The Pixilated Peeress (17 page)

             
He made a slight motion with his sword. At once the men of the duty squad crowded forward, blades bared.

             
Orlandus sighed.
"What a pity,
to
waste su
ch a fine
body and keen br
ain! Do your duty, men, to the foes of our Order!"

             
The guardsmen rushed forward, mail jingling. Tho
rolf, the first flush of whose rage had subsided, knew that, unarmored, he had no more chance against these bravos than the proverbial snowball in the fir
es of Mount Vasaetno. He ran down the path, easily outdistancing them and bearing with fortitude their shouts and jeers.

             
Thorolf walked the Street of Clockmakers furious, not so much with the Sophonomists as with himself, for having lost his temper in a
circumstance that called for guile. He seldom let himself go so far, but once or twice a year the pressures built up and his composure rup
tured. He should, he told himself, have had better sense than to voice loud demands upon his antagonists when he had
no means of enforcing those demands. Thus he had achieved nought but to make himself look foolish.

             
Perplexed, he wandered across the city to Bardi's house. When the old wizard had dismissed his last cli
ent, Thorolf spent an hour fruitlessly mulling over
plans for storming the Sophonomist stronghold, rescuing Yvette, and ridding her of the spell whereby Orlandus controlled her.

             
"Tell me something, Doctor," he said. "Meseems that all of Orlandus' folk who wore those yellow robes spake in that toneless vo
ice, as if it proceeded from some contrivance mechanical. Does that mean that they were commanded by deltas
—
or, I should say, com
manded by Orlandus through his deltas?"

             
"Aye, so I believe."

             
"And when he speaks of transforming selected fol
lowers into
'diaphanes,' he means merely those he has brought under deltaic possession?"

             
Bardi scratched his straggly beard. "Now that ye frame the thought, methinks ye be right."

             
"But the guards at the castle behave not thus, but as common mercenaries do ev
erywhere."

             
"Let me think
...
Ah! Belike I have it. Orlandus requires fighting men, dextrous in their deathly trade, however stupid in other respects. A delta lacks the prac
tice and training to make its host a skillful man of his hands. For the same reas
on, whilst it can compel its human host to speak the words Orlandus hath com
manded, it cannot imitate the tones of natural speech closely enough to deceive one who knows what to listen for."

             
Thorolf mused: "I follow your reasoning, Doctor. Now let's sup
pose that Orlandus gain control of the Rhaetian government, as he seems on the way to doing. He could little by little convert our soldiers to dia
phanes, drilling and exercising each wight so possessed until the delta become as skillful with arms as its
s
oldier host had erstwhile been."

             
"An ominous possibility, Thorolf."

             
"Aye, with more to come. What befalls a delta when its host dies?"

             
"I suppose it return to its own plane."

             
"Well, methinks I know enough of the art of war to realize that, be he ne
ver so brave, skilled, and zealous, the time comes when a soldier thinks: All is lost. If I remain, I shall be slain along with my comrades, to no good purpose. Then he begins to look about for escape. Orlandus' diaphanes, howsomever, will march fear
less
l
y to their deaths, which mean nought to the deltas controlling them. This gives the cultmonger an advan
tage over any foes. Why, I can envisage his conquest of all the neighboring kingdoms and republics, even of the Empire. He must be stopped before his p
o
wer waxes further!"

             
"Aye," said Bardi. "Alas that I am too old and fee
ble to face him! Ye must find sturdier allies for the deed."

             
Thorolf mused: "Doctor, are all of Orlandus' ser
vants, save his soldiery, thus enslaved?"

             
"Methinks not; only those i
n yellow. Those holding positions of puissance in his conspiracy remain normal; one tells them by their crimson robes. Those in gray, the largest group, are the probationers. He sucks them dry of their wealth and extorts from them menial labor gratis. Whe
n
their money is gone for his alleged 'courses,' he imposes deltas upon them and calls them diaphanes. Right clever, eh?"

             
"Would it not imperil Orlandus if some of the red robes, being less surely under his control, conspired to oust him and seize all pow
er and pelf for themselves?"

             
"True, my son," replied Bardi. "But that is ever the dilemma of the leader. As I have said, deltas are unin
telligent and thus pose no threat to him who commands them. But no leader can minutely oversee every act of a multitu
de of followers, however abjectly obedient. Hence he must have able, intelligent subordinates to serve him; and able subordinates may conceive ambi
tions of their own."

             
"Who are Orlandus' officers?"

