Blood Trillium Read online

  “Yes. And so can Jagun.”

  “That’s a weight off my mind,” Tyry said. He grinned. “Or off my stomach. Old Lindoon’s the only one among us who knows a pot from a porthole—but his messes would send a Skritek running to the rail. You and your little friend keep us fed, and we’ll do just fine.”

  Kadiya sighed.

  The young mate tossed off the rest of his ilisso, plunked the glass onto the wardroom table, and seemed to notice for the first time that he was half-naked. He blushed. “I’ll go put some clothes on and wake Ban and Lindoon. If you and your crew can follow orders, Lady, we’ll be off within the hour.”

  8

  The three children of King Antar and Queen Anigel were first confined in a sumptuous cabin of the Raktumian flagship, with Lady Sharice in charge of them and two Tuzameni warriors and the sorcerer’s Black Voice on guard. As soon as Sharice admitted that they were indeed prisoners, as was King Antar also, Crown Prince Nikalon and Princess Janeel had demanded to see their Royal Father. When this request was continually denied, they refused to eat and devoted themselves to making life miserable for the traitorous Sharice, berating her without ceasing and giving her no peace as the trireme sped southward through the stormy sea.

  Finally she went weeping to the great stateroom set aside for Portolanus and burst in without ceremony.

  “Great Lord! I must speak with you. Oh—”

  Even in the depths of her distress, Sharice saw immediately that the man sitting at the worktable wearing the sorcerer’s garments was very different from the superannuated dotard she had known. He was Portolanus … and yet he was not, and she blinked her tear-swollen eyes and wondered if she were losing her mind.

  He was tinkering with a strange device that had been taken apart, its innards spread out before him, polishing the tarnished tiny metal pieces of the machine with jewelers’ rouge. His fingers were so red-stained that they seemed to have been dabbling in blood.

  Sharice could only stammer: “Is—is it you, Master of Tuzamen?”

  He lifted his eyes, and they were an inhuman silver blue with very wide pupils, and in the depths of them shone tiny points of gold. A palpable malignancy seemed to emanate from him, delving into her soul’s shame and woefulness and dismissing them with icy contempt. Sharice knew she should flee. But from somewhere she dredged up courage to whisper:

  “Master—Prince Nikalon and Princess Janeel refuse to eat. And—and they upbraid and despise me, and I can no longer bear to stay with them.”

  “If they will not eat,” Portolanus said curtly, “let them fast. They will cease their obstinacy when their stomachs pain them enough.”

  “Nay, Great Lord.” Sharice was twisting and wringing a fine lace handkerchief into a rag, and her face was ravaged and hollow-eyed. “The Crown Prince is a strong-willed boy and his sister hardly less resolute. They will starve themselves into illness rather than submit. And—and they abuse me so! They reprove me endlessly for my treachery, and for the past two days, whenever I would sleep, one or another of the pair slyly pinches me awake. Between my seasickness and the lack of rest I am harassed unto death! Lord, I can bear it no longer!”

  “Silly fool. We will simply give you a separate cabin at night. But during the day you will watch the children and see to their needs. Now get out of here and leave me to my work.”

  “I cannot stay with them!” Sharice cried wildly. “They are right to call me vile and dishonored. Their reproachful faces pierce me to the heart! Oh, what an idiot I was to succumb to the temptation of your Black Voice and aid in their abduction! No wealth you can offer me and my brother Osorkon can compensate for the evil deed I have done.”

  Portolanus rose up from the table and pointed a scarlet-stained finger at the disheveled woman. “Out!” he thundered. “Or I will have the Queen Regent’s pirates beat some sense into you!”

  Sharice crept away, moaning.

  For an hour or so the sorcerer worked in peace, mending a certain balky magical contrivance that would be able to peer underwater and locate the exact position of Kadiya’s sunken talisman. Then there came a knock at the door, and the short, wiry acolyte called the Black Voice entered, his face flushed with anger.

  “Master, the miserable woman Sharice has jumped overboard into the sea. She was seen by a lookout, but in this storm there was no question of heaving to. She must have drowned almost immediately.”

  Portolanus cursed. “Then put one of the pirate women in charge of the royal brats.”

