The Warlock Unlocked

CHAPTER ELEVEN

All sleep, except Elidor,” Magnus said, glowering.

He sat on the edge of a massive four-poster bed opposite a fireplace as tall as Rod. Tapestries covered cold stone walls; Rod paced on a thick carpet.

“He was…” Cordelia burst out; but Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth, and stared at Magnus. He looked up at her, surprised, then nodded quickly, and closed his eyes, sitting very straight. He held it for a few minutes, then relaxed. “I’m sorry, Mama; I was carried away.”

“No great harm is done,” Gwen assured him. “They heard only that one sentence, and they cannot do so much with that.”

“Spies?” Rod frowned. “How many of them were there?”

“Only the two,” Gwen assured him. “One there, behind the knight on the tapestry o’er the hearth—thou seest that his eye is truly a hole? And one behind the panel next the door, where there’s a knot dropped out.”

Rod nodded. “Milord Foidin likes back-up systems—no doubt so he can check them against each other, and make sure no one’s lying. Well, it kinda goes along with the rest of his devious personality; I think he’s in the process of inventing the police state.” He turned to Magnus. “How long are they out for?”

“Till dawn,” Magnus assured him, “or after.”

Rod shook his head in amazement. “How does he do it so fast?”

Gwen shook her head, too. “I know not how he doth it at all.”

“Oh, that’s easy! It’s just projective telepathy. You just think ‘sleep’ at ‘em, right, son?”

“Not really, Papa.” Magnus frowned. “I just want them to sleep.”

Rod shook his head again. “You must ‘want’ awfully loudly… Well! Can you tell what Duke Foidin’s thinking?”

“I shall!” Cordelia said promptly.

“No, thou shalt not!” Gwen pressed her hands over her daughter’s ears. “Thou shalt not soil so young a mind as thine; that man hath filth and muck beneath the surface of his thinking that he doth attempt to hold back, but ever fails!”

“Oh.” Rod raised his eyebrows. “You’ve had a sample already?”

“Aye, of the things he doth yearn to do to the folk in his part of Tir Chlis, but doth never, out of cowardice, and, be it said to his slight credit, some lingering trace of scruple. This I read in him, whilst he did speak of Lord Kern’s ‘foul rule!’ ”

Rod nodded. “If you could get him talking about one thing, all the related thoughts came to his mind, just below the surface.”

“Thou hast learned the fashion of it well, mine husband. Almost could I believe thou hast practiced it thyself!”

“No, worse luck—but I’ve learned a lot about the human mind, from books.” He surveyed his children. “I hope none of you were peeking into the Duke’s mind.”

All three shook their heads. “Mama forbade us,” Magnus explained.

“One of those little telepathic commands that I couldn’t hear.” Rod sighed philosophically. “Speaking of things I can’t hear, what’s the Duke doing right now?”

Gwen’s eyes lost focus. “Speaking to Elidor…” Her voice suddenly dropped in pitch, in a parody of the Duke’s. “I was so very glad to find thee well, unharmed—believe, ‘tis true!” Her voice rose, imitating Elidor’s. “I do believe it, Uncle.”

“Then believe it, also, when I tell thee that thou must not wander off again, alone! ‘Tis too dangerous for an unfledged lad! There be a thousand perils in this world, awaiting thee! I own I have been harsh with thee, from time to time—yet only when thou hast tried mine patience overly, and ever have I repented of mine anger after! Stay, good lad, and I’ll promise thee, I’ll try to be more moderate.”

Very low: “I’ll bide, good Uncle.”

“Wilt thou! There’s a good lad! Be sure, ‘tis chiefly my concern for thee that moves me to this protest! Oh, I will not hide from thee my hatred for Lord Kern, nor have I ever sought to hide it—or my abiding fear that he may somehow seize thee from me, and use thee to gain power over me! For thou dost like him more than me, now dost thou not?… Dost thou not!… Answer!”

“He and his wife were kindly,” Elidor muttered.

“And was I not? Have I never treated thee with kindness? Nay, answer not—I see it in thine eyes. Thou dost remember only cuffs and blows, and never all the sweetmeats I did bring thee, nor the games that we did play! Nay, thou didst not wander off for mere adventure this day, didst thou? Thou didst seek to join Lord Kern! Didst thou not? Now answer to me!… What, wilt thou not?” Gwen’s whole body shook; she shuddered, and her eyes focused on Rod again. Trembling, she said, “He doth beat the lad. Most shrewdly.”

Rod’s face darkened. “The animal!…No, son!” He clamped a hand on Magnus’s shoulder; the boy’s body jolted, his eyes focussing again. “You can’t just teleport him away from the Duke; you’d raise a hue and cry that’d keep us penned in this castle for days. Poor Elidor’ll have to last it out until we can find a way to free him.”

“He did not seem so bad a man, when first we met him,” Cordelia said, troubled.

