Issola

“I know, I know. But that’s what they say about the keep of an Athyra wizard. And we know better.”

“Just because it wasn’t true—”

“I know, Loiosh. Now shut up and let me think.”

He refrained from any cracks about that. I have come to appreciate the small blessings in life.

I considered matters for a bit, then said, “All right—if we’re going to test it, we’re going to test it.”

Teldra gave me a look of inquiry. I let Spellbreaker fall into my hand. I could see Teldra wanting to ask what I was up to, but she didn’t, and I didn’t volunteer the information—if I was going to look ridiculous, at least I didn’t have to explain why.

I struck Spellbreaker against the wall above where we had been chained up. It gave off a dull ringing sound.

“Vlad?”

“Get used to that sound, Teldra.”

“Very well,” she said.

I took a step to the right, and struck the wall again, it sounded just the same. I took another step, and another, and so on.

It was a big room, and it took a while, but I just told myself I was killing time until either the Jenoine reappeared, or Morrolan and Aliera showed up to rescue us, or something else happened.

Move a step—whap. Move a step—whap. Move a step and then, when I found it, I almost missed it anyway. I was about a third of the way from where I started when I struck the wall, and started to move past it, but noticed that Spellbreaker had changed again. It was shorter, the links smaller. I stopped, looked at it, then at the spot of blank wall I was facing.

I struck the wall again, and a light tingle went up my arm, and I was looking at a doorway. Not even a door: rather a large stonework arch, maybe twelve feet high at its top, and big enough for four of me to walk past arm in arm. It was just there, as if to say, “What took you so long?”

I glanced back at Lady Teldra, who had been walking beside me to keep me company.

“Yes,” she said. “I see it, too.”

I not only saw it, but I felt the wind through it. Through mostly what we could see was darkness, except for the points of light in the sky.

“Stars,” said Lady Teldra.

“I know them,” I said. “They have them in the East, too.”

“I know,” she said. “I remember.”

“I don’t know exactly what they are; some say the homes of gods.”

“Some say each is a world,” said Teldra. “That when we go through a necromantic gate, we are stepping onto one of those points of light, from which we could look back and see our own world as a point of light. I like that notion.”

“I’m not entirely certain that I do,” I said. “I’ve never liked stepping into the unknown.”

She refrained from any of the obvious observations she could have made to that, merely falling silent and waiting with me. Even as I watched, I realized that it was becoming brighter; it was dawn wherever we were, and I started to be able to make out features of the landscape.

It took several long moments before I was able to bring myself to step through the archway, toward the strange world, the emptiness, and the stars of the heavens. 8. Fishing Etiquette

Here’s a quick story for you, before we go any further:

In the earliest days of the World, Darkness mated with Chaos and produced three daughters. The first was Night, the second was Pain, and the third was Magic. Now Chaos went on and mated with the Sky, producing a son who was Evil. One day, Evil, being jealous of his stepsisters, captured Magic and took her away to his secret fortress beyond the World. But Magic called upon her Mother, Darkness, who heard her cries, and, seeing everything, saw what Evil had done.

Darkness then summoned Chaos and said, “Look what your son has done! He has taken Magic from the World.”

Chaos then turned on his son, Evil, and cast him out, and rescued Magic, restoring her to the World. Then Evil cried out, saying that he repented his act, and praying that his father not abandon him. Chaos could not turn his heart from his only son, so he relented and permitted Evil into the world as well, but from that moment on, Magic has mistrusted Evil, though Evil still pursues Magic; and Darkness watches over them both, so that wherever you find Evil, you will find Darkness there, watching; and Chaos will sometimes be found in the aid of Magic, and sometimes in the aid of Evil.

Do you like it? It is an old story of my people, and there are some who believe it literally. I myself think there are elements of truth in it, because another name for Magic is Verra, the Demon Goddess, and, who knows, perhaps the Jenoine really are Evil. Beyond that, I don’t care to venture; if there is a personification of Darkness, not to mention Chaos, then I don’t want to know about it.

So here we were, maybe in the power of Evil; at least on their world, and maybe Magic would help us, and I was very much afraid that, if the Jenoine didn’t get me, I’d trip over my own metaphors and break my neck.

