Her Majesty's Wizard #1 (10 page)

   "What nonsense is this?" Alisande demanded. "All know God created life."

   "Yes, but the accounts don't say much about how He went about it. Better get far away, your Highness. This might be dangerous."

   The princess started to speak, then turned away, murmuring, "I prithee, take care. Your welfare concerns me."

   "Me, too," Matt said absently, his mind on the problem. He decided that he'd need both vocal and physical symbols-rhymes and gestures. He should probably make allusions to evolution and God, and reinforce them by holding out a hand, totally stiff, then having it move a little and then more, like a statue coming to life.

   He took a deep breath, stepped back, and began:

   "When at first the Lord all life was giving, Stone was leached to make a broth of living. Stone thus helped to turn the seas vermilion; Thing of stone, become once more reptilian!"

   His hand undulated like a snake in a high breeze. He held his breath and hoped.

   With a crackle like a thousand shards of ice breaking, Stegoman slowly turned his head. The dull gray eyes became milky; black pinpoints appeared in their centers and expanded into pupils and irises. The whole great-length of body shivered, turning slowly to dark green. The dragon closed his eyes and stretched his jaw in a yawn. "What has happened, Wizard? Each separate muscle within me is leaden and sore."

   Matt heaved a sigh of relief. "You were stoned, Stegoman. The real, authentic condition."

   "Aye, I remember." The dragon smacked his jaws together. "The foul witch laid an enchantment upon me. Thou hast bested her, then?" He didn't sound particularly surprised-about it. "Tell me the manner of it."

   "Another time." Matt's knees began to tremble. He sat down abruptly on the grass, bowing his head between his legs.

   "What ails thee?" Stegoman growled.

   "Is he well?" It was Alisande's voice. "Oh! Pray nothing has happened to him! "Twould be too unfair, after he strove so bravely against the witch and worked such wonders."

   Matt shoved himself to his feet by grabbing a handhold on Stegoman. "No, it's-it's nothing. Just delayed reaction from this magic. It takes a lot out of a guy."

   "Aye, but there's more of you left than was taken." She latched onto his arm, beaming up at him, eyes shining. "Assuredly, you are the bravest, most valiant of magi! Who else would attempt a new spell, risking destruction, to break a foul enchantment for a comrade? Surely you are the most worthy of wizards!"

   That almost made it all worthwhile.

   Stegoman looked startled. "How? Thou didst attempt a new spell to free me?"

   "I had to." Matt shrugged. "I didn't happen to have any old ones."

   "I am thy boon companion henceforth," Stegoman said firmly. "Thou shalt not taste of danger but I shall be with thee! How hast thou done this thing?"

   "It's called novelty." Coming from a different culture definitely gave Matt a larger arsenal of spells than the average magician. "Something new always impresses people."

   "Indeed!" Alisande affirmed. "What was this nonsense you told me of being a green and untried wizard? No venerable veteran could have done better!"

   "Well, thanks. But there really wasn't much of an alternative."

   "Would you have wished one?"

   "As a matter of fact, I would. I'm not exactly the kind who likes a high profile, you know."

   Dragon and maiden stood speechless. Scandalized, but speechless.

   "It's Malingo," Matt explained. "You heard the old witch mention him, didn't you? That makes me wonder-did she bushwhack me on her own? Or did somebody put her up to it? I don't know how well-outfitted Malingo is with crystal balls and pools of ink, but I'd lay out very good odds he was watching us every minute."

   "Ah." Alisande sobered. "He has a more stringent measure of you now."

   "Just what I was thinking," Matt said glumly, "and I'm sure he's not done with the yardstick yet. What will he send after us next? A small demon?"

   "'Tis no matter," Alisande said brightly. "You will defeat it."

   She sounded absolutely sure about it.

   "Come, sir!" Alisande whirled away to scoop up a dead willow branch, then pirouetted to face Matt, holding the wand like a sceptre. "Approach me and kneel!"

