The Warlock in Spite of Himself

"Shall the Queen fear a beggar?" she snapped. "Nay! They are dust at my feet!"

"That which crawls in the dust at your feet is a snake," Brom rumbled, "and its fangs are sharpened, and poisonous."

She caught her lip between her teeth and lowered her eyes, uncertain; then she lifted her chin again, and glared at Tuan.

"So you have armed them against me, and beaten them into an army, ruled and ordered and forged them into a dagger for my back! Most bravely well done, King of Vagabonds!"

Rod's head snapped up. He stared. He turned his head slowly toward Tuan, a strange light in his eyes.

"I will march," said Catharine. "Will you march at my side, my Lord Loguire?"

The old lord bent his head slowly in affirmation. "You play the fool, Catharine, and will die; but I will die with you."

Her composure wavered for a moment; her eyes moistened.

She turned briskly to Brom. "And you, Brom O'Be-rin?"

The dwarf spread his hands. "Your father's watchdog, milady, and yours."

She smiled fondly.

Then her eyes snapped hard as she looked at Tuan. "Speak, Tuan Loguire."

The youth raised his eyes, very slowly, to the fires. "It is strange," he murmured, "at but twenty-two years of ago, to look back over so very short a time, and see so much folly."

Rod heard a choked gasp from Catharine.

Tuan slapped his thigh. "Well, then, 'tis done; and if I have lived in folly, I might as well die in it."

He turned, his eyes gentle, brooding. "I shall die with you, Catharine."

Her face was ashen. "Folly…" she whispered.

"He knows not what wisdom he speaks," Brom growled. He looked over Tuan's shoulder at Rod. "What say you to folly, Rod Gallowglass?"

Rod's eyes slowly focused on Brom's. " 'Wise fool, brave fool,' " he murmured.

Brom frowned. "How say you?"

"I say that we may yet live through this!" Rod grinned, eyes kindling. "Ho, King of the Vagabond-si" He slapped Tuan's shoulder. "If the Mocker and his henchmen were gone, could you sway the beggars to fight for the Queen?"

Tuan's face came alive again. "Aye, assuredly, were they gone!"

Rod's lips pulled back in a savage grin. "They shall be."

The moon was riding high when Rod, Tuan, and Tom darted from the shadow of the tottering wall to the shadow of the ruined fountain in the courtyard of the House of Clovis.

"Thou wouldst make most excellent burglars, thou," growled Big Tom. "I might ha' heard thee a league or three away."

It hadn't been easy to persuade Tom to come along. Of course, Rod had started on the wrong tack; he'd assumed Tom's loyalties to the proletarian idea had died when he was clapped into irons. He'd clapped Tom on the back, saying, "How'd you like a chance to get back at your friends?"

Tom had scowled. "Get back at 'em?"

"Yeah. They booted you out, didn't they? Threw you in the calaboose, didn't they? After your blood now, ain't they?"

Tom chuckled, "Nay, master, not by half! Eh, no! They'd ha' freed me when the trouble was done!"

"Oh." Rod scowled. "I see. Trained men are hard to come by."

Tom's face darkened. "Thou seest too quick for my liking."

"Well, be that as it may…" Rod slung an arm around the big man's shoulder, almost dislocating his arm in the process. "Uh, in that case… what did they lock you up for?"

Tom shrugged. "Disagreement."

"Ways and means, eh?"

"Aye. They held for attacking Queen and nobles both at one time, though 'twould mean dividing of forces."

"Sounds risky. What did you want to do?"

"Why, to bring down the noblemen and their councillors first, under guise of loyalty to the throne. Then we might slowly woo all the land to the House of Clovis, and, secured by the people, pull down the Queen and Brom O'Berin with two blows of a knife."

Rod swallowed and tried to remember that the man was on his side now. "Very neat." He slapped Tom on the back. "Spoken like a good little Bolshevik. How much does that way of doing things mean to you, Tom?"

Big Tom gave him a long, calculating look. "What price were you minded of, master?"

Rod grinned. "Shall we throw your four colleagues in the cell they'd reserved for you?"

" 'Twould be pleasant," said Tom slowly. "What comes after, master?"

"Why,then," saidRod, "the House of Clovis fights on the Queen's side, against the nobles. That gives you a better chance of beating the councillors and nobles; afterward, you can follow through with your own plan."

Tom nodded, slowly. "But will the beggars fight for the Queen?"

"That, we leave to Tuan Loguire."

Tom's face stretched into a huge grin. He threw back his head and roared, slapping Rod on the back.

Rod picked himself up off the floor, hearing Big Tom gasp between spasms of laughter, "Eh, I should ha' thought of it, master! Aye, that boy will charm them! You know not the powers of that silver tongue, master. The lad could make a leopard believe it had no spots!"

Rod held his peace, trying to remember if he'd seen a leopard on Gramarye, while he tried to rub the sore spot between his shoulders.

"Thou'll twist thine arm loose that way." Tom grinned. He turned Rod around and began to massage his back. "Thou knowest, master, if together we bring down the councillors, 'twill be thy head, alongside Brom's and the Queen's, that I'll next be a-chas-ing."

Rod closed his eyes, savoring the massage. "It oughta be a great fight. A little further to the left, Big Tom."

So now they stood in the shadows of the fountain with Tuan between them, planning assault on the mol-dering heap of stone that stood across a moon-filled expanse of courtyard.

Rod counted his pulse beats, wondering if his heart had really slowed that much, until Tom whispered, "No alarm. They ha' not seen us, good masters. Ready thy selves, now."

Tom gathered himself, looking like a diesel semi that had decided to turn cat-burglar.

"Now!" he growled, and ran.

They charged lightly, quietly, through the seeming glare of the moonlight to the welcoming shadow of the walls, then flattened themselves against the stone, hearts thudding, breath held as they strained their ears for some sound of alarm.

After a small eternity of three minutes, Big Tom loosed his breath in a great, gusty sigh.

"Eh, then, lads!" he hissed. "Come along, now."

They crept around the corner of the great dank stone pile. Big Tom splayed his fingers out wide, set his elbow at the corner of the wall, and marked the spot where his second finger ended. He put his other elbow against the mark.

"Big Tom!" Rod called in an agonized whisper, "we don't have time for—"

"Hsst!" Tuan's fingers clamped on Rod's shoulder. "Silence, I pray thee! He measures in cubits!"

Rod shut up, feeling rather foolish.

Tom made a few more measurements, which apparently resulted in his finding what he was looking for. He pulled a pry from the pouch at his belt and began to lever at the base of a three-foot block.

Rod stared, uncomprehending. It would take all night and most of the next day to dig the block out. What was Tom trying to do?

Tom gave a last pry, and caught the sheet of stone as it fell outward. It was perhaps an inch thick.

He laid the slab on the ground and looked up at his companions. His grin flashed chill in the moonlight. "I had thought I might have need of a bolthole one day," he whispered. "Gently now, lads."

He ducked head and arms through the hole, kicked off with his feet, and slithered through.

Rod swallowed hard and followed Tom. Tuan came through at his heels.

"All in?" Tom whispered as Tuan's feet stood hard to the floor, and the moonlight was cut off as Tom fitted the stone plug back into place.

"Light," he whispered. Rod cupped his hand over the hilt of his dagger and turned it on, letting a ray of light escape between two fingers. It was enough to see Big Tom grope up a worm-eaten panel from the floor and fit it back into place in the bolthole.