“He probably wouldn’t be, if he weren’t a Duke, and a regent.” Rod ran his fingers through his hair. “A burgher, say, where he could split the responsibility with a committee—or a clerk in an office. Without the pressure, his kind side’d be able to come through. But in the top position, he knows down deep that he can’t really handle the job, and it scares him.”

“And when he’s fearful, he will do anything to safeguard himself,” Magnus said somberly.

Rod nodded. “Good insight, son. Anyway, that’s how I read him. Unfortunately, he is the regent, and he’s out of control—even his own control.”

“Thus his power doth corrupt him,” Gwen agreed, “and all his hidden evils do come out.”

“Evil he is,” Magnus said with a shudder. “Papa, we must wrest Elidor from out his power!”

“I agree,” Rod said grimly. “No kid ought to have a man like that in charge of him. But we can’t just bull in there and yank him loose.”

“Wherefore not?” Cordelia’s chin thrust out stubbornly.

“Because, sweetling, a thousand guardsmen would fall on us ere we’d gone fifty paces,” Gwen explained.

“Papa can answer for ten of them—and thou and Magnus can answer for the rest!”

“Nay, I fear not.” Gwen smiled sadly. “There are some things that surpass even witches’ power.”

“I could defeat a thousand!” Magnus protested.

Rod shook his head. “Not yet, son—though I’m not sure you won’t be able to, when you’re grown. A thousand men, though, you see, they come at you from all sides, and by the time you’ve knocked out the ones in front, the ones behind have stabbed you through.”

“But if I took them all at one blow?”

Rod smiled. “Can you?”

Magnus frowned, looking away. “There must be a way. How doth one do it, Papa? Without magic, I mean.”

“Only with a bomb, son.”

Magnus looked up. “What is a ‘bomb?’ ”

“A thing that makes a huge explosion, like a lightning-blast.”

Magnus’s face cleared. “Why, that I can do!”

Rod stared at him, feeling his hair trying to stand on end. He might be able to do it—he just might. No one knew for sure, yet, just what the limits were to Magnus’s powers—if there were any. “Maybe you could,” he said softly. “And how many would die in the doing of it?”

Magnus stared at him; then he turned away, crestfallen. “Most, I think. Aye, thou hast the right of it, Papa. We cannot withstand an army—not with any conscience.”

“Stout lad,” Rod said softly, and felt a gush of pride and love for his eldest. If only the kid could pick it up, straight from his mind!

Instead, he had to content himself with clasping Magnus’s shoulder. “Well, then! How will we do it? First, we need some information. What did you get from him while you had him talking, dear?”

“He had a bonfire of craving,” Cordelia said. “That, we could not shut out!”

Rod went so still that Magnus looked up at him, startled.

“Nought but what one would expect from so foul a man,” Gwen said quickly. “Indeed, I doubt a lass doth cross his threshold that he doth not so desire!”

“But what doth he want them for, Mama?” Cordelia piped.

“That’s one of the things we don’t want you hearing from his mind, darling,” Rod said grimly.

“Papa, cool thy spirit,” Gwen cautioned.

“I will, for the time being. But when I can get him alone, I think Duke Foidin and I will have a very interesting exchange.”

“Of thoughts?” Magnus frowned.

“Interpret it as you will, son. But, speaking of thoughts, dear…?”

“Well!” Gwen sat down on the bed, clasping her hands in her lap. “To begin with, Lord Kern was the old King’s Lord High Warlock.”

Rod stared.

Gwen nodded. “And I do not ken the meaning of it, for none at that table could hear thoughts—of this, I’m certain. Still, the Duke is sure Lord Kern wields magic, and knows of several others—but none so strong as Kern.”

“No wonder he wants us! But what kind of magic do they do here, if they aren’t espers?”

Gwen shook her head. “I cannot tell; there were no clear events. Beneath the surface of his mind, there was but a feel of many mighty deeds unrolling.”

“There was making many men at once to disappear,” Magnus chipped in, “and summoning of dragons, and of spirits.”

“And calling up the fairies! Oh! ‘Twas pretty!” Cordelia clapped her hands.

“An’ swords, Papa!” Geoff crowed in excitement. “Swords that cut through all, and could fight by th’selves!”

Rod stared.

Then his gaze darkened, and he turned slowly, glowering down at each child in turn.

They realized their mistake, and shrank back into themselves.

“Mama only said not to listen to the Duke’s mind,” Magnus explained. “She said nothing of the other folk.”

Rod stilled.

Then he looked up at Gwen, fighting a grin.

“ ‘Tis true,” she said, through a small, tight smile. “In truth, it may have been a good idea.”

“There were some with nasty, twisted thoughts,” Magnus said eagerly, “but I knew that was why Mama did not wish us to ‘listen’ to the Duke, so I shunned those minds, and bade Cordelia and Geoffrey to do the same.”

“Thou’rt not to command,” Cordelia retorted, “Papa hath said so!… Yet in this case, I thought thou hadst the right of it.”

Rod and Gwen stared at each other for a moment; then they both burst out laughing.