   Matt stared, dumfounded. Then he opened his mouth to protest, but Stegoman nudged into him, muttering, "Do as she doth direct, Wizard. Do not question royalty; she doth know her purpose and is sure of her deeds."

   Matt shut his jaws and slogged forward, determined to do whatever Alisande asked, no matter how asinine-within reason, of course.

   "Kneel," the princess commanded when he'd come about five feet away from her. Matt dropped to one knee, leaning his elbow on his kneecap, and was suddenly hit by the absurdity of his posture. Who was heir Walter Raleigh? He hunched over and bowed his head, trying to hide a smirk.

   "Matthew Mantrell," Alisande intoned, "you have this day proven your mettle and power, in battle against the powers of wickedness, in our service. Wherefore, this day, do we recognize your worth; and therefore will we accept from you oaths of loyalty and fealty, to bind you henceforth to the end of your days."

   Matt fought to keep his head down and bit back an outraged squawk. Oaths! She'd accept them, would she? And what if he didn't want to give them?

   Hold on, boy. Calm down. Remember where you are, what the rules are. You have to swear fealty to somebody, here. If you don't, you're an outlaw-or a king.

   "Be not anxious; I'll speak the words; you've but to repeat them," Alisande whispered, for all the world as though they were in a cathedral, with a multitude listening. Matt's chuckle tried to burble its way up his throat again. He swallowed it sternly and looked up at the princess.

   "Do you swear to serve us all the days of your life?" Alisande demanded.

   "I do." What was this-a wedding?

   "Will you, forever after this moment, answer our summons with all speed and haste, forsaking all other business and interests of the moment?"

   A bit strong, maybe, but basically nothing more than a policeman or fireman had to do. "I swear that, whatever problem or pleasure occupies my attention, I shall cease to have interest in it when your Highness shall call." Might as well embroider it a little.

   It was the right choice; Alisande looked pleased. "And will you, in defense of our honor and rightful claims, never spare of your labor and power, setting all fear and danger behind you?'

   I swear to work and to fight for your Highness's honor 'and rights, setting all weariness, fear, hesitation, and doubt far behind me, whenever your Highness shall call."

   It was just a paraphrase of her own words, but Alisande beamed.

   "And I, for my part, swear loyalty, justice, and mercy to you as my vassal, for now, and for all of my life; and, in thanks for your loyalty and in recognition of your worth, I do accord you honor, valor, strength of arm and of heart, and all knowledge and skill you shall need to traffic and fight for me with body and spirit, and a rightful place in my councils and among the peers of my realm. And I grant you the estates of Borvere, Angueleau, and Poilene, to you and the heirs of your body, till the end of your line."

   She swirled the willow wand around in a flourish and planted its butt on the ground between them. "In recognition whereof, I set my hand to this staff. Do you so also?"

   Matt reached out and grabbed the branch, a little dazed by the honors suddenly showered upon him, and very much amused. He had a place among the peers of her realm-if she won her realm back! And he had family estates-if he could ever kick out the present incumbents. Still, he had to admit it wasn't bad for a couple of fugitives in the middle of a meadow.

   "Now are our hands joined to and by the wood of this land," Alisande said solemnly, "as it is joined to the land itself, from which it did spring. Earth, air, and water have made it; earth, air, and water now witness our oaths. You are my vassal, and I am your suzerain." She lifted the staff away. "Rise, Matthew Mantrell, Lord Wizard of Merovence!"

   Matt rose slowly and, somehow, without the slightest inclination to giggle. She had called in, for witnesses, three of the four ancient Greek elements, the primal stuffs of which the universe was made. The land of Merovence was the seal and the bond between its royal house and a homeless vagabond. With a sudden, chilling prickle of memory, Matt remembered the power of words here and realized what the consequent power of an oath should be.

   Alisande clapped her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward to kiss him on both cheeks. "Never have I been prouder to swear to a bond. You are mine own wizard now, Matthew Mantrell -- wizard to the rightful queen, Lord Wizard!"

