Dave Duncan - A Man Of His Word 2 - Faery Lands Forlorn

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Faery Lands Forlorn
Book 2 of A Man Of His Word
By Dave Duncan
ISBN: 0-345-36629-8
ONE
Behind the veil
1
Eastward from the bare crags of the Agoniste Mountains, the land fell
off in scabby ridges and gullies, sere and drab. Rare oases like green
wounds pitted the valleys, but otherwise that desolate country was fit
only for antelope and wild goats, watched over by buzzards drifting in
the thin blue sky. Below the hills, a roasted desert stretched away to
meet the surf of the Spring Sea.
In the main, the ironbound coast of Zark was as deadly and inhospitable
as the interior. Yet, at long intervals where some trick of the
landscape caught the nourishing sea wind or cool springs gushed from the
rocks, life erupted in abundance. There the soil yielded crops of
uncountable variety. The people dwelt there, on islands encircled half
by ocean and half by desert. Whereas in other lands the earth spread its
generosity widely, in Zark it hoarded all its goodness into these few
green enclaves, like rich emeralds knotted on a string.
Richest of them all was Arakkaran, a narrow land blessed with twisting
valleys of deep soil and legendary fertility. Its wide bay was the
finest harbor on the continent. Many trade routes met in its markets,
depositing wealth there in heaps to be fondled by the soft-fingered
merchants: dates and pomegranates, rubies and olives, costly vials of
perfume, intricate rugs, and the silver fish of the sea. From distant
lands came gold and spices, elvish arts and dwarvish crafts, pearls and
silks, and merfolk pottery unequaled in all Pandemia.
The city itself was beautiful and ancient. It was noted for its cruelty,
and for fine racing camels. It boasted of a history written in blood.
Near the close of A-Gun's Campaign, the young Draqu ak'Dranu had turned
back the Imperial legions at Arakkaran, and there they won their revenge
nine centuries later under Omerki the Merciless. During the Widow War,
the city had withstood a siege of a thousand and one days.
From the loud and overscented bustle of the markets, it climbed by slope
and precipice, in a tapestry of nacreous stone and flowering greenery.
Trees had wedged in every unused crevice, hanging welcome shadow over
steep alleyways and winding stairs. On the crest of the hill, celebrated
in many ancient stories, the Palace of Palms was a marvel of domes and
spires and towers, graced with lush parks and exotic gardens, as
widespread in itself as many a respected town.
Throughout recorded history, a sultan of Arakkaran had ruled in that
palace. There had been many sultans; their names and deeds were
uncountable as the shells of the beaches. Some had held sway over half
of Zark, while others had barely controlled the docks. A few were
celebrated for justice and wisdom; many had been despots of a savagery
to make the Gods recoil. No single family had ever dominated for long,
no dynasty prevailed; old age had rarely troubled them.
Whatever he had been-warrior or statesman, tyrant or scholar, poet or
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giver of laws-every sultan of Arakkaran had invariably been renowned for
his ferocity and for the number and beauty of his women.
2
From the dark cold of Krasnegar, Inos stumbled through a curtain of
jewels into blinding light and a heat that took her breath away. Her
willful feet carried her several paces farther before she felt them
returned to her control.
But Rap and Aunt Kade were in danger-without even pausing to take stock
of where she was, she spun around and rushed blindly back to the drape.
There was nothing there to stop her except many dangling strands of
gems, flickering and tinkling in the breeze. A moment earlier she had
passed between the strings with no trouble at all, but now she bounced
off, stubbing her toe and almost falling. From this side, apparently,
the curtain was as impenetrable as a castle wall. Yet it still shimmered
and. rippled. Infernal sorcery! She thumped fists on it furiously.
"Anger will not help," said a harsh male voice behind her. She wheeled
around, screwing up her eyes against the glare. He was big, as tall as a
jotunn. His pale-green cloak billowed and danced in the breeze, making
him seem even larger. Yet in a moment she could make out his ruddy-hued
face, and the thin line of red beard framing it. He was a djinn,
therefore. Of course.
