The Incorporated Knight (8 page)

             
"I
'll fix it, my lord," said Harmund. A strip of parchment stuck with flour paste to the inside of the lining made the coronet fit passably well; and the baron, beaming with relief, rushed off to join his women.

             
As Emmerhard had anticipated, they were too late to view the burning of the heretics, three unrepentant monotheists from Pathenia. They reached the Great Temple of the Divine Pair just in time to take their places for the coronation. Emmerhard, torn between haste and the wish to move in a stately, dignified manner, was the last man to reach the barons' rank. He ventured a glance down the knights' rank, behind the barons, and nodded briefly as Sir Dambert greeted him with a small, discreet wave.

             
While Emmerhard was lining up with the other barons of the Empire, Doctor Calporio sought out the chest in Count Petz's strong room, wherein lay the remaining coronet. "Harmund!" shrieked Calporio.

             
"Aye, Doctor?" Rattling keys, the servant hastened into the storeroom.

             
"Why gavest thou the baron the old coronet?"

             
"He chose it himself, sir; none forbade—"

             
"Knowst not that I've been using the bauble for a mighty magical work? That it be charged with puissant sorcerous powers? Ah, demons of the Pit, with what ninnyhammers am I surrounded!"

             
Calporio dashed out with his purple robe flapping and, back in Count Petz's bedchamber, told his employer of this untoward development.

             
"Carry not on so, good my Doctor," said the count. "From what ye told me, the wearer must needs do certain things and make a wish, ere the demon imprisoned in the gem will act. Is't not so?"

             
"Aye, but—"

             
"Since Emmerhard knows not the formula, he cannot activate the demon. So let us calmly await his return of the object."

             
Calporio did not look convinced.

-

             
Baron Emmerhard stood in the Great Temple, in a row with his fellow barons, while the ceremony ground on. It had already lasted two hours, and ahead lay at least two hours more of hymns and sermons and speeches and ritual acts of allegiance to the King. Valdhelm HI, resplendent in blue and gold, had just made his appearance before the altar.

             
The new king was a nondescript young man, pleasant enough but not, it would seem, very bright. Rumor had it that at times he fancied himself a watering pot. The effective rule of the kingdom would doubtless devolve into the hands of a cabal of ruthless, power-hungry magnates like the Duke of Tencteria, who had been acting as adviser to the crown prince. Emmerhard looked upon the future with gloom.

             
For the present, the baron's feelings were of suffocating boredom. Even the most glittering tableaux lose their glamor with time; and for Emmerhard, the coronation had long since passed that point. He was evidently not the only one so afflicted. Out of the comer of his eye he had seen Baron Randver of Sidinia sneak a quick gulp of water-of-life from a flask concealed in the sleeve of his robe.

             
Furthermore, the baron's feet hurt. The Emperor and his family were seated in the front pew, and behind them sat several kings of the Empire. Everyone else, however, had to stand. Moreover, the parchment strip inside the coronet began to cut painfully into Baron Emmerhard's forehead.

             
King Valdhelm was involved in a lengthy series of answers to questions from the Supreme Pontiff of the Holy Universal Dualistic Church, when Emmerhard's nose began to itch.

             
All eyes were fixed upon the King. Some, Emmerhard suspected, feared and some hoped that the young simpleton would get his responses mixed up, thus casting doubt upon the validity of the ceremony, or at least cause political embarrassment and get the reign off to an ill-omened start.

             
Making sure that no one was watching him, Baron Emmerhard gave his nose a furtive scratch. At the same time he thought, silently moving his lips: "I wish I were home!"

             
And
floomp!
he found himself alone in a forest.

             
The baron's first impulse was to flee shouting in mad terror, but he mastered himself. After all, he reflected, he was a mature man of worldly experience, who had survived riots, battles, and assassination attempts. Now he studied his surroundings.

             
Nothing but greenery could be seen in any direction. Judging by the fresh springtime foliage, he might well be somewhere in his own well-forested barony of Zurgau, although he could not say just where.

             
In youth, Emmerhard had often hunted in the woods of the county of Treveria; but during the last decade he had hardly hunted at all. At first an injury had discouraged this activity; later he had become too involved with the economic side of his barony to resume the sport. Now he had forgotten most of the topographic details of his forested demesne.

             
Still, he reasoned that if he walked downhill, he would surely come to a stream. This would lead him to the River Lupa, which flowed past the village of Zurgau. He thought of climbing a tree to get his bearings but decided against it, lest he ruin his coronation clothes. Besides, the pale-green leaves were too thick to enable him to see far, even from aloft.

             
He was plainly the victim of magic; some spell had whisked him from the coronation to this distant spot. He wondered whether any had noticed his disappearance and whether some foe had done this to shame him. If magic had brought him hither, magic was needed to take him back.