   Then it hit Matt-he was a lord! The wildest dreams of his childhood fairy tales had come true! He was an aristocrat!

   Dazed, with eyes glazed, he focused on her face. "Your Highness-your Majesty that should be-I'm not worthy...

   "Yet thou art," Stegoman rumbled behind him. "Thou art a good man, Matthew Mantrell, and a most puissant wizard."

   "Yeah," Matt mumbled. He looked up at Alisande. "Uh, say, by the way-those estates you mentioned-who's the current holder?"

   Alisande's eyes widened in surprise, "Why, the false Lord Wizard, of course-Malingo!"

   Slowly, Matt pursed his lips. "Yes," he said, nodding. "How stupid of me. I should have realized, shouldn't I?"

   "Pay no heed to it." Alisande's smile was full of gentle understanding as she took his arm. "When you have learned our ways, such things will come to you as quickly and lightly as breath."

   "Yes, of course," Matt said, with a sardonic smile. "Till then, I suppose I'll just have to muddle through, won't I?"

   He reflected that some things are the same in any culture, for instance, a setup.

CHAPTER 6

   "Ho!" cried a distant voice.

   Matt whirled about, startled.

   And there he was-a real, authentic, plate-armor knight, way out there in the meadow, trotting toward them. The armor was black, and the horse was humongous. The knight held an oversized toothpick slanting up at an angle, waving the pennant at its tip.

   Matt squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh, no. Tell me I didn't see it."

   "Wherefore, Lord Wizard?" The princess knit her brows, puzzled. "Dost fear him?"

   "Well, now that you mention it, yes-though that wasn't exactly what I had in mind. You'll pardon the cynicism, Princess, but as we stand now, I think we're better off assuming any stranger's an enemy, until he proves otherwise."

   "But you need not fear a knight!" she protested. "They are all bound by honor, sir-even those who oppose us!"

   "Even Malingo's knights?"

   The princess reddened and lifted her chin a few notches. "They are foul, treacherous brutes who may lay no claim at all to the title of knight."

   "Oh, definitely not. The fact that they ride Percherons, wear armor, and carry great big, sharp swords has nothing to do with it."

   "Exactly." She beamed. "You learn our ways quickly, Lord Wizard."

   It took Matt a minute to realize she was quite serious.

   He turned back to the approaching rider, who was about fifty yards off now. "Yes, but how can we be sure this guy isn't one of Malingo's?"

   "Why, because he wears black armor."

   Matt dipped his head and came up looking at her. "Whoa, now! Isn't that supposed to mean he's an evil one, or something like that?"

   "Why, no." Alisande seemed genuinely astonished. "In Heaven's name, Lord Matthew, what could let you think that? His armor means simply that he is a free lance, a knight unsworn to any lord-that is all."

   Matt held her eyes for a long moment; then he spoke slowly. "Yes, of course-no economic security. He doesn't have the money or facilities to keep his armor polished. That it?"

   "Precisely; and therefore doth he paint it black."

   "Very practical." Matt turned back to the approaching rider. "But what's to keep one of Malingo's boys from painting his armor black?"

   "Why, twould be dishonest, sir!",

   Matt bit back the natural response.

   The Black Knight pulled up his horse a little away from them and swung his lance upright in salute. "Hail, most fair lady! Hail, sir! Hail, you of the most free!"

   "Well met, Sir Knight," Stegoman answered. Matt nodded acknowledgment; but Alisande said, "Well met indeed, Sir Knight! Your name and your arms?"

   The knight laughed, amused, and hauled an empty, black-painted shield around to face them. "These are my arms, lady; any others I own, I may not reveal till an oath be fulfilled. As for my name, I am Sir Guy Losobal, for all men to know!"

   Why not? Matt reflected sourly. "Losobal" was close enough to the French "Le Sable" for Matt to be pretty sure it was this universe's equivalent. In other words, Sir Guy the Black Knight. Very informative.

   But he couldn't be outdone for courtesy, could he? "Well met, Sir Guy. I am Matthew Mantrell, liegeman to this lady."