Under the cloak he wore voluminous pajamas of emerald silk, but she
doubted he had just climbed out of bed. The scimitar hanging at his
side, for example, its hilt glittering with diamonds-not a comfortable
sleeping companion. The miscellaneous gems scattered from his lofty
turban to the curled-up toes of his shoes, and especially the wide
cummerbund of solid emeralds encircling his waist ... no, those were not
believable bed wear. And no matter how slim he was, that incredible belt
must be excruciatingly tight. It was a wonder he could breathe in it.
His face was thin and intense, his nose aquiline, and his eyes hard as
rubies. He was not very much older than herself. The size of him! Those
shoulders ...
The arrogance! He was enjoying her inspection. Whom had he intended to
impress?
"Your name and station, wench?"
She drew herself up, miserably aware of her ruined leather riding habit,
bloodstained and filthy; aware also that she must be haggard with
fatigue-eyes like open sores, hair in yellow tangles. "I am Queen
Inosolan of Krasnegar. And you, lad?"
Her insolence made fires flicker in his crimson eyes. Her head would
barely reach his shoulder, and that emerald sash alone would buy her
whole kingdom, even if the gems did not go all the way around him.
"I have the honor to be Azak ak'Azakar ak'Zorazak, Sultan of Arakkaran."
"Oh!" Dummy! Had she expected him to be a cook or a barber, dressed like
that? The diamond medallion on his turban was worth a fortune in itself.
Remembering in time that she was wearing jodhpurs, not skirts, she
bowed.
The young giant studied her disapprovingly for a moment. Then he swept
an expansive gesture with a large, red-brown hand and doubled over as if
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to touch his turban to his knees, making Inos wince. Obviously that
emerald cummerbund was not tight at all-his waist really must be that
narrow, and his back was even broader than she had suspected. He flicked
himself upright again as if such gymnastics were no problem at all, but
she could not tell if they were a compliment or a mockery.
Sultan! Rasha had claimed to be sultana, and this lad was far too young
to be her husband. Of course that was assuming that Rasha was what she
had seemed when she had first appeared in the tower-middle-aged and
thick-bodied. There had been an even more revealing glimpse later, when
Sagorn had replaced himself with Andor. Startled by the occult
transformation, Rasha had momentarily become an ugly old woman. The
svelte maiden image would have been the illusion, obviously. Sorcerers
lived a long time, but most likely this very tall and youthful sultan
was Rasha's son, or grandson.
A surge of exhaustion closed over Inos like a dark wave. She was in no
state to deal with sultans, or sultanas, or sorceresses. And then the
jeweled drape tinkled. Inos spun around as Aunt Kade came through. Kade!
Short and plump and blinking watery blue eyes at the brightness, but oh,
how welcome!
"Aunt!" Inos hugged her fiercely.
"Ah, there you are, dear! " She sounded tired, but quite calm. She
seemed blissfully unaware of her disreputable appearancerose and silver
gown all stained with tea, bedraggled snowy hair fluttering in the hot
breeze.
Inos took a deep breath and forced herself to display suitably ladylike
behavior. "How nice that you can join us, Aunt! Let me present you . . .
the Princess Kadolan, sister of my late father, King Holindarn of
Krasnegar. The sultan ... er. . . "
"Azak!" snapped Azak.
"Sultan Azak. " Inos was not at her best at the moment. "Your Majesty!"
Aunt Kade curtsied, with no perceptible wobble. She was again
demonstrating her astonishing durability. The sultan frowned,
registering aristocratic surprise at these two waifs appearing in his
domain. When he clenched his jaw, the fringe of red beard rippled. Of
course he could not possibly be as stupendous as he thought he was, but
Inos decided she would go so far as to class him as noteworthy. Again
making his curious gesture, he bowed to Kade-deeply, but less deeply
than before. Then he went back to staring at Inos.
"Your father? You are a queen in your own right?"
