The Fourth Book Of Lost Swords : Farslayer's Story (Saberhagen's Lost Swords 4) by Fred Saberhagen (most inspirational books txt) 📗

not really sound as if he understood, or was convinced of anything. Zoltan could scarcely blame him. Many—if not most of the world’s people—thought of the Emperor as nothing more than some kind of legendary clown.

      The clan chief persisted in trying to puzzle it out. “This power over demons that you say you have—indeed, that you have demonstrated. Does it never fail?”

      Mark smiled grimly. “It hasn’t failed me yet, or I wouldn’t be here. Though I must admit I’m never completely sure it’s going to work at the moment when I start to use it.”

      The boat was moving steadily on toward the islands. Now in the forward seat again, Zoltan talked and sang, hoping that his voice would be heard and recognized beneath the water, trying to summon up a very special mermaid.

Chapter Fourteen

      Having done the best he could to set the mermaids searching for the Sword, Chilperic was not disposed to dawdle on the riverbank. After making sure that a couple of militiamen remained on the shore to carry news from the fishgirls should there be any, he started back to the manor as soon as possible. He was intent on keeping in close touch with the healer Tigris, and wanted to be first to hear of any change in the condition of her patient.

      By the time he and Hissarlik got back to the manor, Chilperic’s modest hopes of success for the mermaid project were already fading. He remembered all too well their sullen unwillingness, and he doubted the efficiency of Hissarlik’s spell. Chilperic’s remaining enthusiasm for that effort diminished steadily as the remaining hours of the afternoon wore on. By sunset he had virtually abandoned hope that the fishgirls were going to prove at all helpful. And he supposed that any program of underwater search they might have begun would have to be abandoned with the onset of darkness, since there was no way to provide the creatures with Old World lights, the only kind that might be used beneath the surface.

      Meanwhile, Chilperic was only too well aware that time was passing and his mission here was no closer to being accomplished. The Ancient Master was not going to be pleased. Soon, Chilperic thought, he was going to have to overcome his reluctance to summon the demon, and order Rabisu to make a direct search for the Sword. There were moments when he wondered uneasily just what the demon might be up to on its own.

      Just after sunset, when Chilperic was in his room alone, Tigris the healer came in secrecy to see him. The small blond woman held a finger to her lips for silence as soon as he saw her in his doorway, and she slid quickly past him into his room without waiting to be invited.

      “I have news regarding my patient,” was her greeting.

      “She is—?”

      “On the road to recovery.”

      “Very good!”

      “The Lady Megara’s conscious now, and in fact ready to have a visitor, if the visitor is careful to treat her gently.”

      “I certainly shall. But I must ask her some questions. Have you said anything about this recovery to any of the family yet?”

      “Of course not.” Tigris lifted her pretty chin. “You and I, dear Chilperic, serve the same master, and so my first report must be to you whenever that is possible.”

      “I should hope so. Tell me, has the woman said anything of importance to you?”

      “Not really. She’s asked a few questions as to how long she has been ill. I saw no point in lying to her about that.”

      “No, I suppose not. Anything else?”

      “Not that you’d find interesting. Mainly she was curious about my identity. Natural enough. I’ve already warned her that I might be coming back to the room with a professional colleague, though I haven’t actually said you are a physician.”

      “Better and better.” Chilperic smiled briefly, then looked grim again. “Tell me, what exactly was wrong with her? Had it anything to do with her practicing magic?”

       “In my opinion—which is valued highly, as you know, in some rather high places—”

      “Yes, I concede that.”

      “In my opinion, the Sorceress Megara’s disability was not due so much to magical backlash—though something like that may have contributed—as it was to a mere shock of a much more ordinary kind.”

      “A mere—?”

      “Emotional trauma. Such as might be caused, for example, by the death of someone to whom she was closely attached. They tell me that her father was Farslayer’s first victim, on that famous night when the feuding clans all but destroyed each other. And that she was found lying unconscious beside his body. An experience like that would be quite enough to send some people into extended shock. Perhaps to make them lie in a trance for a month.” And Tigris smiled a brittle smile.

      Chilperic said: “That’s right. They were both found out on Magicians’ Island. Evidently for some reason he’d gone out there that night to visit her. Or spy on her perhaps.”

      “So, having her father killed before her eyes could very well have done it. She would be standing there talking with this familiar and dependable figure—then zip! Sudden death comes in the window. Do you have any wine on hand, by any chance? Or maybe a drop of brandy?”

      Chilperic had, as a matter of fact. While finding a bottle and a glass, he shook his head. He could not generate any respect for people who allowed themselves to be disabled by things that happened to others. “Well, let’s go see her, then. She may know something that will help us find the Sword, and in any case we’ll have to deal with her if she resumes some position of leadership here within the family. You say I can talk to her now?”

      “If you try not to disturb her too much. Ah, that’s very good.” And Tigris set down the empty glass.

      Chilperic started to open the door to the hall, then stopped in the act of doing so. “I wonder if it would be wise to bring some member of the