Aftermath- - Thieves World 10 (24 page)

what he might be able to teil you of his mother tongue would be quite useless. Whether he can write I've not inquired; the same applies."

"Still, knowledge of any distant language—"

"Even a dead one? Dead for centuries?"

"What?" Melilot jolted forward on his chair, one careless elbow oversetting his mug—but it was empty, and he lacked the energy to rise and fill it for himself.

"Do you not believe there were great magicians in the past?" Jarveena challenged.

"You mean . . ." Melilot sank back slowly into his usual pot-bellied slouch, staring into nowhere.

"Out with it!"

138 AFTERMATH

"He's under an immortality spell?"

"That's only the half of it. Don't imagine you should envy him!"—in a sharp tone of warning. "On the contrary! He is the most pitiable creature

I have ever met, and in your service 1 have traveled back and forth across

the whole known world. Is that not so?"

Melilot nodded dumbly.

"Then listen." She leaned toward the fire with chin on fists; the flames made patterns of darkness dart across her face and body. "What lies on him is no mere spell, but a tremendous curse. In it consists the reason why he was angry when you offered him lodging. He cannot accept. Nor will he eat your dinner tomorrow or on any other evening. You see . . ." She weighed her words with care.

"He is bound never to sleep two nights in the same bed, nor eat a second meal from the same table. And this has been his doom for a thousand years."

Now for a great while Melilot sat motionless, save insofar as the play of fire-and lamplight kept up a constant illusion of movement throughout the room. Finally he had to stifle a yawn. But behind his plump, inscrutable face it seemed his mind had been working hard enough, albeit along lines that were familiar in Sanctuary more than any other place.

"Would this not imply that he cannot be kept in jail?" he suggested.

"Why, you—!" Jarveena leaped to her feet, brandishing her mug as though to brain him with it. Only a warning hiss from the gander beyond the ceiling prevented her. But her face was aglow with fury as she sat down again. "Is that all you can think about? How would you like to be in his shoes?"

"Not at all," the fat one answered candidly. "I'm sorry; I hadn't thought the matter through ... To what is owed this fearful geas, then?"

"I've no idea. Moreover, nor does he."

"But that's ridiculous!" Melilot stared at her. "You mean he won't admit—"

"I mean precisely what I said!" Do you think I haven't pestered him with questions? Do you think I haven't put him under oath? He has sworn by all the gods and goddesses whose names I recognize, plus one or two I never ran across before, that he believes the curse to be unjust.

He says, and I've been able to confirm, that he has consulted every magician whom he could afford to pay, and none has given him surcease. What is more, none has contrived to relieve his misery by telling him the

curse indeed is warranted. Were he aware of what he is accursed for, he might at least attempt an expiation. Can you think of a crueler fate than

his? He is being punished—endlessly, horribly punished—for something he has no memory of having done! Is he not truly to be pitied?" A shudder plus a vigorous nod made Melilot's gross body wobble under his fine robe.

"But how does he make shift aboard a ship?" he demanded. "If he may not sleep twice in the same bed—"

"He brought a hammock, and each night slung it from two different posts or hooks. This is permissible."

"Then: eating twice from the same table?"

"Until this evening I had not seen him eat from a table at all. Aboard ship, he carried his dish to a different spot on deck or in the 'tweendecks, but this strategem did not entirely serve; our voyage, as you know, was prolonged by a contrary wind, and for the last two days he did not eat at

all. In the tavern where I met him, where he had already spent a week, he

had to bribe its keeper to move him each night to a different bunk or pallet, and since there were only two tables for the customers he was reduced to eating on the floor, like a dog. He was much mocked in consequence."

"Has he described what happens when he tries to defy the curse?"

