Upland Outlaws Read online

  Sweating, Umpily peered out the window. Already his cab was solidly locked in by others, and to order the driver to break out of line and head home for a forgotten invitation would attract attention and probably investigation-there were scores of guards standing around with nothing much to do.

  Right ahead of him, though, was a splendid eight-horse equipage with outriders, ducal insignia, and a senatorial pennant. He knew every duke in Hub, more or less. With the speed of desperation, Umpily opened the door and stumbled down into ankle-deep slush, almost falling in his haste. Pausing only to thrust a gold imperial at his astonished driver, he splashed forward to the grand carriage, dodged past a surprised outrider, and rapped on the door.

  “Lady Humilio!” he cried to the astonished face at the window. “Now my day is made! You don’t mind if I join you?” The occupants of the carriage certainly must mind, for they were already packed in like eels in a jug, but they were too polite to say so. There were six of them in there already, including the ancient Senator Oupshiny, whose equipage it was.

  Muttering greetings and confusing explanations, Umpily, squeezed his bulk inside.

  No guard would question a senatorial carriage.

  “My lady!” Umpily chirruped, leaning against the door and trying not to sweat. “You look bewitching in that chiton. My lord! And your Eminence, you are well?” Old Oupshiny, of course, although he was older than the Impire, was married to the impress’s sexy sister. “Your dear wife? She will be one of the participants, of course?” It was odd that Ashia was not present, though, or that the old relic wasn’t with her …

  “Eh?” the old man shouted, reddening. “Wife?”

  Ripples of shock seemed to shake the carriage. After a lifetime in society, Umpily knew a major blunder when he saw one-or made one, although that was extremely rare. Not having a clue what was wrong, he changed the subject at once, squeezing a corner of his bulk onto the tiny space that had been reluctantly cleared for him. “I should be quite happy to stand, my lord, thank you, except that I have contracted a swelling of the ankles, as you may notice. The doctors suspect inadequate nutrition due to-“

  “Wife?” a couple of voices muttered. The carriage lurched forward and stopped again.

  “Thought you’d been posted to Guwush, eh? ” the old senator bellowed.

  “Guwush, your Eminence?”

  “That’s what we heard, wasn’t it, Utha?”

  “It was indeed. Secret mission for Sh- for his majesty.”

  “Just a blind,” Umpily said cheerfully. His head was starting to spin. He had only been gone two days …

  “And what can you tell us about the prince?” Lady Humilio whispered conspiratorially.

  “Prince? “

  “His cousin! They quarreled? I mean, why else would Emthoro have rushed off to Leesoft even before the funeral?” Umpily flapped his mouth like a landed fish. “I really mustn’t betray confidences, my lady … “

  “What were you yattering about my wife?” demanded the senator. “Can’t believe you’d even remember her.”

  “You misheard me, Eminence!” God of Liars assist me!

  “Not your wife … ” He began to babble.

  The carriage lurched forward and stopped again.

  When the distinguished party reached the door of the Rotunda, Umpily descended first and handed down the ladies. He helpfully collected all the invitations and passed them over in a wad. He gave Lady Humilio his arm as they paraded along the corridor. When they reached the crowded clamor of the Rotunda itself, he excused himself with vague explanations that of course he must find his proper place in the ceremony. He squirmed away through the throng. The hall was already packed, and yet still cold as a root cellar. No one else there was sweating as he was.

  The huge round hall was mercifully dim, most of the great dome still cloaked with snow. He tried not to remember that sorcerers could see in the dark as well as in sunlight. A few of the crystal panes were clear, and icicles hung perilously from the fretted stone ribs, dripping water onto the seated throng. Once in a while one would fall and shatter on the floor. Nearby onlookers would laugh nervously.

  Umpily bustled around to the southeast quadrant where he would have a good view of the throne. He picked out a couple of ancient earls, persuading them that his allotted seat was right between them. They both knew him by sight, and they were both too deaf to attempt much conversation. Soon he was so packed in by the crowd that he did not think even Zinixo himself could extract him. Safety in numbers … His terror began to subside a little.

