Tales From The Vulgar Unicorn tw-2 Read online

  Smhee grabbed the bronze handle of the door.

  'Pray for us, Masha! If he's barred the door on the inside ...!'

  The door swung open.

  Smhee bounded in, the dead man's spear in his hands. Masha, following, saw a large room the air of which was green and reeking of incense. The walls were covered with tapestries, and the heavy dark furniture was ornately carved with demons' heads. They paused to listen and heard nothing except a faint burbling noise.

  'Get the bodies in quickly!' Smhee said, and they dragged the corpses inside. They expected the dreaded mage to walk in at any time, but he still had not appeared when they shut the door.

  Smhee whispered, 'Anyone coming by will notice that there is no guard.'

  They entered the next room cautiously. This was even larger and was obviously the bedroom. The bed was huge and round and on a platform with three steps. It was covered with a rich scarlet material brocaded in gold.

  'He must be working in his laboratory,' Smhee whispered.

  They slowly opened the door to the next room.

  The burbling became louder then. Masha saw that it proceeded from a great glass vessel shaped like an upside-down cone. A black-green liquid simmered in it, and large bubbles rose from it and passed out the open end. Beneath it was a brazier filled with glowing coals. From the ceiling above a metal vent admitted the fumes.

  The floor was mosaic marble in which were set pentagrams and nonagrams. From the centre of one rose a wisp of evil-smelling smoke. A few seconds later, the smoke ceased.

  There were many tables holding other mysterious equipment and racks holding long thick rolls of parchment and papyrus. In the middle of the room was a very large desk of some shiny reddish wood. Before it was a chair of the same wood, its arms and back carved with human-headed dragons.

  The mage, clad in a purple silk robe which was embroidered with golden centaurs and gryphons, was in the chair. His face was on the desk, and his arms were spread out on it. He stank of rancid butter.

  Smhee approached him slowly, then grabbed the thin curly hair of the mage's topknot and raised the head.

  There was water on the desk, and water ran from the dead man's nose and mouth.

  'What happened to him?' she whispered. .

  Smhee did not reply at once. He lifted the body from the chair and placed it on the floor. Then he knelt and thumped the mage's chest.

  The fat man rose smiling.

  'What happened is that the reversal of the wheels' motion caused the water which should have fallen off the paddles to go instead to the mage. The conversion of physical energy to magical energy was reversed.'

  He paused.

  'The water went into the mage's body. He drowned'

  He raised his eyes and said, 'Blessed is Weda Krizhtawn, the goddess of water! She has her revenge through her faithful servant, Rhandhee Ghee!'

  He looked at Masha.' That is my true name, Rhandhee Ghee. And I have revenged the goddess and her worshippers. The defiler and thief is dead, and I can go home now. Perhaps she will forgive some of my sins because I have fulfilled her intent. I won't go to hell, surely. I will suffer in a purgatory for a while and then, cleansed with pain, will go to the lowest heaven. And then, perhaps...' 'You forget that I am to be paid,' she said. 'No, I didn't. Look. He wears golden rings set with jewels of immense value. Take them, and let's be off.'

  She shuddered and said, 'No. They would bring misfortune.'

  'Very well. The next room should be his treasure chamber.' It was. There were chests and boxes filled with emeralds, diamonds, turquoises, rubies, and many other jewels. There were golden and silver idols and statuettes. There was enough wealth to purchase a dozen of the lesser cities of the empire and all their citizens.

  But she could only take what she could carry and not be hampered in the leaving. Exclaiming ecstatics, she reached towards a coffer sparkling with diamonds. At her touch, the jewels faded and were gone.

  14

  She cried out in anguish.

  'They're products of his magic!' Smhee said. 'Set here to fool thieves. Benna must have taken one of these, though how he got here and then away I've no idea! The jewel did not disappear because the mage was alive and his powers were strong. But I'll wager that not. long after the rat carried the jewel off, it disappeared. That's why the searchers found no jewel though they turned the city upside down and inside out!'

  'There's plenty of other stuff to take!' she said.

  'No, too heavy. But he must have put his real jewels somewhere. The next room!'

