MA04 Hit or Myth Page 4

  “I was assured when she crossed the border that she would be here this morning. Morning! Ever see the sun set in the morning before?”

  “Undoubtedly she was delayed by the condition of the roads,” General Badaxe offered. “I have told Your Majesty before that our roads are long overdue for repair. In their current state, they hinder the passage of travelers ... and troops should our fair land come under attack.”

  Grimble bared his teeth.

  “And his Majesty has always agreed with me that repairing the roads at this time would be far too costly ... unless the General would be willing to significantly reduce the size of his army that we might use the savings from wages to pay for the road work?”

  The General purpled.

  “Reduce the size of the army and you’ll soon lose that treasury that you guard so closely, Grimble.”

  “Enough, gentlemen,” I said, waving them both to silence. “As you’ve both said, we’ve discussed this subject many times before.”

  It had been decided that rather than having the King of Possiltum sit and fidget in front of the entire populace, that he should sweat it out in private with his advisors until his bride actually arrived. Royal image and all that. Unfortunately this meant that since morning I had been confined in a small room with J. R. Grimble and Hugh Badaxe for company. Their constant bickering and sniping was sufficient to turn my already dubious mood into something of record foulness.

  “Well, while we’re waiting, perhaps you can each brief me on your opinions of my future bride and her kingdom.”

  “But Your Majesty, we’ve done that before. Many times.”

  “Well, we’ll do it again. You’re supposed to be my advisors, aren’t you? So advise me. General Badaxe, why don’t you start?”

  Badaxe shrugged.

  “The situation is essentially unchanged from our last briefing. Impasse is a small kingdom; tiny really—less than a thousand citizens altogether. They claim the entire Impasse mountain range, from which the kingdom gets its name, and which is the bulk of their military defense. Their claim stands mostly because the mountains are treacherous and there is little or no reason to venture there. At least ninety-five percent of their population is concentrated along the one valley through the mountains. They have no formal military, but rather a militia, which suffices as there are no less than five passes in the main valley where a child with a pile of rocks could hold off an army ... and they have plenty of rocks. Their main vulnerability is food. The terrain is such that they are unable to support even their small population, and as they are still at odds with the kingdom at the other end of the valley who originally owned it, they are forced to buy all their food from us ... at prices even a generous man would call exorbitant.”

  “Supply and demand,” Grimble said with a toothy smile.

  “Wait a minute, General,” I interrupted. “If I understand this right, Impasse is not a threat to us militarily because of its size. If anything, it guards our flank against attack from the pass. Right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Which it is already doing.”

  “Also correct.”

  Seeing an opening, I hurried on.

  “We can’t attack them, but from what you say they don’t have anything we want. So why are we bothering with this marriage/alliance?”

  The General looked pointedly at Grimble.

  “Because even though Impasse is people-few and crop-light, they are sitting on the largest deposit of precious metal on the continent,” The Chancellor of the Exchequer supplied.

  “Precious met ... oh! You mean gold.”

  “Precisely. With the alliance, Possiltum will become the richest kingdom ever.”

  “That hardly seems like sufficient reason to get married,” I mumbled.

  “Your Majesty’s opinions on the subject are well known to us,” Grimble nodded. “You have expressed them often and long every time the possibility of this marriage was broached. I am only glad that you finally gave your consent when the citizens of Possiltum threatened to revolt if you didn’t accept the betrothal offer.”

  “That was only after you spread the word that such an alliance would significantly lower taxes, Grimble, Badaxe scowled.

  “I said it might lower taxes,” the Chancellor corrected innocently. “Can I help it if the common folk jumped to conclusions?”

  Now that I had a clearer picture of the situation, I might have mustered a bit of sympathy for the King’s predicament, if he hadn’t stuck me in it in his stead.

  “Enough about Impasse. Now give me your opinions of my bride-to-be.”

  There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence.

  “Impasse doesn’t have a monarchy,” Grimble said carefully. “That is, until recently. It was more a tribal state, where the strongest ruled. When the last king died, however, his daughter Hemlock somehow managed to take over and maintain the throne, thereby establishing a royal line of sorts. Exactly how she did it is unclear.”

  “Some say that prior to the king’s death she managed to gain the ... loyalty of all the able-bodied fighters in the kingdom, thereby securing her claim from challenge,” Badaxe supplied.

  I held up a restraining hand.

  “Gentlemen, what you’re telling me are facts. I asked for your opinions.”

  This time, there was a long uncomfortable silence.

  “That good, eh?” I grimaced.

  “Your Majesty must remember,” Grimble protested, “we are being asked to express our hidden feelings about a woman who will soon be our Queen.”

  “Not until the marriage,” I growled. “Right now, I am your king. Get my drift?”

  They got it, and swallowed hard.

  “The words ‘cold-blooded’ and ‘ruthless’ come to mind,” the general said, “and that’s the impression of a man who’s made a career of the carnage of war.”

