After the Downfall

“My name is Hasso Pemsel.” And now you know as much as you did before. “I am from a different world. Magic. I am in King Bottero’s service now.”

That might have been the funniest thing Scanno ever heard. He laughed till tears ran down his cheeks and into his matted beard. “You came from another world and you couldn’t do any better’n joining up with Buttfart? The goddess must hate you bad, pal.”

Aderno audibly ground his teeth. Hasso kicked him in the ankle under the table. He said, “The goddess does not hate me.” There, at least, he could be positive. Then he asked, “What is better than to serve the king?”

“Anything short of an arrow in the ass,” Scanno answered. That was plenty for the last Grenye at the table, who got out while the getting was good. Scanno went on, “I mean, look at me.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I serve myself, nobody else. I’m better off than your shadow here any day of the month, ‘cause I’m free.”

“Your so-called freedom is a recommendation for slavery,” Aderno said icily.

“Hush,” Hasso told him. The wizard looked not only affronted but alarmed. Was he wondering whether Hasso was about to join the forces of drunken lawlessness? It looked that way to the German.

He’d succeeded in surprising Scanno, too. “What’s with you?” the renegade said. “You look like a Lenello, but you sure don’t act like one.”

“Is better to act like Grenye?” Hasso asked. That made Aderno perk up, deciding Hasso likely was on King Bottero’s side after all.

And Scanno, drunk and hoping he’d found a friend, wasn’t on his guard. “You’re cursed well right it is,” he said. “Would I be here if it wasn’t?” He drained the mug Hasso had bought him. Hasso signaled to the tapman, who carried over another one. Scanno would have a head that pounded like a drop-forging plant when he came down from this bender, but that was his worry.

He seemed to think the fresh beer had got there of its own accord. “What do you have against your own folk?” Hasso asked him.

“Waddaya think?” Scanno said. Since Hasso had no idea, he kept quiet and waited. Scanno got to his feet and staggered over to a corner, his gait like a ship at full sail on a rough sea. After easing himself, he lurched back. For a wonder, he remembered where he’d been going before the interruption: “Ever watch a twelve-year-old steal a ripe pear from a kid half his size?”

“I know what you mean,” Hasso said. And he did. The image held a lot of truth. Aderno looked as if he were about to burst. Hasso kicked him under the table again. Aderno’s idea of gathering intelligence was tearing what you wanted to know out of whoever had it. Teasing it out seemed beyond his mental horizon.

“Well, that’s what we’re doing here,” Scanno said. “By the goddess, it is! I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I said a plague on it – and here I am.”

“What about Bucovin?” Hasso said. “Bucovin not so small. Not so…” He looked for a word, and was glad to find one without needing help from the wizard: “Not so easy.”

“Bucovin had time to figure things out, see?” Scanno said. “The little Grenye kingdoms, the ones by the sea, they went down bam, bam, bam like nobody’s business. They never knew what hit ‘em. But Bucovin watched and started figuring stuff out.”

“Like what?” Hasso asked. “Bucovin full of Grenye. No magic in Bucovin. How to fight against Lenello wizards?”

“Magic? Magic – “ Scanno spat on the straw-strewn dirt floor. “That for magic! That’s about what it’s worth.”

“Shall I sing you up a case of boils, wretch?” No, Aderno wouldn’t keep his mouth shut even when he needed to. “Shall I show you what magic’s worth?”

“You’ve got emerods on your tongue, Turdface,” Scanno said. Hasso had spent enough time in Lenello barracks to have no trouble with the insult. Scanno aimed a shaky finger in Aderno’s direction. “I knew what you were before you started bragging. I could smell it, I could. Do your worst. You’re not such a big pile of shit as you think you are.”

Holding Aderno back after that would have been impossible. Hasso didn’t even try. The wizard snarled his spell – plainly one he knew well – rather than singing it. “Skin break, skin bubble, skin burn!” he cried, and aimed his finger the way Hasso would have aimed his Schmeisser: with purpose and with malice. “Transform! Transform! Transform!”

And nothing happened.

Aderno stared at Scanno, who was drunk and surly but not disfigured. He stared at his finger as Hasso would have stared at the submachine gun after a misfire. Hasso could hope to clear a jam. What did you do when magic misfired?

The first thing Aderno did was try the spell he’d used on Hasso when they met in the courtyard of Castle Svarag. He sketched a star in the air between himself and Scanno. Hasso saw him do it, but didn’t see the star glow on its own, as it had when the wizard did it with him.