The Cutting Edge (10 page)

"Then don't refer to it as `this' ... I mean, call it `him.' "

" `Him'? That's not much of a name! Let's see. Can't tell much from his coloring yet, but I think he's going to be more imp than jotunn. "

"I thought that, too. But he's got your nose, love. "

Rap peered crossly at the diminutive face, screwed up in a frown, but fast asleep. "They all have my nose at that age! Or perhaps he just squished it on the door frame."

"Don't be crude!" the queen said from her pillow. "What will you name your son, my lord?"

"You decide!"

There was a brief argument about precedence. "Holindam," Rap said at last.

"Kadie and Eva are named after my family. It's your family's turn. Why not name him after your father? What was he called, anyway?"

"Grossnuk. "

Inos said, "Oh?" with little enthusiasm.

"I don't remember him much." The king poked the baby's chin with a finger. "Hey, Grossy! We want you to grow up like your grandpapa the slaver! The drunken raider who fell off a dock in the dark. Big and mean and strong like the murdering, raping, wife-beating-"

"On the other hand," the queen said thoughtfully, "if he is going to have impish looks, then perhaps an impish name would be more appropriate."

"There you go, changing your mind again!" the king said. "Women!" He gave her another kiss. "Hi there, Holi!" He kissed the baby, too. It scowled but did not wake. "Be half the man your namesake was and you'll do fine."

"Holi it is, then." Inos yawned-a monstrous, unladylike, queen-size yawn.

"Get some sleep now, love," Rap said, and stood up. "What time would you like the bell to start?"

Inos groaned. "Must we? I always associate it with funerals."

"No. Think of celebrations and weddings and life!"

"I expect they'll ring it whether we want them to or not," she agreed sleepily. "Keep Holi a state secret till lunchtime if you can."

"Tell him that! " the king said. He departed, taking their son and the lamp.

He left baby Prince Holindarn with the women and wandered off by himself, much too excited to sleep. There might still be life down the hill, in the taverns, but he had no desire to be mobbed by a bunch of drunks. Tomorrow, maybe. All his friends were long since abed. It would be unkind to waken them just to explain about this incredibly beautiful and intelligent new baby. He had the rest of the night to himself, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

The present king and queen had abandoned the ancient tradition whereby the reigning monarch slept at the top of the great tower. There were many more convenient rooms available and much warmer.

He opened a door and stepped silently within. A small lamp flickered high on a shelf, illuminating three beds and three young faces on three pillows.

Nearest the door was Eva, flaxen hair, ivory winter skin. The king adjusted her quilts.

Hello there, little one, he thought. You have a baby brother now. You won't be able to pull all those tricks any more. Life is hell, Baby Eva! Now you've got to face it squarely, without being the family pet. Eight years old, supplanted and rejected already! How awful. How you will suffer! I'll try to remember that, though, and I'm sure your mother will.

He crossed the room to the twins.

The dark-haired one ... Princess, you have a baby brother. Someone else for you to organize, imp. Another thrall to serve your whims and dance to your tune. As he did not speak aloud, the child could not hear and yet she fretted briefly on the pillow.

Dreaming, Kadie? What on earth do you dream about? Your day is one long dream, so far as I can see. Your life is filled with Allena the Fair and the White Lady of Tower Perilous and the Wild Riders of the Sea Wind ... Your life is one endless romance. You never have time just to be yourself, Kadie. Is that what you do in your dreams? Do you dream all hard and practical and plain, while the rest of us dream frills and fancy? He chuckled, still silent. Dream on then, little beauty. And if you can rid your life of realities by night and keep your days as one long dream always, then you will indeed be blessed of the Gods.

Gath, with shards of hair protruding everywhere like a golden porcupine ... You have a brother now, my son. You are much older and will have to be an example for him. I'll explain that tomorrow. On your birthday, we're going to make some changes, lad. You and your sister will have your own rooms from then on, and this time there will be no argument. You're a good team, I know. You do all the heavy digging and she does all the thinking. I don't know how to stop that, Gath. It worries me a little. You never do anything on your own, not that I can see, and I can't understand that, because I was on my own a lot at your age. Oh, I had friends, but by my thirteenth birthday I was a working man and had been for years. If you're not following after Kadie, then you're following me, or your mother. What goes on in that silent head of yours? What kind of a jotunn never loses his temper? You're certainly not an imp, because you mind your own business. Are you perhaps a faun on the inside?

