Gilbert shuddered. "Woe to Allustria! If it is to be governed by such willful incompetence!"
"No, it is competence," I corrected, "but only competence." I turned to the bald man. "And you let the queen see that you could actually excel." The long teeth bared in a mirthless smile. "Aye, fool that I was."
"Then you hit the midlife crisis." I lifted an eyebrow. "I take it your chancellery had something to do with the fall of Allustria. The bald man grinned. "You may say that if you will. Certain it is that Queen Graftus, the queen unseated by Suettay's grandmother, became greedy and boosted the taxes-but then, at the recommendation of her chief adviser, began to try to be sure the taxes were collected. First she had a complete list of all possessions made up, then verified the taxes each person owed and, when they were paid, checked them against the record - all under the direction of her chief adviser, of course. In cases of underpayment, she dispatched a squad or more of royal knights with a clerk, to collect. When recalcitrant dukes managed to resist, her adviser recommended magic, and went herself, with a small army, to work sorcery against the reluctant dukes."
"Let me guess," I said softly. "The chief adviser was Suettay."
The bald man frowned. "Nay, her grandmother, the Chancellor Reiziv. We speak of events two hundred years gone, young man. How old do you think the queen to be?"
I exchanged a quick glance with Frisson, but only said, "Sorry. I guess I'm just overly impressed by Her Majesty. I take it Queen Graftus was happy with her sorceress-adviser?"
"Aye; the stratagem was so successful that the queen allowed Reiziv to recruit junior sorcerers, and no baron dared to resist again. Queen Graftus thus became very wealthy and very powerful."
"Very," I agreed. "How long did it take her to realize her chief adviser Reiviz really held the reins of power?"
"Never, till she waked in the middle of the night with a knife in her throat, and the sorceress' laugh of glee ringing in her ears, all the way down to Hell. Then did the sorceress become queen, and all the people did witness the power of sorcery."
"Yes, of course - after all, it had won, hadn't it? So you grew up."
"Aye." A shadow crossed the bald man's face. "Yet I was found wanting to become a sorcerer, wanting in talent. Therefore did I turn with zeal to becoming a clerk."
"Next most profitable career, I guess. What was your dazzling improvement on the system?"
The bald man's gaze darkened with self-contempt. "Oh, 'twas a marvelous scheme, to be sure, and so simple! 'Twas only the posting of a junior clerk to each town, to oversee all transactions and judgments, and to undertake whatever actions the queen would think good!"
"With a junior sorcerer to guard him, of course," I murmured.
"Aye. Being of the royal household, the clerk would pay no heed to the wishes of the townsfolk, or their mayor and reeve. He would be answerable only to the queen."
"Which meant, of course, to his bureau chief," I murmured, "which would have been you."
"Aye," the bald man spat. "Fool that I was, I did not realize the extent of the power this would have given me."
"But the queen did."
"Oh, aye! Therefore did she set out the clerks as I had suggested but kept their governance to herself."
"And threw you into the dungeon."
The bald man nodded, bitter as a London pint.
"The reward of the capable man," I sympathized, "but of the man who is more capable of doing the work than of currying favor."
"I was a fool," the bald man spat. "A talented fool, mayhap, but a fool nonetheless."
"Quite talented," I agreed, "though not at the sorcery you wished for."
"Aye." The bald man's eyes brightened with bitter satisfaction.
"Yet here, at the end of my course, I have discovered that I did have some modicum of a true and most singular talent - much good may it do me in this place!"
"Oh?" I asked softly. "What's that?"
"I have befriended the rats," the bald man hissed, "so well that they come when I call. Nay, I could raise up a hundred of them now and tell them to overwhelm you!"
Gilbert growled with menace, but Frisson asked, "Would they do what you bade them?"
"They would." The bald man showed his long yellow teeth.
"Aught that I told them, even to running headlong into death, so long as they could do it in a body."
"Lord of the rat pack," I mused. "Frisson, do you 'remember' that verse about cats?"
"Nay, but I will bring it to mind most quickly."
"And I know one about terriers." I gazed thoughtfully at the Rat Raiser. "A very considerable power. With them at your command, why do you languish here?"
"What should I gain by their use?" the Rat Raiser countered. "It would appear that even you, at a thought, can summon up creatures to oppose them! What, then, could my sovereign Suettay do?"
"Annihilate them," I answered, "probably by calling up a demon or two."
"And would annihilate myself with them," the Rat Raiser an swered. "Nay, I've no wish to die, or to see my pets fry. An I wished it, I could have bade them slay me long ago."
"And you've thought about it, eh?"
"Who would not?" the Rat Raiser returned. "Yet I abide. Why, I know not - but I abide."
"No doubt just waiting for us to come help you out," I said breezily, and turned to Gilbert. "How long do you think those locks can hold you?" Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the Rat Raiser sit up straight - but he slumped again, glowering. Of course, I realized.
Who knows better than a bureaucrat, to distrust promises?
"I have tried them," Gilbert answered. "There is a spell to hold us here; the locks will not budge, nor the bars bend, and the wood is like armor. 'Tis you who must take us forth from here, Wizard, or we will rot with the rats and their friend! Nay, bend thy talent to its utmost and bring us forth from here quickly! For with every moment that passes, the lovely maiden comes closer to torment!" The Rat Raiser laughed, a shrill, high stuttering of breath.
"Fool! Do you think you can prevail 'gainst the vile, twisted power of the queen?"
"It's possible," I said slowly. "I seem to be in a state of grace, at the moment." More thanks to my guardian angel than to myself, I had a notion. "Let's start by trying to get out of this cellar." Not easy, for a guy who claimed not to believe in magic - so I relayed it to one who did. "Frisson, if I sing you a couple of songs, can you craft them into a spell that will get us back to the torture chamber?"
"Why would you wish to go there?" the Rat Raiser gasped.
"Because the queen is about to visit a friend of ours with a fate worse than death - it must be worse, because she's going to bring her back to life just for the occasion. How about it, Frisson?"
"If you wish it, Master Wizard, I shall essay it," the vagabond said slowly.
Before they could talk, I recited,
I shuddered to think what I'd done to Lowell's verse, then consoled myself with the thought that there was so little of it left, he'd never have noticed.
A pen, an inkwell, and a sheet of foolscap appeared, hovering in the air. I took them and handed them to Frisson. "Write it down - I taught you how! That way, I can check to make sure it'll work before it gets said aloud."