The Witch Doctor

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Beset by a sorcerer?" the captain cried, "Aye, because of the woman! "

"No-because of me." I turned to scowl out at the waves, muttering, "Now, how the hell did she find out where I was?" -but So I missed the startled glance between the mate and captain I turned back in time to see the way their faces hardened with put pose as they advanced on me. I was in time to see their fists coming UP, too.

I raised my hands and started spouting nonsense syllables. They stared, appalled, then lowered their hands.

I smiled with bitterness. "I may have a better way. it'll take a little time, of course, because I'm battling a sorcerer, not just a storm-but it'll bring back the sun." Then I turned back to the waves and started singing.

The racket began to subside. The mate and captain looked up at the sky, startled-but the wind had already abated enough for them to hear each other without shouting.

"He is a wizard," the mate said.

"Who is this who has sailed with us?"

But the captain frowned.

Then the wind hit us like an earthquake, and a tsunami towered over us.

They shouted and grabbed at belaying pins as the water fell on them. It drained away as the wave lifted the little ship crazily toward the sky, and the horizon dipped and rolled around us. The captain coughed out some unintelligible remark, and I stopped my singing long enough to call back, "I know - it's going to take more than that!" And it certainly would - I'd almost lost my hold on the rope!

A new wave smashed down on me, and I held on for dear life, very close to wishing I would never have to see another drop of water. Then the wave washed by, and there was shouting all around. I gasped for air, searching my memory frantically. I didn't dare take out my packet of Frisson's verses; I had to rely on remembering them.

I chanted through to the end and, when I'd finished, started from the beginning again. As I chanted, the wind slackened and the waves began to subside.

Then a fresh gust hit us, and I knew Suettay was calling in more power from somewhere.

Well, I had reinforcements of my own. "Saint Brendan," I cried out,

Then I sang on.

The storm slackened again-and kept on slackening. As I chanted the hymn over and over, the wind died down and the waves subsided until the sailors could tell it was raining. Then the rain itself died, and the clouds drifted off to the west. A sunbeam lanced down, and the sailors bellowed a cheer, waving their caps.

I left off singing with a cough. "A drink! I've sung myself dry."

The mate dashed away, still bellowing for joy.

Even the captain grinned, but his eyes were shadowed with concern. "What if the sorcerer strikes again, Wizard?"

"Then I'll have to start singing again," I croaked. "I feel sorry for you. Get me that drink, quick!" Silently, I breathed a quick thank you to Saint Brendan, the holy Irish sailor who had set out to explore the Atlantic in a cockleshell of a boat, and who may have found North America.

The mate shoved a wooden tankard into my hand, and I drank gratefully. It was warm, bitter beer, but at that point, it tasted heavenly.

A long, triumphant cry split the air above us.

"Land!" cried the sailors who had gone aloft to unfurl the sails again. They pointed off toward the west, crying, "Laaaand!"

"Aye, 'tis land." The captain shaded his eyes, following the sailors' pointing arms. "That storm has lent us wings indeed, if that coast be Crete."

"'Tis an island!" the lookout cried, but the men cheered anyway.

"Land is land," the captain said, his face closing into a mask.

"You paid us to take you to an island off the coast of Allustria, Wizard, no more. "

"Yes, I did, and we'll count the contract fulfilled." I couldn't rightly put him and his men into peril again - and after that ride. I'd make a magic carpet, or something. I was definitely set against sea travel. "And, uh, might I suggest that after you drop us off, you go find another island to visit for a week or so? You might want to give Suettay time to forget who brought us this far."

The longboat pitched and tossed over - after all, the storm hadn't been all that long - and Gilbert and Angelique were still looking rather green; but they managed to summon up the energy to wave good-bye to the retreating ship. The sailors raised a shout and waved back. I didn't doubt that a sourpuss or two among them might remember who had gotten them into the storm in the first place - but to most of them, I was only the hero who had saved them.