             
Before setting out on a hike, for which his coronation costume was ludicrously unsuited, Emmerhard raised his voice in a bellow:

             
"Hola! Hola, there! Help!"

             
On the third attempt, he heard a faint reply: "Who calls?"

             
"Help! Help!" repeated Emmerhard.

             
"I come," said the voice.

             
Emmerhard heard the sound of hooves, muffled by turf. Soon a horse came in sight, the rider swaying and ducking as he avoided branches.

             
"Eudoric!" cried Emmerhard. For the rider was indeed his stocky, square-jawed prospective son-in-law. Caring little for appearances, Eudoric wore rough, stained forester's garb. A pair of bulging canvas saddlebags hung from the horse's withers.

             
"By the guardians of Hell!" cried the baron. "How earnest thou here so timely?"

             
"I've been visiting with my former tutor, the learned Doctor Baldonius," said Eudoric. "By the God and Goddess, my lord, what do you here in your court regalia? A horse on a housetop were no more incongruous."

             
"I know! I know!" cried Emmerhard, kneading his knuckles. "Saidst thou we be nigh unto Baldonius' house? Pray lead me to him, forthwith! Magic brought me hither, in the blink of an eye but now; and magic shall take me back. Hasten Eudoric, so that I may return ere the coronation be over or my absence marked!"

             
Eudoric studied the baron with narrowed eyes. "A moment, good my lord. Meseems there be a question or two to be answered first."

             
"What questions, sirrah?"

             
"Imprimis, there's my oft-promised knighthood. You know of my dragonslaying in Pathenia, not to mention my serving a month in their stinking jail for the breach of their game laws. So now, where's my title?"

             
"Dost mean that thou would abandon me in the trackless wildwood, an I comply not with thy demands?"

             
Eudoric grinned. "You grasp the import of my words, my lord, albeit I should have framed my request more tactfully. Secundus, you've promised me Gerzilda's hand; and when I've pressed you of late, you've put me off, as if you were minded to renege on our bargain."

             
"The final word shall be the lass's own. I'm no petty tyrant, to give my ewe lambs to husbands against their will."

             
Eudoric waved a hand. "That aspect frets me not. And lastly, there's the money I owe the wainwrights, which you've promised me and then withheld—"

             
"Thy damned coach-wagon hath been a-building for months, with no end in sight. Am I to pour my silver down a bottomless well?"

             
The argument raged for another quarter-hour, while Baron Emmerhard grew ever more agitated. At last he burst out:

             
"Oh, very well, thou scoundrel! I'll yield to thy extortionate demands because I must. Now show me the way to Baldonius' house!"

             
"Not that I mistrust your word," drawled Eudoric, "but I shall be able better to guide you when your undertakings are writ on parchment."

             
"Impudent knave!" shouted the baron, waving clenched fists. "What shall we write upon in this wilderness? Bark?"

             
Eudoric brought out of one saddlebag several sheets of parchment and a quill and stoppered inkhorn. "Here, by good hap, are the latest drawings of plans for our coach. The backs will serve nicely."

             
"Hast pen and ink, too, thou young devil?"

             
"Certes. A gentleman of business like me must ever be prepared. First we'll set down my patent of knighthood. I'll serve as scribe if you wish, my lord."

             
"Write clearly, then. Remember, I read not badly."

             
Another quarter-hour passed while Eudoric painstakingly composed three documents binding Baron Emmerhard to fulfill his promises. The documents signed, Eudoric seated the wrathful baron upon his horse's rump and clucked the beast to a trot.

-

             
Doctor Baldonius weighed the coronet, peered at it through a lens, and pressed an ear against the gold. Then he shook his head.

             
"Typical of Calporio
'
s incompetency," he said. "The demon was entrapped in the great emerald for but a single usage. When my lord scratched his nose and murmured a wish to be back in his own demesne, the demon whisked him hither and then fled back to its own plane. Now the coronet bears no more magic than any other headpiece."

             
"Why didn't the sprite deposit me at Castle Zurgau instead of in the woods?" asked Emmerhard.

             
"The spell had been tailored to the needs of Count Petz. All the demon knew of you was that ye were the Lord of Zurgau; so it dropped you at random in the barony. Or else it was the simple inaccuracy that one expects of a pilot model. 'Twas a stroke of luck that ye encountered Sir Eudoric."

             
"Luck, say ye? Humph!"

             
Doctor Baldonius' smile showed briefly through his long gray beard. "I said not what kind of luck it was, my lord. Would ye enact the ritual of knighting now, ye twain?"

             
A moment later, Eudoric grinned wryly as he felt his sore shoulder. "My father-in-law-to-be has had his revenge. He dubbed me nigh hard enough to break my collar bone."