"I am."
"How extraordinary!"
Indignant, Inos opened her mouth and then firmly closed it again; a
queen with only two loyal subjects should be discreet. Which reminded
her of her other loyal subject--
"Aunt, where is Rap?" She turned back to the curtain of jewels and
pushed at it. It was still immovable from this side, a one-way curtain.
"Still in the chamber, I expect, dear."
"The slut is in there, I presume?" Azak inquired. Inos and her aunt both
turned to stare at him.
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"The woman who calls herself Sultana Rasha? You have met her? She is
beyond that drape-wherever that may be?" He folded his arms imperiously.
"Beyond that drape is Krasnegar, my kingdom!" Inos shouted, feeling her
threadbare self-control starting to rip. This ordeal had been going for
a whole day and night, and she just couldn't take much more. "I want to
go home!"
"Indeed?" He seemed skeptical. "You have no magic of your own, either of
you?"
"None!" Inos shouted.
"Inos!" Kade frowned disapprovingly.
The djinn shrugged. "Well, I am no sorcerer, merely the rightful ruler
of this domain. For sorcery you must deal with the bitch. "
"Is she not your ... Well, if you are sultan here, then what is she to
you?" Inos demanded, still ignoring glances from Kade. The djinn scowled
grotesquely at the magical drape behind them. "You have met her, I
presume?"
"Queen Rasha? I mean Sultana-"
His already ruddy face darkened and reddened even more. "She is no
queen, no sultana! She was a dockside harlot who illicitly acquired
occult powers. Now she styles herself sultana, but there is no truth in
that! None!" Just for a moment, his anger betrayed his youth.
But Inos knew that Rasha had not truly impressed her as royalty. She had
not sounded right, or moved right.
"What a marvelous view you have here!" Kade exclaimed, firmly changing
the subject.
For the first time, Inos took a serious look at where she was. The room
was big, much larger than Inisso's chamber of puissance, but not unlike.
It was obviously located high up, it was circular, and it had four
windows. If those similarities were important and not just coincidence,
they must mean that this also was a sorcerer's chamber. A sorceress's,
of course. Rasha's. The walls were of white marble, supporting a huge
bulbous dome of the same milky rock. There were no windows in the great
shell, but light flooded it from somewhere, apparently through the stone
itself. Moreover, that strange brightness pulsed with inexplicable,
eerie movements that Inos could see perfectly well out of the corner of
her eye, but not when she looked straight at them. Then the shiftings
ceased and there was nothing there except smooth translucent marble;
while the haunting would have started somewhere else. Creepy!
And the view that her aunt had mentioned-the four wide openings were
larger by far than the casements in Inisso's tower, triple-arched and
not merely unglazed, but lacking even shutters. Obviously Arakkaran's
climate was kinder than Krasnegar's.
At her left, the austere yellow light of morning streamed in from a
newborn sun, aiming a golden sword at her across the sea. All through
her childhood, seaward had meant northwardthe Winter Ocean. At Kinvale,
although it was well inland, seaward had meant westward, toward Pamdo
Gulf. Sea to the east was wrong, horrifying. It told her she was
appallingly far from home.
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Southward, towers and more pointed domes obscured much of the view, but
she could tell she was high in some castle or palace. Beyond them she
glimpsed a coastline of dry brown hills falling to white surf,
stretching off to meet the sky. Craggy peaks to the west were already
almost lost in a heat haze. They were much higher and rockier than the
Pondague range, and obviously desert.
Fatigue and despair crushed down on her. She struggled to recall
childhood lessons from Master Poraganu, wishing she had been more
attentive. Djinns were tall, fierce folk, with reddish skin and hair ...
djinns lived in Zark ... desert and sand. Those mountains looked bare as
any desert she could imagine. But Zark was somewhere in the extreme
southeast of pandemia, about as far from Krasnegar as it was possible to
be. Which would explain why Master Poraganu had not gone into details,
and why she had not listened.