Rap knew very little about fauns. They were said to be stubborn, though, and Gath was never stubborn. Gath was the most obliging person in the world. It didn't fit the patterns. And it didn't seem healthy, somehow.

The king wandered aimlessly along dark corridors and eventually found himself in the great hall, trellised by moonlight, silent and haunted. Starting to feel chilled, he headed for the cavernous fireplaces at the kitchen end. Even if the last embers had burned away, there would be heat left in the stones. He found a deserted bench standing almost within the ashes, so some other night bird had been there before him. A few fragments of driftwood still glowed like the eyes of rodents. He sat down and absorbed the radiating warmth, sniffing the old familiar smells of peat and ash and ancient grease, listening to the casements rattle in the wind.

This was what he remembered best of his childhood. He could recall almost nothing of the earliest years, before his father died and his mother moved into the castle. At ten he'd started work in the stables, but in retrospect it seemed that much of his youth before that had been spent huddling close to these gigantic hearths.

Behind him, at the far end of the hall, was the dais. That was where he sat these days, beside the queen, playing at being king because it pleased her. He still did not feel like a king.

Of all the men and women who ruled in Pandemia, or who had ever ruled in Pandemia, he thought Inos came closest to ruling by the love of her subjects. Not a man or woman in the kingdom had a word to say against her. And, although she insisted that he was the king, he regarded himself as merely the first of her subjects.

None loved her more. After all, he was the one who was allowed to sleep with her. What had he ever done to deserve that? He would do anything for her.

The townsfolk accepted him now. They pretended that they had forgotten all about sorcery, and he was sure that was because of Inos. The world was incredibly kind. He was so happy he couldn't believe it. He had done nothing to deserve all this happiness. From stableboy to king. From shovel to scepter.

Life was so good that it felt wrong, somehow.

Good before bad and bad before good. He shivered. That had been one of his mother's sayings. It seemed to imply that big good came before big bad, and

Something moved and he jumped. A gnome crept in from the shadows, looking for warmth as he was. It was heavily swathed in fur, probably not too pleasant to get close to.

When Sea Beauty had sailed away from Krasnegar, she had left her gnomes behind. Rap had shown the four all the wonderfully musty cellars below the castle, and they had eagerly decided to brave the climate and take service as royal rat-catchers. Being nocturnal by preference, they had rarely been seen since.

"You startled me!" Rap said. "Er ... Tush, is it?"

"Pish," the gnome said. "Why is a day man awake now?"

"I've been having a baby. "

Firelight shone on the shiny black buttons of the little man's eyes. "You jest, King?"

"Yes, I jest. It was the queen who did all the work. But I have a new son: About this big."

"I was at least five before I was that size," Pish said dryly. "Please give Queen our best wishes. " The small people seemed to have little grasp of ranks or titles, or how they differed from personal names.

"I shall and I thank you for them. I've been wanting to speak to you. You and the others are doing very well. We've noticed a big improvement. "

"We have reduced the numbers almost below the safety level," the gnome agreed, rubbing his hands to warm them. Pish was about Rap's age, although no taller than Eva, and he had even less nose than Rap did. Tush and the two women were younger. The gnome population of Krasnegar was certain to increase from now on, and that might bring new problems ... "What safety level?"

"If we kill off too many, they won't be able to keep up their numbers. Of course there are still plenty in the lower buildings, which you said do not belong to you."

"I can probably arrange for you to ... er, work there, as well," Rap said, wondering how Krasnegarians were going to adjust to gnomes, or how he could persuade the gnomes to eliminate the rats and mice altogether.

"We already do," Pish said. "The big people are always willing to let us come in and remove the rodents for them. "

"Well, that's great! The palace servants must have passed the word. You will have trouble getting around the town in this weather, though? "

"Not at all," the little man said smugly. "The tunnels serve very well and are quite warm."

