Part 21 (1/2)

And though the Theldara Theldara had no way of knowing it, the lullaby brought dread dreams to Saryon. In his enchanted sleep, he saw himself - a young Deacon - carrying a child wrapped in a royal blanket through a deserted, silent corridor. He heard himself singing that lullaby - the last the baby would ever hear - in a voice that was thick and choked by tears. had no way of knowing it, the lullaby brought dread dreams to Saryon. In his enchanted sleep, he saw himself - a young Deacon - carrying a child wrapped in a royal blanket through a deserted, silent corridor. He heard himself singing that lullaby - the last the baby would ever hear - in a voice that was thick and choked by tears.

On the bed, the catalyst twitched and moaned, his head moving feebly on the pillow in refusal ... or denial....

Joram, not understanding, looked at him in anguish. ”You do forgive me, don't you, Father?” he whispered. ”I need your forgiveness....”

9.

In the Morning ”Knock, knock. Hullo? I say, is anybody home? I - Almin's teeth and toenails, dear boy!” Simkin gasped, falling backward into the wall and clutching at his heart. ”Mosiah!”

”Simkin!” cried the other young man, almost as startled as his companion.

Rounding a corner of a hallway, the two had nearly collided.

”Ye gads!” Dressed from head to toe in bright green satin, Simkin yanked the perennial orange silk from the air and began wiping at his brow with a shaking hand. ”You've very nearly scared me out of my pants, dear boy, as happened to the Duke of Cherburg. Dressing up as the Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith was just the Marquis's little joke. Anyone could tell those black robes he was wearing weren't real. But the Baron is a nervous man. Thought he'd been nabbed by the warlocks, lost his magic, and there he was - his breeches down around his ankles, all his secrets exposed. It caused quite a sensation at court, though I thought it rather a large fuss over something so little. I expressed my condolences to the d.u.c.h.ess....” was just the Marquis's little joke. Anyone could tell those black robes he was wearing weren't real. But the Baron is a nervous man. Thought he'd been nabbed by the warlocks, lost his magic, and there he was - his breeches down around his ankles, all his secrets exposed. It caused quite a sensation at court, though I thought it rather a large fuss over something so little. I expressed my condolences to the d.u.c.h.ess....”

”I scared you?” you?” Mosiah said when he could get a word in sideways. ”What do you think you're doing, just popping out of thin air like that? And where have you been?” Mosiah said when he could get a word in sideways. ”What do you think you're doing, just popping out of thin air like that? And where have you been?”

”Oh, here and there, hither and yon, round and about,” Simkin said cheerily, glancing vaguely into the living room of Lord Samuels's house. ”I say, where is everyone? In particular, the Dark and Gloomy Lover. Still mooning about the girl, or has he had his fun with her and gotten over it?”

”Shut up!” snapped Mosiah furiously. Looking around, he caught hold of Simkin's arm and dragged him into the library. ”You idiot! How dare you talk like that? We're in enough trouble as it is!” He slammed the door shut.

”Are we?” asked Simkin, looking enthused. ”How positively jolly. I was getting frightfully bored. What have we done? Not got caught in a compromising position? Our hand up her skirt?”

”Will you quit it!” Mosiah said, shocked.

”Down her bodice?”

”Listen to me! Lord Samuels claims that Joram can't prove his ident.i.ty and nearly threw him out of the house last night, but Saryon had some kind of fit or something and they had to call the Theldara -” Theldara -”

”The catalyst? A fit? How is the old boy?” asked Simkin coolly, helping himself to some of Lord Samuels's brandy. ”Ah, still domestic,” he muttered, frowning. ”He could afford better. I wonder why he doesn't? However, I suppose we must make allowances.” He drained the gla.s.s. ”Not dead, is he?”

”No!” snarled Mosiah. Catching hold of Simkin's arm, he forcibly removed the brandy bottle. ”No, he's all right. But he has to rest. Lord Samuels said we could stay, but only until the Emperor's party tomorrow night.”

”What happens then?” Simkin asked, yawning. ”Joram turn into a giant rat at the stroke of twelve?”

”He's supposed to meet someone there, some Theldara Theldara who saw him when he was a baby or something and can identify him as being Anja's son.” who saw him when he was a baby or something and can identify him as being Anja's son.”

Simkin looked puzzled. ”I say, this all sounds quite amusing, but has it occurred to anyone that Joram has changed slightly since then? I mean, what are we going to do to nudge the old girl's memory? Strip the dear boy and put him on a bearskin rug? I recall we did that with the - Oh, sorry. Swore on my mother's grave I'd never tell that story.” He went extremely red. ”Where was I? Oh, yes. Babies. It's been my experience, you know, that all babies look alike. The Emperor's mother and all that.”

”What?” Pacing worriedly around the room, Mosiah was only half listening.

”All babies look like the Emperor's mother.” Simkin nodded profoundly. ”Large round head that she can't hold up, puffy cheeks, squinty eyes and this kind of befuddled expression -”

”Oh, will you get serious?” Mosiah said in exasperation. ”Joram's got some kind of scars on him from when he was born. You know, you've seen them. Those little white marks on his chest?”

”I don't know that I've ever taken much interest in his chest,” remarked Simkin, ”except to note a distinct lack of hair. I suppose, though, it all went to his head.”

