“That’s better,” I said. “I was beginning to think your conscience died with you. And?”
“I won’t do it again,” he said, rather sulkily.
“Good,” I said and, as we wove from lane to lane in an ever bigger cloud of dust, I told him what had been going on in the hotel.
“I wonder why Knarros thought he needed to send this centaur for you,” Stan remarked. “He must have known that whoever was in charge was going to scream for a Magid anyway. Maybe it was the sight of those carriers sitting under his hill. They make me feel threatened. How many of them are there, for goodness’ sake?”
We were now near enough to guess that there were at least six. This does not sound many by Earth standards, but this is because we have nothing like them. Probably the nearest military thing we have, in terms of firepower and size, is an aircraft carrier – if you can imagine an aircraft carrier on land. Empire carriers are even more powerful, however, and much more variously armed. They cost a bomb too. Usually there are only two or three deployed on any one world. Dakros had brought six or so to show he was in earnest. But he had very carefully not surrounded the hill. The carriers all sat in a cluster to the west of it, huge shiny things, blaring orange sunset light off the armour intended to deflect beam-guns. Round the base of them, I could see small dark figures bustling in numbers, and one or two smaller vehicles that were probably only four times the size of my own car.
One of these vehicles now set off towards me in a dustcloud of its own. I realised, uneasily, that I was well within range of the smallest weapon on those carriers and that my car was not equipped to deflect it. I stopped and prudently got out. The oncoming vehicle acknowledged I was recognised by flashing its several oddly placed headlights, and roared on towards me in a rising streamer of dust.
“Keep your door open,” said Stan. “I want to hear this.”
Accordingly I leant on my open door and watched the vehicle come towering in over me and stop. Dakros jumped down, followed by Lady Alexandra, who was now wearing complete battledress and looking very good in it. I felt more than a twinge of envy for Dakros. She smiled at me as they came towards me and I found myself reflecting that, according to Rob, she was only a second-class wife (and wondering what number she was graded at), and also speculating that, if this lady was only second-class, what incredible beauty it must take to be a True Wife. Or maybe those were chosen politically. When it came to High Ladies, the Emperor had probably been able to please himself – and he evidently had.
Next to jump down was the Mage Jeffros, whom I had not seen since the day the palace fell down. He looked awful, ill and sallow, as if he had had no chance to recover properly from that wound on his arm. That gave me the measure of how hectic things had been in the Empire. But he gave me a smile, although it was a worried one. He was followed by various military types, each with a big-barrelled hand-beamer ready at their belts, and closed, wary faces.
“We weren’t sure if it was you in that dustcloud, Magid,” Dakros said. I took it as an apology for the armed guard. “Are you alone?”
I wondered what he, or even Jeffros, would say if I said, “No, there’s a disembodied mentor with a taste for Scarlatti in my car too,” but I answered sedately, “Yes, there’s only me. I came in the car because of that sniper the other time.” They looked at the car, all of them, with a slight, puzzled contempt that riled me a little. But I went on just as sedately, “Now, what’s the position here? Knarros sent me a message this afternoon. Have you had any dealings with him?”
Dakros took off the official-looking soft hat he was wearing and ran a hand through the wriggly lumps of his hair. “Well, thank goodness he’s done something! We’re completely deadlocked so far. He’s standing us off – barely even talking.” I looked at him as he raked worriedly at his hair, and I suddenly knew why it was that I kept on trying to help Dakros. It was not just that he was valiantly struggling with a job because it had to be done. It was because he reminded me of Will. They had the same sort of hair. In Dakros it was dark and woolly, but the resemblance was there. Will had been similarly overburdened when he first became a Magid. Will had settled to his burden, but I was much afraid that the burden Dakros carried was too great for anyone.
“Knarros says he’ll only speak to a Magid,” Lady Alexandra explained. “So Panthendres told him you were coming, and all Knarros would say is that you have to go up the hill and prove it.” Panthendres? I thought, who? Oh. Dakros of course. Dakros was his surname.
Jeffros said, “The blasted centaur seems to mean that only a Magid can break the defences he has for that hill. I certainly can’t. I did try, but whoever the Emperor employed as mage here was too good for me.” He added, looking weary and fretful, “It even deflects beams. We tried that too. We got annoye
d, frankly.”
“I got annoyed,” Dakros said. “I told him Lady Alexandra was here and would help the heir in his duties. And he said a High Lady wasn’t adequate.”
