The Red Wolf Conspiracy Part 23

On that point Ramachni was wrong, Pazel thought: no one could be as miserable as Steldak, the prisoner in Rose's desk. But the little mage did not seem to know about the ixchel, and Pazel dared not speak of them. He could still hear Diadrelu: They will be the last words you ever speak They will be the last words you ever speak. And she was the friendly one.

"Ramachni," he said, "why have you been looking for me?"

"To enlist your help," said the mage. "By that I mean: to ask you to accept another Gift."

A brief, astonished silence. "You're joking," said Pazel.

The mink shook his head.

Pazel fumbled behind him for the doork.n.o.b. "Absolutely not," he said.

"It would have no unpleasant effects," said the mink. "At least, not for many years."

"Fantastic--not much chance of living living many years with this crowd. But if I do? What then? Do I sprout horns and tail, so that when I start babbling like a murth I'll look the part?" many years with this crowd. But if I do? What then? Do I sprout horns and tail, so that when I start babbling like a murth I'll look the part?"

"Oh sky!" said Thasha suddenly. "Grow up, Pazel. Ramachni's so careful with magic I didn't think he could do any for the first year I knew him. If he says it's safe, it's safe."

"But he's not not saying that." saying that."

The mink clicked his teeth, making him appear to grin once again. "Very true, I am not."

"Pazel," said Thasha, "are you afraid?"

Idiotic question. He opened the door and fled across the stateroom--s.n.a.t.c.hing up the cake as he went. Then he heard feet pounding behind him. A whirl of motion, and Thasha stood between him and the outer door.

"You can't say no to Ramachni."

"No?"

Pazel looked back at the mage, who had walked calmly into the stateroom. "Do it to Thasha the Brave, here," he said. "One Gift was enough to ruin my life."

"It will not be enough to save your world from death," said Ramachni.

Pazel froze, the cake halfway to his mouth. Ramachni sat back on his haunches.

"Eavesdropping is difficult in the hold of a s.h.i.+p, but it is a thousand times more difficult from another world. For ninety years Alifros has been my chief concern, bound as it is to my own world by blood and happenstance. Dawn to dusk have I listened, and midnights, too. Now at last the moment comes. A fell power is brooding over the Chathrand Chathrand. Greater than the evil mage already aboard her, or the horrible man who will board soon--though they perhaps seek to use it. What is it? When and how will it strike? I do not know. But I know that it cannot be ignored, for I have walked in lands where it prevailed, where men hoped it would pa.s.s them by, and were wrong. Trust me this far, Pazel Pathkendle: you do not know the meaning of ruin." ruin."

Pazel looked at him: a small creature on a bearskin rug, its black eyes blazing.

"What do you want?" he said.

"To listen with you. And if you should hear something ... extraordinary, to teach you a word to know it by. Perhaps several words. It depends on what you hear."

"That's all?"

"That, Pazel, is enough to shake the foundations of this world. The words I would teach you are Master-Words: the very codes of creation, spoken in that ethereal court where will is matter, and rhymes become galaxies. Normal men cannot learn them, you see--"

"But he can," said Thasha.

"Perhaps," said Ramachni. "But Pazel's Gift is a tiny spark compared with the wildfire power of such words. Only two or three do I dare teach you--for your sake, and that of Alifros itself. And Pazel, you will only be able to speak each word once. After that it will vanish from your mind forever."

"But why don't you use them yourself?" Thasha asked.

"I am a visitor here," said Ramachni. "The Master-Words belong to this world, not mine. They would be as dust on my lips."

Still Pazel hesitated. "What am I to do with these Master-Words?"

"Fight the enemy."

"But how? You don't even know who he is!"

"In time he will show himself. And then you you must choose the word, and the moment for its use. And you must choose wisely, for there will be no second chance." must choose the word, and the moment for its use. And you must choose wisely, for there will be no second chance."

"This is ... absurd!" sputtered Pazel. "I don't even know who I'm supposed to fight! How can you expect me to beat him? What if he just stabs me in my sleep?"

"He will not know about you, either, nor of the power in your keeping. And years may pa.s.s before he strikes--years, or days, or mere hours. Try to understand: this is a battle in the dark, and I am as blind as any. I know only that I have found in you and Thasha my best champions--the very best in ninety years of searching. Will you refuse?"

Pazel walked slowly to the table and put down the cake. "No," he said. "I won't refuse."

"Then as soon as we can arrange a time--"

"Now."

Ramachni twitched his tail in surprise. "Are you certain? It will tire you greatly."

"I'm certain. Do it now. Before I change my mind."

Ramachni drew a deep breath. He looked at Thasha. "When this is done, Pazel will be tired, but I I shall be exhausted. Too exhausted even to return to my world through your clock. I will go to my secret place in the hold, and sleep for some days. Can I depend on you, Thasha? Will you guard him, and guard yourself, and be strong for everyone till I awake?" shall be exhausted. Too exhausted even to return to my world through your clock. I will go to my secret place in the hold, and sleep for some days. Can I depend on you, Thasha? Will you guard him, and guard yourself, and be strong for everyone till I awake?"

