Kedrigern in Wanderland (5 page)

quickly, sinuous as a giant serpent, a swirl of dark, oily colors bearing altogether too many glowing eyes, peculiarly arranged. It enveloped Mergith, who gave one awful scream, and then it whooshed back the way it had come. Mergith’s cry faded up the chimney. The trail of the apparition was a smoking ribbon of molten stone.

“Well, he knew it was dangerous,” said Panstygia.

“It was a lot more dangerous than he thought,” Hamarak added softly.

THE DOOR
of the throne room burst open and a score of guards rushed in, swords drawn and pikes leveled at Hamarak. They saw the smoking stone, caught a whiff of sulphur, and stopped in their tracks.

“Where is Mergith?” the guard captain demanded.

Panstygia’s voice rang through the chamber. “Mergith has been vanquished by a greater wizard. He will return no more. On your knees, all of you! All hail Hamarak the Invincible!”

The guards glanced uncertainly at one another and backed away. The pikeman who had conducted Hamarak to the castle drew them together and began to speak to his comrades in low, urgent tones. They looked at Hamarak, at Panstygia, at the pikeman, back at Hamarak; then one by one they stepped forward to kneel before their new ruler.

“Proclaim the coming of Hamarak among the people,” Panstygia commanded. “And bring back enough help to get this place cleaned up. It’s in a shocking state.”

“As our master wishes,” said the guard captain. “Are there further commands?”

“Would you bring back a couple of loaves of nice fresh bread and some butter?” Hamarak added.

“At once, my lord Hamarak,” said the captain, bowing and backing from the chamber.

When they were alone, Panstygia said, “A very fortunate thing you didn’t have to fight the guards. I’m sure Mergith made me lose my temper. I’m useless as a sword until I have my temper restored, and I don’t think it will be a pleasant process.”

Hamarak, his brow furrowed, was silent for a time, and then he said, “If I’m king, you could be my ceremonial sword. I wouldn’t hit anybody with you.”

“Thank you, Hamarak, but if I must be a sword, I prefer to be the real thing, not a decorative object. I have my pride.”

“Would you like to be my staff? A king needs a staff.”

“A staff is all right as a disguise when we’re traveling, but I don’t enjoy being one. I certainly don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a stick.” She paused for a moment, then blurted, “Why did that wretched man have to make me a sword? Why couldn’t I be a crown, like Alice?”

Hamarak paced the room once, then a second time, and finally took his place on the carven throne, which proved to be a snug fit. At last he said, “I get to wear a crown, don’t I, if I’m king?”

“You get to wear anything you like if you’re a king. I don’t even have a
sheath,
but you can have a crown, robes, sashes
. . .
the full regalia.”

“Would you like to be my crown?”

“Your crown? I don’t understand, Hamarak.”

“It would mean being heated up again, and hit with a hammer a few times, but they might have to do that anyway, to give you back your temper. You could be a crown. Like Alice.”

“But I’m not gold, Hamarak.”

“I don’t care. You’ve been a good sword, and a good staff, and you’ll be a good crown, gold or not.”

“Why, Hamarak, what a sweet thing to say! I’m touched.”

Embarrassed, Hamarak ducked his head, stared down

into his lap, and squirmed uncomfortably on the narrow seat. In a subdued voice, he said, “Well, if it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be working for other people. Now I’m a king.”

“You’re a wizard-warrior-king. You can even be a wizard-warrior-farmer-king, if you like.”

“I can?” Hamarak looked up, smiling. “It’s nice to be a king.”

“My father always spoke well of it,” Panstygia said. “I’m not absolutely certain I want to become your crown, though. I’ll need time to think about that. Meanwhile, you’d better summon your guards and servants, and give them orders.”

“What orders?”

“Any orders will do. The thing is to let them know at once that you’re decisive and demanding. You are Hamarak the Invincible, and you’re not to be kept waiting. That’s the secnt of successful kingship.”

At the very moment that Hamarak commenced to impose his regal presence on the castle staff, Kedrigern and Princess were crossing the narrow bridge to Dendorric. They rode mounts acquired on their recent travels, creatures of tractable mien but singular appearance, especially useful for passing through dangerous country. Princess was on a transparent horse; in the proper light, she appeared to be comfortably seated in midair, her stately passage marked by the clopping of unseen hooves. Kedrigern’s horse was jet black, a gigantic red-eyed stallion with massive silver hooves and a redoubtable silver horn spiraling from his broad forehead. This was no mincing unicorn, fit only to recline a milky head on a maiden’s lap and roll its mournful eyes in abject surrender; it was a spiked juggernaut that could rampage through an army, leaving a wake of bloody pulp. Thanks to the spectral appearance of one steed and the awesomeness of the other, the travelers had had, thus far, a peaceful trip.