  The Opal Throne was turned to the south, facing the Blue Throne, so this was—

  Five thrones?

  Five thrones!

  Umpily had witnessed four of those thrones being blasted to rubble by the warden of the north. Now they were restored completely, exactly as before. He shivered so hand that one of his neighbors demanded to know what was wrong.

  Nothing was wrong. That was the problem.

  The guests crammed in until there was no room to breathe, and still they kept coming. Gradually their body heat began to warm the Rotunda, and icicles crashed down more frequently. Some provoked ominous cries of pain, but the press was too great for the casualties to be removed. Only the circular space in the center stayed clear.

  An hour or more drifted by. Umpily felt sick and faint with apprehension. Then a trumpet blared a fanfare, and the congregation struggled to its feet. The participants came marching in from the north door, dividing into two lines as they paraded around.

  Shandie!

  Yes, it was Shandie, in a purple toga. For the coronation he would arrive in plain white and don the purple as part of the ritual, but today he wore purple. It was Shandie to the life, a nondescript imp with a spotty complexion.

  Eshiala!

  Gorgeous in her purple chiton, leading the far line …

  Shandie hated togas, Umpily remembered. He had sworn he would wear uniform instead. And had Eshiala ever smiled with such confidence?

  Umpily sat down slightly ahead of the elderly earls, gaining a little more of the bench than he had held before. His brain was gyrating wildly. It couldn’t be Shandie. It certainly was Shandie. Every mannerism. After all these years, he could not be mistaken.

  It couldn’t be. Shandie was somewhere on a ferryboat, or perhaps already in his chosen bolthole on the far side of Cenmere. Or was this the real imperor, and that whole, horrible adventure had been a hallucination? That was much more likely.

  Worse-when the new imperor stood by the throne and raised Emine’s ancient sword to strike the buckler, Warlock Lith’rian materialized on the Blue Throne to acknowledge him with a cryptic elvish smile. Then the troll, witch of the west. Then north—Raspnex! There was the dwarf himself, squat and bearded in a white toga, his bare arm thick as something hanging in a butcher’s.

  Nothing was wrong.

  Umpily wrestled with physical nausea. Had he been deceived? Had those mad adventures with dwarves and fauns all been illusion? Surely it was easier to believe that than to assume that all this was faked?

  There was nothing wrong. Everything was going just as it had been described in the briefings and rehearsals … except that Prince Emthoro was missing. And Duchess Ashia, the impress’s sister, was missing also.

  And so was he. Peering carefully through the gloom, he established beyond doubt that the group to which he had been assigned in the rehearsals did not contain a bogus Lord Umpily. He couldn’t be there, of course.

  He was in Guwush.

  True avouch:

  BARNARDO

  How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale.

  Is not this something more than fantasy?

  What think you on’t?

  HORATIO

  Before my God, I might not this believe

  Without the sensible and true avouch

  Of mine own eyes.

  — Shakespeare, Hamlet, I, I

  FIVE

  Stormy clouds

  1
/>   “Uomaya?” Shandie said. “I don’t think my mother would have appreciated having her name put on this old tub. “

  She certainly would not have approved of her imperial son being an outlaw within his own impire, either, but the situation presented opportunities—

  “Very appropriate, I’d have thought,” Ylo said airily.

  The imperor shot him a disbelieving glare, then nodded reluctantly. “That’s good! Keep it up. And I’ll try to respond. I haven’t ever had much experience at banter, though. ” He sounded almost wistful.

  It would do no harm to learn, maybe. Baiting Shandie would be an unfamiliar amusement-how far dare Ylo take it?

  “I have an imperial edict on that? An unlimited, open-ended pardon for all sedition, misprision, and lese majesty?” Shandie’s smile was ominous. “Revocable retroactively.”

  “That’s not bad for starters,” Ylo admitted.

  They huddled together on the upwind side of a very smelly fishing boat. The lout at the rudder would not be able to hear, and did not look intelligent enough to understand anything anyway. The rest of the crew-both of them-were inside the tiny cabin and out of sight. Probably they were disputing how they would divvy up the largesse brought by these unexpected passengers.

