Magic Casement (22 page)

“Name
them. I’ve got my list, let’s hear yours.”

“Four
horses. Bedding. Food. Fodder-lots of oats. Weapons. A pot to melt snow... “
He dried up and Andor chuckled.

“I
thought of a few more things, but it isn’t really very many. No wooden
swords?”

Rap
gulped, smiled, and said, “No wooden swords.”

Andor
reached out a hand to shake. “Good man! If we get caught by bears in the
harbor or by a blizzard in the hills, we’ll die, but that we have to
chance. Otherwise we just keep going--the hills, then the moors, then the
forests, then the mountains. Once we’re over them, then it’s plum
cake. Three weeks in summer... say five now. Then a week for Inos to get ready.
Angilki will lend her some men, I think, or she can hire some. Five weeks back.
Three months, or four at the outside. Sagorn thinks he may just last that long.
Remember, he has a word of power, and that will help him. “

Sagorn
had said the words made their owners hard to kill, and he had glanced at the
king when he said it.

“The
king has a word, too?”

Andor
nodded. “Inisso had three, it is said, and he divided his power-one word
to each of his sons. I can’t believe he would have done anything so
stupid, but that is the legend. Kalkor of Gark probably knows one of them, even
yet. He’s a superb killer, a thane’s thane. Duke Angilki must have
one, ‘cos he’s an utter idiot, but a demon with wallpaper-so I’ve
heard-and the kings of Krasnegar have always had one. That’s how they
have retained their independence for so long. But if Inos doesn’t get
back here before her father dies, then it will die with him. The throne is not
all she will be cheated out of, Rap.”

“But
how could we collect all that stuff and get away unseen?”

“I
told you-Winterfest. No one will question you, anyway. They’ll assume you’re
doing something for Foronod. And you can walk around in the dark! Where are the
bedrolls kept, the thick ones? “

“I
don’t know. In the storeroom by the smithy, I suppose.”

“Look
for them! “

Rap
scowled, and knew that his scowl would show in the silvery tendrils of
moonlight spreading into the little room.

“Rap!
I wouldn’t risk this madness with anyone else but you, and I won’t
if you’re going to be a mule-headed pig. That farsight of yours will be
our trump card. Nothing can sneak up on you, if you’ll use it. But use it
you must! And you need practice. Now, are the bedrolls there?”

Rap
thought about the storeroom and said, “In the corner beside the axes.”

“Axes!
Good! I forgot those. You get the bags and-”

“The
stable gate is locked. The keys are on Hononin’s belt.”

“Then
I’ll get those.”

“You?”
The hostler was one of the very few people in Krasnegar who did not like Andor.
Hononin detested him, apparently. The hostler was a grumpy old demon.

“Yes,
me!’,” Andor laughed. “Where can I find him, do you suppose?”

For
the next two hours, Rap felt as if he were fighting a blizzard. The new clothes
alone would have been enough to put him in a daze, and the thought of trekking
off into the wastelands of the taiga, the prospect of an adventure with a hero
like Andor, the chance of seeing Inos again... Emotions swirled through him
like a spring tide. Moreover he now must force himself to use his uncanny
sensing ability instead of suppressing it, and soon his head was throbbing with
the effort. Yet farsight was a wonderful assistance for a common thief.

The
realization that he was stealing upset him even more than the thoughts of
danger ahead. He tried to convince himself that everything he was taking would
be returned eventually, except the food. Andor had said that he would handle
the food, and he had promised he would leave payment. Sweating in his opulent
new furs, Rap scurried around the palace storerooms, collecting things and
carrying them to the stables, using no lights, yet rarely having to hesitate or
fumble.

The
bedding was where he had known it would be, and so were axes and oats and
spears and shovels... he cached his loot in an empty stall and then set to work
on horses.

Firedragon
was a temptation, but he was stud for the royal herd, so the temptation would
have to be resisted. Young animals would be the best, but even some of those
were beginning to show the effects of their harsh winter confinement. In the
cold, uncaring moonlight he saddled Joyboy and Crazy; he loaded Peppers and
Dancer with the bags of fodder and equipment.

