“I do not fight to lose, my lord,” he responded.
Sugasto laughed. “Well said! Ah—I know your stomach may feel its bruises, but will you risk lunch with me?”
“In truth, sir, I feel like a starving man.”
They went to a huge tent pavilion where a galley had been set up. It was full of officers when they arrived, but, to the mutual amusement of Joe and Sugasto, almost all of them miraculously finished eating and got out of there when they entered.
“Now that’s the fun of it.” The sorcerer chuckled. “If your own side isn’t terrified of you, what right have you to expect that your enemies will be?” He paused, then stared straight at Joe. “But you’re not scared of me, are you?”
“There is fear, which is unreasoned, and that I do not have,” Joe lied. “But there is also respect, which is both reasoned and earned, and that I have for you in great abundance.”
The answer really pleased the man in black. “You are delightful! In truth, sir, you are the first nonmagical human being I have been able to talk to like this in years! Ah, let us eat. Take care, sir, that your stomach not rebel, but eat with confidence. Either my armies eat only the best or they eat the cooks!”
“My stomach has survived worse than a bad piece of meat,” Joe responded. “I will not let it cheat me of a decent meal.”
Sugasto laughed. He looked over at Mia. “Girl, come over and sit on the ground beside me here a bit.”
Mia looked nervously at Joe, who nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Yes, Master,” she responded, and went around to Sugasto’s side of the table.
It was unusual for a sorcerer, male or female, to take much interest in sex except as another, sometimes required, tool of the trade. Joe couldn’t figure out whether that was it, or whether it was the personal slave concept itself that turned the man on. It might just have been that, having had Boquillas around in Mahalo’s body for so long, he just wanted a woman around who was always respectful, obeyed orders, and kept her mouth shut. Joe could see by Mia’s eyes that she was far too terrified to have such thoughts herself.
The meal was not merely good, but excellent, and Joe had to wonder if this sort of fare was what the officers usually got. Somehow, the day the general showed up for inspection, you always got filet mignon instead of old army boot.
“So you are on your way to Tsipry,” Sugasto said over wine. “A pilgrimage, of sorts, I take it?”
Joe nodded. “Yes, sir. I have funds at the moment, I have no pressing need of employment, and I always promised myself that I would do it. I have no memories of it that I can call true and I want to see it once.”
“That’s in the Upper Lakes district, if I remember,” the sorcerer replied. “Cold up there, even this time of year. With summer waning, autumn on its way, and the need to divert resources, I’ve been playing with a little spell. Boquillas worked it out for our own people, but it’s rather simple, once you know it. It insulates against weather, sort of in the same way much fairy flesh does it for them, yet, like them, you can’t see it or know it’s there. The only problem is, it seals in what is there as well, so you can’t add much of anything, either, and it plays hob with hair. Not practical for most people, I fear, but slaves like your girl, here, are perfect. We’re going to distribute it and have all the slaves treated this way. It dispenses with the need for those idiotic hafiids even in subzero cold and for sun protection in the tropics, reducing the cost to food alone. With your permission, I’ll do you a favor.”
Joe could hardly refuse in any event. He watched as the sorcerer turned the kneeling Mia toward him, then made a few hand passes and ran his hands over some of her body at a very slight distance.
“There,” Sugasto said. “Now, within the normal extremes of nature, she’s as protected as a nymph. Just keep her like this and all you’ll need do is feed her. In fact, you’ll have to. As our experiments with this on some of our undead show, the spell rejects anything not within its field. Otherwise, there are no side effects. A little gift, in hopes that once you make your pilgrimage, you’ll return and sign on with us.” He snapped his fingers and the Bentar aide, who had not eaten—they were, if Joe remembered right, eaters of carrion and sometimes freshly killed prey—snapped to attention.
“Give me some paper and a stylus,” the sorcerer instructed, and it was quickly gotten. Sugasto scribbled something on the paper, then made a pass over it. The writing, which, although in the ideographic Husaquahrian alphabet, had been rather primitive scrawls actually seemed to wriggle around on the page as if composed of tiny snakes, forming then absolutely perfect characters that looked like woodcuts. He made another pass, and Joe recognized the seal of Hypboreya when it faded in in sort of a gray color. The paper was then handed to Joe.
“Take that with you,” the sorcerer told him. “It is a safe conduct good for sixty days throughout my realm. It should ease problems in travel and make things easier. It will also get you better food, I suspect. After that, I hope we will learn that you have joined us completely. I believe we can offer a very high commission to one like you. You could wind up a military governor someday. I wish I could offer you quick passage to the Lakes, but little goes to and from that area, and we have other needs.”
“I thank you, my lord, for your extreme, unexpected, and unwarranted generosity,” he responded, hardly able to contain himself. This was better than he could have hoped. “I admit, though, to looking longingly at one of the flying horses you have. Why weren’t they in our old battles?”
“The pegasus? They’re tough to tame, hard to ride, and fragile as all hell. There’s less there than meets the eye. They wouldn’t last minutes in a battle. We use them to speed orders and maintain communications links around the empire. They’re not good for much more. Sorry—there’s only two in this entire military district.”
“I was not trying to impose, just commenting.”
“Well, I understand. It’s a long, long way to Tsipry,” he noted. “Now, it has been a genuine pleasure, sir. I have much to attend to and you must excuse me, but I feel certain that we will meet again.”
“As do I, sir,” Joe responded, rising. He gestured to Mia, who got up and scampered after him.
As soon as they were away, a Bentar officer approached and bowed.
Sugasto looked at him. “Well?”
“A considerable number of coins, the usual clothing one would expect of one coming from the south, including loincloths, and the remains of what appeared to be bronze ornamentations, a rather elaborate beltlike contraption that makes noises when moved or put together whose function we cannot fathom, although it appears innocuous, and the usual saddlebag materials. Nothing else, my lord.”
“Hmmm…” the sorcerer said, thinking. “That man is one of the most dangerous nonmagical men I’ve ever met, but he does seem to be precisely what he claims.”
“You had many ways to plumb his very soul and beyond, my lord. If you still have doubts, why didn’t you use them?” the aide asked him.
“Partly because someone that strong has strong magical allies who could shield him, and partly because, to get through those, I would have most likely destroyed someone who might be extremely useful. There was also this very odd sense of fairy about him when I initially probed him that defied explanation. The girl had it, too, last night, which is why I found her so intriguing, but then she didn’t have it today. It’s the damndest thing… But he’s a mercenary all right, and a good one, and she’s definitely a properly bound slave, as both seem to be. Still…”