Then the ship slipped below the horizon, and I turned back to rowing. We didn't even need the sail; the waves were carrying us toward the island on their own. I needed the oars mostly to steer. Then the bottom rose up to meet us, and the longboat ground into the sand. I jumped out, trying to remember that my jeans would dry out, and threw all my weight against the bow. Gilbert muttered something about incompetence, dragged himself over the side, and all but fell into the water. I leapt to help him up.

"I thank you, Master Saul," the squire gasped. "Aid me to stay upright, here." With my help, he tottered toward the bow.

"Look," I said, "seasickness is sickness, no matter how you slice it! You're in no shape to . . ."

Gilbert grunted as he yanked on the bow, and the longboat slid up the shingle till its forward half was clear of the water. Gilbert leaned against the side, gasping and swallowing.

"... exert yourself," I finished. I tried not to stare. Gilbert slumped, hanging onto the side of the boat and gasping like a beached whale.

Angelique was over the gunwale and at his side in a second, although she was still looking somewhat bilious herself. "Are you? ...Courage, valiant squire! It ... it will ... pass."

Gilbert hauled himself upright. "I draw courage indeed, from your gallant example, maiden." He forced himself to step away from the side of the boat, but kept a hand on the gunwale. "Into what ... manner of country are we come, Wizard?"

"Rock and scrub, mostly." I frowned, looking around me. "Not exactly the most hospitable beach I've ever seen." The beach itself was gravel, turning quickly into flat, shelving rock that mounted upward in steps, like the seats of an amphitheater, toward a fringe of grass adorned with the occasional stunted, twisted tree. Its cousins grew here and there about the rocky shelves, interspersed with boulders and thickets of scrub.

"Are there ... any folk about?"

"Not that I can see." I cocked my head to the side, listening for the mewing of the gulls. "Nor hear, for that matter."

Up high, a goat leapt down onto one of the rock ledges and let out a bleat.

I grinned. "Well, there's life, at least. Come on, folks. Let's see if we can find a spring. We deserve a little R & R before we shove off for Thyme's island."

"Aye," Gilbert agreed, "water." He pushed himself away from the boat and stumbled after me.

Angelique, whose pride ran in different directions, was quite willing to lean on Gilbert's arm, especially since she wouldn't tax his strength any, not weighing anything.

Jealous? Who, me?

The Rat Raiser brought up the rear, frowning as his eyes flicked from side to side; he didn't trust the outdoors. If the Gremlin was still around, he gave no sign.

Perhaps with good reason; we hadn't clambered up more than three stony shelves before a dozen men stepped out from behind rocks and bushes, gathering silently in an arc before us, arms akimbo. I stared, totally taken aback.

Then I whirled, thinking about the longboat ...

Another man stood by it, and six more stood along the gravel beach between us and our transportation.

"I think," I said slowly, "we've definitely got the wrong island and I think we've been trespassing."

The Rat Raiser grunted. "I might have known. Where there are goats, there are people."

"Let us have at them," Gilbert groaned, pulling himself together. I glanced at the squire. If Gilbert had been in shape, I might have chanced it - but even without him, I could unleash Frisson ...

"Wizard," the poet said, "let me speak-"

"Nay, do not!" the Rat Raiser said sharply. "Work magic so near to Allustria, and Queen Sue - the queen will know our placement to the inch!"

"I think she's already pretty close," I said, "but I hate to shed blood when it isn't necessary."

"It is not," Gilbert said. "Smite them down with a blow; stun them, no more. But if you wait, we may be so beset that you cannot choose your verses with care."

"A point," I admitted, "but I notice none of them is holding weapons."

They weren't. Each of them wore a knife as long as his forearm, but all the knives were still thrust through the peasants' beltsthough their hands, clapped to their waists, weren't exactly far from the hilts. They were broad-shouldered, thick-chested men, dressed in belted tunics and loose pantaloons, with brightly colored kerchiefs tied around their heads. Their faces were swarthy and hard, and most of them wore mustaches that drooped down around their mouths. if I had been the kind to judge by looks, I would have thought they were pirates.