  But there were no other rooms.

  'Don't you believe it,' Smhee said. He tore down the tapestries and began tapping on the walls, which were of a dense-grained purplish wood erected over the stone. Presently, he said, 'Ah!' and he moved his hands swiftly over the area. 'Here's a hole in the wood just big enough to admit my little finger. I put my finger in thus, and I pull thus, and thus...!'

  A section of the wood swung out. Masha got a burning lamp and thrust it into the room beyond. The light fell on ten open chests and twenty open coffers. Jewels sparkled.

  They entered.

  'Take two handsful,' Smhee said. 'That's all. We aren't out of here yet.'

  Masha untied the little bag attached to her belt, hesitated, then scooped out enough to fill the bag. It almost tore her heart apart to leave the rest, but she knew that Smhee's advice was wisdom. Perhaps, some day, she could come back for more. No. That would be stupid. She had farmore than enough.

  On the way out, Smhee stopped. He opened the mage's robe and revealed a smooth shaven chest on which was tattooed a representation of a fearful six-armed four legged being with a glaring long-tusked face. He cut around this and peeled the skin off and put it rolled and folded into a small jar of ointment. Replacing the jar in his bag, he rose, saying, 'The goddess knows that I would not lie about his death. But this will be the proof if any is demanded.'

  'Maybe we should look for the mage's secret exit,' she said. 'That way, we won't run into the Raggah.'

  'No. At any moment someone may see that the guard is missing. Besides, the mage will have put traps in his escape route, and we might not elude those.'

  They made their way back to the corridor of the lift shaft without being observed. But two men stood in front of the entrance to the lift. They were talking excitedly and looking down the shaft. Then one ran down the corridor, away from the corner behind which the two intruders watched.

  'Going to get help before they venture down to find out why the two feeders haven't come back,' Smhee muttered.

  The man who'd stayed was looking down the shaft. Masha and Smhee took him from behind, one cutting the throat, the other stabbing him in the back. They let themselves down on the ropes and then cut them before going down through the open trap door. But as they left the cage, a spear shot through the trap door and thudded point-first into the floor. Men shouted above.

  'They'll bring ropes and come down on those,' Smhee said. 'And they'll send others outside to catch us when we come out of the pool. Run, but remember the traps'.'

  And the spiders, she thought. And the crabs. I hope the bears are dead. They were. The spiders, all real now that the mage was dead, were alive. These were driven back by the torches the two had paused to light, and they got to the skin-boat. They pushed this out and began paddling with desperation. The craft went through the first arch and then through the second. To their right now were some ledges on which were masses of pale-white things with stalked eyes and clacking pincers. The crabs. The two directed their boat away from these, but the writhing masses suddenly became individual figures leaping outwards and splashing into the dark water. Very quickly, the ledges were bare. There was no sign of the monsters, but the two knew that these were swimming towards them.

  They paddled even faster, though it had not seemed possible until then. And then the prow of the boat bumped into the wall. 'Swim for it!' Smhee bellowed, his voice rebounding from the far walls and high ceilings of
the cave.

  Masha feared entering the water; she expected to be seized by those huge claws. But she went over, the boat tipping, and dived.

  Something did touch her leg as she went under the stone down-cropping. Then her head was above the surface of the pool and Smhee's was beside her.

  They scrambled out onto the hard stone. Behind them came the clacking, but none of the crabs tried to leave the pool.

  The sky was black; thunder bellowed in the north; lightning traced white veins. A wind blew, chilling them in their wet clothes.

  They ran towards the dugout but not in a straight line since they had to avoid the bushes with the poisonous thorns. Before they reached it, rain fell. They dragged the craft into the river and got aboard. Above them lightning cracked across the sky. Another bolt struck shortly thereafter, revealing two bears and a number of men behind them.

  'They can't catch us now!' Smhee yelled. 'But they'll be going back to put their horses on rafts. They'll go all the way into Sanctuary itself to get us!'

  Save your breath, Masha thought. I know all that.