"He cannot. He says he's never had the power to do so. It is, he says, as though he has become a well-trained animal. Though he might sit down to your table tomorrow, be he never so hungry his hands would remain in his lap, refusing to lift food to his lips; though he might fall

upon the softest couch in the world, weary to the marrow of his bones, only the first time would he be allowed repose. Thereafter he would toss about all night, unless exhaustion drove him to prefer the floor. He must,

he says, avoid the highest and the lowest sorts of lodging: the former because the wealthy often buy antiques, the latter because the poor make shift with what's been handed down or looted from abandoned homes. This carven table might be one he ate from centuries ago, that horsehair pallet might have been in use elsewhere. The curse still holds, even at so

remote a reach; he starves, he grows red-eyed with lack of sleep, until he

wanders on and falls exhausted."

"How does he live? What trade is open to him?" Melilot demanded. Jarveena shrugged. "I think when all else fails he has to rob. But there are tasks even a wanderer may undertake. He goes a lot to sea; sometimes he enlists to guard a caravan; he has hinted at having been a courier, and

carried confidential mail. Naturally, though, he can't serve long on any given route."

"Naturally," Melilot said in a dry tone, and had to hide another yawn.

"Well, my dear Jarveena, if it's any consolation, you have indeed elicited

my sympathy. Your vivid picture of his unendurable existence must move 140 AFTERMATH

the stoniest of hearts—which mine, as you're aware, is not. Let us hope for both your sakes that Enas Yorl relieves the curse tomorrow. Go now and tell your friend I wish he may sleep soundly in my guest room, since it may only be this once. And leave me your report and your accounts, so I may peruse them while you're with the wizard."

"You'll find them all in order."

"Are they not always so?"

"Of course. How otherwise could I have kept on your right side so long?"

Rising with a chuckle, she headed for the door. Passing his chair, she bent to plant a kiss on his shaven pate.

"Thank you for allowing Klikitagh to stay. It can't be often that he enjoys such luxury."

Said Melilot: "I didn't notice him enjoying it . . ." And his little joke sent him contentedly to bed.

Waking, but with eyes still closed, Jarveena abruptly grew aware of another presence near at hand, apart from Klikitagh. She tensed, sliding her fingers beneath her pillow in search of the knife that never left her

reach.

It wasn't there. Come to that, neither was the pillow!

She sat up with a jerk, eyes wide in alarm. Melilot's guest room had vanished. This was another place entirely, a long low-ceilinged stonewalled hall, wherein she found herself on an oblong padded couch, Klikitagh still at her side. The air was pleasantly warm, pervaded with fragrance from dried herbs sprinkled on a brazier. Looking down on her, clad in a many-layered cape, was a tall and rather handsome youth . . . but where a normal person's eyes would be, there burned two red betraying sparks. She exhaled with a gasp.

"Enas Yorl!" she exclaimed.

Her voice roused Klikitagh. He came together all of a piece, instantly swinging his legs to the floor—which was spread with soft pelts, sable, marten, and sea otter. He cast around for his sword, but there was no sign of it, or of his clothing. Perceiving in the unknown youth a captor and perhaps a rival, he shook sleep from his brain and advanced with both fists clubbed,

Or rather, tried to do so. When he set his foot down a second time, his limbs slowed, as though he were forcing his way through deep water against a fierce contrary current. With vast effort he achieved another step, but that was all; eventually he remained utterly still, balanced absurdly on his left leg, mouth ajar in a face that had become a mask of fury

and frustration.

Jarveena knew how he was feeling. Just so had she been trapped at her first unexpected entry into the magician's palace. Guarded by basilisks, it

lay beside and beneath Prytanis Street, to the southeast of the Avenue of

Temples.

Except, of course, when it was somewhere else . . .

Licking her lips, for even after all these years it awed her to be in the

presence of Enas Yorl, especially naked—there was no point in adding

"and defenseless," for few there were in all of the known world who could withstand the power of such a wizard—she said, "Sometimes I wonder why you keep basilisks and yet enforce that spell in person. Do they not jest about the man who kept a dog and barked himself?"

"Who fold you there was no trace of basilisk in me?" replied the seeming youth in mocking tones. "Welcome back to Sanctuary, Jarveena. You were most royally entertained by Melilot the pinchpenny last night. The flavor of those roasted ducks must have been excellent!" Even as he spoke, his face was slowly altering. His eyebrow ridges in particular were thickening. Meantime his shoulders, gradually hunched. Jarveena knew what such a rapid change betokened. •

"You've been engaged in a considerable magic," she deduced. "Were you indeed one of the shadows that played around the fat one's dining room?"