Her eyes went again to the shining water eastward. That must be the
Spring Sea, and she remembered Mistress Meolome talking about silk once,
long ago.
"Is this truly Zark?" Kade exclaimed. "How thrilling! I have always
wanted to see more of Pandemia. This will be a very informative and
educational visit." She beamed warningly at Inos.
"Arakkaran is a small, poor place compared to the Impire," Azak
proclaimed, "but its people are a proud and noble race, jealous of their
own ways and their independence. We draw our strength from the desert,
scorning the decadence of those who dwell in milder climes."
Oh, just juicy! Barbarians.
Again Inos tried the infuriating drapery of gems; again it refused to
admit her. What was Rasha doing? Was Rap all right, or had the impish
legionaries finally broken down the door? Her legs wobbled with
weariness, but she must stay close to this impossible sorcery in the
hope that somehow it would lead her home again.
Azak's eyes had made her think of rubies on first sight, but now they
had darkened to garnets and were regarding her with a haughty stare that
reminded her of Firedragon, the stallion. "You truly have no occult
power ... your Majesty?"
Inos shook her head, feeling weary now beyond speech. A whole world
between her and Krasnegar, and Rap. Rap? Suddenly she realized that,
more than anything else, she wanted Rap here beside her. Solid,
dependable, reliable Rap. How strange! Rap?
The sultan fingered his beard thoughtfully. His feet had not moved since
she entered. They were enclosed in very softlooking shoes that curled up
absurdly at the toes. Certainly not desert wear. Rather decadent, in
fact.
"That is indeed curious."
"In what way?" Aunt Kade inquired, casting another worried glance at
Inos.
"Because the sorceress slut has cast a spell upon me. By rights you
should both have been turned to stone before now."
"Turned to stone!" Inos and Kade echoed in chorus.
He nodded. "Anyone who grants me my correct honorific . . . I wonder if
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the curse works only on my own subjects, not strangers? No, the
ambassador from Shuggaran was smitten."
It would have been kind of him to have mentioned the matter sooner.
"This petrification," Kade murmured, obviously deeply offended by the
idea, "is it ... reversible?"
He glanced in surprise at her-Kade's queries were often much sharper
than her appearance led one to expect. "In the beginning it was not. The
first half dozen or so victims are still statues. Now the jade usually
restores them to life after a week or two."
"That is the most disgustingly stupid thing I have ever heard of!" Inos
said.
"I told you-she is a whore, an evil woman, and spiteful. "
"She must also be half-witted, if she did not see what would happen with
a spell like that loose! Six people died before she changed to a sorcery
she could undo?"
He shrugged. "But why were you not immobilized when you gave me my legal
title?"
Obviously he had expected it to happen. That realization left Inos at a
loss for words.
"The effects of the curse are limited to the palace itself," the big man
mused. "Can it be that this odious sorcerous chamber is excluded?"
Again Inos looked around. She could see nothing obviously sorcerous,
only an excessive amount of bright-colored furniture, much of it ugly
and garish, intermixed with ill-suited statuary. Nor could she see any
doorway. The floor, where it was visible, was a spectacular mosaic of
vines and flowers, all intricately intertwined and as brightly hued as a
swarm of butterflies, but the effect was ruined by a litter of rugs, as
gawdy and mismatched as the furniture. Everything looked expensive, but
nothing fit or blended. Whoever had assembled the collection had been
sadly lacking in even the rudiments of taste. One glance at this
warehouse would give Duke Angilki a seizure.
But being turned to stone ... Was this oddly youthful sultan trying to
be humorous? As Inos was planning a suitable query, the drape jingled
again. A huge gray dog bounded through, skidded on the polished tiles
past both Inos and her aunt, and came to a stop facing Azak. The dislike
was immediate, and mutual.
The dog bared teeth, flattened ears, and raised hackles. Azak put hand
to sword hilt.