  “There is worse news. During Sharice’s absence Crown Prince Nikalon set fire to a pillow with one of the oil lamps, and when the guards and I came to investigate the smoke, he and Princess Janeel tripped us up and escaped. Of course, they were immediately recaptured—but we shall have to take greater precautions in confining them.”

  “Yes, we shall.” The sorcerer’s tone was ominous. He began to wipe his hands clean with a rag. “And since you, my foremost Voice, seem unable to deal with this small matter competently, I will see to the new arrangements myself before having my conference with the Queen Regent.”

  As Portolanus left his workroom with the Black Voice, his aspect underwent a change. His body, which had seemed that of a normal well-built man when he was within his private sanctum, now seemed to shrink and become deformed by extreme old age. The fingers that were strong and sure when working on the machine of the Vanished Ones became gnarled, and the fingernails ridged and split. His eyes turned rheumy and his face was no longer firm but furrowed and wattled and as repulsive as a swampland fungus. He limped slowly along the corridor to the cabin where the royal children were imprisoned, bracing himself against the walls when the ship rolled in the heavy seas.

  Entering the cabin, which stank of scorched feathers, he found Nikalon and Janeel tied to chairs. The Tuzameni guards supervised a frightened-looking steward who was changing the soaked and sooty bed. Little Prince Tolivar, unbound, sat watching on a couch, eating a cluster of sweet hala-berries. When the sorcerer appeared, he forgot the fruit and stared openmouthed.

  “Now what is all this hurly-burly?” Portolanus demanded in a querulous voice, “Setting fires? Refusing to eat? We can’t have that, you know. I want to be able to return you children to your Royal Mother all healthy and happy when the ransom is paid.”

  “We demand to see our father,” Prince Nikalon said.

  Portolanus flung up his hands and rolled his eyes. “Alas, young Lord, that is not possible. He is no longer on this ship, but on another that is speeding toward Raktum. But as soon as his ransom is paid, he will be returned safely to his own country, as will you three royal children.”

  “I think,” the Crown Prince said in a level tone, “that you lie. We had it from the traitor Sharice that the King was taken prisoner by you at the same time that she lured us away from the ball and onto this ship. She says that he is chained in the hold with the galley slaves and treated no better than they. If you will agree to give our father the respect due a royal prisoner, my sister and I will call off our fast and give you our solemn word not to attempt escape.”

  Portolanus began to tut-tut and bluster denials, and pointed out how sensible young Prince Tolivar was to continue eating, at which Tolo had the grace to put aside his fruit and look ashamed.

  “He is too young to understand,” Princess Janeel said. “But we understand all too well that your aim is to take our mother’s magic talisman, and use it for evil.”

  The sorcerer laughed merrily. “What a fabric of lies Lady Sharice spun for you! It is true that the talisman is the ransom, but false that I would use it for evil. No indeed, young Lady! I would use it to restore the lost balance of the world, which your mother does not know how to do. She has never truly understood her talisman, and neither have her two sisters. And so our poor world is poised on the brink of a great catastrophe, with humans scheming to fight humans, and Folk kept in pitiful subjection, and dire enchantments threatening to tear the land asunder and topple the Three Moons from their p
lace in the sky!”

  “And you could fix it?” little Prince Tolivar said, overawed.

  The sorcerer nodded and folded his arms, striking a pose. “My knowledge is vast and my powers are far greater than those of your Aunt Haramis, the Archimage. She herself seeks to restore the balance, but she cannot do it without help. Help that only I can give her.”

  Crown Prince Nikalon was skeptical. “I have heard no rumors of wars. And the only Oddlings who are oppressed are those who are rebels or troublemakers.”

  “And the balance of the world was restored,” Princess Janeel added, “when our mother and her sisters conquered the evil magician Orogastus. They are the Three Petals of the Living Trillium. The three magical talismans that they hold in trust ensure that there will be peace forever.”

  “But your Aunt Kadiya has lost her talisman!” Portolanus hissed, his bloodshot eyes bulging. “Did you not know that?”

  “No,” Nikalon admitted. For the first time his confidence seemed to waver.

  “Is that why this awful storm is blowing?” Tolo asked, tentatively.