These were my thoughts, then, as we stepped out of the door, and I don’t know how it was for Teldra, but for me then was a shock: the sudden realization that the entire world was not that one room of that one building.

“Anything or anyone, Loiosh?”

“Not as far as I can tell, Boss.”

We walked twenty-five or thirty feet away from it, and looked back; I was half expecting it to have vanished, but it was still there, the outside looking quite a bit like the inside, except that the surface was rougher—it seemed to be just chunks of rock stuck together. A closer look indicated an odd shape to the structure—it was hard to tell from this close, but it seemed that it had an angle to it; that it wasn’t quite straight up, and then were bits of projections sticking out. Was this significant of anything? Stupid question. What was significant and what wasn’t with these beings?

I turned my attention to the landscape, and eventually thought of Dzur Mountain.

There was nothing there that actually looked like Dzur Mountain, mind you, but—

Okay. A stream, maybe fifty or sixty feet wide, cut across and dominated the landscape, flowing diagonally toward me from my right to my left, about a hundred yards away at its nearest point; a few spindly trees with stubby branches and massive leaves all along their lengths dotted the banks on both side, and what seemed to be a stonework bridge appeared not far away. To my right were a couple of low hills, all brown and rocky, and to my left the ground was flat but sloping gently down, maybe dipping to meet the stream, maybe not. And above it all (quite literally) was this terrible, bright object burning down on everything. I’m not trying to be mysterious—I had been to the East, and I knew damned well that it was a Furnace, just as we had in the Empire, only here, as out East (and a few places in the far West), it wasn’t hidden by a constant overcast. But I had forgotten how painfully bright it was, and how dark were the shadows it caused when it met anything else. It was low in the sky, a little to my left as I stepped out of the door, and, among other things, it highlighted everything else, including the few white puffy bits of overcast in a sky that was otherwise as blue as the sky above Fenario, giving me a very strange feeling of homesickness that juxtaposed with the harsh certainty that I was in a world that, perhaps, no other human had ever set foot on before.

So Teldra and I studied all of this, and that’s when I thought of Dzur Mountain. It was a very nice mix of natural elements, here, and I’d swear someone had crafted it. I don’t know why—I’m not sure what the indications were; but it looked for all the world like someone had sat down and said, “Okay, the river runs this way, straight, then we’ll put a curve in here. How ‘bout a couple of hills?” and like that.

“You’re right,” said Teldra.

I looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Dzur Mountain,” she said.

“Oh. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud.”

“You muttered it under your breath.”

“Hmmm.” I wondered where I’d developed the habit of do­ing that? Probably from being alone so much of the time. I was going to have to watch out for that; it wasn’t a good habit.

“Nothing lives,” murmured Teldra.

I started to ask what she meant—I mean, there was grass, and there were trees and such. Then realized: I saw no birds in the air, no small animals hopping around, much less big ones; looking at my feet, I didn’t even see any insects. “You’re right,” I said. “We seem to be the only living things here.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling. “That time I did it.”

My hand strayed to my rapier, and I suddenly had the feeling that this entire world—everything that had happened since walking through Morrolan’s window—was a massive illusion, was one of those elaborate living dreams, such as I had encountered in the Paths of the Dead.

“It’s real enough, Boss.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. If there is a glamour, it’s to conceal something, not to alter the appearance of what we’re seeing.”

“That’s sort of a fine distinction, chum.”

“I know,” he told me.

Well, that was part of Loiosh’s job, so I had to trust him. Besides: if he was wrong, and it was all an elaborate dream like the ones in the Paths, well, there had been no way out of those except to treat them as real and work through them. But the lack of critters was hard to get used to.

“What do you think, Teldra? Was this whole area fabricated?”

“Maybe, Vlad. Maybe the whole world.”

“No,” I said. “I know it wasn’t the whole world.”

“Oh?” she said. “How can you tell?”

“Because if they can do that, we don’t have a chance against them.”

She laughed. “Ah. I see. I’m not familiar with that logic.”

