The Ninth Talisman (30 page)

“And Speaker, you haven't heard anything from the
ler
who talk to you?”

“No tales have been brought to me,” Babble answered.
“Ler
speak of their own concerns, of fitness and patterns and place, not of wizards or death, or news from afar.”

“So the Wizard Lord may be killing off the other wizards,” Boss said. “He may be killing wizards plotting against him, in which case
he's entirely within his authority, or he may be trying to destroy Barokan's remaining magic, which is probably
not
something he's permitted to do. And he's left the weather largely unconstrained while he absents himself from Barokan, which also may or may not be acceptable. You all agree with that?”

There were nodding heads and noises of assent.

“So we need to find out what he really
is
doing, whether these wizards are dead, and if they are, why they died.”

Again, general agreement.

“And once we know, we need to decide what to do about it.”

“We know what to do about it,” Bow said.

“We know what to do if he's broken the rules, yes,” Boss said. “But the rules here aren't all that clear. That's why I want to talk to Lore, as soon as he comes down the cliffs. He knows the rules, the history, and the precedents better than anyone else. Maybe the Wizard Lord hasn't done anything wrong. But if he has, then we know what to do.”

“Ask him to resign,” the Seer said.

“Yes. But if he won't resign . . . ”

“He told me once that he would abdicate, rather than fight us to the death,” Sword said.

“But he may not have meant it,” Boss said. “He may have changed his mind. And if he has . . . ”

“We kill him,” Bow said.

“The Wizard Lord won't be down for a month or more,” Beauty said.

“I know that,” Boss snapped. “That means we have a month to get ready for him, and to find out what's been happening.”

“We could go up the cliff and get him,” Bow suggested.

“No, we couldn't,” Sword said. “We have no magic up there.”

“We could go up anyway.”

“Bow,
we have no magic up there.
We're just seven ordinary people, and he's got dozens of guards.”

“We aren't going to confront the Wizard Lord outside Barokan,” Boss said flatly. “I'm not suicidal. Sending a message, though, to let him know we want to speak to him when he comes down, might be useful.”

“I think we'd do better not to give him that much time to worry and plan,” Sword said.

“Hm.” Boss frowned. “Well, you know him better than the rest of us.”

“You said you wanted to talk to the Scholar,” Snatcher said. “Perhaps we could go fetch
him
down.”

“Or just send him a message, asking him to come,” Sword suggested. “Really, it's not pleasant for one of the Chosen to cross Barokan's border.”

“Then why does the Scholar do it?” the Seer asked. “This is the second year he's gone up there with the Wizard Lord.”

“I know,” Sword said. “I don't understand it.”

“It may not be as bad for him as it is for you,” Beauty suggested. “Each of us is different, with different magic.”

“Sending Lore a message sounds good to me,” Boss said. “Bow, Sword, Beauty, Babble, which of you knows him best?”

The four older Chosen exchanged glances.

“Probably Sword,” Beauty said.

“The old Seer knew him better,” Sword said.

“She's not here,” Boss pointed out.

“Boss, none of us know him all that well,” Sword said, “and sending any of us up the cliff is likely to be uncomfortable and draw unwanted attention. Couldn't we send someone other than one of the Chosen?”

“Of course we could,” Boss said. “We will. But I want one of you to write a note for the messenger to deliver.”

“Oh!” Sword relaxed. “I can do that, I think. If someone helps me with the pen—I never got the hang of cutting quills.”

“I can help,” Beauty said.

“Good,” Boss said. “Do it tonight.”

“Should I mention anything about dead wizards?”

“Absolutely not. Just tell him we need to talk to him.”

Sword nodded.

“What are we going to do about the dead wizards, meanwhile?” Snatcher asked. “Did the old man tell you where any of these killings took place?”

“He said he lived in the southern hills, and implied that the dead wizards all lived in the southwestern part of Barokan,” Boss answered. “Beyond that, no.”

“The southern hills are a . . . no, be still! Go, yes. I mean, they cover a very large area,” Babble said.

“Yes.”

“Well, we can't just wander around them randomly asking about wizards!” the Archer said. “That would take
years,
and we only have a month or so.”

“I know,” Boss said. “I was hoping someone might have an alternative to suggest.”

“Well, I think . . . ” Sword began. He stopped, unsure of whether he wanted to complete his thought.

“Think what?” Boss demanded.

“Well, there were other people there besides the locals when the wizards
were killed, after all, and some of them might be here in Winterhome,” Sword said. “They would know more about it.”

“What? What people?” Bow asked.

“The killers, of course,” Boss said. “Good. Clever. So you think we should talk to some of the soldiers at the Winter Palace?”

“I would,” Sword said, “except that word would get back to the Wizard Lord, wouldn't it? I don't think that would be . . .”

“I can take care of that,” the Leader interrupted.

Sword looked at her. “You can?”

“Yes. My magic. I can make sure nobody remembers talking to us, or sees any reason to mention it to anyone.”

“Oh. Oh, yes. Farash mentioned that last summer,” Sword said.

Boss suddenly went very still. “Farash? Farash inith Kerra das Bik abba Terrul? The Old Boss? You spoke to him?”

“Yes,” Sword said, startled by her reaction. “We spoke last year, and he said that he'd been able to do that when he was the Leader, make people forget things.”

“Did
he? And you spoke to him about this
last year,
not when you were fighting the Dark Lord of the Galbek Hills?”

“Yes, when I came to see the Wizard Lord,” Sword said, still puzzled.

“He was
here?
In Winterhome?”

“Yes, of course,” Sword said. “He's the Wizard Lord's chief advisor. He was in the Winter Palace when I first came here, and went up to the Summer Palace with the rest of the court. I assume he's up there now.”