  Portolanus beamed at the little boy. “Clever lad! Ah, what a brain you have! Of course the storm is a symptom of the world’s lost balance, and you knew it while your older brother and sister did not.”

  Tolo smiled shyly.

  But the sorcerer whirled about then, glaring ferociously at Niki and Jan. “I will waste no more time with you two. If you do not give me your solemn word that you will abandon your stupid fasting and behave yourselves, then I will have you confined in a miserable dark place infested with ship-varts.”

  Tolo was aghast. “Me too?”

  Portolanus patted the boy sadly on the head. “Alas! You too, dear lad—if your stubborn brother and sister persist in their naughty ways.”

  “But I’m afraid of ship-varts!” the little boy wailed. “They bite! Niki—Jan—say you’ll do what he wants.”

  Crown Prince Nikalon drew himself up as straight as he could, being bound. “Tolo, be still! Remember that you are a Prince of Laboruwenda.” Then, to Portolanus: “If our Royal Father suffers, it will be our honor to share his pains.”

  “So say I also.” Princess Janeel’s face had become very pale, but she set her lips tightly and kept her chin high, even when Tolo began to weep in terror.

  “Take them to the chain-locker,” Portolanus commanded the Black Voice. “They may bring nothing with them but the clothes on their backs. And give them only bread and water to eat—or not eat, whatever they please—until they come to their senses.”

  The two green-faced knights guarding the door with the royal crest of Raktum mounted upon it drew their swords reluctantly as Portolanus came tottering along the stern-castle corridor, bent nearly to the waist, reeling from one side of the passage to the other and waving his arms to keep his balance as the ship wallowed in the storm.

  “She will not see you, magician,” one of the men said in a strained voice. “Did her lady-in-waiting not pass the message?”

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Portolanus bleated. “But I must speak to the Queen Regent. My business is very urgent!” He was without his pointed hat, wearing a hooded robe of purple and pink stripes having scattered silver stars.

  “Come back when the weather moderates,” ordered the second pirate-knight. His eyes were sunken and his lips a livid bluish color. “Queen Ganondri is abed with a stomach even queasier than ours, attended by her Lady Physician. We would lose our heads if we admitted anyone.”

  “We have already lost our lunch,” said the first knight, nodding at a bucket nearby.

  “Oh dear, oh dear! Seasick, are you?” The sorcerer began fumbling in a large purple wallet hanging from the belt of his gaudy robe. “I have here a sure remedy for what ails you, and it would quickly cure poor Queen Ganondri, too—”

  The first knight scowled. “We want none of your vile potions, Master of Tuzamen, and neither does the Great Queen. Be off!”

  Portolanus pulled from the pouch a short rod fashioned of dark metal having ornate carvings upon it and also several inset gems. Smiling eagerly, he approached the knights with this object held in the palms of both hands. “No potions! See? One touch from this magical instrument of benevolent healing and your miseries would be over.”

  The qualmish pirates rejected his offer, and persisted in refusing him entrance, crossing their swords in front of the door. Portolanus whined and drooped and turned away, seeming to give up his efforts, so that the knights were taken completely unawares when the old cripple whirled about and leapt at them with the agility of a fedok, touching first one man, then the other upon the cheek. The swords fell to the carpeted deck with dull clangs and the eyes of the men rolled up into their skulls. Slowly, they slid down the bulkhead on either side of the door, to end sitting with their legs thrust out and their heads sunken on their breasts, quite unconscious.

  The sorcerer wagged a chiding finger at them. “I said my business was urgent.” Then he took from his pouch another object like a golden key without a bit, and used it to unlock the door.

  He came into the Queen Regent’s elegantly appointed saloon, which was deserted and dimly lit, the ports shuttered against the unnerving sight of the gigantic waves. With startling ease, he pulled the two heavy armored bodies inside and relocked the door. A tall woman dressed in black suddenly appeared at an inner door leading to the Queen’s stateroom.

  “What’s this?” she exclaimed sharply. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh dear, oh dear!” the sorcerer piped. “A great disaster, Lady Physician! Come see! I found these good fellows sleeping at their posts, and could not awaken them.”