Beaming at his confidence in her, Thasha said, "I will."

"Then go to the window, Smythidor Smythidor, and lie down."

Pazel walked to the gallery windows. The window seat was eight feet long, with red silk cus.h.i.+ons propped in the corners. Did they have time for this magic? Was he wrong to have insisted it happen now? He lay down, trying not to touch the cus.h.i.+ons. Even after his bath he was still too dirty for this room.

The little mage sprang up into Thasha's arms, then twisted about to face him.

"Do not think," he said. "Thought is the task of all your life in this frail universe, but just now it is the wrong task. Instead, listen. Listen as though your life depended on it, as one day it shall."

Pazel looked at him, but the mage offered no further instructions. So Pazel crossed his arms on his chest and listened.

At first he merely heard the s.h.i.+p--sounds so familiar he scarcely noticed them anymore. Beneath the windows her sternpost churned the swell, and her rudder creaked as Mr. Elkstem turned the wheel. Gulls cried. Men laughed and shouted. There was nothing strange about any of it.

Then Ramachni whispered something to Thasha, and she leaned over Pazel and flung open a window. Wind filled the chamber, lifting her hair, and Ramachni slid from her arms to the window seat. Gingerly he crept onto Pazel's chest.

"Shut your eyes," he said.

Pazel obeyed, and the instant his lids closed he was gone--hurled like a leaf on a vast cyclone of sound. It was not loud, but it was deeper than the sea itself. He heard a thousand beating hearts: every one on the Chathrand Chathrand, from the slow kettledrum hearts of the augrongs to the bipbipbip bipbipbip of newborn mice in the granary. He heard the sound of Thasha blinking. He heard Jervik laugh secretly at something, and Neeps retching at some foul ch.o.r.e in the galley, and the lookout sobbing a girl's name ( of newborn mice in the granary. He heard the sound of Thasha blinking. He heard Jervik laugh secretly at something, and Neeps retching at some foul ch.o.r.e in the galley, and the lookout sobbing a girl's name ("Gwenny, Gwenny") in the privacy of the crow's nest. He heard a rat speaking, howling, about the wrath of the Angel of Rin. He heard Rose whisper, "Mother!" in his sleep. in the privacy of the crow's nest. He heard a rat speaking, howling, about the wrath of the Angel of Rin. He heard Rose whisper, "Mother!" in his sleep.

But the sounds of the Chathrand Chathrand were but a puff of wind in the storm. Pazel could hear all the waves in the Nelu Peren, breaking on every rock and raft and seawall in the Empire. He could hear the layers of the wind, pouring over the world like drifts of snow, mile over mile, and thinning at last to the icy flute-song of the void. He heard sea turtles hatching on a warm Bramian beach. He heard a creature many times were but a puff of wind in the storm. Pazel could hear all the waves in the Nelu Peren, breaking on every rock and raft and seawall in the Empire. He could hear the layers of the wind, pouring over the world like drifts of snow, mile over mile, and thinning at last to the icy flute-song of the void. He heard sea turtles hatching on a warm Bramian beach. He heard a creature many times Chathrand's Chathrand's length devouring a whale on the floor of the Nelluroq. length devouring a whale on the floor of the Nelluroq.

Then a gentle breeze tamed the cyclone. It was Ramachni's breath, Pazel knew, and it flowed into that mad cauldron of sounds and silenced them--entirely. In seconds it was all gone, even his own heartbeat was gone. The world might have been dead, or frozen for eternity in solid diamond. And into that perfect silence Ramachni spoke three words.

He was sitting up. Dizzy, dazed. Thasha was stumbling toward an armchair. Ramachni trembled at his side.

What had happened? How much time had pa.s.sed? For a moment Pazel was reminded of the time years before when he had woken to find the lilies grown tall in his mother's garden, and himself barely escaped from death. But no, not this time. Minutes had pa.s.sed, not weeks, and he wasn't ill. Just full, to the very edge of madness, with remembered sounds.

"I heard the whole world breathing," he said.

Slowly, achingly, Ramachni raised his head. Pazel met his gaze.

"The words," he said. "I have them. I can feel feel them in my head! But what are they for?" them in my head! But what are they for?"

"They are the simplest of Master-Words. But when you speak them they will be spells of fabulous power. One will tame fire. Another will make stone of living flesh. And the third will blind to give new sight."

"Blind to give new sight? What does that mean?"

"You will know."

"Look at this place," said Thasha vaguely. "It's a disaster."

So it was: a whirlwind seemed to have pa.s.sed through the stateroom. Pictures were crooked, chairs overturned, crumbs of cake spread everywhere. Thasha herself, with her hair bedraggled and her silver necklace twisted over one shoulder, looked as if she had just climbed down from a mast.

