The Baker's Boy (41 page)

The room was
dominated by a huge, low table formed from a single slab of granite. Four men
sat, one on each side, around the rectangular stone. Tawl was relieved to see
that these men had their hoods drawn back from their faces. Three of the men
were old and graying. The fourth was much younger, with sharp but handsome
features. The one who had led Tawl to the room silently departed.

Tawl was
scrutinized by the four men for some time before any spoke. Finally, the oldest
of the four addressed him, "Why have you come to Larn?" Tawl was
surprised by the directness of the question. The four waited impassively for
his reply.

"I have come
because I was advised to do so." His voice seemed small and powerless,
muffled by the heavy stone.

"You have
failed to answer the question," said the younger of the four. Tawl did not
care for his biting tone.

"I came
because I need to find a boy." The four men exchanged glances.

"What
boy?" The younger's voice had the sound of one accustomed to having his
questions answered promptly. Tawl defiantly waited a few minutes before
replying.

"I cannot
say. I will know him only when I find him."

"You hope our
seers will point the way?" The elder spoke softly, in mild reproof of his
younger companion.

"I have hope
that they will."

The elder nodded.
"Are you willing to pay the price?"

"What
price?" Tawl was beginning to feel uneasy. "Name it."

"It is not as
simple as that. The price can only be settled after the seeing has been
given."

"What if the
seeing fails?" Tawl felt he was being lured into a baited trap.

"That does
not concern us. You will still be liable to pay the price." The younger of
the four continued, "It is a risk you take. Leave now if you would not
take it." The man's eyes challenged Tawl.

Tawl stood firm
under the scrutiny of the four. "I willing to pay the price."

The elder nodded
once more. "So be it."

The younger stood
up. "Follow me." He led Tawl out of the room and down a series of
passageways. Tawl felt he was descending, and the walls grew damp, confirming
his suspicion that he was being led belowgound.

He began to hear a
noise. At first he could not tell what it was--bats or wild animals, he
thought, growing uneasy. As they drew closer to the source, he realized with
horror that the sound was human cries. He grew cold as he listened to the
desperate keening. He was led around a comer and suddenly found himself in a
vast, natural cavern.

Tawl barely
noticed the magnificent towering rock and the huge domed ceiling aglow with
seams of crystal. He was transfixed by what he saw in the cavern. Rows of
massive, granite blocks.

Bound to each
stone was a man.

Tawl was horrified
by the state of the men: their bodies were thin and emaciated, their hair wild
and long. It was their limbs that were the most shocking: the muscle had
atrophied and withered away, leaving only bone thinly coated by skin. The ropes
were thick and coarse, and held the men motionless. Tawl wondered why the men
were still kept bound, for they would surely never walk again.

It was the noise
the seers made, even more than the sight of them, that chilled Tawl to the
bone. Terrible, anguished howling, frantic screaming, each sound telling of the
torment of their souls. The seers of Larn lived hell on earth. Tawl
shuddered-the seers had been driven to madness.

He could not bear
to look on their anguish. He turned his head, and by doing so locked eyes with
the younger of the four. The man, seeing Tawl's distress, spoke: "The
seers do God's work." His voice was without emotion. "Performing
their task takes its toll. No one can look upon the face of God and remain
unchanged."

"I thought
God was good." Tawl found it hard to think with the tortured cries of the
insane ringing in his ears. "That is your mistake. Good or evil is not his
concern. God exists. There is nothing more."

"Your God is
not mine," Tawl said softly. "All are one here."

"I cannot go
ahead with the seeing. I will not be party to such inhuman cruelty."

"You knew
what Larn was before you came." The younger stated the fact with the
barest hint of malice.

"Yes, I was
told, but I never realized it would be like this." Tawl motioned toward
the rows of men, men destined to lie bound to the stone for life.

"It is too
late to back out now. You have agreed to pay the price. The seeing will go
ahead." The man gestured minutely with his hand and three hooded men
stepped forward. "You will not leave Larn without paying your due."
The younger moved forward and Tawl was escorted behind him by the hooded men.

