Barbara Hambly - 04 Mother Of Winter

"But it's just you they want, isn't it?" the tubmaker demanded worriedly. "I mean, they won't harm the rest of us."

"Yeah," Rudy sighed. "It's just me they want. But even for the sake of letting you folks get on with your gardening uninterrupted, I kind of hesitate about letting them tear me to pieces. I know it's selfish of me, but-"

"I'm sorry to correct you, Lord Wizard," Alde cut in gently, "but I'm afraid I must. You don't know that it's just you they want." Her hand stole for a moment to her gravid belly, speaking to him without words: You, and our child.

Her blue eyes moved to Barrelstave's, cool and without anger. "None of us knows, truly, what the gaboogoos want. Not they, nor those who have eaten the slunch whom we haven't yet found-"

"Oh, surely we've gotten them all!" Barrelstave protested uncomfortably. He bore on his hand the stain of ensorcelled walnut juice that marked those who'd been tested from the many who hadn't, to keep Rudy from wasting his time with retests, and had been genuinely horrified when, yesterday, the thoroughly respectable second-level matron Urania Hoop had failed to recognize the spell-line across the testing cell's floor. "I mean, we've tested everyone who dwelt in that area of the fifth level-"

"And are you certain there aren't simply some people who are proof against the illusion of wizardry?" Maia asked. Some of the people who had been taken to the crypts, raving and swearing they had never in their lives touched the slunch, troubled him deeply. "The way some people cannot hear the difference between one tune and another?"

"You ever met any?" Rudy shot back.

The bishop was silent for a moment. He wasn't much more than ten years older than Rudy, but his experiences leading the survivors out of Penambra to the Keep had aged him prematurely, and his long hair was almost completely gray.

Like Ingold, he had the air of a man for whom the vagaries of human conduct held few surprises. "No," he said at length. "But I know Urania Hoop was a good, pious woman. And you must admit it is scarcely fair to have susceptibility to illusion be the sole criteria of losing one's liberty and being locked in the crypts with monsters?" Rudy sighed. "I'm sorry about that, pal, I really am," he said. "But I can't reach Thoth, and I can't reach Ingold, if the old boy's still alive, even. For all I know, I'm the last friggin' wizard alive in the friggin' world, and the gaboogoos are out to get me, too. So if you can get in touch with someone for a second opinion-"

He pulled his scrying stone from his vest pocket, caught the bishop's crippled hand and slapped the crystal into the cleft hollow of the palm. ''-you be my friggin' guest, and I'll thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"But until you do," Alde said softly, stepping forward to Rudy's side and laying a placating hand on Maia's wrist, "or until someone does, I'd like everyone to remember this. Eliminating Rudy-eliminating wizards-may only be a first step. With Ingold dead, with Thoth dead, with Wend and Ilae and the Gettlesand wizards dead, we have no idea what else the gaboogoos will want."

She turned, and with the graceful serenity of a gazelle in unthreatened pasture, walked back up the shallow steps of the Keep, the others following in her wake. Catching up with her, Rudy said softly, "I wish you hadn't said that, babe. That's something I'd rather not even think about."

"Leave us."

Gil didn't recognize the voice, deep and surprisingly gritty, but she saw the red-clothed Church warrior who had lowered the ladder into the cell hesitate, and she knew who it had to be. A moment later the girl Yori-Ezrikos climbed down the rough steps, holding her gown of yellow-and-green painted silks up out of the way of her feet.

Very much to Gil's surprise, she was followed by Govannin's tame mage Bektis, who peered around uneasily at the heavy brickwork, the dark groinings of the ceiling, and sniffed disapprovingly at the sour stink of spilled brandy. Ingold hadn't even commented on the fact that the room was spelled against the working of magic-had he not just come through a mangling by the ice-mages, he still wouldn't have been able to use his powers-but the erstwhile Court mage seemed to be trying not to touch any of the air.

"Stay at the end of the corridor," the girl said over her shoulder to her guards and looked up inquiringly at Bektis. The old man listened a moment, then nodded. A wizard, whether or not his spells were under restraint, still possessed the trained senses and perceptions of a mage, and would be able to hear the retreat of even the quietest footfalls out of normal earshot.

Gil had risen to her feet at the younger woman's entrance and inclined her head awkwardly in respect of her rank. Ingold, lying on the wall-bench, made a move to do

likewise, and Yori-Ezrikos signed him with a tiny, gold-nailed hand to remain where he was. This was fortunate, Gil reflected, since she guessed he would pass out again if he tried to stand. "How is he?"

Gil bit back a spate of furious sarcasm-how the hell did she think he was, after Govannin had dragged him up, reamed him over, and passed sentence of death on them both?-and replied quietly, "Better. The battle with the mages under the ice... hurt him. Crippled him inside. He'll be better if he can rest." "I'll be better still with a little food," Ingold said. The chains on his wrist clinked softly on the stone as he moved his hand. The girl's cold eyes regarded him for a moment over her jonquil silk veil, then returned to Gil. "Is he your lover?" she asked. Her mode of speaking was very slow and deliberate, as if words caused her effort. Her hands remained resting on the amber saint-beads where they hung at her belt. Gil nodded. "How did you know about the priests under the ice?" Ingold's eyes widened. "I was unaware that any legend in the South touched upon them. Or anywhere, for that matter. I would invite you to sit down, Majesty, except this bench is not particularly salubrious, and of course it would be presumptuous of me to imply that you could not be seated anywhere you wished, at any time. Would you offer our guest some water, Gil?"

The gray eyes did not change, disregarding Ingold's persiflage as if he had said nothing. She accepted the gourd of water from Gil's hands, however, and dipped her fingers into it, all that a woman of good breeding was permitted to do in the presence of a man who was not her family. She brought them up behind the concealing veil and touched her lips.

"It wasn't legend, exactly," she said, after a long period of consideration. "My nurse came of a mountain village, where faith in the saints is strange. There are three devils instead of one in all her stories, and they're frozen in ice. They work all their evil by making people do bad things with songs they sing in their minds. One of them plays a flute. Only mountain people tell those tales anymore."

The milk- white bar of eyebrow pinched in the middle, and for the first time the gray eyes lost their chilly hardness, looking into some depth beyond the dark stone pit of the room, the squares of grimy light.

"I thought that's why I saw the things I did in the dream I had," she went on. "That it was only Nana's tales coming back on me when I was cold and afraid." She glanced around her, then sat on a lower rung of the ladder, Bektis standing respectfully at her side. Gil remained standing also, in respect for the presence of a ruler, her hands tucked into her empty sword belt.

They'd replaced the pottery vessels of food and drink with gourds and wood, but Gil was already mentally dismantling other objects in the room, in case she needed another weapon in a hurry.

"What did you dream?" Ingold asked gently. "And why were you cold and afraid?" Yori-Ezrikos did not raise her eyes from her hands, where they lay upon her knees; a storyteller would have put more expression than she did into her deep, rough voice. "Four years ago my father died," she said. "He survived the rising of the Dark Ones by having the slaves pile wood all around the summer pavilion on the other side of the lake and keep fires burning through the night. Mostly the Dark Ones haunted the city, where there were more people. But afterward there was a plague, and Father died of that, and my brothers also. I had been betrothed to Stiarth na-Stalligos, my cousin, but he perished in the North. Vair na-Chandros, the general who led the army to help the Realm of Darwath, came back and made me marry him so he could be Emperor like Father.