I shrugged. “Actually, I’m not kidding. That’s one thing I learned in the course of my long and checkered career. If your only chance of living through something is if your enemy isn’t a sorcerer, or doesn’t have a spare dagger, or can’t jump an eleven-foot crevasse, then you assume your enemy isn’t a sorcerer, or doesn’t have a spare dagger, or can’t jump an eleven-foot crevasse.”

“Hmmmm,” said Teldra. “I see. It makes a very practical sort of sense.”

“Yes,” I said, involuntarily remembering the guy who could jump an eleven-foot crevasse, much to my disgust—but I survived that one anyway, because he turned out to be wearing the wrong kind of boots. Long story; never mind.

There was a bit of a breeze coming from my left; not too strong, just enough to tickle the back of the neck. It brought no smells except the sort of sweet scent that seemed to be part of the air here. This reminded me, again, to keep my breathing even and shallow.

“Well,” I said, “Teldra, you must have studied all the old songs and stories, and you must be better read in history than I am, and since I almost never attend the theater, you must attend it more often than I do.”

“Perhaps,” she said.

“Well then? What does one typically do in a situation like this?”

Teldra looked at me.

“I mean, usually when one finds oneself on an entirely different world, barely able to breathe, surrounded by a bizarre environment, beset with enemies with the strength of gods, and with no way home—what are the usual steps?”

She barely cracked a smile.

“Usually,” she said, “one calls for help of one’s patron god, who then assigns one an impossible task in exchange for mini­mal aid, which aid turns out to be ironically fatal. Or else one discovers a powerful artifact of unknown properties, which, upon use, proves to take over one’s soul, so that, after the rescue, one kills one’s beloved.”

“I see. Well, now you know why I almost never attend the theater.”

Teldra supplied the obligatory chuckle and I looked out once more at the world around us—suddenly taken by the fear that Morrolan and Aliera would not come, and the Jenoine would not come, and we would find no way out; that we would remain here for the rest of our days. Which days, now that I thought of it, wouldn’t be long if we didn’t figure out how we were going to eat. But I knew this fear was groundless. Whatever Morrolan had done in the past, I knew that he would never stop trying to rescue us as long as he was alive. And, of course, things being as they were, death might not manage to stop him either.

I sighed.

“You know, Loiosh, if anyone had told me yesterday at this time that thirty hours later I would have rescued Morrolan and Aliera, nearly killed the Demon Goddess, and found myself trapped in a prison the size of the world, unable to decide if I was hoping to be saved or was hoping not to be saved, I’d have said, ‘Yeah, sounds about right.’”

“You probably would have, Boss.”

“I think this says something about my life choices.”

“Uhhuh.”

I looked around at the world, noticing the perfection of the stream, the hills, the mountains—the general sense that everything had been planned and crafted. I had the sudden irrational (and, I’m sure, wrong) notion that this little part of the world was all there was—that everywhere out of sight was just sort of grey and unfinished; and I was also again reminded of the Paths of the Dead, though I’m not sure why.

Teldra and I began walking. The ground was soft and springy, and we soon reached the banks of the stream, which

were only two or three feet above the flow. I leaned over and stared into it, watching it. It hardly seemed to be moving, yet occasionally the crests would break into diminutive whitecaps. It was neither blue nor green nor red, as is most of the water I’ve seen, but sort of an olive; I could not imagine what accounted for this. I couldn’t see the bottom, but it seemed neither shallow nor dirty.

“What is it, Boss?”

“This water.”

“What about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s no more natural than the rest of this place, but ... it isn’t perfect.”

He said nothing; I continued studying it. Teldra reniaim a foot or two behind me, silent, the soul of patience. I stooped, then knelt. I reached out toward the water, then changed my mind, holding my hand motionless. Then I—how shall I put this—extended my senses. It’s hard to describe; it’s sort like the difference between hearing something and intensive listening; or between resting your hand on velvet, and closing your eyes and luxuriating in the feel of it; only with a sense that... oh forget it. It’s a witch thing.

In any case, I reached out, for the water, and—

“Yes,” I said aloud.

“Yes?” echoed Lady Teldra.

“Yes,” I agreed.

She waited.