As the horses picked their way through the oddments of

splintered wood and shattered metal that cluttered the bridge at midpoint, Kedrigern and Princess exchanged a puzzled glance. Clearly, a pitched battle had been fought here by a sizeable body of warriors, and not long ago: But by whom? And why? And who had won? There was no smoke rising from Dendorric, no cries of victims or roaring of conquerors; nor had they passed a retreating army on their way through the forest, or encountered wounded stragglers, or seen abandoned campsites. It was decidedly odd.

Even odder was the fact that the bridge was rtnguarded. Far from showing concern at this dereliction, the citizens of Dendorric were in a holiday mood that even the sight of two bizarre horses could not dampen. They greeted the travelers with waves and smiles and shouts of welcome. Several little girls threw flowers.

Here and there, knots of small boys flailed away at one another in mock swordplay. When all had gone down before the onslaught of one, the victor would cry, “I am Hamarak, and I wield the great black blade of the west, Panstygia! Bring me my bread!” The others would then spring up and begin to shout, “Now I get to be Hamarak!” or “My turn! My turn!” or “I’m Hamarak this time, and you’re the robbers!” Kedrigern smiled benevolently on their play and turned to Princess.

“It appears we’ve arrived on the festival of some local hero.”

“Yes. It’s odd, though.
. .
the people don’t seem to be the least bit nervous, as you said they’d be.”

The wizard looked about. “They don’t, do they?” he said thoughtfully. “They’re not even curious about our horses.”

“Maybe Mergith has done something to make them feel more secure.”

Kedrigern raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly, skeptically, but said nothing. This was certainly not the fearful, suspicious city he remembered. He doubted that Mergith had the power to bring about such a change, but

clearly someone or something had, and his curiosity was aroused.

At the inn, a trembling hostler took the horses only after Kedrigern tipped him lavishly and smothered him under assurances of their gentle natures. This evidence that courage had not become endemic to the people of Dendorric only heightened the mystery.

Withindoors, a crowd was gathered around the innkeeper, listening in worshipful silence as he pointed out where Hamarak had sat and held up the plate from which he had eaten buttered bread, a few crumbs of which were still available at a modest price. For a bit more, he offered to point out the very room in which Hamarak had slept only the previous night. There was a respectful murmur from the crowd, but no takers, and the innkeeper’s withdrawl behind the bar, and his call for orders, had the effect of clearing the room of all but himself and the two travelers.

“Good day, sir and madam. Are you new to Dendorric?” he asked.

“My wife is,” said Kedrigern. “I was here before, when Linran was king.”

“Oh, yes, poor Linran. Deposed by his own guards, he was. That’s when Joder became king.”

“So Joder is now king in Dendorric?”

“Oh, no, sir. Joder didn’t last at all, bless him. Died in his sleep one night, and Hildebad took over. Then Hildebad fell from the tower and Zill became king, and when Zill had an attack of food poisoning—”

“Who’s king of Dendorric now?” Kedrigern broke in.

“Oh, that’s Mergith, sir. ‘Mergith the Wizard-King’ he calls-himself, and a very careful gentleman he is, too, sir. Keeps himself to himself, if you know what I mean. Very seldom leaves the castle.”

“One can hardly blame him,” said Princess with a disarming smile.

“Tell me, innkeeper, is Mergith a difficult man to see?” Kedrigern asked.

“Well, he is and he isn’t, if you know what I mean, sir.

If it’s you as wants to see him, that can be very difficult indeed. On the other hand, if it’s Mergith as wants to see you, well, then, there’s nothing to it. He just sends a few guards and fetches you up to the castle. And sometimes you come back and sometimes you don’t, if you take my meaning,” said the innkeeper, winking and laying a finger alongside his many-times-broken nose, tapping one hairy nostril meaningfully.

“I think I do,” said the wizard. “And it would seem to be the wisest course to rest and refresh ourselves and do a

-
bit of thinking. Do you have a room and a bed we will not be obliged to share with strangers?”