             
Bardi waved his hands helplessly. "Little is known
of the inner workings of his empire, save that he hath a lieutenant, clept Parthenius."

             
"I have met Master Parthenius," growled Thorolf. "He is the sort to whom, if he were drowning, I should be happy to throw an anvil. Any others?"

             
"Likewise he hath
a treasurer, hight Cadolant, whom I believe unpixilated. There are others, but I know them not.

             
"Now I shall run a divination anent that squad of Carinthians who take such an unwonted interest in a respectable sergeant of the Rhaetian Army."

-

             
Dayligh
t was fading when Thorolf, his suspicion of the Duke of Landai's men confirmed by Bardi's divination, approached the barracks. A voice spoke out of the deepening dark:

             
"Hist! Thorolf!" It was Sergeant Regin, who had often chaffed Thorolf on his virginity.

             
"Aye?" replied Thorolf. "What is't?"

             
"Keep in the shadows and whisper," muttered Re-gin. "First, go not into the barracks!"

             
"Why not?"

             
"There's a plot against you. If ye show your face therein, 'twill be the ax or the rope."

             
"Good gods! What's
all this?"

             
"During the day, a fellow in a yellow coat rode up, handed the sentry a packet, and departed. The packet was addressed to the Colonel, old Gunthram himself. By a few shrewd questions, I learnt that the packet en
compassed treasonable correspondence betwixt you and the Court of Carinthia, setting forth plans for the con
quest of Rhaetia."

             
Thorolf pressed his lips together. "And you believed it not?"

             
"Such treasons and stratagems from my innocent pure-in-hear
t
?
Nay; I know you too well."

             
"Methinks I could prove these letters forgeries. He of the yellow jacket sounds like one of Orlandus' min
ions."

             
"Chance it not, Thorolf! The officers' quarters buzzed like a nest of angry wasps. Gunthram never did take to yo
ur promotion, holding scholars too airy-fairy day dreamy to be trusted with military duties. He brought the officers' council around to his way of think
ing."

             
"If you can call what he does thinking," muttered Thorolf.

             
"True; but it remains that, step i
nside yon gate and ye are a dead man. Here, I've collected some of your chattels, with some food." Regin handed over a back
pack and a crossbow.

             
"You're sure of this?" said Thorolf hesitantly.

             
"Aye forsooth! Here's a broadside fresh from the press, whi
ch they've made up in case ye failed to report back."

             
Thorolf fumbled in the pack and brought out his ig
niter and tinderbox. Having charged the chamber with tinder, he cocked the device and pulled the trigger. A click preceded a shower of sparks, and th
e tinder blazed up. Thorolf held the crudely printed paper in the wavering yellow light and read: REWARD FOR CAPTURE, DEAD OR ALIVE, OF THOROLF ZIGRAMSON, FORMERLY ACTING SERGEANT OF
...

             
The flame went out. Thorolf said: "Whither should I flee? North to
Carinthia or south to Tyrrhenia?"

             
"Neither! They've already sent out men to guard the passes. After this yellow-coated rogue departed, a squad in the dress of traveling merchants inquired after you in the barracks. 'Twas thought they were Carinthians, wh
ich did convince the waverers amongst the officers that ye were indeed a traitor."

             
Thorolf grunted. "That's what in literature we call irony. Those are men of Duke Gondomar of Landai, seeking to slay me."

             
"What hath Gondomar against you?"

             
"I rescued a damsel from his clutch."

             
"What'
ll
ye do? Hide in the city?"

             
"Nay; with Gondomar's men, and the Sophonomists, and mine own comrades looking for me with no kindly intent, my chances were those of a pollywog in a pond of pike. I'll hie me int
o the higher mountains."

             
"Ye'
ll
get lost or fall off a cliff!"

             
"I know the land well; I've spent many leaves in climbing. Three years since, I went thither with Pro
fessor Reccared of the college and a troll guide, seeking beasts for the Zoological Par
k."

             
"The trolls will devour you!"

             
"Methinks I can handle trolls; I know several in the mountains. And what alternative is there? Didst include any of my money in this pack?"

             
"Nay; to withdraw it from the regimental bank were sure to arouse suspicion.
" Regin hauled out his purse. "I can let you have a few pence. 'Tis all I have; I lost the rest gaming with File Leader Munderic. But what about your mare? She'll not be easy to take from the stables by stealth."

             
"I'm leaving her in your care," said Thor
olf. "Whither I'm going, a horse were more hindrance than help. Thanks for the money. When I return, I'll repay you the principal in cash, with interest in the form of tales of mine adventures. Good night!"