  Emshandar’s death had almost shut down the fishing business, although the storm had probably helped.

  White Impress had fared far to the west and used up a whole day in search of smaller craft to carry the outlaws on the next leg of their insane quest. Acopulo had gone first; then the king of Krasnegar and the inexplicable Master Thinal. Now she had released the last of her fledglings and vanished into the mist, bearing warlock and sorceress away to whatever mysterious business they had planned but would not discuss.

  Yesterday’s rain showed no signs of diminishing; indeed the weather was going from horrible to ghastly. The clothes King Rap had provided included warm cloaks, but they would not keep out the bone-chilling damp. Ylo was trying not to shiver.

  Shandie was visibly edgy, which was very unusual for him. Now he was obviously trying to make cheerful conversation. Last night’s message from Umpily had depressed everyone, even the sorcerers, and the news that an imposter had been chief mourner at his grandfather’s funeral must have been an especial blow to the rightful imperor.

  Ylo, by contrast, was starting to feel quite cheerful-or he had been until he noticed the motion of the boat and the stink of the fish barrels. For the first time in months, even years, he need not worry about paper piling up on his desk every time he went outside to breathe fresh air. A couple of carefree weeks in the saddle might be a very pleasant vacation, he had decided. The sooner the better.

  Cheerful conversation, then … “To be honest,” he said, “I find I am looking back on White Impress with nostalgia, sire. “

  “Me, too. But you must stop giving me titles. We need new identities. Who am I?”

  Ylo had foreseen this. “You’re certainly not a farmer or a weaver. Your haircut’s military and your talk aristocrat. You’re tribune of the first cohort, XIVth Legion.”

  “Why aren’t I in Qoble, then?”

  “Dispensational leave. Your father was created marquis of Mosrace last summer. You’re going there for a family Winterfest. “

  “Good. And you?”

  “I’d better be your brother, so we can use the same excuse.”

  “Why aren’t we traveling on the highway?”

  “Well, if anyone dares ask us, we’re detouring to visit old friends. “

  “That’s not bad at all! Outlawry has not spoiled your ability to be a resourceful aide.”

  Ylo ignored that obvious flattery. “I’m your signifer. We’re both bachelors.”

  “Yes, that’s very good! Our names?”

  “Er … Yyan and Yshan. “

  Shandie adjusted his hood and peered hard at Ylo through the drizzle. No one had ever accused him of being stupid, except possibly where women were concerned. “Your brothers?”

  “Yes, your … Yes, Yshan.”

  For a moment the imperor studied Ylo’s face as if he had not done so for a while, and wanted to renew his memories of it. Then he nodded sadly. “Yshan, then! I’ll take that name as an honor.”

  “He would have been very proud to lend it to you.” Then Ylo wondered if that was true-Yshan had been one of the last of the family to die, and even his patriotic fervor must have flagged a little near the end. There were reliable reports that he had been racked.

  Shandie said nothing more for a while. Perhaps he knew the truth behind the gruesome stories.

  Ylo had not been joking when he said that the warlock’s old ferry had been better than Uomaya. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, feeling the rain driving against the exposed corners of his face. Uomaya seemed to roll in all directions at once, and certainly with no pattern. The little cabin would be drier and possibly warmer, but he could guess how it would stink. Even here on deck and on the upwind side, the air grew unbreathable every now and again. Up. Down. Up… Every board was mottled silver with decades of fish scales.

  He decided he would never eat fish again, never! He must not think about eating ever again, either, but his eyes kept wandering back to all those staring eyes in the barrels, shiny dead horrors.

  His queasy brooding was interrupted by an exclamation from the imperor, who had pulled one of the little magic scrolls from his pocket and opened it.

  “Idiot!” Shandie muttered. “Look! Umpily is going to the enthronement. “

  Ylo’s insides quivered. “He’s lost a wheel!”

  “No. In spite of his looks and his prying, Umpily’s a very determined man, and a brave one!”