“The arrogant bastard!” I said. Lady Alexandra was flushed and unhappy. I said to her, “If I was the heir, I couldn’t imagine anyone nicer to teach me the job.”
She looked up at me with one side of her face smiling. “Thank you, Magid. I will give it my best try.” Very ruefully, she added, “Besides, I’m the only one left who can.”
“You’ll be fine,” I said. “Well, how do we go about sorting this centaur out? I can’t understand what he’s playing at. He sent for me himself.”
“Wants you to prove you’re you, I suppose,” Dakros said. “Has instructions to proceed with utmost caution and so forth. Jeffros will tell you.”
There was a path up through the wood. Jeffros had tried to go up that and also up among the trees, but the ambient magics had defeated him. They were assuming I could do better. They said that if I got to the top and if I got inside the walls of the colony and if I then persuaded Knarros to relinquish the Emperor’s son, I could signal to them and they would do the rest; but I could see they had no real doubts about it. I felt slightly less confident. It seemed to me that Knarros was behaving oddly. But I put my doubts down to the pressure of their faith in me and pinned my own faith on the fact that Knarros had, after all, sent Rob to get me.
Dakros said, “If the heir turns out to be on another world…”
“I think that’s one possibility we don’t have to worry about,” I said. “The messenger strongly implied that Knarros looks after all the children of the True Wives. What are you planning to do with the rest of the children?”
This had been worrying me. Empire paranoia could well mean that Dakros would have the kids executed in order not to confuse the succession. Lady Alexandra said eagerly, “Give them the life they should be living, of course! They’re being brought up like rustics up there. It makes my blood boil.”
Dakros and Jeffros nodded, to my relief, equally eagerly. I looked from face to face, Magid-wise, and found they were sincere. “Fine,” I said thankfully. “Let’s get going.”
They gave me one of the fat-barrelled handguns which had been adapted to fire a signal light and showed me how to fire it. I was to fire one shot if I was successful. If Knarros refused to deal with me, I was to fire two. In the unlikely event of real trouble, I was to fire three times and armed support would attempt to break through the protections and come to my assistance. Again I looked from face to face. They had real faith in me. I felt pressured.
I rode to the base of the hill in their tall vehicle, leaving my own car sitting beside a vineyard with one door hanging open. I thought Stan would prefer that. And it was unlikely anyone would try to steal an offworld vehicle that didn’t even run on Empire fuel. Lady Alexandra sat beside me during the short, dusty journey, telling me her plans for the imperial children. “I’m glad some of them are girls,” she said. “I’m going to enjoy giving them pretty dresses and nice things. But I think the main thing I want to give all the children is more children their own ages. I want them to be surrounded with fun and life for a change – though it worries me that they may have been walled up on that hill so long that they’ll just find everything too big and terrifying outside. I shall have to go slowly and get them used to court life by gentle stages.”
She seemed to me to have the right ideas.
They dropped me off by the path and drove off along the road at the base of the hill to wait by the carriers for my signal. I stood on a dirt road in a golden evening contemplating the cart track that led up through the wood. The stuff on it was fierce. I set one foot on it and hastily backed off again. Seldom have I met such inimical magics. I couldn’t help admiring the craft of it. By its nature, and judging by the wheel tracks on the path itself, I could tell the working could be lifted or lowered at any time, even by someone who knew no magic. That takes skill. But unfortunately, it had to be lifted from within the walls uphill. I doubted if I could touch it from here. But it seemed to me, as I stood and thought the working through, that the embargoes and preventions were far fewer among the trees of the wood. When I moved about ten feet aside from the track, things seemed much quieter. I made sure I had the thickest shielding I could and went up through the trees.
It was very steep going, but otherwise very pleasant at first – allowing for the fact that I was pushing aside a new prohibition with almost every step. The trees were evergreens, green-black ilexes and various kinds of pine, and the golden light struck through them in dusty fingers smelling of incense and rosemary. Restful. As I climbed, I realised that I was pretty weary anyway after the afternoon dealing with Rob. Emotionally exhausted. Having to go and argue with Knarros on top of it was a real nuisance. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go away and rest and be done with the Empire. As the hill got steeper and I had to duck my way under thicker and thicker branches, I grew more tired than ever. I was panting like a person sawing wood. The beam-gun dragged in my pocket and my shielding felt like plate armour. And, as the sun went lower, it grew confoundedly cold. Far from sweating with my efforts, I was actually beginning to shiver.