Inos was about to speak, then her courage failed her. Rap had called the
monster "Fleabag" affectionately, as if it were a cuddly lapdog instead
of an overgrown timber wolf. It had obeyed him eagerly, but dogs were
always happy to go along with Rap's suggestions, and Rap was not present
now. It had not noticed Kade or Inos, apparently, and even to speak its
name might attract its hostility.
Moreover, something about Azak's stance suggested that he did not
believe he was in much danger, and Inos decided that she was more
concerned for Rap's dog. True, it had overpowered Andor and then savaged
the giant Darad. The djinn was not as massive as the jotunn had been,
but he was almost as tall; he was younger and probably faster, and Darad
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had been hampered by entering the fight when he was already on the floor
with the monster's teeth in his arm ... Shocked to discover that she was
assessing the contest as she might weigh an upcoming skittles match at
Kinvale, Inos looked to Kade, and Kade was very obviously not going to
interfere, either.
Azak's slim, curved blade slid into view. Inos glanced around at the
drape in the hope that Rap might appear. If Rasha had allowed his dog
through, surely she would not leave Rap himself to the unlikely mercy of
the imps? The sword was out now. The wolf had begun to growl. Was that a
good sign or a bad?
It gathered itself to leap; Azak drew back his elbow. The dog turned to
stone. Kade recoiled, moaning, and Inos reached out to hug her, but more
for her own comfort than her aunt's, probably.
May the Good be with us! There was no doubt-stone it was. No mundane
sculptor could ever have matched the detail of the coat so well, nor
achieved the cunning fit of the grain of the rock to the gleam of light
over muscle and bone, but otherwise what had a moment before been a
living, breathing, and highly dangerous predator was now only a graceful
ornament. Inexplicably, that felt wrong. Inexplicably, that sorcery
impressed Inos more than all the miracles she had seen and experienced
since the terrors began, so many hours before.
Azak, on the other hand, sheathed his scimitar quite matterof-factly, as
if petrification were no more remarkable in Arakkaran than shampooing,
or ladies entering rooms through windows.
Before anyone spoke, the jewels tinkled again, signaling the arrival of
Sultana Rasha. Light flared up behind her and there was no longer an
impossible night beyond the drapery. She was wearing the face of a
mature woman, an imperious matron in her thirties-not conventionally
beautiful, but striking. In Inisso's chamber her appearance had flicked
back and forth from age to youth, from ugliness to beauty, and her
flowing white raiments had varied similarly, from coarse white cotton to
silks embroidered with pearls and gems. Now, like her face, her dress
represented a compromise, rich but not ostentatious. Her fingers
glittered with gems, though.
She stopped abruptly, frowning at Azak. "What're you doing here,
Beautiful?" She spoke to him as Inos would to a wayward horse.
Azak scowled. His teeth were large and regular and very white. "You
summoned me." Again the dislike was obviously mutual.
Rasha laughed. "Well, so I did! I'd forgotten. I was feeling bitchy and
wanted some entertainment." She turned to Inos. "You've met Prince Azak,
dearie?"
"He's not the sultan?"
"Oh, never! Don't believe a thing he says. He's a notorious liar. "
A jotunn would have struck her for that remark, even had the act meant
suicide. Azak almost did. His lips paled, his neck bulged, but he
managed to control his fury, just barely.
Rasha was enjoying herself. "All men are liars, my dear," she said with
affected sweetness. "Whatever they tell you, they only want one thing,
and lots of it. Don't call him `sultan' inside the palace, either-I'm
trying to stamp out that nonsense. Here's all right; nowhere else. Now
come, move your little buns. " She led the way, marching like a
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legionary, her vestments floating out behind her. As she went by Azak,
she reached up and tweaked his beard. He recoiled with a choking noise.
"Wait!" Inos cried. But the sorceress kept going, weaving between the
furniture. Inos ran after, dodging overstuffed divans and bronze urns
and porcelain animals. "What about Rap? And Doctor Sagorn? And the
goblin?"