  The wind-struck river was rough now, but they got through the waves to the opposite shore. They climbed panting up the ridge and found their horses, whinnying from fear of the lightning. When they got to the bottom of the ridge, they sped away, their passage fitfully lit by the dreadful whiteness that seemed to smash all around them. They kept their horses at a gallop for a mile, then eased them up.

  'There's no way they can catch us!' Smhee shouted through the thunder. 'We've got too much of a head-start!'

  Dawn came. The rain stopped. The clouds cleared away; the hot winter sun of the desert rose. They stopped at the hut where they had slept, and the horses rested, and they ate bread and cheese.

  'Three more hours will bring us within sight of Sanctuary,' the fat man said. 'We'll get your family aboard the Sailfish, and the Raggah can search for us in vain.'

  He paused, then said, 'What do you intend to do about Eevroen?'

  'Nothing,' she said. 'If he gets in my way I'll brain him again.'

  He laughed so much he choked on his bread. When he'd cleared his throat, he said, 'You are some woman! Brave as the goddess makes them! And supple in mind, too! If I were not vowed to chastity, I would woo you! I may be forty-five and fat, but...'

  He stopped to stare down at his hand. His face froze into an expression of horror.

  Masha became equally paralysed.

  A small purple spider was on Smhee's hand.

  'Move slowly,' he said softly through rigid lips. 'I dare not move. Slap it when you've got your hand within a few inches of it.'

  She got up and took a step towards him. Where had the creature come from? There were no webs in the hut. Had it come from outside and crawled upon him?

  She took another step, leaned over, and brought her hand slowly down at an angle towards the thing. Its eyes were black and motionless, seemingly unaware of her presence.

  Maybe it's not poisonous, she thought.

  Suddenly, Smhee screamed, and he crushed the spider with his other hand. He leaped up then, brushing off the tiny body.

  'It bit me! It bit me!'

  The dark swelling had started.

  'It's not one of the mage's creatures,' she said. 'Its venom may not be deadly.'

  'It's the mage's,' he said. His face was white under the heavy pigment.

  'It must have crawled into my bag. It couldn't have done it when we were on the way to the mage's rooms. It must have got in when I opened the bag to skin off the tattoo.'

  He howled. 'The mage has got his revenge!'

  'You don't know that,' she said, but she was certain that it was as Smhee had said. She removed her small belt-bag and carefully poured out the jewels. But that was all it contained.

  'It's beginning to hurt,' Smhee said. 'I can make it back to the city. Benna did, and he was bitten many times. But I know these spiders. I will die as surely as he did, though I will take longer.

  There is no antidote.'

  He sat down, and for a while he rocked back and forth, eyes closed, moaning. Then he said, 'Masha, there is no sense in my going on with you. But, since I have made it possible for you to be as wealthy as a queen, I beg you to do one favour for me. If it is not too much to ask.'

  'What is that?' she said.

  'Take the jar containing the tattooed skin to Sharranpip. And there tell our story to the highest priest of Weda Krizhtawn. He will pray for me to her, and a great tombstone will be erected for me in the courtyard of the peacocks, and pilgrims will come from all over Sharranpip and the islands around and will pray for me. But if you don't want...'

  Masha knelt and kissed him on the mouth. He felt cold.

  She stood up and said, 'I promise you that I will do that. That, as you said, is the least I can do.'

  He smiled, though it cost him to do it.

  'Good. Then I can die in peace. Go. May Weda Krizhtawn bless you.'

  'But the Raggah ... they will torture you!'

  'No. This bag contains a small vial of poison. They will find only a corpse. If they find me at all.'

  Masha burst into tears, but she took the jar, and after kissing Smhee again, she rode off, his horse trotting behind hers. At the top of the hill she stopped to look behind at the hut. Far off, coming swiftly, was a dark mass. The Raggah. She turned away and urged her horse into a gallop.

  GODDESS By David Drake

  'By Savankala and the Son!' Regli swore, 'why can't she bear and be done with it? And why does she demand to see her brother but won't see me?' The young lord's sweat-stained tunic looked as if it had been slept in. Indeed, Regli would have slept in it if he had slept any during the two days he had paced outside the bedroom, now couching room, of his wife. Regli's hands repeatedly flexed the shank of his riding crop. There were those - and not all of them women - who would have said that agitation heightened - Regli's already notably good looks, but he had no mind for such nonsense now. Not with his heir at risk!