He inclined his head.

"Can you have been that eager to see me again? Did you wish to find out whether I'd added any more scars to my toll, making more work for you in fading them?"

But these gibes were a mere cover for her nervousness. Besides, Enas Yorl was paying them no heed. He was contemplating Klikitagh with a frown. After a moment he touched the man's temples gently and briefly with his forefingers.

He said at length, "I heard his story as you recounted it last night. Now I can tell you one extremely curious fact. He does believe, with all his heart, that the curse upon him is unjust. But in my centuries of life—

brief though they be compared to his, of course—I have read, been told, found though experience, that to impose so powerful and durable a spell on an innocent victim is, if not forbidden, self-defeating. It must turn again upon the one who cast it. So say all the best authorities."

"Might there not have been exceptions in the past?" Jarveena ventured-"Could there not have been ancient powers that since have been forgotten?"

"How can that be so, when Klikitagh has trudged from wizard to enchanter to magician for a thousand years, telling them his tale and 142 AFTERMATH

begging them to strike off the fetters of his life9 There's more to this than

meets the inward eye Come' Let us start the day with food " That was not the usual first engagement she had with the wizard. Puzzled by the change, though not especially dismayed, she ascribed it perhaps to his unwillmgness to engage in the lists of love with a third party present—though she was sure he must have rendered Klikitagh blind and deaf and lost to the passage of time

In her heart of hearts, though, she knew it was because he was interested much more by the stranger than herself Turning away, Enas Yorl made a pass in the air and the far end of the immense hall drew obediently closer There stood a table set with bread and fruit and bowls of steaming broth, along with stoups of fragrant wine Assuming a high-backed chair, as though by afterthought he said,

"Oh—clothe my visitors "

Unseen hands wrapped Jarveena in a silken gown, even to the point of fastening its sash She glanced at Klikitagh, a robe of homespun cloth as harsh as sacking fell around his awkwardly posturing frame

"You will not let him join us9" she suggested

"He is feeling neither hunger nor thirst," replied the wizard "Besides, I may need to loose his tongue by conventional means, as Melilot essayed to do last night with scant success How can I, if he has already eaten from my table9"

"But surely . ." she began, and bit her lip

"You were going to say," came the resigned reply, "you have such confidence in my abilities, you fully expect him to be set free by nightfall

Well, if so he will of course be dead—had that point not occurred to you9

But the outcome is by no means certain Join me' Sit down' Toast your return beneath my roof"

She obeyed, having no alternative The wizard's wine, as ever, was superb Compared to it the best of Melilot's was sharp as vinegar The food, too, was exceptional, but she found she had little appetite, though Enas Yorl ate briskly enough. He had let slip, long ago, that magic was a tiring business, draining the practitioner of energy as much as any normal kind of plain hard work. Jarveena, however, was distracted by the way his face and hidden body kept on changing, as the minutes ebbed away . .

At last she could contain herself no longer She burst out, "Old friend

—if I may call you so—what drew your interest to Klikitagh9"

"Old friend9" Enas Yorl repeated, wiping lips that now were broader and flatter than before, beneath a broader, flatter nose and beetling brows "Why, there are few so kindly disposed to me as to call me friend at all—and that, of course, is by design' Nonetheless, I'll not hold your

choice of words against you'" He gave a harsh laugh and drained his goblet

"Know, then, that it was much despite my will I guard myself from sentimental ties that might bind me to this world, hoping for the day when I myself can be released by death I would not care to overlook the chance of escape because I regretted leaving anyone, or anything, behind . " He seemed oddly reluctant in his speech, as though making a shameful confession

"Nonetheless I have developed a certain attachment to yourself There is, admittedly, an element of sensuality involved, that apart, however, I

prefer to keep it on the level of—shall we say9—respectful admiration Few who have so much reason to devote their lives to seeking revenge break away from their obsession, you have done so "