The Ninth Talisman (16 page)

“And Bow, Boss, and I went on into the tower, and Boss said the Wizard Lord must be in the dungeons and cellars?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Bow and I went down the stairs, and got separated, and there were traps set down there. The Dark Lord had built corridors with hidden doorways and had his maids waiting, ready to slam the doors and entrap us. It worked on Bow, and he was sealed in down there in the dark, but I heard them in time, and caught my sword between the doors before they could close, and forced my way out. If Galbek Hills had used big strong guards like the ones around here I might not have been able to do it, but he only used girls because he was worried about the Beauty turning his servants against him. I was able to overpower the two maids and lock them away.”

“Bow had told us part of that,” Lore acknowledged.

“Yes, well, when I realized it had been a trap I went back upstairs, looking for Boss, and I realized he had never tried to follow us down at all. He had gone
up,
up the stairs to the top of the tower. And I followed him up there and overheard him talking to the Wizard Lord about how they had fooled us all, and how Bow and I were safely locked away in the dungeon and it was time to call in the others and trap the rest of you as well. He had been conspiring with the Dark Lord all along, plotting to lock us away. They didn't want to kill us, since that would destroy part of the Wizard Lord's own magic, but holding us prisoner would leave the two of them in a position to do anything they pleased, and to enslave all of Barokan, just as Farash had already enslaved Doublefall with his own magic.”

“What?”

“Oh, yes. Old Boss had a palace and a harem back in Doublefall, and the entire town waited on him hand and foot. And he had deliberately talked the Thief
out
of accompanying us, because he knew she could probably avoid their traps and escape from any prison, but he did it so subtly we didn't even realize he had.”

“That's . . . that's . . .”

“So I burst in, took them by surprise, killed the Wizard Lord—and that was enough of death for me. I let Farash inith Kerra live, on the one condition he swore to give up his role as the Leader of the Chosen. Which he did, but now I come here and find him advising the
new
Wizard Lord, and he tells me that before passing on his role as Leader he ensured that the people of Doublefall would forget any harm he had done them and remember only the good.” Sword's voice rose from a whisper to a growl on this final sentence. “He swears he has reformed and will never again harm an innocent, but you will forgive me if I am not entirely convinced.”

“Does Artil know this?”

“He does now. And so do you, and I trust the two of you will keep watch over him.”

Lore nodded, straightening up from the crouch he had assumed while listening. “I will endeavor to do so,” he said.

“Good.” Sword clapped him on the shoulder. “And
I
intend to go speak to the Beauty, before I lose my nerve.”

The Beauty's home, a quarter-mile north of the plaza, was much as Sword remembered it—a cozy stone-and-wood house with small, tightly shuttered windows and a blackened oak door. He stepped up and knocked.

The last time he had come here uninvited he had been accompanied by Old Boss and the old Seer, and the Seer had been able to tell them where Beauty was in the house, whether she was coming to answer the door or not. This time Sword had no such magical information, but could only wait impatiently, wondering whether his knock had been heard, whether the Beauty was even there.

He knocked again.

A moment later the door opened a crack, and a scarf-wrapped face peered out. Two beautiful green eyes blinked at him, and then the door was flung wide. “Sword!” she said. “How good to see you! Come in, come in!”

Somewhat startled by this enthusiasm, Sword obeyed. He had expected to be allowed in, but he had not anticipated
this
positive a reception. “Hello, Beauty,” he said.

The familiar hearth was cold and dark; no one needed a fire on so warm a day as this. The two rocking chairs still stood to either side, though, and the Beauty gestured for him to take one while she settled in the other. The table was bare save for a wedge of cheese and a paring knife on a cutting board, and there was no sign of the old ginger tomcat.

The vase on the shelf by the mantel was jammed full of
ara
feathers, many more than Sword remembered being there.

“It's good to see you again,” Sword said, quite sincerely.

“Then see me properly,” Beauty said, pulling the scarf from her face and throwing back her hood, letting waves of dark hair spill free
around her face and throat. “It's a pleasure to have someone here who can look at my face and not be overwhelmed by it.” She shook her head to clear her hair away.

Sword smiled with astonished delight; he had not expected her to show her face so readily. He tried not to stare too openly. “Oh, even without any magic, it can be overwhelming,” he said. “You're still a very beautiful woman.” That was no polite exaggeration; even in her forties, the Beauty was incredibly attractive, her skin smooth and flawless, the curve of her cheekbones clean and perfect.

“The most beautiful in the world. I know. But just a woman.” She smiled wryly, and Sword felt his heartbeat quicken.

He was flattered that she had uncovered her face; when they had traveled together six years earlier, from Winterhome to the Galbek Hills, she had kept her face hidden as much as possible, even when only the other Chosen were around. He had not seen her as exposed as she was now until the Dark Lord lay dead in his tower. He knew this intimacy meant that she trusted him, and he knew that she would not have done this with most of the others. He was flattered, and felt more honored than he ever had by any other compliment.

He wished there were some way he could reciprocate, but he had no hidden beauties to reveal. He felt awkward as he groped for words.

“How have you been?” he asked at last. “Well, I hope.”

“Oh, well enough.” She gestured at their surroundings. “I'm still here, just as you see me. And you? You went home to Mad Oak? You've been there all these years?”