"No fighting," I decided. "We're not enemies yet." I pursed my lips, gazing at the man directly in front of me, who stood a little in advance of his comrades, and made up my mind. "You folks stay here." I stepped forward, ignoring Gilbert's shout of alarm, and inclined my head in greeting. "Sorry to intrude-but we didn't have much choice. There was a storm, you see"

"Indeed. We saw." The man's voice sounded like a hacksaw chewing through old iron. Even so, I looked up in surprise. The words were heavily accented, but he spoke the language of Allustria. "We saw, too, that the ship left you in your longboat and sailed away. What plague do you carry, that the sailors should wish to be rid of you?

I stared at the man. Suspicious, weren't we? I glanced at the hardfaced peasants to either side of him, remembered the ones behind us, and decided on the truth. "We are enemies of Sue ... of the Queen of Allustria. Are we also enemies of you?"

The man's brow drew down in a scowl, and his whole body tensed, but he said, "Mayhap - though it may also chance you are not." Then he stood still, just glaring at me.

My mind flipped through alternatives and decided I didn't want the ball in my court. I held my best deadpan, looking right back in the man's eye.

It did as much good as anything. Finally, the peasant nodded and turned away. "Come," he said back over his shoulder. "This is a matter for the duke."

The castle he took us to was hundreds of years old, to judge by the weathering and the thickness of the crust of salt spray. It was squat and thick, with Roman arches and thick, Doric columns. If I'd been in my own world, I would have guessed that it had been built by adventurous Normans, and would have called it Romanesque. For all that, though, it wasn't especially menacing. It was made of some light-colored stone that had a touch of red in it, warm with the stored sun-heat. It might be forbidding, but it wasn't gloomy. Its owner was very much like it.

The duke, as it turned out, was somewhere in his fifties, grizzled but still powerfully built, looking about as aristocratic as a rugby serum. Certainly he fitted right in with his men-except that he was wearing a midnight-blue robe decorated with the signs of the zodiac and girded with a belt that held a heavy-looking broadsword. He carried a six-foot staff made of some hard, gleaming wood, so dark as to be almost black, carved into the form of a serpent. Instinctively, I braced myself; the astrological gown was neither black magic nor white, but the staff was definitely tending toward symbols of evil. In European culture, the snake was, if not always a sign of Satan, at least usually a sign of menace.

"I am Syrak, duke of this island," the martial magician said.

"Who are you, who come unbidden to my shore?" I decided on the most general truth. "We are wayfarers, seeking to come to an island near Allustria, milord."

"Vincentio tells me you were cast adrift by the ship that brought you here.

"That was by our own request."

"Request? Why would you request to be set adrift from a ship, hey?" The duke's gaze sharpened. "Did you not tell Vincentio you were enemies of Queen Suettay?"

I winced at his use of the queen's name, but maybe it wouldn't matter - if she noticed him, she might not notice us. I nodded, still carefully deadpan. "We did. We did not wish the captain and crew to suffer for having brought us."

"And you also wished to go secretly from Allustria, did you not? You did not care whether you would bring the queen's wrath down on us, hey?"

"We weren't really planning to land on an island with people on it," I admitted. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Gilbert's scowl had darkened, and that he had noticeably jerked up a bit. I did not think that was an entirely favorable sign.

"But you have landed on an island with people! And if we let you go free, Suettay's wrath will fall on us! Will it not?" His men stirred around him, muttering.

"There's a chance of it," I admitted. "But, if we get some fresh water, and a little rest, and food, we can be away before dawn tomorrow. The queen doesn't even have to know we were here." And to Gilbert, "We're outnumbered, you know."

"When has that ever given you pause?" Gilbert asked. The duke scowled, but decided not to notice him. "There is something in what you say - if you speak truly."

"Oh, I do!" I said, with alacrity. "Believe me - there is absolutely no reason to doubt my veracity!"

"Yes," the duke said. "And surely you would say just that if you lied. In truth, the more false your words, the more you will swear they are true."

I drew myself up with maximum indignation. "Are you saying I'm a liar?"

"I am saying that I wish you to prove the truth of your words." I stared at him, trying to think of a proof. Finally, I shook my head.

"I can't. I am telling the truth, mind you - but, prove it? Short of bringing the queen here to testify, I can't think of a way."

