For Love of Evil (16 page)

So they agreed. Jolie went out again, and used her ability to penetrate the message packet of one of the riders, and memorized the content of the key document. It was written in Uigur script, which complicated matters; she had to describe parts of it, and return for more, in a number of stages. Parry drew on the services of a scholar monk who understood the language to re-create the document.

By the time they had a reasonable imitation, their deadline was close. Lucifer had made the exchanges, and the messengers were riding toward Europe. It would be impossible to intercept each messenger; they were widely separated, taking different routes, using the major trade lanes. Lucifer, with his many minions and many years of preparation, had been able to cover every one, but Parry could only do one.

He decided on the one who was now passing through the chief city of the Russian Principality of Novgorod. That was the northernmost trade route, the one that connected to the Baltic Sea. Sections of that route would be virtually impassable in midwinter; if Lucifer's minions were to be careless about any messenger, it would be that one. He might not even get through in time to have any effect; one of the more southerly messengers would be there first.

"But if false messages arrive first. Prince Batu won't believe the true one!" Jolie protested.

"He's no fool, and certainly General Subutai isn't! They will know something is amiss, and will investigate before acting. That's all we need!"

"I hope so," she said doubtfully.

"It is all we can do on this short notice. We are going to have to work closely together, and your part is vital."

"Oh?" she asked archly.

He explained the plan he had worked out. "Oh," she repeated, no longer archly.

He changed to duck form and set off. The duck was not the most impressive of birds, but was equipped to fly steadily over a long distance, and so represented his fastest and least conspicious mode of travel.

He flew all day, and came to roost exhausted; he had tried to remain in condition, but he had few opportunities as a monk to fly, and he was now fifty years old. The night was freezing. His down insulated him, but foraging and roosting was no fun.

In the morning, tired and stiff, he resumed his flight, north- west toward Novgorod. He made less progress than the prior day, because of his fatigue and the rising winds, but he fought on. He knew that the fate of Europe was at stake; this was his only chance to blunt Lucifer's malicious device.

So he continued, struggling, Jolie floating along with him. Every so often she vanished, going to verify the progress of the Mongol rider. That man, too, was cold and tired, but he was toughened to it, and closed inevitably on the city of Novgorod.

As Parry flew, he reflected on what he knew of Novgorod. About four hundred years before, the Vikings from Sweden had thrust up the river routes of northern Russia, establishing colonies and a trading empire throughout the region. The town of Novgorod became their headquarters, and then the town of Smolensk farther south, and finally Kiev to the south of that, on the approach to the Black Sea. Kiev became the capital of a flourishing empire with strong links to the Byzantine empire of the Mediterranean region. When Kiev broke up, the other cities formed principalities, and Novgorod developed a vast northern fur-trading empire. In recent years, under Prince Alexander Nevski, Novgorod had aggressively extended its domains-until the Mongol onslaught. In 1238, during their winter campaign against the northern principalities, the Mongols had come within twenty leagues of the city of Novgorod. But Alexander had been saved by the luck of the season: the Mongols were steppe fighters who flourished in dry country and in the frozen steppe regions, but were wary of being bogged down and trapped in the marshes by the spring thaw. So they had retreated, sparing Novgorod. Prince Alexander, however, no fool, had yielded sovereignty to the Mongols and paid tribute. Thus they had spared him their next season for campaigning, and moved instead to the west.

Parry nodded internally. Prince Alexander had been wise indeed, for Novgorod retained its strength while the other states were being sliced to bits. Similarly the Principality of Polotsk, now taken over by the Principality of Lithuania, had been spared-but no one doubted the power of the Mongols here, and the Mongol agents were unquestioned. So this was Mongol territory, though it had not felt the Mongol sword directly. Just as much of Europe would be, if Parry's present mission did not succeed. Lucifer had planned well!

By the time Parry reached the border of the Principality of Lithuania, he knew he was not going to make it. The document packet, light enough for a duck to carry, now was weighing him down intolerably. But Jolie hovered with him, spurring him on with words and gibes, so that he dragged himself onward. But soon even her encouragement was not enough, and he had to come to ground at the frozen-over waters of the Western Dvina River. He had not quite made it to the Republic of Novgorod. He was exhausted, and dared not change from his duck form because as a man he would be naked to the snows. Meanwhile, the Mongol rider had reached the town of Novgorod and delivered his message packet to the next rider, who was now riding southwest. Parry's chance to make the exchange in the night was gone.

"But the messenger must pass this river!" Jolie said. "We can intercept him here!"

"In the form of a duck?" he asked dispiritedly. He did not actually speak; he merely thought it, and she was able to hear, being hardly more than thought herself. This was another refinement of their interaction they had developed over the years.

"You said that I would have to make the actual exchange," she reminded him. "That I would have to find a local woman and arrange to animate her body long enough to do it. Why can't I do it here?"

"Because there is no woman," he replied. "And if there were, it still wouldn't do, because the messenger will be riding right across the river without pausing. He will be a professional, not stopping for anything until he meets his relay in Vilna. No hope to make the substitution here!"

"Surely there is!" she persisted. "If I can find a woman, and intercept him here-"

"He would not stop. Not even if you stood naked in the snow. These men simply do not dally; their heads would be forfeit if they did. It is discipline, perhaps more than anything else, that makes the Mongols so formidable."

"There has to be a way," she said. "Maybe you could use magic to stop him."

"I lack the strength to do more than mild illusion or Avination."

"Illusion," she said, musingly. "Much can be done with that, properly applied."