“What, what?” Magnus stared from one to the other; then he picked it up from his mother’s mind. “Oh! Thou art that pleased with us!”

“Aye, my jo, and amazed at how well thou dost, without fully understanding what or why I bade thee,” Gwen hugged Geoff and Cordelia to her, and Rod caught Magnus against his hip. “So! Magic works here, eh?” It raised a nasty, prickling thought; but Rod kept it to himself.

“It seems it doth, or there is something that doth pass for it. The old King sent Lord Kern away, to fight some bandits in the northeast country; then the King died. But Duke Foidin’s estate’s nearby, and the Duke was the King’s first cousin—so, even though he was out of favor with the King, he and his army were able to seize young Elidor and, with him, the strings of government. His army was the largest, three-quarters of the royal force being with Lord Kern; so when he named himself as regent, none cared to challenge him.” Her voice sank. “It was not clear, but I think he had a hand in the old King’s death.”

The children sat silent, huge-eyed.

“It fits his style,” Rod said grimly. “What’s this nonsense about a spirit having closed the pass?”

“No nonsense, that—or, at least, the Duke doth in truth believe it. Yet the spirit was not summoned by Lord Kern; it’s been there many years. The High Warlock’s force went to the northwest by sea.”

“Hm.” Thoughts of Scylla and Charybdis flitted through Rod’s mind. “Be interesting to find out what this ‘spirit’ really is. But what keeps Lord Kern from filtering his troops through smaller passes?”

“The Duke’s own army, or a part of it. Once he’d seized Elidor, he fortified the mountains; so, when Lord Kern turned his army southward, he was already penned in. Moreover, the ships that landed him, the Duke burned in their harbor. He has at most ten ships in his full-vaunted ‘Navy’—but they suffice; Lord Kern has none.”

“Well, he’s probably built a few, by this time—but not enough. So he’s really penned in, huh?”

“He is; yet Duke Foidin lives in fear of him; it seems he is most powerful in magic.”

“But not powerful enough to take the spirit at the pass?”

Gwen shook her head. “And is too wise to try. Repute names that spirit most powerful.”

“Must be a natural hazard.” Rod had a fleeting vision of a high pass with tall, sheer cliffs on either side, heaped high with permanent snow. An army doesn’t move without a lot of noise; an avalanche… “Still, Duke Foidin no doubt lives in dread of Lord Kern’s finding a way to fly his whole army in. Does he really think we’d work for him?”

“He doubts it; though what had he to lose in trying? Yet he’s not overly assured by ‘our’ victory o’er the Each Uisge; he doth not trust good folk.”

“Wise, in view of his character.”

“Yet even if we’ll not labour for him, he doth want us.” Gwen’s face clouded. “For what purpose, I cannot say; ‘twas too deeply buried, and too dark.”

“Hm.” Rod frowned. “That’s strange; I was expecting something straightforward, like a bit of sadism. Still, with that man, I suppose nothing’d be straightforward. I’d almost think that’s true of this whole land.”

“What land is that, Rod?” Gwen’s voice was small.

Rod shrugged irritably. “Who knows? We don’t exactly have enough data to go on, yet. It looks like Gramarye—but if it is, we’ve got to be way far in the future—at least a thousand years, at a guess.”

“There would be more witches,” Gwen said softly.

Rod nodded. “Yes, there would. And where’d the Each Uisge come from, and the Crodh Mara? Same place as the Gramarye elves, werewolves, and ghosts, I suppose—but that would mean they’d have risen from latent telepaths thinking about them. And there weren’t any legends about them in Gramarye—were there?”

“I had never heard of them.”

“None had ever told us of them,” Magnus agreed.

“And the elves have told you darn near every folk-tale Gramarye holds. But a thousand years is time for a lot of new tales to crop up… Oh, come on! There’s no point in talking about it; we’re just guessing. Let’s wait until we have some hard information.”

“Such as, mine husband?”

“The year, for openers—but I don’t feel like asking anyone here; there’s no point letting them know just how much we don’t know, other than to excuse our lack of local knowledge. We don’t even know enough to know whose side we’re on.”

“Elidor’s,” Magnus said promptly.

“He is the rightful sovereign,” Gwen agreed.

“Fine—but who’s on his side? Lord Kern?”

Magnus nodded. “He slipped away from the Duke’s men, and was fleeing in hopes of reaching Lord Kern, for protection. This was in his mind whilst the Duke did whip him.”

Rod nodded. “If only he hadn’t stopped to play with the pretty horsey, hm?”

“He did not play, Papa! He knew he stood no chance without a mount!”

“Really?” Rod looked up. “Then he’s got more sense than I pegged him as having.”

Magnus nodded. “Thou hast told me I have ‘roots of wisdom,’ Papa; so hath he.”

“We must defend him,” Gwen said quietly.

“We cannot leave him to that Duke!” Cordelia said stoutly.

Rod sighed and capitulated. “All right, all right! We’ll take him with us!”

They cheered.