”There used to be talk in our village about those scars,” said Mosiah reflectively, ignoring Simkin. ”I remembered Old Marm Hudspeth saying they were a curse; that Anja sank her teeth into him and sucked his blood. I never heard him say how he really got them. 'Course, it isn't the type of question one asks Joram, after all. Maybe I was afraid to ask.” Mosiah gave a nervous laugh. ”Maybe I was afraid he'd tell me....”

”So now the curse becomes the blessing, just like in the House Magi's tale,” said Simkin, a smile playing about his lips. He smoothed his mustache with one finger. ”Our frog becomes a Prince....”

”Not Prince,” said Mosiah, exasperated. ”Baron.”

”Sorry, dear boy,” said Simkin. ”Forgot you grew up in the wilderness, illiterate and all that. Say,” he continued hurriedly, seeing Mosiah growing angry again, ”I came back to get you all to come with me. Merriment and jollification taking place in the Grove of Merlyn, down below. Artists practicing the performances they're going to present for His Boringness tomorrow night. Quite entertaining, really. One's allowed to throw things if they botch the job. Starts any minute, near noon. Where's Joram?”

”He won't come,” said Mosiah. ”Lord Samuels told him he couldn't see Gwendolyn anymore, not until this all was settled. But then Samuels left for the Guild, and Joram hopes to meet her anyhow. He's been out in the garden since breakfast. Saryon's too weak to go anywhere.”

”Then it's you and me, dear boy,” said Simkin, clapping Mosiah on the back. ”I'll bet you've been entombed in this place for days, haven't you?”

”Well ...” Mosiah glanced outside longingly.

”Relax! No need to worry about getting caught. You'll be with me,” Simkin said easily. ”I've the Emperor's protection. No one dares touch me. Besides, there'll be the most tremendous crowd. We'll lose ourselves amidst the throng.”

”Hah!” Mosiah snorted, giving Simkin's glaring green finery a scathing glance. ”I'd like to see you lose yourself ...”

”What? Don't you like this?” the young man asked, wounded. ”I call it Shocking Green Grape Shocking Green Grape. Still, you are right. It does stand out a bit. I'll tell you what. Come with me and I'll tone it down. There” - he waved his hand - ”how's this? I'll call it ... let's see ... Rotting Plum Rotting Plum. Now I'm as drab as you. I say, old fellow, do come.” Simkin yawned again, dabbing gloomily at his nose with the orange silk. ”I've spent I don't know how many hours at court simply bored to pieces. That happened to the Earl of Montbank, you know. During one of the Emperor's stories. Most of us simply went to sleep, but when we awoke we found the Earl, scattered all about the parlor.... Anyway, I've had Dukes and Earls up to here! I thirst for the common touch.”

”I'd like to give you a common touch!” Mosiah muttered, flexing his hands as Simkin wandered over to study the t.i.tles on Lord Samuels's bookshelves.

”What did you say, dear boy?” Simkin asked, half turning.

”I'm thinking,” said Mosiah.

Secretly, the young man was longing to see the Grove of Merlyn, said to be one of the wonders of Thimhallan. Touring these fabulously beautiful gardens, plus the chance to view the artistic delights of the illusionists, seemed a dream come true to the Field Magus. But he knew that Saryon wouldn't want him to go outside; the catalyst had emphasized over and over again how important it was that they remain hidden indoors.

We've been here almost two weeks, Mosiah told himself, and nothings happened. The catalyst is well-meaning, but he's such a worrier! I'll be careful. Besides, Simkin's right. Strange as it may seem, he does does have the Emperors protection.... have the Emperors protection....

”I say,” said Simkin suddenly, ”wouldn't it be fun to change this highly somnambulic volume on The Diversity of Household Magics The Diversity of Household Magics to something more interesting? to something more interesting? Centaur Bondage Centaur Bondage, for example ...”

”No, it would not!” said Mosiah, making up his mind. ”Come on, let's get out of this place before you destroy what little credibility we have left around here.” Grasping hold of Simkin firmly by his drab, plum-colored sleeve, Mosiah dragged him out the door.

Meekly allowing himself to be led along, Simkin cast a backward glance at the bookshelf, muttered a word, and winked. The orange silk fluttered through the air, wrapped itself around The Diversity of Household Magics The Diversity of Household Magics, and then disappeared, leaving in its place another volume in a brown leather binding.

”Complete with detailed, colorful illuminations,” said Simkin to himself, grinning in delight.

Joram went walking in the garden that morning, hoping to meet Gwendolyn, just as she had gone walking, hoping to find him. But when he did come upon her, sitting listlessly among the roses in the company of Marie, the young man bowed coldly, turned, and began to walk away.

He couldn't bring himself to talk to her. What if she refused to speak to him? What if she could not love him for the person he was, instead of the person he might become?

”And what if I don't become a Baron?” Joram asked himself. The sudden realization that his plans and hopes and dreams might come falling down around him nearly buried him in the rubble. ”Why didn't I think of this last night? How could she love a man who doesn't know who he is!”

”Joram, please ... Wait a moment ...”

He stopped, his back turned, refusing to look at her. Gwen had called out to him, but, behind him, he heard Marie's voice remonstrating in low tones - ”Gwendolyn, go inside. Your father has forbidden -” and he smiled in bitter satisfaction.