She caught up with Rasha at a circular balustrade in the center of the
room. Here a grand staircase spiraled down to a lower chamber. That was
why there were no doors, of course.
"What about them? " the sorceress asked, not looking around.
"You just left them there? Left them for the imps to kill?" The sultana
walked around to the top of the stair and paused at the first step,
where the way was partly obstructed by a lifesize carving of a black
panther, seemingly poised to spring at any intruder coming up toward it.
"This is Claws, " she muttered absently, but she was studying the great
shimmering dome overhead. Or possibly she was listening to something. A
small smile played around her mouth, registering satisfaction. Then she
set off down the stairs, stroking the basalt neck in passing. "Isn't he
gorgeous? I think I'll put him on one side and the wolf on the other. "
Chasing down after her, Inos said, "It's real?"
"When I want it to be. Lucky I remembered to warn it that the Meat Man
was coming."
Inos was becoming more bewildered by the minute. "Who?"
"Azak," said the sorceress. "I've got lots of names for him, but that
one really twists his nose. It fits him, though-he's got biceps like the
humps on his camel. I'll have him show you sometime."
Halfway down, she suddenly slackened her pace, as if the
urgency-whatever it was-was over. Azak was padding down the stairs
behind Inos in his kidskin slippers. Aunt Kade was just passing the
panther.
"But Rap!" Inos exclaimed. "Doctor Sagorn? You can't just leave them
there for the imps!"
Rasha continued down the stairs without replying. The lower chamber was
as overloaded with furniture as the upper had been, mostly innumerable
chests and tables of random styles. Two windows added little to the
light spilling down the central stairwell. The walls were poorly
lighted, therefore, and yet cluttered with ornate mirrors and bright
tapestries barely discernible in the shadows. Musk and flower scent hung
in the air like syrup.
Despite her worry over Rap and the others, despite her bonedeep
weariness, Inos was intrigued by these exotic, alien rooms. They were
like nothing she had ever seen, not even in the Duke of Kinvale's
collection of lithographs; a collection that he had amassed from all
over the Impire, and had inflicted on her during several mind-numbing
afternoons. Neither in art nor reality had she ever seen decor so alien.
Double doors vast enough to admit a coach and four stood shut; against
the opposite wall was an absurdly huge bed, the largest four-poster in
the world, wide and high, draped in filmy gauze. Then her eyes had
adjusted to the gloom and the nature of some of the statuary penetrated
her fog-shrouded mind. She took an incredulous second look at the
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illustrations on the walls and was suddenly very glad that such
obscenities were so poorly lighted. Kade would have an apoplectic fit.
Hastily Inos turned her attention back to the sorceress. Surely the
legionaries would be breaking down the door by now? "You must save
them!"
Rasha spun around. "Must? You say must to me, child?"
"I'm sorry, your Majesty! But I beg of you please save them!"
"Why should I?" inquired the sorceress, smirking. "Because they'll be
killed!"
"Better than what you'd have got, dearie, if I'd left you there! You
know what gangs of men do to pretty girls?"
"No!" Inos had never even considered such a thing. Imperial legionaries?
A band of raiding jotnar, certainly, but not the imperor's army! It had
been Rap who had been in danger, and the goblin, also-not her! "Not
that!"
"Yes, that! " the sorceress said, her mouth twisting in an expression
Inos could not read. "I know more about men than you'll ever guess at
it, sweetie girl. Believe me, I know!"
Inos was still a couple of steps up, staring down at her in horror.
Possibly the sorceress thought she was not being believed, because she
suddenly discarded about twenty years, to become again the gem-bedecked,
sylphlike maiden who had so bewitched Rap, her flesh glowing hot and
tantalizing through garments of mist.
She smiled mockingly up at Inos. "All men have to do is die, and they
have to do that eventually, don't they? That's nothing compared to what
a woman might get. What do I owe them? What does any woman owe a man,
ever?" She glanced past Inos, apparently at Azak. "Well, Wonderstud?"
