A Gathering Of Stones

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They passed the whole day in silence; even when they stopped to rest the ponies and let them graze, neither acknowledged the other’s, presence with so much as a grunt.

Danny Blue was exhausted before half the day was gone, but Korimenei kept on, walking with steady, ground-eating strides, never looking back. She was no doubt partly putting it on to annoy him, but there was an impatience about her he couldn’t discount; he knew she was eager to see her home again and he’d cost her time and was still slowing her down, something he found sourly satisfying for a while, until he was too tired and sick to sustain any kind of emotion so even the Ahzurdan phasma who’d been ruling him was forced to give way.

Though the pony had an easy rolling walk, he had to concentrate to stay on its back. At the last stop only the impatient jerk of Korimenei’s shoulders gave him the strength to pull himself into the saddle. He sat there fumbling with his feet, unable to fmd the stirrups. She didn’t say anything; grimly controlled, she caught hold of one boot, shoved it in place, circled the pony, dealt with the other foot, then started off along the Road.

In his head the Ahzurdan phasma sneered at the girl, at Danny Blue, and the Daniel phasma watched both with sardonic appreciation. Wearily, Danny Blue did his best to reclaim his body. Every, step of the pony juddered through him, jolting his brain, shattering his sequences of thought so he had to begin over and over before he finished one. He stared at the striding girl and wondered who the hell he was and where his life was going. He couldn’t get a hold on himself, he came to pieces when he tried, though he was getting a glimpse of something, a feel of potential; fatigue had stripped away his defenses, he couldn’t hide any more. Or slide any more. A woman, a lover, had asked Daniel Alcamarino once don’t you want to do something with your life and he said no and left her behind. Now Danny Blue was being forced to ask the question of himself. And forced to realize he had no idea what the answer was. There was another thing. Puppet, he thought, playtoy, the god’s still jerking my strings and making me dance. Bored. H/it wants to amuse h/itself. I know it. Running me in a circle. I go with her I go back to h/it. Round and round. Not a puppet, no, a rat in a running wheel. Round and round. Back to the place I started from. Kori’s going home. I want to go home. I want to get out of this madhouse reality.

More and more he was drawn to the rationality of Daniel’s world, the reality where gods were products of the mind and necessarily reticent about interfering in the lives of common men. Where the forces that worked on those lives were perhaps as powerful, but much less personal. The Ahzurdan phasma resisted this with all his strength though that was little enough; he was fading, his painfully cultivated Talent slipping away from him into the unappreciative hands of his semi-son. All he could do was try keeping his part of Danny Blue’s double memory shut away from that semi-son, frustrating Danny’s attempt to find a way to transfer himself to the Daniel reality. Danny had no doubt that was one of the constraints that kept him out of the realities, that blocked him from regaining this part of Ahzurdan’s skill.

As the sun went down, the idea came to him. Settsimaksimin. If he can’t do it, no one can. Yes. If he knows where my reality lies, if he can reach it. I’m sure of it. He can do it. All I have to do it is find him. And find out what price he wants for doing it. Kori knows him, maybe… can’t think. God, I don’t know. Is this my own idea? Or is that Compost Heap messing with my head again? Pulling my strings? Jump little puppet, run little rat?

The jolting stopped. When he realized that, he lifted his head. They’d been moving through huge old conifers for several hours, he’d noticed that without being particularly conscious of it; now they were on the edge of a broad clearing with a small village rising up the slopes of both sides of the track, its bright colors muted by the twilight and a dusting of snow; they’d ridden beyond the heart of the blizzard that laid the deeper snow to the north. Gsany Rukkers were moving about the slopes and the broad mainstreet, coming in from the night-milking and other chores, gossiping over the last loaves from the communal oven, going in and out of a notions shop and the tavern built into the largest building, the village CommonHouse. It was a busy, cheerful scene, all the more so in its contrast to the dark, brooding conifers that surrounded it.

Kori slapped him on the leg, waking him from his daze. He looked down. “What?”

“I said do you have enough coin to pay the shot at the CommonHouse? I’m close to flat.”

He thought that over. “How much will it take?”

“A handful of coppers, around twenty. Thirty if you’re willing to spring for grain for the ponies.”

“Thirty?” He rubbed his fist across his brow. “Yes. All right. Ah…” Seeing she was still waiting, he frowned at her, shut his eyes. “Yes. I see.” He tugged a zipper open. His hand was shaking with cold and exhaustion. He scooped up a fistful of the coins in the pocket, gave them to her. ‘If it’s not enough, tell me.”

She inspected the miscellany she held. “It’s enough. Look… ah… Danny, they’ve got hotsprings and a bathhouse here. I think you ought to soak awhile before you sleep.”

He blinked then smiled at her. “You telling me I stink?”

“Don’t be an idiot, man. You’re cold to the bone, you should get warmed up.”

He brooded on that a moment, then nodded. “I need you with me.”

“What?”

“Not that.” Again he shoved the back of his fist across his brow; he was beginning to feel more alive, but he wasn’t sure whether that was good or not since he was also feeling every ache and pull of his muscles. “If I soak alone, I’ll go to sleep and drown.”

“All right.” She took hold of the halter’s nose-strap. “Let’s do it.”