  “I’m sure the rumors that she murdered her father to gain control of the kingdom are exaggerated,” Grimble argued weakly.

  “But Your Majesty would be well advised to insist on separate sleeping quarters, and even then sleep lightly ... and armed,” the general concluded firmly.

  “No difficulty should be encountered with separate quarters,” Grimble leered. “It’s said Queen Hemlock has the morals of an alley cat.”

  “Terrific,” I sighed.

  The Chancellor favored me with a paternal smile.

  “Oh, there’s no doubt that the entire kingdom, myself included, admires Your Majesty for the sacrifices he is willing to make for his people.”

  The trouble was, only I knew who the King was willing to sacrifice!

  I studied Grimble’s smile through hooded eyes, seeking desperately through my mind for something to disrupt his smug enjoyment of the situation. Suddenly, I found it.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask, does anyone know the current whereabouts of our Court Magician?”

  Grimble’s smile disappeared like water on a hot skillet. “He’s ... gone, Your Majesty.”

  “What? Out on another of his mishap adventures?”

  The Chancellor averted his eyes.

  “No I mean he’s ... gone. Tendered his resignation and left.”

  “Tendered his resignation to whom?” I pressed. “On whose authority has he quit his post during this, my darkest hour?”

  “Ahh ... mine, Your Majesty.”

  “What was that, Grimble? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

  “Mine. I told him he could go.”

  Grimble was sweating visibly now, which was fine by me. In fact, an idea was beginning to form in my mind.

  “Hmm ... knowing you, Lord Chancellor, I would suspect money is behind the Great Skeeve’s sudden departure.”

  “In a way,” Grimble evaded, “you might say that.”

  “Well, it won’t do,” I s
aid firmly. “I want him back ... and before this accursed marriage. What’s more, since you approved his departure, I’m holding you personally responsible for his return.”

  “B ... But Your Majesty! I wouldn’t know where to start looking. He could be anywhere by now.”

  “He can’t have gone far,” Badaxe volunteered casually. “His dragon and unicorn are still in the Royal Stables.”

  “They are?” the Chancellor blinked.

  “Yes,” the General smiled, “as you might know if you ever set foot outside your counting house.”

  “See, Grimble,” I said. “The task I set before you should be easy for a man of your resources. Now off with you. The longer you tarry here, the longer it will be before you find our wayward magician.”

  The Chancellor started to say something, then shrugged and started for the door.

  “Oh, Grimble,” I called. “Something you might keep in mind. I heard a rumor that the Great Skeeve has recently been disguising himself as me for an occasional prank. Like as not the scamp is parading around somewhere with the royal features on his face. That tidbit alone should help you locate him.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” the Chancellor responded glumly, reminded now of the shape-changing abilities of his supposed quarry.

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought General Badaxe was stifling a laugh somewhere in the depths of his beard as his rival trudged out.

  “How about you, General? Do you think your men could assist in passing word of my royal summons to the Great Skeeve?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Your Majesty.”

  With sudden seriousness he approached me, laid a hand on my shoulder, and stared into my eyes.

  “Lord Magician,” he said, “the King would like to see you.”

  “YOU’VE KNOWN FOR some time that I’m a fighting man. What you don’t seem to realize is what that implies.”

  We were sitting over wine now, in a much more relaxed conversation than when I had been pretending to be King Rodrick.

  “Fighting men recognize people as much by movement and mannerism as they do by facial feature. It’s a professional habit. Now, you had the appearance and voice of the King, but your carriage and gestures were that: of the Great Skeeve, not Rodrick the Fifth.”

  “But if you knew I was an imposter, why didn’t you say something?”

  The General drew himself up stiffly.

  “The King had not taken me into his confidence in this matter, nor had you. I felt it would have been rude to intrude on your affairs uninvited.”

  “Weren’t you afraid that I might be a part of some plot to murder the King and take his place?”

  “Lord Magician, though we met as rivals, prolonged exposure to you has caused my respect for you to grow to no small matter. Both in your convincing Big Julie and his army to defect from the Mob and join Possiltum as honest citizens, and in fighting at your side in the Big Game when you risked life and limb to rescue a comrade in peril, you have shown ingenuity, courage, and honor.

  While I may still speak of you from time to time in less than glowing terms, my lowest opinion of you does not include the possibility of your having a hand in murdering your employer.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  … And besides, only a total idiot would want to assume Rodrick’s place so soon before his marriage to Queen Hemlock.” I winced.

  “So much for your growing respect.”

  “I said ‘ingenuity, courage, and honor.” I made no mention of intelligence. Very well, then, a total idiot or someone under orders from his king.”

  “How about a bit of both?” I sighed.

  “I suspected as much.” Badaxe nodded. “Now that we’re speaking candidly, may I ask as to the whereabouts of the King?”

  “Good question.”

  In a few depressing sentences, I brought him up to date on my assignment and Rodrick’s disappearance.

  “I was afraid something like this would happen,” the General said when I concluded. “The King has been looking desperately for some way out of this marriage, and it looks like he’s found it. Well, needless to say, if there’s anything I can do to help, just ask.”