Now at last her attitude struck a spark. "The semblance of a barrier!" he thought. "If the way seems impassable-"

"The river!" she responded. "If there seemed to be a thaw, so that he could not cross-"

"Except by boat, which his horse could not manage-"

"Unless a local girl knew the only safe route across the loosening ice-"

Parry would have kissed her if he could. She had found the key!

In a moment they had their plan. Parry marshaled his strength for a suitable effort of illusion, while Jolie ranged out to find a suitable local peasant woman for her purpose.

Soon a figure approached, swathed in furs. Parry, foraging at the snowy bank as well as he could, tried to hide, but it hailed him in French. "Parry! It is Jolie!"

Already! Amazed, he came out to meet her. This was a young woman, a maiden, with girlishly fair features. Even the bundled fur clothing was unable to mask completely the healthy lines of her.

"She has agreed to let me use her body for this occasion," Jolie said. "She doesn't speak our language, but I was able to make our need plain. But we must give her something."

Parry nodded his duck head. No one did something for nothing. "What did you promise her?" he thought warily.

"I'm afraid it was a pretty important gift. The ability to form a ball of ice, and gaze into it, and see the best location for good firewood under the snow. That way her family will not be cold this winter."

Parry nodded again. How cleverly Jolie had managed it! This was in fact a minor thing to do; he could readily craft it, even in his present state. But of course it would loom important to the peasant girl, whose horizons were limited. "It shall be done," he agreed. "I shall instruct her now, before the rider comes."

So he did. If the girl thought it strange to be educated by a duck, she did not show it; evidently Jolie's presence in her mind reassured her. Parry thought his instructions to Jolie, who relayed them to the girl. Because they were concepts rather than words, the girl could understand.

She formed a ball of ice. Actually, it was a ball of solid snow, but that was sufficient. She stared into it, and Parry showed her how, via the channel of Jolie's understanding, to see the visions in it. When she pictured the kind of wood she wanted, the spell enabled her mind to range out ethereally, much as Jolie's did, and orient on that substance. It was borderline magic, actually more of an extension of the natural power latent in every person; they were merely showing her how to exploit it. It was much easier to train her in this, because of Jolie's presence and experience; they accomplished in an hour what might have been difficult in a lifetime for a person instructed only by words.

"But now we must prepare for the interception," Jolie said. "The rider is approaching."

Parry crafted his prepared illusion: the air seemed to warm, the fog coalesced, and the ice of the River Dvina developed seeming cracks through which clear water welled. It looked dangerous for a horse to attempt to cross. He gave Jolie the document packet.

The Mongol messenger arrived; Jolie had tracked him all along. He drew up at the shore and peered ahead, dismayed. He had understood that this river was completely frozen over, and here it was half liquid. He did not want to ride around it, for that would take him many leagues out of his way and cost him time, ruining his schedule. He could go upstream to the city of Polotsk, where a ford would certainly be available, but then he would have to ride extra time to return to his route.

Jolie, in the guise of the peasant giri, walked by, carrying an armful of wood.

The horseman's thought processes were almost visible. A local girl who lived along the river; she would have intimate news of this inexplicable thaw. "Girl!" he called gruffly, in his own language.

Jolie paused, as if startled; she had not, it seemed, realized that a man was near. She backed away, frightened.

The rider guided his horse to intercept her. Terrified, she dropped her bundle of sticks and stared at him.

"The river-you know it?" he demanded. His gesture made his meaning clear: he wanted to get across.

She nodded affirmatively, making a gesture to signify that she lived on the other side, and was only an innocent maiden gathering wood for her family's hovel.

"You know where to cross? Where the ice is tight?"

Again she nodded.

"Show me!"

Now she hesitated, glancing here and there, signifying that the route was tortuous, hard to describe to a stranger.

Abruptly suspicious that she meant to mislead him, perhaps getting him onto thin ice where the weight of his horse would break through and cause them both to drown, he acted with dispatch. He gestured her onto his steed, behind him. That way she would face the same danger he did, and would not betray him.

Afraid to deny him, she approached and suffered herself to be hauled roughly up. She clung to him, afraid of this height. But she indicated the correct route.

Sure enough, she did not betray him. She guided him through the fog without mishap; nowhere did the ice thin and break. He watched carefully throughout, perhaps not unmindful of her arms clasping his body and her pneumatic front pressed so firmly against his back. Indeed, it was almost like affection, the way she pressed so closely in to him. It would be nice to pause, to get her to embrace him face to face, to open their clothing enough to-

But no, he was disciplined, and refused to yield to such a distraction. He only thought about it, enjoying the way her arms moved against his torso, the way her front rocked against his back as the horse moved. He was alert, but he fell into a kind of secondary reverie, thinking about what he might have done had his mission not been so pressing.

And by the time he was safely across, the packet had been exchanged for the one in his travel pouch, he none the wiser. He set her down on the ground, gave her a small coin, and urged his horse onward. He had not after all lost his schedule. Perhaps the girl would meet him again on the return ride, when he would have more leisure.

Parry had followed, staying hidden in the fog, and rejoined her. "That was beautiful!" he thought.

She smiled. "My host agrees. I have explained to her how important this matter is. She doesn't like the Mongols; already their tax agents are driving the farmers to ruin. She asks whether you would like to come to her house, where it will be warm, to rest in your natural form."

The girl must have had considerable prompting for all that! But he was so tired and cold, and aware of the forbidding distance to France; he needed restoration before he attempted that trip. Perhaps he could reward the giri's family in some additional manner for their hospitality; rested, he could perform more formidable magic. "Yes, if she offers it freely," he thought.