Free Brokedown Palace by Steven Brust Page A

right path. He could feel it.
    Andor realized that Sándor was still talking.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I missed that. What were you saying?”
    Sándor stopped, then looked exasperated. He threw up his hands and sighed. “Never mind. You’ll do what you’ll do, as always. I don’t know why I bother. Now go away and—”
    The door burst open. Andor turned to it, so he didn’t see the peculiar color that came over Sándor’s face. Instead he saw Vilmos, and a scream froze on his lips.
    His brother’s tunic was torn, and there were deep red stains over the tatters of it, running down to his blue leggings. His bare chest was a mass of scabs. His lips were drawn up in the snarl of a wild animal, his eyes were wide and blazing, even his beard seemed to stand on end.
    Vilmos took a step into the room. He didn’t bother to duck under the doorway; his head cracked against the wood at the top, breaking off a piece of the intrados. He didn’t seem to notice. He took another step. Sándor rose to his feet. Andor backed up.
    Vilmos took another step, then another. Sándor spoke in a low, even tone. “Tell me what happened, Vilmos.” The giant growled and took another step.
    Sándor stepped behind a table and backed up again. “Didn’t the spell work, Vilmos? I can’t think why it didn’t.” Vilmos lifted the table with his right hand and flung it casually behind him. Andor heard the sound of wood cracking and splintering when it landed, but he didn’t look around. Sweat poured from Andor’s brow as he tried to think of something to do. He took a hesitant step forward, but froze when Vilmos half turned to him.
    Sándor scurried back. “Please, Vilmos!” he cried. “At least tell me what happened!”
    Vilmos stopped, a look of scorn replacing the rage. “Can’t you see my chest, wizard?”
    “But the spell—”
    “Yes! The spell! It made the dragon angry, wizard. I killed it anyway, but do you see what the thing did to me? And all because I was fool enough to listen to you!”
    He lifted his hands and walked toward Sándor again. His massive back blocked Andor’s view of the wizard. In desperation, Andor screamed. “No, Vili! Don’t—”
    “Quiet, brother,” said Vilmos without turning.
    “Vilmos,” said Sándor, fighting to remain calm. “You need rest and healing. Look how injured you are.”
    The giant was upon him now, and his hands began to descend. A blue light suddenly flickered around Vilmos. He jumped back, startled, then advanced again.
    “Your tricks are useless against—”
    “No trick, Vilmos. I’m healing you. See? Already your chest is better, isn’t it.”
    Vilmos looked down, then growled. For a moment, he seemed unsure of himself. The blue light flickered again.
    “Do you see, Vilmos?” came Sándor’s quivering voice. “Don’t you feel better?”
    The giant stirred. “Nice try, wizard,” he said, stepping forward again. “But—”
    “Vilmos!”
    Andor turned, and László stood in the doorway. The King entered quickly, his eyes flicking from his brother’s chest to the crumpled, frightened form of his wizard.
    “Did his spell fail you, Vili?”
    “It did, brother. But we need never worry about that again.” He turned back. But with speed that amazed even Andor, who thought he knew him, László ran up and leapt between giant and wizard.
    Vilmos stopped. “What are you doing, Laci?”
    “I need him, Vili. The kingdom needs him. If you want to harm him, you’ll have to harm me, too.”
    “I could destroy you, Laci,” said Vilmos.
    “I know,” said László.
    For a moment, Andor studied the tableau as an outsider. The giant’s hands were still raised, but László stared up calmly. The loudest sound in the room was Vilmos’s breathing. Andor became aware of a pungent odor, and realized that he was smelling his own perspiration.
    Then, with a curse that Andor shuddered to overhear, Vilmos turned and stormed from the room, his head making yet a new dent in