Ramachni touched Pazel's arm. "Remember: each word is gone forever after you speak it. Everything depends on your choices. Listen to your heart, and choose well."

He crept down from the window bench, wheezing like an old man. Thasha hurried forward and lifted him. Her face was suddenly very worried.

"Be strong, my warrior," Ramachni said to her. "Now go and find Hercol, and let him take me to my rest."

But there was no need to go looking for Hercol. Seconds later he threw open the outer door, leaped inside and slammed it behind him.

"Ramachni, you have kept them too long!" he whispered. "Hide! Her father comes! By the Night G.o.ds, you two--straighten your clothes and sit down to your studies!"

Ramachni vanished into Thasha's cabin while Hercol began frantically putting the room in order. s.n.a.t.c.hing up Thasha's grammar book, he thrust it into Pazel's hands.

"For the love of Rin, watch that tongue of yours!"

They had just enough time to drop into studious postures before Eberzam Isiq flung open the door.

"So," he said with a glance at Hercol, "you found them."

He was furious. Pazel reflected dimly (his mind was still rather thick) that he had never apologized--but how could he apologize for speaking the truth?

Hercol cleared his throat. "I found them. Hard at the books, Your Excellency."

"But not in public chambers," said Isiq. "Did I give you the run of my cabin, Pathkendle?"

"No, sir," said Pazel, struggling to his feet. His voice sounded odd to his own ears. Thasha started to rise as well, then sat again with a thump.

"And yet you dare return," said Isiq, breathless with rage, "after your insolence a month ago."

"Don't blame him, Prahba," said Thasha, her voice equally strange. "I couldn't stand the noise in the lounge. I made him come here."

He looked at her, clearly taken aback. "You brought him? Well, then--it is not your fault, Pathkendle. But it is most improper that you two should be alone! Bring Syrarys, next time--or fetch Nama, or Hercol. Hmmph! And how is her Mzithrini, boy?"

Pazel swallowed. "She ... amazes me, Excellency."

Isiq demanded a demonstration. Thasha cleared her throat and said, "My husband is not always a pencil." "My husband is not always a pencil."

"Are you laughing, boy?"

"No, sir." Pazel gave a gagging cough. Isiq took a step closer, studying him.

"Chadfallow might have adopted you," said Isiq.

Now it was Pazel's turned to be startled. "Yes, sir," he stammered. "I owe the doctor a great deal."

"You're an educated boy. Why did you risk insulting me that day?"

Pazel gripped the chair. "I have no excuse, Your Excellency."

"Just as well." Isiq forced out a chuckle. "You learned Mzithrini from their envoy, didn't you? Chadfallow called him a barbarian in silks. Perhaps a little barbarism rubbed off on you? Not a bad thing, that. A little barbarism fortifies a man."

"Yes, Excellency."

"Let us forget the past, shall we? You showed great valor with those augrongs. And when I learned that you were the son of Gregory Pathkendle I naturally wished to meet you. That coat is to your liking?"

"Yes, Excellency; I thank you."

"We shall forget the past." Isiq ruffled Pazel's hair. "A strange meeting for us both, eh? You're the first Ormali I've spoken to since the Rescue. And naturally I am the first soldier of that campaign to speak with you."

"No, Excellency. The first to speak with me was the corporal who kicked me unconscious because he wanted to rape my mother and sister, and could not find them."

After Hercol had clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him from the stateroom (with a look that made it clear just how thoroughly Pazel had cooked his own goose), after Uskins appeared and stripped him to the waist and tied his wrists to a fife-rail, after men gathered by the score to gawk and mumble about Rose's wrath, after someone began to lash him with a knotted whip and a gleeful Uskins shouted, "Harder, wretch, or I'll demonstrate on you," "Harder, wretch, or I'll demonstrate on you," after Pazel heard a sob and realized Neeps had been made to deliver the punishment, after Pazel felt tears streaming down his cheeks and blood trickling to his breeches--only then did the worst result of his outburst occur to him. after Pazel heard a sob and realized Neeps had been made to deliver the punishment, after Pazel felt tears streaming down his cheeks and blood trickling to his breeches--only then did the worst result of his outburst occur to him.

He would never see Thasha again.

But that was the least of his troubles, wasn't it? He had never much bothered with girls: everyone knew they spelled disaster in a seafarer's life. Like coral isles Like coral isles, went the saying: pretty at a distance, ringed by reefs pretty at a distance, ringed by reefs.

He shouldn't care. He didn't even know her, and what he did know--that she was the daughter of the man who had burned Ormael, and pampered, and rather violent, and indiscreet--he did not much like. Did he?

Fire and fumes, Pazel. You do.

It was a final, unexpected lash. She might have been a friend--after all these years, a friend!--but he would never find out now. And Neeps, his other friend: he would vanish, too, and kind Mr. Fiffengurt, and--oh, sky!--the chance of finding his parents and Neda again! If Dr. Chadfallow had really been guiding him back to them, Pazel had just thrown the chance away.