  He danced about flapping his hands as the doctor knelt to examine the nearest man. But no sooner had she lifted the knight’s eyelid than Portolanus touched her bare head with the rod, and she fell prone across the bodies of the earlier victims.

  “Koriandra? What is it?” called a fretful voice.

  The sorcerer scuttled through the door into the royal stateroom and sketched a bow, whereupon the Queen Regent cried: “You! What have you done to my servants?”

  “We must confer, Great Queen. Your people sleep peacefully. I have not harmed them, only rendered them senseless with my magical rod. Another touch from it will restore them—after our little talk.”

  Ganondri lay in a great round bed, propped up with lace-edged pillows and covered with a handsome wadded-silk comforter. Her coppery hair was in disordered braids and her face had the pallor of death, but in spite of her illness her emerald eyes blazed with fury. She reached for the bell-cord.

  Portolanus lifted it out of her way with his rod, wagging his head and clucking his tongue. “We must confer without interruption.”

  “Lowborn rogue!” croaked the Pirate Queen. “How dare you force your way into my chambers?” The ship gave a mighty lurch. Her seasickness overcame her and she fell back with her hand pressed to her forehead.

  Calmly, Portolanus cut the bell-rope with his small dagger. Then he pulled up a chair beside the bed and threw back his hood. His damp hair and beard fell in snarls and his features were ludicrously distorted, with the nose twisted like a root and the lips loose and creased as the opening of an old leather pouch.

  “Gracious Lady, we must continue that conversation begun two days ago at the start of our flight from Taloazin, which was unfortunately interrupted when you became indisposed. I have pondered that little chat of ours, and fretted over certain of its implications. I must insist that you clarify certain puzzling remarks you made—and you must do so at once.”

  Ganondri turned her head away. “I am near dying with this miserable tempest you have conjured up, wizard. Make it stop, and then I will talk to you.”

  “No. It is this gale that will bring us to the Windlorn Isles ahead of Queen Anigel so that I may take for my own the magical talisman of her sister, Kadiya. You know this well enough, Great Queen.”

  Ganondri groaned. “I know!… Now I know it, you dissembler! B
ut it was never part of our original bargain. The first I heard of this cursed voyage south was when we all came aboard with the captives. I have puzzled over and pondered it ever since! Our original agreement concerned only the abduction of King Antar and his children so that you might secure Queen Anigel’s talisman. We entered into that alliance as declared equals, even though your upstart little nation is puny in trade resources and lacking in money or armed might. Great Raktum took you under its wing because you assured me we would conquer the world together once you secured Anigel’s talisman as ransom. And I believed you—the more fool I!”

  “You may believe me now. Nothing has changed.”

  “Liar! There was nothing in our compact about helping you to get a second talisman!”

  Portolanus shrugged and smiled disarmingly.

  “When you first made your offer,” the Queen went on, “I had our sages in Frangine determine just what kind of magical device you coveted. They told me that Anigel’s talisman is but one of three, and that together they make up an invincible Sceptre of Power. With one talisman in your hands, you would have Queen Anigel’s nation helpless, and Raktum and Tuzamen together would conquer it. This was acceptable. But having two talismans of power, you would inevitably use them to obtain the third.”

  “Nay—”

  “Do not deny it! You covet this all-powerful Sceptre. And once you have it, great Raktum would shortly be reduced to a vassal state of Tuzamen, and its Queen become your slave.”

  The sorcerer’s hands fluttered in dismay. “You misunderstand—”

  The sick woman rose up from her pillows, strengthened by rage. “Silence, wretch! Do not presume to patronize me. If I had not been prostrated by illness, I would have fathomed your scheme earlier. Now that I understand it, I have taken measures to ensure that Raktum does not fall under your devilish enchantment.”

  Portolanus wrung his hands. “No, no! We are allies! Never would I contemplate such perfidy! You misjudge me!”

  “I judge you accurately and find you wanting.” The Queen spoke in a harsh whisper. Her green eyes burned. “That you and your three loathsome henchmen still live is due to my clemency. My knights had orders to slay you in your sleep last night, but I reconsidered. I have decided to fulfill our original bargain—helping you to obtain one talisman.”