish her ear; and peasants, nobility , and clergy come to her Great Hall. Mostly the great lords but look on while the petty nobility and peasantry bring forth their grievances. And with the great ones watching, you may be sure the grievances brought up are petty indeed."

"Like this case." Rod nodded. "When's this next General Court?"

"Tomorrow," said Toby, "and I think the great lords shall have their tame clergy and peasantry protest the Queen's new judges and priests. The lords shall lodge their protest first, of course; and the other, more common folk shall be echoing them."

Rod nodded. "Put the whole matter on public record. But what does Durer hope to gain by bringing in this seduction case?"

Toby shrugged. "That, only Durer may know."

Rod leaned back, frowning, and pulled at his mug. He studied the young faces around him and scratched at the base of his skull. "Sounds to me like this is information the Queen would like to have. Why don't you tell her?"

The faces sobered. Toby bit his lip and looked down at the floor.

Rod scowled. "Why don't you tell her, Toby?"