“He . . .” The Leader was trembling; Sword stared at her in amazement. “Chief advisor?” she demanded. “Farash inith Kerra is the Wizard Lord's chief advisor?”

“Yes. The Wizard Lord thought his experience as the Leader might be useful. Boss, how do you know . . . ”

“Do
you
know,” she said, cutting Sword off, “what he did?”

Sword blinked. “I know several things he did,” he said, dropping any pretense of ignorance. “Which one do
you
know about?”

“I'm from Doublefall,” Boss said through gritted teeth. “Do you know what he did
there?”

“Some of it,” Sword said, comprehension slowly dawning. He glanced around at the other Chosen, who clearly had no idea what he
and Boss were talking about. “The palace, the harem, and so on. I never saw it, just heard about it.”

“I
lived
it,” Boss said, clearly struggling not to shout. “I was
in
his harem. He took me from my parents when I was fourteen, and
none of us saw anything wrong
with that! We thought it was an
honor!”

Sword stared at her in astonished horror. “But. . . but then why would he . . . why did he choose you . . . ?”

“He thought it was
funny,”
Boss shouted, giving up the struggle. “He thought it was just hysterically funny, choosing the smallest, youngest, weakest girl in his harem to be the next Leader of the Chosen. It was a little bit of revenge on
you,
Sword, and Beauty and Bow and Babble and Lore, giving you the most useless and ineffectual person he could find as your new Boss!”

“But you
aren't
ineffectual,” the Seer protested.

Boss whirled to face her. “You're right, Azir, I'm not! I swore I wouldn't be. I swore that I'd prove him wrong, that I'd be the best Chosen Leader ever, to get
my
little bit of vengeance for what he did to me!”

For a moment everyone sat or stood in stunned silence; then Boss swallowed and forced herself into the appearance of calm.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “There's no need for me to shout.”

“Shout if you like,” Beauty said. “But I don't understand what this is about. Old Boss had a
harem?”

“Yes,” Boss said.

“And you knew about it?” Snatcher asked Sword.

“Yes,” Sword admitted. “That's why I insisted he give up his role as Leader of the Chosen. He'd used his magic to enslave the entire town of Doublefall.”

“Not just enslave,” Boss said bitterly. “We weren't just slaves. We all
loved
him. We
adored
him. We thought we were doing everything to please him because we
wanted
to. He persuaded us, with his magic, that catering to his every whim, no matter how sordid or perverse, was natural and right. I spent months stark naked, begging to be his plaything. When he went off to meet with the Chosen I
wept
that I couldn't go with him.”

“I had no idea,” Beauty said quietly. “His magic could
do
that?”

“It hardly seemed as if he
had
any magic,” Bow said.

“He was hiding it,” Sword said. “I think
most
of us might have more powerful magic than we realize.”

“Why would he
hide
it?” Bow asked.

“You think he wanted any of us to know what he'd done to Doublefall?” Sword asked. “Remember, we're immune to it—he couldn't make
us
think it was a good thing that he'd taken over a town.”

“How did
you
find out?” Boss demanded.

“He told me, in the Dark Lord's tower,” Sword said. “He offered to let me share it. I refused.” He considered, for a moment, whether or not he should reveal the whole truth, that Farash had betrayed the Chosen entirely.

As yet, it did not seem necessary to go that far.

“You refused,” Boss said, staring at him. “But you didn't
tell
anyone, did you?”

“No.” Sword thought he was going to say more, that he would explain that he hadn't known Farash could hide the truth, that he had been drained and weary after killing the Dark Lord, but then he stopped.

He hadn't said anything. The reasons didn't really matter.

“Sword made him give up his talisman,” Beauty said. “None of us knew why; we thought it was very strange.”

“He made the Thief and the Seer give up theirs, as well,” Bow pointed out.
“They
didn't enslave anyone, did they?” He glanced at Sword.
“Did
they?”

Sword shook his head.

“No,” Beauty said. “But we
knew
how they had failed us. We never knew what Old Boss had done in the tower.”

“You didn't tell anyone,” Boss repeated. “And you let him live.”

“I don't like killing,” Sword said. “I'd had my fill, killing the Dark Lord.”

“You're the Swordsman; killing is your
job.”

“My job is to defend Barokan from Dark Lords. Killing anyone else isn't my responsibility.”

“But you could have
told
someone!”

“Yes, I could,” Sword agreed. “I probably should have—but I didn't know he could hide it. I didn't know he could erase memories. I hadn't
realized how much we didn't know about his magic. And who would I tell? The Council of Immortals didn't care; they ignored everything I told them. The other Chosen were tired and just wanted to go home.
I
was tired and just wanted to go home. Who would I tell? The new Wizard Lord couldn't harm him; he was the Chosen Leader, and the Wizard Lord is forbidden to harm the Chosen. Really, who could I have told? I thought the truth would come out soon enough, and the people of Doublefall would deal with him. I didn't know until last summer that he'd been able to conceal what he'd done.”

“How
did
he conceal it?” Snatcher asked. “I don't understand that part.”

“Oh, that was easy,” Boss said. “While he still had his magic, before he told the wizards he'd found his replacement, he simply told everyone in Doublefall to forget anything he'd ever done wrong, to remember only the good things he'd done. He told them his palace was the village meeting hall and the temple of the town's
ler,
that he had lived humbly there among us. It worked; we all believed it. We remembered that he'd lived there, that we had made him comfortable, but all the details were just
gone.
I couldn't remember what he'd done to me any more than I can remember suckling at my mother's breast.”