It was a lie, but it worked; the floor flattened out with remarkable alacrity, and the nausea vanished.
"That is what escapes your notice!" Astaulf cried. "Not to mention a foreign sorcerer of unknown powers!"
"I agree; do not mention him," Malingo said between his teeth. "As for the wench, it may simply be that the crown does not dazzle her eyes when it rests on the head of one who's not a rightful king."
Astaulf froze, staring at the sorcerer, scandalized. Malingo smiled back urbanely.
Matt realized, dimly, that his appearance had triggered a hidden, building conflict into an open explosion.
Astaulf bellowed fury and yanked out a sword built on the scale of a snowplow. He swung it up above his head as Malingo's finger stabbed out, and the sorcerer rattled off a rhyme in the arcane tongue. The sword squirmed and writhed as Astaulf swung it down; then it looped its head back, jaws gaping wide for Astaulf's face. The king froze in horror, staring at the python; then he threw it at Malingo, swearing, "Take your snake, toad! To me, men!" He leaped at Malingo, cable-fingers clawing for his throat. "Aid me, foreigner! Bring down this foul sorcerer, and all his wealth and power shall be yours!" His fingers closed around Malingo's neck like the jaws of a pipe-cutter; he yanked the sorcerer off his feet and held him high, shaking him and tightening his grip. "Aid me now, I say! Black sorcerer though he is, he can't withstand the two of us! Counter his spells, and I will kill him!"
Matt's eyes flicked from one to the other, and he decided on the old Army rule: Never volunteer.
Malingo might have been getting red in the face, but his hands were weaving around Astaulf's arm in an intricate pattern, and he was mouthing silent syllables. Only Matt noticed that the python at the sorcerer's feet was stretching out and thickening, while three of the guards clustered around, trying to grasp the sorcerer's arms, to hold him still. Then a boa constrictor reared itself up, knocking Astaulf's guards aside as it flexed itself and threw a loop around the king's neck.
Astaulf's eyes bulged in horror; a choking groan leaped from his mouth. Malingo twisted in his hands and jumped free as the king clutched at the living hawser around his neck. Malingo's fingers darted out at the guards, his tongue rattling in the strange language-and their skin began to crack and peel, opening into running sores. They saw the flesh turn dark and gangrenous on their hands and screamed.
But Malingo didn't stay to look; he whirled back to the strangling king and stalked toward him with his fingers weaving, voice rising high and shrill. Then his hands yanked out stiffly as if snapping a thread taut - and the king was gone!
Malingo looked slowly down at the floor. So did Matt - and there, at the sorcerer's feet, sat a flabby and leprous toad, its mottled skin peeling.
It blinked, looking dazedly around - and saw the snake.
The boa's head swung slowly toward it - and froze, gaze riveted on the toad. Then, slowly, the head lifted, and the jaws gaped wide.
The toad gave a sort of groaning belch and turned, trying to hop away; but its hops were short and feeble. It was definitely not well.
The sorcerer's foot came down.
Not all the way-just enough to hold the toad in place. It squirmed under his foot, still trying to get away from the snake; but Malingo flung up a hand, and the snake's eyes flicked to him, wary and watchful. The sorcerer chanted a phrase and snapped his hand down, pointing at the snake. It never moved; its eyes and skin slowly dulled while its body seemed to flatten; and a giant's broadsword lay across the chamber floor, its blade curved, its pommel hooked.
A despairing, rattling groan sounded from the side of the chamber. Matt looked over against the wall, then yanked his eyes away again, the nausea rising in his throat. He'd seen a heap of rotting garbage among rags that once had been soldiers' liveries. Stench filled the chamber from what was left of the three guards who had been loyal to Astaulf. Matt swallowed heavily and mumbled his anti-nausea spell again.
The other guards were staring at the pile of carrion. It was very quiet, suddenly.
"Yes," Malingo said into the silence, "that is the fate of fools. And any man's a fool who gives his loyalty to princes when a sorcerer stands near. Remember, worthy guardsmen, and tell your mates; for your prudence saved your lives today - and may again."
He fell silent, his gaze holding level on them as, one by one, they wrenched their eyes away from the heap and up to meet the sorcerer's gaze-then quickly away again.
The sorcerer nodded slowly. "Enough. You've seen and will remember. Begone. "
They turned to the door, managing to keep from running; but the last one out hesitated and looked back. "Lord Sorcerer - the King ... "
"What said I of him who gives his loyalty to princes?" the sorcerer demanded; and the soldier shuddered. The latch clicked shut behind him.
Malingo stood, still and quiet, in the rays of afternoon sun that streamed in through the window, one hand half-raised, one foot still upon the toad.
Then slowly he lifted the foot away and stared down at the toad. "So, your Majesty." He made the title an insult. "Your pride had grown too large. Will this remind you of the true size of your soul?"
The toad blinked and stared up at him, terrified.
Malingo nodded slowly. "I think it will. But never, Astaulf, should you have dared to call me toad."
He straightened slowly and walked around the amphibian, gazing down his nose at it. It sat frozen, but its eyes followed his movements.
"No," the sorcerer said with infinite regret, "I must let you live."
The toad seemed to sink in upon itself with trembling relief.
Malingo nodded. "Aye; it was indeed a close escape, Astaulf. For a moment, hot blood nearly overcame cold sense; for a moment, I almost let myself tread down. But it would be so tedious, seeking out another nobleman as foolish and covetous as yourself! And I, of course, must have a nobleman. Ah, the cursed set of these foolish aristocrats' minds that must needs see some trace of royal' blood in him who sits upon the throne! As if none without relation to the reigning king could govern. Still and all, these noblemen must see such blood in him who'd claim the crown; for without it, they all would rise as rebels. Be thankful for your birth into a minor noble house - for it's all that saves you now."
Matt noticed that the sorcerer didn't say anything about his own birth. Obviously, he'd been born a commoner.
Malingo's teeth flashed in a grin. "Nor need I have concern that you'd seek my death again. Need I, Astaulf ?" He waited, head cocked to the side. The toad shivered. Malingo laughed. "Nay, I thought not. For you know you could not hold your new-won throne against the Western barons without my power to aid you. Sorcery gained your throne, so only sorcery can hold it. Indeed, you only dared challenge me today because there's a new sorcerer here, and you thought he'd league against me. Foolish baron! You should have known no power in the land could equal mine!"
That rankled; Matt hadn't exactly thought of it as a matter of daring. Just common sense - don't choose sides until you have to.
Then he caught the baleful glare from the toad's eye and realized he'd had to.
So did Malingo. "No, you may not touch him, Astaulf! Not, at least, till I have done with him." He nodded judiciously. "Yes, I think you're schooled. I may restore you to your place; you'll not soon challenge me again." He stepped back, hands waving an unseen symbol in the air, chanting in the arcane tongue - a slow, rising chant that built to a peak as his hands flourished and snapped still.