As he walked down
the rows of seers, they called to him, wailing their terrible laments, their
bodies jerking gracelessly as they shifted against their bindings. Tawl was
escorted to the end of a row, near to the wall of the cavern.

The younger
stopped and turned to him. "He is for you. Ask and you shall be answered."
With that, he and the hooded men withdrew.

Tawl looked upon
his seer. He saw with revulsion where the man had been bound so tight for so
long that his skin had grown over the rope, its rough and knotted texture
clearly visible beneath the pale skin. Tawl realized that if the seer were to
be unbound it would tear open his flesh.

The seer was
babbling frenzied words in a tongue Tawl could not understand. He did not look
at Tawl, he was lost in his own torments. The seer urinated; he seemed unaware
when the liquid soaked his linen wrap and then formed a pool around his hips.

Tawl wanted to be
away from the place as quickly as possible. He asked his question: "Where
do I find the boy whom I seek?"

He was not sure
that the seer heard-his incoherent rantings never stopped for an instant. Tawl
could discern no signs of comprehension from him. He waited, bitterly
regretting having come to Larn. He could not believe that God's work was done
here.

After a while the
seer became visibly more agitated. Spittle frothed at his mouth and his eyes
rolled wildly in their sockets. The babblings grew louder-strange, haunting
words, their meanings unknown to Tawl. The seer seemed to be repeating the same
phrase over and over again. He could not understand it, and moved closer to the
seer. He caught the sharp smell of ammonia in his nostrils.

The seer was
becoming frenzied, saliva dripped down from his chin and onto his thin chest.
Tawl strained for meaning in his voice. He made out the word "king."
The phrase sounded like "for king on." Over and over the seer
repeated it. Tawl puzzled at its meaning. The seer's speech became hysterical.
Tawl looked closely at his wet lips. Suddenly the phrase took shape for Tawl.
He realized the seer was not saying "for king on." The words were,
"Four Kingdoms."

Tawl's blood ran
cold. He became still, feeling a shifting within: the seer had spoken.

For some reason,
he expected that the seer would stop, but he carried on, repeating the phrase
with great agitation. A hooded man approached and drew Tawl away from the seer.

He led him down
the rows of bound men and toward the cavern entrance. Taw] looked back. The
seer was oblivious to his departure: he still recited the same phrase over and
over again, his dull eyes focused on the face of God.

Baralis did not
bother to look up from his work when Crope entered the room. "Has our
sharp-eyed squire met with an accident yet?" He continued his writing.

"He did that,
master. A might unpleasant one, too. He mishandled a wheat scythe."

"How
unfortunate for him. Disturb me no further, Crope. I have many matters to
attend to. In the library you will find a book with a blue leather binding. It
contains illustrations of sea-creatures. It is yours. Take it and leave me
alone." It was Baralis' way of thanking his servant for the care he had
given him when he'd collapsed the night of Winter's Eve. Crope went off
quickly, eager to look at the pictures in his new book.

When the man had
left, Baralis stood up and began to pace the room. He had many matters on his mind.
He had been disturbed by the sight of the Royal Guard riding out of the castle
in the early morning; he needed to find out what mission they were on. The
Royal Guard answered only to the queen. He had lost several days to exhaustion
and he was anxious to waste no more time.

A knock came on
the door of his chamber. Baralis opened the heavy door. "Yes?" he
barked at the liveried steward, annoyed at being interrupted.

"Her
Highness, the queen, requests your immediate presence in the meeting
hall." Baralis had been expecting such a summons.

"Very well,
tell Her Highness I will be there directly." The servant withdrew. Baralis
moved swiftly, preparing for the audience, donning the fine robes that were
expected by the queen. He looked into his small hand mirror and saw that the
burns on his face still showed a little. He would have to think of an excuse
for them. He did not want the queen to suspect any connection between him and
the Winter's Eve fire. He was soon ready and made his way to the meeting hall.