“We do, sir and madam, and a lovely room it is,” said the innkeeper, hurrying out from behind the bar. He snatched up their packs and started for the stairs, saying over his shoulder, “You’re at the other end of the hall from where Hamarak stayed, so you won’t be disturbed by the people coming up to look at where he slept.”

“We seem to have missed a significant chapter in Dendorric’s history. Who is Hamarak, and what did he do?”

The innkeeper stopped on the first step of the stairs, turned, and said, “Why, sir, he’s the savior of Dendonic. This very morning, all by himself, with not a soul to stand at his side, he drove off an army of brigands from across the river. He must have slain threescore men with that great black sword of his, and then he came back here and sat in the very room we’ve just left and called for a loaf of fresh bread. And butter.” The innkeeper shook his head in wonderment. “And now he’s up at the castle. Mergith wanted to see
him
in a hurry. Poor lad. I don’t think he’ll find Mergith as easy to deal with as a hundred ruffians.”

From outside came the sound of distant shouting. It grew louder, and more distinct, until they clearly heard a number of enthusiastic voices crying, “Long live Hamarak! All hail Hamarak the Invincible! All hail the king of Dendorric!”

“That’s that for Mergith,” said the innkeeper with a

fatalistic shrug. “I hope Hamarak lasts a while. Kings do come and go here in Dendorric.”

“Bring our things up to the room. We’ll be back as soon as we can,” snapped Kedrigern.

“To the castle?” Princess asked.

The wizard nodded. “To the castle.”

Panstygia was giving instructions while Hamarak listened patiently. “For the first few days, it’s best you see no one. Let the people build up a healthy uncertainty about their new lord and master.”

“But everyone’s already seen me,” Hamarak objected.

“They’re only had a glimpse. Just enough to whet their curiosity.”

“Can’t I see people? I like to have people around.”

“It’s lonely at the top, Hamarak. Fortunately, there are compensations.”

A guard entered and fell to one knee at the foot of the throne. “Visitors, my Lord Hamarak. They would see you at once,” he announced.

“Who are they?”

“A man and a woman. The woman has little wings, like a fairy godmother. The man is plainly dressed and carries no weapons. His name is Kedrigern, but the lady is known only as Princess,” said the guard.

“Is she really a princess?”

“She appears to be, my lord. Except for the wings.” His expression solemn, Hamarak said, “Leave us for a time, while we ponder the matter. We will summon you.” When the guard was gone, he asked, “How did that sound? Was I kingly?”

“I was impressed, Hamarak,” Panstygia replied.

“I’d like to see these people. I never saw a woman with wings. If she’s a fairy godmother, maybe she can help you.”

“I don’t wish to go to a ball, Hamarak, I wish to be restored to human form. That is work for a wizard,” said the sword. “Since the woman is a princess, you may

admit her, but the man really must wait outside. A stranger plainly dressed, without a sword, has no right to take up a king’s time.”

At that moment, the guard burst in and fell trembling before Hamarak. “Wizards, my lord! They are wizards! What shall we do?” he cried in terror.

Panstygia’s voice was like a trumpet as she cried, “Show them in at once, you unmannerly idiot, and fetch comfortable chairs for them, and plenty of pillows! Bring the finest wine from the cellars, and dainties from the kitchen! Bid the cooks prepare the most sumptuous dinner they’ve ever made, and see that it’s served on clean dishes!”

“Well, go ahead. Do it,” Hamarak said.

For the better part of an hour, Kedrigern and Princess were the objects of a courtesy that stopped just short of worship. In chairs piled with soft pillows, their feet on cushioned stools, superb wine in delicate crystal vessels on one hand and a tray of sweetmeats on the other, they were feted like conquerors and coddled like harem beauties, indulged almost to the point of embarrassment. Finally, when every pillow had been plumped up for the twentieth time, and every decanter refilled, every delicacy sampled, every word of welcome spoken and every smile of greeting smiled, the servants withdrew with orders not to disturb them, and they were left alone with Hamarak the Invincible.

At once Panstygia spoke, and her voice, cloaked in authority and slightly metallic, brought the visitors bolt upright among their pillows. “I have not always been a sword,” she promptly explained. “I am currently under an enchantment from which only a powerful and benevolent wizard can release me.”

“I’m sure my husband can do something. He’s a master of counterspells,” said Princess.

“I’ll help if I can. I assume my lord Hamarak has no objection?” said Kedrigern.

Panstygia snapped, “Certainly not,” and Hamarak shrugged. At the wizard’s request she related her history in full, from her happy girlhood as Princess Louise of the