  A very crazy one. Ylo could not imagine what would drag him there. The Rotunda would be a hive of sorcerers. Scowling, the imperor produced a silverpoint. “It’s probably too late to stop him!” He scribbled a note, then stuffed vellum and stylus back inside his cloak. He sat up and adjusted his hood so he could see Ylo better. “I know you said you wanted to be part of the team, but I will not hold you to that, now we know what lies ahead of us. You have no personal stake in this battle, unlike the rest of us. As soon as we reach land, you should go. I shall think more of your brains. “

  It was a tempting thought, but of course a cautious warrior like Shandie always tested his weapons before the battle. Ylo shook his head. “What, and desert my brother Yshan?”

  “Be sure! I would much rather shake hands and part as friends than have a companion climb out a window on me. “

  The window gambit had already occurred to Ylo. First, though, he must lure Shandie along the Krasnegar road far enough that he would not just head back to Yewdark to collect Hardgraa as replacement bodyguard. A week ought to do it. Then Ylo could defenestrate, backtrack, and arrive at Yewdark long before the daffodils did. He was going to be very surprised indeed if he could not talk his way into Eshiala’s bed within three days. Probably two. Four at the outside. And then-ah!

  But it might not be wise to mention that program to her husband. He would not enjoy his trip to Krasnegar so much if he knew what Ylo was doing with his wife.

  “I’m still your man, sire.”

  The imperor sighed again. “You’ve lost as many wheels as Umpily. But I’m grateful, very grateful. Ylo, it’s true I offered you the honor of Rivermead to redress the wrong my grandfather committed against your family, but there was more to it than that. Your service over the last two years has been impeccable. I value your honesty and loyalty and capability enormously. I’m not exaggerating when I say that there is no one I trust more.”

  This conversation was quite embarrassing. Furthermore, Ylo could no longer ignore that other problem creeping up on him. White Impress had taken her sorcery with her, and its absence was becoming more evident every …

  “Whom did you see in the pool?” the imperor asked quietly. Danger! Ylo felt a pulse start to hammer in his throat. “The loveliest woman in the world. “

  “Yes, but you told u
s you’d identified her.”

  “Tribune Uthursho’s wife.”

  Shandie considered his fellow outlaw for a moment. “And have you? …”

  “Not yet. She wants a divorce and marriage.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Divorce yes, the other no. Not yet, anyway.”

  “The army disapproves of divorce, you know.” Clearly the commander in chief did so, too. “The theory is that an officer who can’t discipline his wife can’t possibly handle troops.”

  “I know. I was going to ask you to arrange it as a special favor, your—er—Yshan. ” Ylo was spinning as he went, spinning like a spider. But the web seemed to be sticky enough.

  Shandie shook his head disbelievingly. “You young demon! That’s the first favor you’ve ever asked me for, and what you want is another man’s wife! If I ever, I mean when, I recover my throne, then you can have as many wives as … No, I mean of course I’ll arrange it for you.”

  Saved! Ylo’s heart slid back to a more normal rate. And the Other Problem came back with a rush.

  ” ‘Scuse me-“

  He made a dive under the boom and only just reached the leeward side in time. He doubled himself over and a moment later he heard Shandie having the same problem. The fishermen came out of the cabin to watch how gentry puked.

  2

  A few leagues to the southwest, a very different conversation was taking place in a very similar fishing boat. Knowing how imps reacted to sailing, Rap had taken the precaution of adjusting Thinal’s seaworthiness before leaving the shielded deckhouse on White Impress. It was a small magic, which would wear off before they reached land. He wanted a serious talk with his young companion. The two of them had the tiny, fetid cabin to themselves and no one would overhear them. He soon saw, however, that he should have adjusted a few more things, like backbone. As a proficient cat burglar, Thinal was completely unafraid of heights. Anything else terrified him. He was sitting on a bunk, clutching the sides of it with white-knuckled hands, and his eyes were rolling far more than the boat. He had never been a shining beacon of heroism in adversity.