"Lord
Baralis, I trust you are recovered from your bout of fever?" The queen
greeted him coolly. She was dressed in magnificent splendor, wearing a gown of
midnight blue, bedecked in pearls. She was no longer young, but age seemed to
enhance her further, bringing grace and poise in exchange for the bloom of
youth.

"1 am feeling
much better, Your Highness."

"Tell me,
Lord Baralis. It must be an odd fever that would leave your face looking as if
it were burnt." The queen drew her lips to a thin line.

"No, Your Highness,
the bums I incurred in my chambers, when I was working on my medicines. I was
careless with a flame, nothing more."

"I see."
The queen turned and pretended to admire a painting. "Were you by any
chance working on the medicine for the king?"

"I was
indeed, Your Highness. I have prepared a fresh batch. I would presume by now
that the initial dose has been used up?" Baralis was beginning to feel
more confident. He could tell that the queen was trying to hide how desperately
she wanted the medicine.

"There is
none left. The king has been without it for two days now. I fear a relapse if
he is without it much longer."

"Then Your
Highness must be most anxious to have some more."

The queen wheeled
around. "I can play your games no longer, Lord Baralis. I must have the
medicine today." The queen was beginning to lose her composure. Baralis
remained calm.

"Your
Highness knows my price."

"I will not
allow you to say who Prince Kylock will marry."

"He must
marry someone and Lord Maybor's daughter is no longer a suitable choice. Even
if she is found and brought back to the castle, Your Highness would not want
the prince married to a girl who can not bear the sight of him."

"You are
wrong, Lord Baralis. I have been told the truth of the matter by Lord Maybor himself.
He has told me the true reason for his daughter's flight. I have much sympathy
for him and have agreed to send the Royal Guard to search for Melliandra. When
she is found, the betrothal will be carried out." Baralis could hardly
believe what was being said. What lies had Maybor cooked up to fool the queen
so effectively?

He hid his
surprise. "And if the girl is not found?" The queen gave Baralis a
sharp look. He continued, "Or if the girl is found but is no longer a
virgin?"

"I have every
confidence that Melliandra will be found, and that when she is, she will be
untouched." The queen's eyes drew narrow and she spoke again, "Lord
Baralis, I have a proposition for you."

"I am eager
to hear it, Your Highness."

"If you agree
to supply the king's medicine indefinitely, and the girl is not found within
the month, I will agree to your terms."

"And if the
girl is found within the month?"

"The
betrothal will go ahead as planned, but you must still continue to supply the
medicine, and do so until such a time as the king no longer has need of
it."

"So you are
offering me a wager."

"Are you a
betting man, Lord Baralis?" The queen was now her serene self, poised and
in control.

"I pride
myself on taking risks. I accept the wager." Baralis bowed slightly and
the queen smiled charmingly, showing her beautiful, white teeth.

"I wam you,
Lord Baralis, the Royal Guard will find Maybor's daughter wherever she
is."

"That remains
to be seen, Your Highness. In the meantime I will arrange to have a portion of
the medicine sent to the king's chamber." Baralis bowed once more and
left. Once out of the meeting hall, his step grew light. The queen was a most
enjoyable adversary. He almost admired her. It was too bad that she would lose
the wager.

Maybor was
studying his reflection in the mirror. He was pleased to see that his good
looks were returning. True, the sores marred his handsome features somewhat,
but they would fade. The soreness in his throat was not of such importance to
him, that he could live with. Today he would leave his bedchamber for the first
time in days.

He rose from his
bed, slapping the wisewoman's buttocks to awaken her. As she woke, Maybor could
not resist pulling back the sheets to admire her nakedness. He had found to his
surprise that being with an older woman had its advantages; she was much
skilled in the art of lovemaking and was not subject to a young girl's modesty.
Why, if she'd had land of her own, he might even have considered marrying her!

The wisewoman
arose from the bed and proceeded to dress with slow provocation. Maybor looked
on in appreciation. When she had dressed, she kissed him lightly on the cheek
and left. That was another good thing about her, thought Maybor, she had asked
for nothing in return for her favors. He wondered, for a brief instant, if the
ailing king had ever partaken of her services. After all, even a sick man has
desires.