Upland Outlaws Read Free Page B

of the most private locales in the city, and I vouch for Doctor Sagom’s discretion. ” He noticed the old jotunn’s frosty eyebrows shoot upward at that remark. “No, let us discuss the problem here before we go anywhere else. “
    The imperor glowered. “Very well. However, we may not need quite so large an audience.”
    The fat man’s face sagged like warm butter. Rap was amused at that telltale reaction-and still determined to have his own way. He thrust out a hand. “My name’s Rap.”
    Shandie capitulated. “I have the honor,” he said icily, “to present Lord Umpily, our chief of protocol.”
    Umpily beamed, agog with excitement at these untoward events. Imps were notoriously inquisitive people, but he clearly had the trait in excess. Whatever his official title, he was more likely Shandie’s chief of intelligence, the imperial gossipmonger.
    “Sir Acopulo, political advisor …” The next aide was a diminutive, wizened man with a priestly air to him. His eyes were as bright as a bird’s. Sensing a sharp mind there, Rap tentatively assessed him as the strategist of the group.
    Then came a strikingly handsome youngster in armor, bedecked with a signifer’s wolfskin cape. His grip was firm, his manner confident, his smile faultless. Rap chided himself for being prejudiced-good looks were not necessarily a drawback in a man, and Signifer Ylo was entitled to his self-esteem if he was at once a military hero, the sole survivor of his clan, and a trusted confidant of the new imperor. Face and physique had not won him all that.
    As he turned away, idly wondering how the unscrupulously handsome Andor was wearing his years now, Rap detected a sudden wash of fright. The youngster’s cheerful smirk hardly wavered, yet something close to guilt had flared up in Signifer Ylo, some remembered secret he did not want to reveal to a sorcerer. His heart was thumping at twice its former beat.
    For a moment Rap was sorely tempted to pry …
    Ethics! he reminded himself. To dig into another man’s thoughts was a despicable abuse of power.
    And that, evidently, had completed the introductions, for he had reached Centurion Hardgraa, picketing the door like a granite monolith. Hardgraa he had already met.
    Eight men, two women, and a sleeping child. Time to get down to business.
    Time to deliver the useless warning he had brought too late. The doughty Countess Eigaze was still standing, and that would not do. “Do be seated, my lady,” Rap said. Ignoring more imperial frowns from Shandie, he arranged the company, with the women and old Sagorn on the seats.
    The imperor settled on the arm of his wife’s chair. His manner was chilly, but he was tolerating the upstart, although he must know that Rap was baiting him a little. Would he be willing to listen to reason, or would he flare into an autocratic rage? He had already flouted a warlock’s warnings, so what argument would convince an accomplished warrior that he must flee from his city immediately? How could anyone persuade a newly succeeded monarch to give up his throne and run?
    Rap leaned back against the fireplace and surveyed the room. They were wary, all of them. Now what?
    “I bring no good tidings,” he said. But that was not quite true, for things could be worse. “The only cheerful news I can give you is that I detect no magic on any of you-no loyalty spells or occult glamours or any abominations like that. I can’t be quite certain, because a better sorcerer could deceive me. “
    “You are modest, your Majesty,” Sagorn said acidly.
    “No, Doctor. I admit that I had great powers once, but not now. I’m not going to try to explain that at the moment. Perhaps never.” Seeing that the old jotunn did not believe him, Rap turned back to the imperor. “I shall do what little I can, Shandie, but magically it will be very small. If you are expecting me to solve things, then you will be disappointed.”
    “I see,” the imperor said. He was not convinced