  'Now, now,' said Doctor Mernorad, patting the silver-worked lapels of his robe. The older man prided himself as much on his ability to see both sides of a question as he did on his skill at physic - though neither ability seemed much valued today in Regli's townhouse. 'One can't hurry the gods, you know. The child will be born when Sabellia says it should be. Any attempt to hasten matters would be sacrilege as well as foolishness. Why, you know there are some... I don't know what word to use, practitioners, who use forceps in a delivery? Forceps of metal! It's disgusting. I tell you. Prince Kadakithis makes a great noise about smugglers and thieves; but if he wanted to clean up a real evil in Sanctuary, he'd start with the so-called doctors who don't have proper connections with established temples.'

  'Well, damn it,' Regli snapped, 'you've got a "proper connection" to the Temple of Sabellia in Ranke itself, and you can't tell me why my wife's been two days in labour. And if any of those bitch-midwives who've stood shift in there know' - he gestured towards the closed door - 'they sure aren't telling anybody.' Regli knuckled the fringe of blond whiskers sprouting on his jawbone. His wealth and breeding had made him a person of some importance even in Ranke. Here in Sanctuary, where he served as Master of the Scrolls for the royal governor, he was even less accustomed to being balked. The fact that Fate, in the form of his wife's abnormally-prolonged labour, was balking him infuriated Regli to the point that he needed to lash out at something. 'I can't imagine why Samlane insists on seeing no one but midwives from the Temple of Heqt,' he continued, snapping his riding crop at specks on the mosaic walls. 'That place has no very good reputation, I'm told. Not at all.'

  'Well, you have to remember that your wife is from Cirdon,' said Mernorad reasonably, keeping a wary eye on his patron's lash. 'Though they've been forty years under the Empire, worship of the Trinity hasn't really caught on there. I've investigated the matter, and these women do have proper midwives' licences. There's altogether too much loose talk among laymen about "this priesthood" or "that particul
ar healer" not being competent. I assure you that the medical profession keeps very close watch on itself. The worst to be said on the record - the only place it counts - about the Temple of Heqt here in Sanctuary is that thirty years ago the chief priest disappeared. Unfortunate, of course, but nothing to discredit the temple.'

  The doctor paused, absently puffing out one cheek, then the other, so that his curly white sideburns flared. 'Though I do think,' he added, 'that since you have engaged me anyway, that their midwives might consult with one of my, well, stature.'

  The door between the morning room and the hall was ajar. A page in Regli's livery of red and gold tapped the jamb deferentially. The two Rankans looked up, past the servant to the heavier man beyond in the hall. 'My lord,' said the page bowing, 'Samlor hil Samt.'

  Samlor reached past the servant to swing the door fully open before Regli nodded entry. He had unpinned his dull travelling cloak and draped it over his left arm, close to his body where it almost hid the sheathed fighting knife. Northern fashion, Samlor wore boots and breeches with a long-sleeved over-tunic gathered at the wrists. The garments were plain and would have been a nondescript brown had they not been covered with white road dust. His sole jewellery was a neck thonged silver medallion stamped with the toad face of the goddess Heqt. Samlor's broad face was deep red, the complexion of a man who will never tan but who is rarely out of the sun. He cleared his throat, rubbed his mouth with the back of his big fist, and said, 'My sister sent for me. She's in there, the servant says?' He gestured.

  'Why yes,' said Regli, looking a little puzzled to find the quirt in his hands. The doctor was getting up from his chair. 'Why, you're much older, aren't you?' the lord continued inanely.

  'Fourteen years,' Samlor agreed sourly, stepping past the two Rankans to the bedroom door. He tossed his cloak over one of the ivory-inlaid tables along the wall. 'You'd have thought the folks would have guessed something when the five between us were stillborn, but no. Hell, no ... And much luck the bitch ever brought them.'