Read The warlock insane for Free Online
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
not move, staring fascinated at the blade. "Not a poor widow-woman, sir, with none to defend her! Thou couldst not lack honor so!"
"Honor doesn't mean that much to me. Justice does."
No, Rod!
It was Fess's voice, inside his head—and Granny Ban, staring in horror over the sword at him, couldn't hear a whisper. Rod frowned. "You're the sort that FESSters in this wood." Thank you for responding. I confess to eavesdropping, Rod. I have been concerned for you.
"Concern is a good thing. Betrayal is not."
Page 22
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"I have never betrayed any, sir!" Granny Ban wailed.
Nor have I, Rod. But think— justice requires proof.
"Gold coins in a peasant hut? That pile of loot is all the proof I need!"
"Sir, 'twas only a fee," she howled, "a fee for a task I shunned, yet had no choice in!" Gold coins might indeed be proof of something, Rod—if they are truly there. Rod hesitated. Had he really seen gold coins? Or had his mind manufactured them, out of a few pennies?
For that matter, was this stillery really here? Was this cottage? For all he knew, he might be talking to a crazed old lady in a hovel, guilty of nothing but talking too much. He lowered his sword. "No, I won't kill you, Granny."
The old woman sagged with relief, and Fess's voice said, / commend the wisdom of your decision, Rod .
"Oh, bless thee, sir!" Granny Ban blubbered.
"Don't bother—because I am going to leave you bound hand and foot. Go lie down on your bed." The old woman stiffened, appalled. "Nay, sir! Slay me, rather—for I'd liefer a quick death than die of starvation and thirst!"
"You won't starve, though you might get a little chilly— I'll send word to the shire-reeve, at the next village I come to. Tell him how saintly you are! Go on, now, lie down— and you'd better pull up your blankets, too. I'll leave more wood on the fire, but it might take the reeve's men a while to get here." A few minutes later, he stepped out the cottage door, closed it firmly behind him, and wrapped his cloak about him again. "Fess?"
"Here, Rod." A darker shape detached itself from the shadows among the trees.
"Thanks for interfering," Rod said grudgingly. "You may have just saved me from committing a heinous crime."
"It is ever my honor to serve you, Rod. Still, may I suggest that you do indeed summon the authorities as quickly as possible? I have seen a keeper's cottage not far from here." Rod nodded. "Yeah, good idea. He'll know Granny Ban personally, I'll bet, and will know whether she's a candidate for the stocks, or for the gallows."
"An excellent point. Shall we seek him, then?"
Rod frowned up at the horse, weighing trust against suspicion.
Then he nodded again, and slogged through the snow to mount the steel steed. "Sorry I doubted you, Page 23
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old retainer. Things don't always seem what they are any more."
"Yes, Rod. Trust is difficult when you cannot be sure of the validity of your perceptions."
"True. But that's what logic is for, isn't it? To discover which perceptions are real, and which aren't."
"That is one of its uses, yes. However, logic is difficult to achieve in a highly emotional state."
"Yes—and the world does seem to be picking on me at the moment. I'm clear-headed enough, just now, to realize that's only my perception—but when the emotions take over, I forget."
"Of course, Rod. If you did not believe your perceptions to be true, you would not be paranoid."
"How's that again?" Rod frowned down at the back of the horsehead, then shook his head. "No, don't tell me. I'm happier in my ignorance. Or do you mean that if I weren't paranoid, I would doubt my perceptions—at least, when it seems as though everything's out to get me?"
"That is the converse of the proposition," Fess agreed.
"Glad I got it right," Rod responded. "But the main question is still there, Fess—how come I'm
"Honor doesn't mean that much to me. Justice does."
No, Rod!
It was Fess's voice, inside his head—and Granny Ban, staring in horror over the sword at him, couldn't hear a whisper. Rod frowned. "You're the sort that FESSters in this wood." Thank you for responding. I confess to eavesdropping, Rod. I have been concerned for you.
"Concern is a good thing. Betrayal is not."
Page 22
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"I have never betrayed any, sir!" Granny Ban wailed.
Nor have I, Rod. But think— justice requires proof.
"Gold coins in a peasant hut? That pile of loot is all the proof I need!"
"Sir, 'twas only a fee," she howled, "a fee for a task I shunned, yet had no choice in!" Gold coins might indeed be proof of something, Rod—if they are truly there. Rod hesitated. Had he really seen gold coins? Or had his mind manufactured them, out of a few pennies?
For that matter, was this stillery really here? Was this cottage? For all he knew, he might be talking to a crazed old lady in a hovel, guilty of nothing but talking too much. He lowered his sword. "No, I won't kill you, Granny."
The old woman sagged with relief, and Fess's voice said, / commend the wisdom of your decision, Rod .
"Oh, bless thee, sir!" Granny Ban blubbered.
"Don't bother—because I am going to leave you bound hand and foot. Go lie down on your bed." The old woman stiffened, appalled. "Nay, sir! Slay me, rather—for I'd liefer a quick death than die of starvation and thirst!"
"You won't starve, though you might get a little chilly— I'll send word to the shire-reeve, at the next village I come to. Tell him how saintly you are! Go on, now, lie down— and you'd better pull up your blankets, too. I'll leave more wood on the fire, but it might take the reeve's men a while to get here." A few minutes later, he stepped out the cottage door, closed it firmly behind him, and wrapped his cloak about him again. "Fess?"
"Here, Rod." A darker shape detached itself from the shadows among the trees.
"Thanks for interfering," Rod said grudgingly. "You may have just saved me from committing a heinous crime."
"It is ever my honor to serve you, Rod. Still, may I suggest that you do indeed summon the authorities as quickly as possible? I have seen a keeper's cottage not far from here." Rod nodded. "Yeah, good idea. He'll know Granny Ban personally, I'll bet, and will know whether she's a candidate for the stocks, or for the gallows."
"An excellent point. Shall we seek him, then?"
Rod frowned up at the horse, weighing trust against suspicion.
Then he nodded again, and slogged through the snow to mount the steel steed. "Sorry I doubted you, Page 23
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
old retainer. Things don't always seem what they are any more."
"Yes, Rod. Trust is difficult when you cannot be sure of the validity of your perceptions."
"True. But that's what logic is for, isn't it? To discover which perceptions are real, and which aren't."
"That is one of its uses, yes. However, logic is difficult to achieve in a highly emotional state."
"Yes—and the world does seem to be picking on me at the moment. I'm clear-headed enough, just now, to realize that's only my perception—but when the emotions take over, I forget."
"Of course, Rod. If you did not believe your perceptions to be true, you would not be paranoid."
"How's that again?" Rod frowned down at the back of the horsehead, then shook his head. "No, don't tell me. I'm happier in my ignorance. Or do you mean that if I weren't paranoid, I would doubt my perceptions—at least, when it seems as though everything's out to get me?"
"That is the converse of the proposition," Fess agreed.
"Glad I got it right," Rod responded. "But the main question is still there, Fess—how come I'm
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