"No, and I think she would be a grumbly guest," the duke said, with grim humor. "Yet if you cannot think of a way to prove your truth, be assured that we can."

"And that is?" I asked, with foreboding. Somehow, I had a notion that the duke's idea of proof wouldn't exactly delight Euclid.

"The Ordeal," the duke said, and I could hear the capital. "One of you must undergo the Ordeal, that the others may go free."

"Me," I said, without even stopping to think-which was a good thing, because Gilbert was one syllable behind me.

"I shall!"

The duke nodded, a slight smile curving his lips. "You have said it," he said to me. "It is your portion!"

"But I-" Gilbert started, before Angelique drowned him Out.

"Ohhhh, nooooo!" She threw herself between me and the duke, her substance wavering, growing brighter and dimmer as she tried to hold his attention. "You have no way of knowing what manner of horrible things this Ordeal may hold, my love! Oh, nay, Lord Duke, do not submit him to the torture! You cannot, you must not! He is a good man, he is truthful in all he says and does, he is not deserving of such horrid treatment!"

Gilbert stared, flabbergasted.

"Gently, gently," I soothed. I caught her hands, wishing I could feel them, and summoned up every ounce of reassurance I could. "I'll survive, never you fear. And as to pain and torture, why, I expect I've withstood worse. Right, milord?"

The duke stood with a face of flint. "What manner of man are you, that you have won the love of a ghost?"

"A wizard," I answered.

"But one not wise." Nonetheless, the duke nodded. "Still, it speaks well for you that your friends are so quick to leap to your defense."

"There, I knew it," I said quickly. "You see? It'll be all right ... Gilbert, help the lady, will you? There now, darling, don't worry. I've been though tortures before."

"But there is no need! You are an honorable man!" she cried, then collapsed weeping into Gilbert's arms. He held her up and turned her away, his face a study in consternation.

"You will take them to their boat," the duke informed Vincentio.

"Bid them sail, and watch till they've gone from sight." Vincentio nodded, and his band closed around my companions, hiding them from view.

I didn't even get to watch them out of sight, myself; the duke took me by the elbow and turned me away, leading me back across the drawbridge and into the castle. "So, then, you come. And begin your Ordeal, yes?"

"Of course," I said, feeling somewhat numb. At least the duke wasn't gloating about it. I took that to mean he wasn't a sadist - so things could have been worse. Couldn't they?

As we passed through the huge portal into the keep, a shadow moved, and I thought I recognized the Gremlin's silhouette - but I hoped I was wrong. I'd far rather he was with Angelique and the boys.

I didn't think the sprite could do much for me, but he could make the difference between freedom and capture for my friends. But it would have been nice to know I wasn't completely alone. Besides, how bad could the Ordeal be? I eyed the duke, again taking in the astrological signs on his gown and the snaky staff. He wasn't completely gone over to black magic, that was obvious. Using some aspects of it, maybe, but not wholly dedicated to it yet, playing the old game, thinking he could take what he wanted of the Devil's power without giving anything of himself.

I halted, shocked. Was that what I was trying to do?

Certainly not. There had to be a distinction. Had to. That was it - I wasn't trying to use the Devil's power. Or God's, for that matter, though I wasn't doing as well there - I had called on a saint or two, now and then, and even recited a prayer or two directly to the Top. As an equivocator, I wasn't doing so well. Could be the duke was better at the balancing act.

Or maybe he wasn't even the equivocator he seemed to be. Maybe he was a white magician who was only borrowing a few diabolical symbols. And being tempted. Sorely.

The duke led me up to the battlements so I could watch the longboat put out to sea. I could just barely make out the little black dots that were heads, but the duke was true to his word. My friends, at least, were safe.

"Now you come," the duke said, and led me down the stairs. And down.

And down.

Somewhere below the dungeons, in a pool of torchlight, we stopped. Before us, a stone slab rose up from the floor, knee-high, six feet long, and four feet wide. I eyed it warily and decided it was too low to be an altar. Which was a definite comfort to me, as the peasants stripped off my shirt and started tying me down.