“Very well.” Pelmen nodded. “But how do I get Serphi-mera out of the dungeon and up to one of these entry points in order to escape?”
That is a problem you must solve. While this House might permit the theft of another captive, you cannot expect it to suggest how such might be done!
Pelmen nodded and spent the rest of the afternoon grilling the castle about possible escape routes and planning possible scenarios for their grand attempt. The castle was intrigued by this fool’s errand. So intrigued, in fact, that it paid no attention to a brief encounter that took place between Joss and the Queen as Ligne left the dungeon. It never heard the General mutter, “Now?”
Nor did it hear Ligne swiftly reply, “Not yet”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With Violence and Guile
THE LAZY OCCUPANTS of Pahd’s fortress took little notice of Flayh, except to observe that he seemed unduly industrious, and to suggest that he take life a little easier. Flayh responded to each of these comments with a silent smile so false and threatening that no one had yet dared to address him twice. Chogi lan Pahd-el was the only one who engaged him in conversation. She, however, was certainly enough. The old girl pursued him through the castle like a bulldog short of wind and stubby of legs, but long on determination. He’d been forced to repeat a dozen spells due to Pahd’s mother interrupting him at a critical juncture. It had happened again just a moment before, and he was contemplating what slimy denizen of the deep he’d like to change the woman into as he accompanied her up the royal tower’s steps.
The woman banged open the door without stopping to knock, and stalked to the foot of Pahd’s bed. “Get up. We have a crisis.”
“What?” asked Sarie groggily, raising her head and gazing bleary-eyed at her mother-in-law. Then she looked at a nearby window. “It’s still morning!” she scolded. “We never get up in the morning!”
“We do when an army marches against us!” Chogi snapped, and suddenly Pahd’s head popped up off the pillow.
“Battle?” he asked hopefully.
“It appears so.” Chogi sighed.
Flayh was shocked to see the King dance out of bed, skip across the fur-covered floor, and jerk a great sword out of a scabbard hanging on the wall. “Wonderful!” Pahd cried, as he thrusted and parried, quite oblivious to the flapping of his nightshirt.
“Your joy may be premature,” Chogi said soberly.
“Why’s that? Whom are we fighting?”
“Mar-Yilot and her man.”
Pahd stopped dancing. “Oh.” He looked at Flayh expectantly, and the former merchant suddenly discovered that Chogi and Sarie were gazing at him too.
“Am I supposed to say something?” Flayh asked.
Sarie’s eyebrows raised with just a hint of disapproval. “Well you might offer us a bit of encouragement. After all, you are the court shaper.”
“I hadn’t realized lending encouragement was part of my task,” Flayh responded evenly.
“What the girl is saying,” Chogi explained apologetically, “is that since you are our shaper, and since Mar-Yilot is a wit cher woman, we would like to know how you intend to protect us.” She folded her hands on her ample belly and waited for a reply, her eyes fixed demurely on the floor.
“Oh, that.” Flayh nodded, endeavoring to appear nonchalant in spite of the sudden pounding of his heart. But Flayh had not been a longtime success at merchandising without learning how to use shifting fortunes to his advantage. He beamed his false smile at them and said, “Don’t be alarmed. I can assure you that I can provide total protection for you by nightfall.”
“Total protection?” Pahd asked. “From Mar-Yilot? That’s a rather grandiose claim, considering the woman’s past successes in shaper battles. Why, in the last war of confederation, the only wizard to control her was Pelmen the powerful, and that only by outwitting her.
For raw strength in bending powers to her will, no one can match the woman.” Pahd said this in awe-filled tones approaching hero-worship, and Sarie looked at him sharply.
“That may be,” Flayh murmured confidently. “But she has yet to meet with me or my knowledge.” He laid his hand over the place where his spell-book was concealed in his tunic. “If you will permit me to work throughout the rest of this day ” Here he looked at Chogi to add, ”
undisturbed ” He looked back at Pahd. ” by the time you take to your bed again this evening, this fortress, already formidable by all human standards, will be totally impervious to magic attacks as well.”
“Really? You can do all of that while I’m out of bed? That is fast.”
“But only if I’m undisturbed.”
Pahd nodded and pursed his lips. Then he looked at his mother, who was quite obviously preparing to pout. “Ah… mother? Weren’t you planning to visit Aunt Razel sometime soon?”
“Are you telling me to get out of this house?” Chogi challenged her son, her jaw jutting forward.
“Why, no, mother.” Pahd shrugged. “Just suggesting that ”
“I’ll not interfere with you, Lord Flayh,” she promised the power shaper in a voice thick with sarcasm. “Just see to it that you do your job and that we are protected.” She banged her way back out the way she came in, heading for her own quarters to weep away her feelings of rejection.
Pahd misinterpreted Flayh’s look of scorn as an expression of concern.
“Don’t worry, my friend. She won’t give up on you that easily.” Pahd slipped his sword back into its holder and eyed his pillow. “Don’t, ah don’t let me keep you from your work…” he hinted.
“I certainly won’t. Good day, my Lord my Lady.” Flayh bowed slightly, then left the tower, pulling out his grimoire as he went.
Pahd started for the bed, then stopped, and sniffed the air. “You smell something funny?”
“It’s your mother’s perfume,” Sarie told him with a droll smile.
“Ah.” Pahd nodded, stretched, yawned, and scratched his side. “I guess that takes care of the crisis, so… I think I’ll take a little nap.”
“You do that.” Sarie smiled sweetly. “Everything here is under control.”
And by nightfall, everything was under control. Flayh’s.
“I’m in charge here,” Pezi yelled at the cook, “and unless you’d rather be working the docks in southern Chao-mo nous you’d better keep that in mind!”
“I shall, Lord Pezi!” the cook roared back, ramming a wicked-tipped fork into the rump roast that lay on the cutting table before him. Pezi could hardly miss the implication. The cook was obviously wishing it were Pezi’s.
Pezi drew himself up to his full height, hitched his pants a futile gesture he repeated a hundred times daily and sauntered out the door of the kitchen into the courtyard. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
A sugar-clawsp hung there in the air, eying him menacingly. Its membranous wings were a-blur with motion, yet it held its position in his face, unyielding, offering no quarter. Sunlight glinted off its iridescent violet body, adding to the illusion of armor-plated invincibility. Never mind that it was only half an inch long Pezi was terrified of these things! He gulped and backed toward the kitchen door. The sugar-clawsp slowly followed him.
Pezi stopped. He couldn’t let a clawsp chase him back into the presence of the cook. He already faced enough difficulty in establishing his authority over this manor. He refused to add this indignity to the list of Pezi stories he knew was making the rounds.
Yet the suger-clawsp just as adamantly refused to let him pass. When he stepped to the right, the tiny insect zipped over to meet him. When he stepped back to the left, it buzzed back to its original position.
Pezi reviled himself silently. Why hadn’t he left the kitchen through the hall? Why had he chosen this back door, where he knew sugar-claws ps would be swarming this time of year? Clawsps loved sugar and lived wherever it was readily available. They formed it into the inverted castles of silvery crystal that hung from the eaves above him. Kitchen help throughout the three lands encouraged these insects to swarm, as a convenient way of storing sugar supplies. Whenever more of the substance was needed for the table, some unfortunate servant was delegated to tear down a clawsp castle and grind it to powder. This miserable task usually fell to the servant currently in deepest disfavor, for invariably he would need to pluck a host of the tiny creatures out of their crystal courts first and when aroused, sugar-claws ps exuded an oily acid that produced nasty burns on human skin. Touching an angry sugar-clawsp could be compared to thrusting a hand into an open flame. And all clawsp seemed angry around Pezi.