Tunnels? Rap knew of no tunnels in Krasnegar. Then he realized that there must be sewers, although he had never thought of them before. His stomach lurched.

"Oh, that's good," he said quickly. "Any ... er, anti-gnome feelings?"

The gnome chuckled. "They are so ignorant in this town! They have never seen gnomes before! They treat us like real people and speak politely to us. They even give us money."

"Er, quite. Well, I'm glad I was able to help. There is one thing, though, Pish."

"What's that, King?"

"Cats. Not the cats, Pish."

"You do not need the cats now," the gnome protested, suddenly shrill. "Not when we are here to do the work!"

"Not for that, but a lot of people like cats around to . . ." Why did people like cats around? "They like cats."

"We like cats, too!"

"Not in the same way. And the dogs, also."

"Dogs we don't meddle with if they don't meddle with us."

"Good. But leave the cats."

"Oh, very well! I'll tell the others. What should we do with the money, King?"

"Hang on to it until you have a problem."

"What problems can gnomes have?" the little voice asked. Before Rap could think of an answer, the gnome had gone. Nothing remained except a hint of a something in the air. Pity about that! Gnomes were fine people once you got past that. Rap had explained washing to them and they had promised to consider the matter-next summer or the one after. Certainly not in winter. Still, there were some day folk in Krasnegar not a whole lot better.

What problems could gnomes have? What problems could a king have? Sorcery, maybe.

He was starting to feel sleepy. He rose and began to pace through the echoing gloom of the castle. His castle. King Rap of Krasnegar! Even after all these years, he could not adjust to that. When the imperor wrote, he hailed Rap as his royal cousin. Royal sorcerer.

He hated being a sorcerer and always had. He hated being able to manipulate people, or seeing people as toys, and to a sorcerer they were nothing more. Inos had destroyed his power once, but it had returned in part. He was not all-powerful, as he once had been, but he was still a sorcerer.

So he had found a way out. He had cast a magic shield around himself, like the invisible shield Inisso had cast centuries before over the whole castle. His powers were contained, then. He could neither sense with them, nor use them.

Of course no sorcerer could cast a spell too strong for his own powers to break, but Rap had restored his power only three times. Once for the twins, once for Eva, and tonight for Holi ... He savored the thought again-new son, new joy.

And while the women had been washing the baby, he had put himself back in his bottle. Now he was mundane once more, a mundane king. Perhaps it was the memory of that brief glory that was making him so restless now.

Being a sorcerer was dangerous, of course. The use of power rippled the ambience and the greater the power used, the greater the distance at which it could be detected. The wardens, or indeed any more powerful sorcerer, might hunt down the user and imprint him with a loyalty spell. Over the years, the four wardens had all acquired votaries to serve them-Bright Water had dozens of them. Many sorcerers chose not to use their power for that reason, and probably many of them hid within the same sort of cloaking spell as Rap did. He had not invented anything new.

But the ethics of sorcery bothered him far more than the dangers. If he could ease his own wife's torment in childbirth, then why not other men's wives'? Why not cure the sick, repair fire damage, heal wounds? Why not reform the drunks, raise the dying, warn the sailors of the storm?

Why not be a God?

Where would it end?

And why stop at Krasnegar?

Once he had been offered a wardenship. He could have been warlock of the west, mightiest of the Four, judge and ruler of all Pandemia, greater even than the imperor. He had declined the honor, a decision he had never regretted.

That was a path that had no sane ending. Wardens lived for centuries, running the world for their private comfort and amusement. Fortunately he no longer had that option. He was not the demigod he once had been. Inos, oh, Inos! My love, my queen!

He had arrived at a door he almost never visited. So that was what was on his mind?

Why not? On impulse, he opened it. It creaked.

The little chapel was icy cold, but not quite dark. A smear of snow lay unmelted before the other door, blown in through invisible cracks by the arctic wind. On the table at the far end, a single lamp glimmered. The other lamp beside it was dark. One window showed a faint trace of moonlight; its partner was opaque and always black ... the Good and the Evil-the Powers, whom even the Gods must serve.