“I did,” Sword said. “I have.”

“How was it?”

He hesitated. “Different,” he said at last. “My father had died, and everything was . . . different. They wanted me to be a hero returned from his adventures, not just another barley farmer. You've been shut away so long, hiding yourself, I don't know whether you'd understand . . .”

“I remember,” she said quietly. “It wasn't the same for me, because I was
always
a beauty, people had always stared at me and talked about me as if I wasn't a person who could hear them but some sort of gorgeous animal, and boys had lusted openly after me ever since my breasts
grew, but when I became
the
Beauty it all became a thousand times worse. I could no longer hold a conversation with
anyone.
Men would not hear my words as anything but a veiled invitation, women would twist them into insults, even children just stared at me with their mouths agape. Until I came to Winterhome and donned the hood and scarf, I never had a moment's peace unless I locked myself away.”

“It isn't . . . it hasn't been
that
bad for me,” he said. “Nothing like that. I'm only the Swordsman, after all.”

“I don't know why I did it,” she said. “I was young and stupid, but even so, how could I possibly have thought that becoming even
more
beautiful would make anything
better
?”

“Did you? That wasn't what you said before.”

She laughed musically, and Sword found himself blushing for no reason he could explain. “No, that's right, I didn't think it would make it any better,” she said. “You're right. I thought I was already so beautiful that I might as well put it to some use, and that it couldn't be much worse. But it was.”

“I'm sorry. It hasn't been like that for me; people still talk to me, I can still walk through town without people staring. It's much subtler than that; it's as if they keep
expecting
something of me, but even
they
don't know what it is. But they're disappointed all the same when it doesn't happen.”

She nodded. “I can imagine,” she said.

He smiled. “There's one thing you can probably appreciate better than anyone,” he said. “How the women look at me.”

She frowned. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“Well, according to legend, my magical abilities extend to wielding anything even remotely swordlike with superhuman skill, including that rod which every man is born with. There may be some truth in it, I don't know, as it isn't a matter that lends itself to open and honest comparison, but certainly the women of Mad Oak have all heard the tales and believe them. They very rarely say anything aloud in my hearing, but I see the way they look at me, the considering glances and curious stares.”

“Are they all eager to share your bed, then?”

“No.” Sword shook his head. “They all
think
about it, certainly, I
can see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices, but I spend as many nights alone now as I ever did. I think they're afraid to test the legend—but whether they fear it to be true or false, I couldn't say. And I think they treat me differently. When they consider me as a lover, I believe they look on me as a possible diversion, not a possible husband. That was never the case before I became the Swordsman.” He shook his head. “I would have thought the tales of my skill would make me
more
desirable as a husband, not less.”

“A husband doesn't spend most of his time in bed,” the Beauty replied. “As one of the Chosen you will always have obligations beyond your family, and your legendary prowess probably makes them think you more likely to stray, less likely to be satisfied with one ordinary woman. Better to enjoy a night or two and move on than to try to hold what you can't.”

“I suppose that's it. Is that how men look on you, then? As a brief amusement?”

“No. On the contrary, they want to possess me, to
own
me, as if I were a thing rather than a person. But they're men, and the ones who lust after you are women; our sexes differ in more than the physical.”

“I suppose we do.”

For a moment the two of them sat in companionable silence; then the Beauty said, “And why are you here, Sword? Surely you didn't come to Winterhome just to share our discontentments.”

“No. I came to Winterhome to see what sort of man the Wizard Lord was, and why he had ordered the construction of roads through the vales.”

She nodded. “Of course. And that's a very good reason. Have you learned what you sought to know?”

“Not really. Not enough. I've spoken with him, and heard him say he built the roads because he just wanted to help, but there's more to him than I've seen and heard, and I'm not sure I like it.”

“I'm sure I
don't
like it, but I can't really explain what troubles me.”

“Oh? I know you refused to speak with him.”

“I refuse to let
any
man save the Chosen see me without my hood and scarf, and he wanted me to consent to be searched by his guards, to
be sure I had no dagger beneath my robes, ready to thrust into his heart.”

“I thought that might be it. But he could speak to you through a beast, couldn't he?”

“He tried, but I won't speak 1:0 him. I'm afraid I might say something that will turn him against me. I don't trust him.”

“Why not? Have you seen any harm come from these grand plans of his?”

“No, on the contrary, the roads have brought traders to Winterhome, and let the Host People travel elsewhere, and so far that's all been good. The priests complain, especially when the roads are being built, but for most people the results are clearly an improvement. It appears this is exactly what the Wizard Lord intended, and it's working well.”

“Then why don't you trust him?”

The Beauty studied Sword's face for a moment before replying, “You worry because he built roads where there had never been roads, yes?”

“And palaces where there had never been palaces, yes.”

“Yes, his palaces, with guards and servants everywhere—
two
immense palaces, where every other Wizard Lord has been content with one. The moment the first was complete he sent his workers to begin another. He has road crews working their way northward down Longvale and Shadowvale, and up and down the coast, and deep into the southern hills. I have heard he has canals and bridges and other projects under way, as well.”

“Yes, so I've heard.”

“And you worry about the roads and the palaces—you're a man, you look at the things being built.”

Sword frowned. “What? And you do not?”