Then
he was ready and he slumped down on a bag of chaff to catch his breath,
wondering what he might have forgotten. The stable was dark, warm, and smelly
with horses, filled with their little snufflings and shiftings, homely and
familiar... and as Rap sat there, the implications of what he had done suddenly
struck him like snow falling off a roof. The storerooms had opened to him
because he was Foronod’s helper-Foronod’s trusted helper. He had
been entrusted with the keys, and he had betrayed that trust! He was disobeying
his king. Who was he to summon Inos to a perilous trek back through the winter
forest, when her father would not? Had Andor bewitched him? He began to shake
and stream with sweat. Traitor! Thief!

He
was crazy! Perhaps there was just time to correct his error before Andor
arrived-then no one would ever know. Frantic with guilt, with fingers that
seemed clumsy as toes, Rap began unloading the ponies.

He
had hardly started when a door creaked. He jumped, but he knew it was Andor
before he could see him.

Andor
thankfully slid a huge pack of supplies off his back.

“Good
man! Almost ready, I see. You’re a wonder, Rap, even among
northerners-and you know what people say about them. “

“No?
What do they say about us?”

“Oh,”
Andor said vaguely, “you know. Self-reliant, tough, dependable. That sort
of thing. Now to business!” Grinning, he held up Hononin’s keys and
jingled them.

How
had he managed that? Rap’s heart pumped cold terror as he remembered the
tales of the fisherman Kranderbad and the others. “What did you do to
him? Tell me!”

“Not
a thing, my lad. He’s still drinking Winterfest punch at the King’s
Head. “

“He
gave you the keys?”

“No.
He dropped them on the floor right here, but he doesn’t know that yet.
Now, what are we missing?”

Ten
minutes later they unlocked the stable gate and walked out into the bailey and
the deadly cold.

“Damn!”
Andor said. The expedition had run into trouble already. Although the outer
gates were never locked, only barred, a giant snowdrift lay across them. The
postern was open, and a path through it well tramped, but the packhorses would
not be able to pass that way with their burdens.

“We’ll
have to unload and load up again outside,” Rap said, feeling the bite of
the cold already.

“I
suppose so,” Andor muttered. “Is there anyone out there to see?”

“I...
I don’t know!”

“Use
your farsight. “

“I
can’t! “ Rap felt a sudden panic. Was his mysterious power going to
fail him now, when he had just agreed to use it? He could sense nothing-which
told him how much he had already become accustomed to using his farsight
without realizing. A tremor of guilt teased at his conscience again. Were the
Gods about to withdraw their gift to him?

Then
Andor chuckled. “Try this, then. Go outside and see what happens.”

Puzzled,
Rap handed him the lead rein and stepped through the postern. A moment later he
returned. “You’re right! The gate stops it-whatever it is.”

“Should
have known! The castle is magic-proof.”

“Magic?
I’m not a sorcerer!”

“No,
lad, but your farsight is something more than mundane. Why do you suppose old
Inisso built a castle, anyway? There are no armies here! Sorcerers fear only
other sorcerers, so the castle wall is magic-proof. Magic’ll work inside
or outside, but not through the walls... I’ve heard of that. I d
forgotten. Well, come on! We’ll freeze to death if we don’t start
moving!” With Andor following, Rap led their string down through the
alleys of Krasnegar and the Gods seemed to be cheering them on. The few people
they met were so far advanced in festive preparations that they did not wonder
where Rap might be going with horses at that time of year. Most did not even
recognize him in his new clothes, and the rest were content to call a cheerful
greeting as he went by. The town gates were unlocked. Andor swung up the bar, Rap
followed him out to the docks-and stopped to check for bears.

Nothing
moved in the black stillness. Neither eyes nor farsight detected danger. Spring
and fall were when white bears roamed the coast. Midwinter should be safe-but
not necessarily.

“Can’t
see anything,” Rap muttered nervously.

“Right!”
Andor led the way to a boat ramp, and the insane escapade had begun.

Windless
and still, the night was yet cold beyond belief. Steam from the horses rose
like the smoke of bonfires. Sealed cozily inside his new furs, Rap could feel
the deathly touch only on the small comers of his face that were still exposed,
but the insides of his nostrils crackled. Snow crunched noisily below hoof and
boot.