Receiving no answer, she chuckled and turned away, sauntering toward the
great bed with her hips swinging, ruddy flesh and ox-blood hair shining
through garments that seemed to have become flimsier than ever, over a
body even more voluptuous.
Inos had heard of women who dressed like that and behaved like that-had
heard of them mostly in whispered tales in the castle kitchens. She had
never expected to see a queen do such things.
Shakily she descended the last couple of steps, fighting back tears,
trying to scrape some last trace of strength from the bottom of her
personal barrel. Her knees trembled with exhaustion. Her head told her
that the sultana's palace was rocking gently, like a ship, and that was
not very likely. Soon she would simply fall over. Oh, Rap! Rasha must be
a very powerful sorceress, but she might be crazy, also. Was her hatred
of men genuine? Had she endured the sort of experience she had hinted
at?
Could anyone ever believe anything said around here?
Azak stepped past Inos and moved toward the door-head high, back rigid.
Kade came to Inos's side and took her hand in a gesture that held only
caution and sympathy. Those were not much use.
Rap! He was only a stableboy, yet he had been the only one to stay
faithful. Even when Inos had spurned him in the forest, he had not
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wavered in his allegiance. He had endured the ordeal of the taiga for
her sake, not once but twice. Her only loyal subject! Monarchs dreamed
of loyalty like that. For Rap, Inos would brave even the fury of a
sorceress.
She had just one arrow left in her quiver, and it might make things
immeasurably worse, because despite what Rasha said, men as well as
women could meet ordeals more terrible than a quick death.
"He knows a word of power!"
Rasha spun around, matronly dignity replacing nymph seduction instantly.
"Who does?"
"Doctor Sagorn!" Inos watched the sorceress stalking back toward her
like a hungry cat. "And Rap has one, too."
"So!" Rasha came very close, smiling dangerously. "So that was why you
were holding hands with a stableboy? I wondered why the smell didn't
bother the royal nose."
Queen Rasha herself reeked sickeningly of gardenia. Rap, Inos suddenly
realized, had smelled of laundry soap, not of horses as he usually did.
Which was irrelevant ...
"His talent doesn't work on people! Just on animals. He's a faun. "
Kade said, "Inos, dear!" in a warning tone.
Still somehow catlike, the sorceress smiled. "But words of power have
side effects. Even one word would naturally make a man more successful
at lechery; he would automatically collect any stray princesses around."
"That wasn't what-I've known Rap all my life! I'd trust him with-"
"More fool you!" Rasha sneered. "Don't ever trust a man, any man.
Muscles, you stay! I'm not done with you. " Her eyes had not wandered
from Inos's face; she had spoken to Azak without looking at him. "Men
keep their brains between their legs. Don't you know that yet, child?"
"Not Rap! "
"Yes, Rap. " She considered Inos slyly for a moment. "Maybe I will fetch
him for you! I could show you his real colors."
"Don't believe her!" Azak shouted from the door. "She can inflame any
man to madness!"
Rasha raised her eyes to glare at him. She did not seem to do anything
more, but the young giant screamed, clutched his belly, and fell
writhing on the floor.
"Brute! " Rasha muttered, then went back to studying Inos. Azak was
thrashing and whimpering. Inos had heard tales of animals caught in
traps trying to chew off their own paws ... why was she thinking of such
stories at a time like this? Appalled as much by the sorceress's casual
indifference as by the barbarity itself, she fought in vain for words.
"No," the sultana said. "They're all after the same thing, and nothing
else."
"Not Rap! "
Rasha seemed to grow taller, and her eyes redder. "You think so? What do
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file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Dave%20Duncan%20-%2...20Man%20Of%20His%20Word%202%20-%20Faery%20Lands%20Forlorn.txtFaeryLandsForlornBook2ofAManOfHisWordByDaveDuncanISBN:0-345-36629-8ONEBehindtheveil1EastwardfromthebarecragsoftheAgonisteMountains,thelandfelloffinscabbyridgesandgullies,sere...

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