  “Thanks, General. As a matter of fact, I ...”

  “As long as it doesn’t go against the good of the kingdom,” Badaxe amended. “Like helping you to escape. Possiltum needs a king, and for the time being, you’re it!”

  “Oh. Well ... how about using your men to help find the king?”

  Badaxe shook his head.

  “Can’t do it. Massha has that assignment. If I sent my men to back her up, she’d think I didn’t have any faith in her.”

  Terrific! I had an ally, if I could get around his loyalties and amorous entanglements.

  The General must have noticed my expression.

  “Anything else I’ll be willing to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well ... like teaching you to defend yourself against your bride-to-be.”

  That actually sounded promising.

  “Do you think we’ll have enough time?”

  With that, there was a heavy knocking at the door.

  “Your Majesty! The carriage of Queen Hemlock is approaching the palace!”

  “No,” said the General, with disheartening honesty.

  * * *

  We bareley made it to our appointed places ahead of the Queen’s procession. The throne of Possiltum had been temporarily moved to a position just inside the doors to the palace, and only by sprinting through the corridors with undignified abandon were Badaxe and I able to reach our respective positions before the portals were thrown open.

  “Remind me to have a word with you about the efficiency of your army’s early warning system,” I said to the General as I sank into my seat.

  “I believe it was the Court Magician who complained about the excessive range of the military spy system,” Badaxe retorted. “Perhaps Your Majesty will see fit now to convince him of the necessity of timely information.”

  Before I could think of a sufficiently polite response, the Queen’s party drew to a halt at the foot of the stairs.

  The kingdom of Impasse had apparently spared no expense on the Queen’s carriage. If it was not actually fashioned of solid gold, there were sufficient quantities of the metal in the trim and decorations as to make the difference academic. I took secret pleasure that Grimble was not present to gloat at the scene. The curtains were drawn, allowing us to see the rich embroidery upon them, but not who or what was within. A team of eight matched horses completed the rig, though their shaggy coats and short stature suggested that normally the mountain folk put them to far more practical use than dragging royalty around the countryside.

  With the carriage, however, any semblance of decorum about the Queen’s procession vanished.

  Her escort consisted of at least twenty retainers, all mounted and leading extra horses, though whether these were relief mounts or the bride’s dowry I couldn’t tell. The escort was also all male, and of a uniform appearance; broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, and muscle-bound. They reminded me of miniature versions of the opposing teams Aahz and I had faced during the Big Game, but unlike those players, these men were armed to the teeth. They fairly bristled with swords and knives, glittering from boot-tops, arm sheaths, and shoulder scabbards, such that I was sure the combined weight of their weapons offset that of the golden coach they were guarding. These weren’t pretty court decorations, but well-handled field weapons worn with the ease fighting men accord the tools of their trade.

  The men themselves were dressed in drab tunics suited more for crawling through thickets with knives clenched in their teeth than serving as a royal escort. Still, they wrinkled their broad, flat features into wide smiles as they alternately gawked at the building and waved at the crowd which seemed determined to unload the ea
rlier noted surplus of flowers by burying the coach with them. The escort may have seemed sloppy and undisciplined in the eyes of Badaxe or Big Julie, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to try to take anything away from them; Queen, coach, kingdom, or even a flower they had taken a fancy to.

  Two men in the procession were notable exceptions to the rule. Even on horseback they looked to be head and shoulder taller than the others and half again as broad. They had crammed their massive frames into tunics which were clean and formal, and appeared to be unarmed. I noted, however, that instead of laughing or waving, they sat ramrod stiff in their saddles and surveyed their surroundings with the bored, detached attention to detail I normally associated with predators ... big predators.

  I was about to call Badaxe’s attention to the pair when the carriage door opened. The woman who appeared was obviously akin to most of the men in the escort. She had the same broad, solid build and facial features, only more so. My first impression was that she looked like the bottom two-thirds of an oak door, if the door were made of granite. Unsmiling, she swept the area with a withering stare, then nodded to herself and stepped down.

  “Lady in waiting,” Badaxe murmured.

  I’m not sure if his comment was meant to reassure me, but it did. Only after did it occur to me that the General had volunteered the information to keep me from running, which I had been seriously considering.

  The next figure in view was a radical departure from the other Impassers in the party. She was arrow thin and pale with black stringy black hair that hung straight past her shoulders. Instead of the now expected round, flat face, her features looked like she had been hung up by her nose to dry. She wasn’t unpleasant to look at, in fact, I guessed that she was younger than I was, but the pointed nose combined with a pair of dark, shiny-alert eyes gave her a vaguely rodent appearance. Her dress was a long-sleeved white thing that would have probably looked more fetching on a clothes-hanger. Without more than a glance at the assembled citizens she gathered up what slack there was in the skirt, hopped down from the carriage, and started up the stairs toward me with the athletic, leggy grace of a confirmed tomboy.