The
half moon had banished the aurora and most of the stars. Now its ghostly light
fell from a clear black sky to glitter on the ice-covered bay. The islands of
the causeway were drifted over and tangled with piled floes, but the bay ice
itself would be safe enough-if they could ever get to it, for its edges were a
crumpled horror of tilted blocks and jagged monoliths, sharp ice and soft snow
mixed in random confusion. Drifts and shadows concealed deep holes, deep enough
in some cases to reach down to the water itself, with only a treacherous thin
cover of new ice. For the first few minutes Rap floundered, convinced he would
never find a way through such a trap, tripping and constantly sinking through
surfaces that looked hard and yet were not. The horses behind him were doing no
better and he could sense their terror.

“Take
your time,” said Andor’s voice from the back, calmly. “The
farsight will help you.”

Rap’s
right foot sank deep into soft snow. He stumbled against a crystal wall,
extracted that foot and lost the other, then both, and stopped of necessity,
buried up to his thighs. He was gasping with nervousness and exertion, blowing
clouds of steam that glistened faint rainbow colors in the moonlight. He
thought of the endless leagues before him. At this rate they would starve to
death before they even reached the mainland, far less the forests.

“Wait!
“ Andor called as Rap struggled to free himself. “Close your eyes!”

Rap
closed his eyes. He knew that there was a giant canted slab on his right, and a
heap of massive blocks to his left, but of course that smooth stretch ahead was
all snowdrift and the ice below sloped steeply down. His eyes had not told him
that. Over there, however, the snow was thinner...

It
seemed a long time, but it could hardly have been more than ten minutes before
he had found a route through the labyrinth, out on to the smoother surfaces in
the center of the bay, where the floes had not been so contorted by the tide.
Then it seemed safe to mount the horses. He had mastered the technique. He did
not need to close his eyes now, he could blend the two types of sight in his
mind and reach out ahead. When they came to the jumble on the opposite shore,
he led the string through without having to backtrack once.

“Magnificent!
Rap, my lad, you’re incredible! This is going to be a joyride.”

Praise
from Andor was a hot drink, sweet and warm all through Rap.

And
his magic worked on land, as well. He soon developed a sense for the depth and
packing of the snow-where the horses could go and where they could not. In
truth there was not much snow on the ground. Krasnegar was a dry place and the
snow seemed impressive only because the wind made every flake do the work of
ten. Open areas were mostly swept clear, and drifts formed only in the lee of
obstacles. His headache faded as his confidence grew, or perhaps that was an
effect of the clear and frigid air. Their route was less direct than would have
been possible in summer, but they began to advance steadily into the hills,
four horses in line sending up thick clouds of steam in the moonlight, the
jingle of harness blending with the crackle of the snow crust, their shadows
tracking beside.

As
the sun ruled Krasnegar’s sky in summer, so the moon prevailed in winter.
A full moon hardly set at all, riding high around the sky, ducking but briefly
below the northern horizon to hide from the transient sun. But now the moon was
waning and it would fail them in time. Yet even at midwinter there would be
some daylight, and a brash new confidence was telling Rap that he perhaps did
not need light at all.

They
took their first break in the same little valley where he had met Jalon the
minstrel, many months before, although now the countryside was strangely
changed by the snow and the spectral light. This far from the shore bears were
unlikely, because bears ate seals in preference to people.

Rap
dug out a canteen from under a grain sack on Dancer, whose body heat had kept
it unfrozen.

“Careful
with this,” he warned as he passed it to Andor. “It will freeze to
your lips if you let it.” He felt an unworthy twinge of pride in his
superior knowledge, the jotunn guiding the imp. They chewed pemmican and
spilled some oats on the snow for the ponies. Rap muttered over their gashed
ankles, he scraped the packed snow out of their shoes and carefully picked the
icicles from their nostrils. He was almost laughing aloud with excitement,
exhilarated by adventure and a sense of escape. Krasnegar had been a jail for
him-he had broken out into freedom. He made a promise to himself: this journey
would be the start of his manhood. If the air had not been so cold, he would
have been tempted to sing.