Дэйв Дункан - Magic Casement

Kade was still blinking at all that as the old man plunged ahead with his lecture, waving a bony finger to make his points as if he had been bottling up his knowledge inside himself for years and welcomed an audience.

“So not necessarily a half. After all, the words have been around a long time, so each may already be known by many people, perhaps dozens. One more person may make no difference or a lot. And how could you compare magic, or weigh it? It must be as hard to measure as beauty. Can you say that Jalon is twice as fine a singer as another, or three times? That a poem is twice as lyrical? But a shared word is weakened—until someone who knows it dies. Then the others' power is strengthened again. That is why they are so rarely shared, why they are usually passed on deathbeds—as your father told you his?” He peered from under shaggy white brows at Inos.

She hesitated and then nodded.

“You must guard it well! You have been displaying remarkable endurance for your age, child. Andor noticed tonight and so did Yggingi. You are of royal blood, and a very determined young lady, but the words have that effect on people, a sort of armor. Of course neither could be certain, but they both assumed that you had been told the word.”

“Everyone seems to have known about it but me!”

“They are always kept secret. I found hints of the Krasnegar word in a very old text. That was why I—actually it was Jalon then, also—why we first came here and met your father. He was still crown prince at the time. He and I became friends and did some journeying together. Knowing that he would inherit a word, I made sure that he met the others, so he would know them if they came after him later. They all felt that I had betrayed them, of course.” He sighed deeply. “It is not only the others' evil memories that are a burden. They have mine, also, and I can keep no secrets from them.”

Inos thought about that. Perhaps it was not so surprising that this strange group of invisible men would strive to be released from their curse.

“But this word of power that you—Andor—learned from the woman in Fal Dornin? It did not break the spell?”

Sagorn stared at the floor sadly, shaking his head. “No. One is not enough. Probably we need three or maybe even four. And, knowing a word, we dared not then approach a sorcerer, for sorcerers are always on the lookout for more power.” He rose stiffly. “The imps will be fetching axes. I am slow on stairs, so perhaps we should begin?”

“Begin what?”

“Begin our climb,” he said. “We must go to the chamber of puissance at the top of the tower.”

“Why?”

He bared irregular old teeth in a triumphant grimace. “To consult the magic casement, of course.”

Rap could tell that Inos had not expected the suggestion, for she colored angrily. He was managing not to stare at her, for when he did, and their eyes met, he was sure he started blushing at once, and certainly he felt as if he were all hands and feet and worried if his hair was a mess—it always was, of course… So he was pretending not to look.

But he could not keep his farsight off her. She was wonderful!

What fools they were, all those stupid old men! Why had they not seen what a marvelous queen she would be? She was a queen to her fingertips, noble and regal even in those bedraggled old clothes. He had been amazed by her beauty in the forest and he was still in awe of that, but now he could sense her grace, her royal bearing, her majesty. Her father’s death had not broken her spirit, nor the horrible fright and disappointment he, Rap, had been forced to inflict on her to unmask Andor.

Any lesser woman would have blamed him for that, would have cursed him and spurned him. But not Inos! She had royal courage. She was not afraid of his farsight, like all his other friends had been.

Kinvale had changed her. She was no longer the girl he had grown up with, the playmate of his childhood. He felt a little sad about that.

But he had always known that she would be his queen, not… not anything else. He had said he would serve her, and so he would, and be proud to. And right now he was proud of the way she was standing up to that stringy old doctor with his sneering manner and stupid jokes about sorcerers.

“My father wouldn’t let you do that!” she said angrily.

“Ah, yes, the spy,” Sagorn said unpleasantly. “You heard more than you admitted that day, then?”

Inos blushed harder and looked furious. Rap felt himself bristle, wishing he could stop this sinister old scholar from insulting his queen. Whatever the king had said about him being trustworthy, he had obviously betrayed Rap to Andor.

He began moving toward the door. “Your father, child, did not have an army of impish cutthroats coming up the tower after him at the time. Now, did you or did you not seek my counsel?”

Inos set her teeth, but obviously she was going to give in and let Sagorn go up the tower. There was a dead body upstairs, and she had suffered quite enough already without having to look at that. Rap moved quickly, to reach the doorway first, and Little Chicken scrambled up and followed.

The room one floor up was very gloomy, filled with gigantic shadows cast by a single small candle flame. Rap hurried across to where Yggingi lay, just inside the other stairwell. The goblin would always extend trash’s duties to include anything that let him show off his strength, and as soon as Rap took hold of Yggingi’s ankles. Little Chicken shoved him aside. “Out window?”

That gruesome thought had not even occurred to Rap. “Ugh! No. In that closet.”

The goblin dragged the corpse across the room and tucked it away among the king’s robes, while Rap dragged a rug over and covered the puddle of blood. He hoped Inos would not wonder why it was there, and that the blood would not soak through. By the time he had done, the other three had arrived.

Sagorn stood a moment, breathing hard. “But you must understand,” he was saying, “that we have no common purpose except to be released from the curse, and therefore to seek out more of the words. Otherwise we all go our own ways.

“Jalon soon got lost in the forest, and he called Andor. Andor did not have my scruples toward your father, and hence his daughter.” He made a small bow to Inos and then headed for the couch. “So Andor went to Kinvale to make your acquaintance. He even dreamed of becoming a king, I regret to say.”

“When he told us that he brought you back to Krasnegar afterward,” Inos asked, “then he was sort of telling the truth?”

The old man leaned back, chuckling breathlessly. “Yes, he was, for once. Here he had two words to chase: yours, when you got it; and Master Rap’s. By the sort of improbable chance that the words produce, he arrived at Krasnegar just as Rap was revealed as a seer.”

Rap closed the down door and bolted it. Little Chicken started playing with the bolt, flicking it back and forth, showing childish curiosity and delight. Rap listened to Sagorn’s story with half his head. The other half was sighting. The imps had already found axes and were breaking down the door into the robing room. He should be flattered that they were sending a hundred men after him, he supposed.

“Your father sank faster than I had expected,” Sagorn continued. “So Andor decided to go south and fetch you. He was annoyed that he could not charm Master Rap’s word out of him. Nor would he give it when threatened by the goblins. How did you escape, young man?”