I turned to her. “The water,” I said. “It isn’t water.”

She waited.

“Boss—”

“I don’t know, Loiosh; I’m working on it.”

Aloud I said, “The water isn’t like the rest of the place. Well, it is and it isn’t. It’s—I don’t know. I want to follow it.”

“All right, Vlad. Upstream or down?”

“Uh ... you ask good questions.”

The source or the result; the theoretical or the practical; find out what it all means, or go straight for where something can be done about it. A moment of sublime indecision, with a chance to learn something deep and important about myself. Or perhaps not; I know that by inclination I’m a source man; I like to understand things as completely as possible, but if I was to do something before things were done to me, I couldn’t take the time.

“Downstream,” I said. “Let’s see where this goes.”

She nodded, Loiosh mumbled an agreement into my mind, and we set off. The stream meandered gently, the ground underfoot was soft and springy if uneven; the air still had that sweetness. I was getting used to taking shallow breaths. The scenery didn’t change much, and the water was quieter than the forest streams I’d become used to finding by sound and smell.

After most of a mile, I realized that I was hearing something—a low sort of rumble. It was oddly difficult to localize, but seemed to come from ahead of us.

“l.oiosh, you said you couldn’t fly, but—”

“No, I can do it, I think.”

“Then—”

“I’m on my way, Boss.”

He left my shoulder and flew off ahead of me, his flight strong and smooth, mostly gliding, wings flapping now and then, smoothly; quite graceful, actually.

“Gee, thanks, Boss.”

“Oh, shut up. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I can manage. I just have to glide a lot, and I won’t he able to keep this up very long.”

“You won’t have to. What do you see?”

“I’d say water, only you claim it isn’t water, so ... wait a minute. It’s getting louder. It’s—”

“Yes?

“Well, it’s safe enough. Come ahead.”

“All right.”

The ground rose a little, leaving the water—or whatever it was—about twenty feet below us in a sort of cleft, like a scale model of a river valley, all green and stuff. Loiosh returned to my shoulder as I took the last few steps. The roaring became louder—like, each step noticeably increased the volume; soon we’d have had to shout to be heard, and at about that time we came over a rise and saw it—a waterfall, or it would have been a waterfall if whatever was falling had been water. Certainly, it behaved like water as it went over the lip and struck the bottom, about a hundred or a hundred and twenty feet below; complete with what seemed to be mist springing up from it. The lip was narrower than the stream, I’d say about thirty-five feet. The “water,” for lack of a better word, rushed over it in a tremendous hurry to reach the bottom. I watched, fascinated the way one sometimes is by nature, though I hesitate to call it “nature”—I didn’t believe this was any more natural than anything else I’d seen since I got here.

It fell majestically. It foamed and swirled in the pool at the bottom, before heading off downstream; I picked out particles and watched them plummet; I watched the mist rise and curl. I wondered what it was.

On my arm, I felt Spellbreaker stir, just a little; a sort of twitch that could almost have been my imagination, but no, it wasn’t.

And then I knew.

Of course, you—who have heard all of my story to this point, and are now sitting back drinking your favorite wine and listening to my voice pour out—you had it figured a long time ago. And, I suppose, I ought to have too. But it is one thing to hear about it, and quite another to be there with it, watching , hearing it, and not really wanting to believe that you’re looking at what you think you’re looking at.

“Amorphia,” I said aloud, naming it, making it real. According to some of the beliefs surrounding the practice of witchcraft, to name it was to give it power; according to others, to name it was to give myself power over it. This felt like the former.

“What?” shouted Teldra.

I leaned over until I was talking into her ear. “Amorphia,” I repeated, making my voice calm, as if I were announcing nothing of any importance. “The stuff of chaos.”

She stared at it, then nodded slowly, leaned over, and spoke into my ear. “Yes,” she said. “You’re right. It is amorphia. Only controlled. Going where the Jenoine wish it to go, and doing what they wish it to do.”

I nodded, and led us back from the brink, just a score or so of paces over the hill so we could speak in normal tones. I said, “I didn’t think amorphia occurred anywhere except at home.”

“Neither did I,” she said.

I grunted. “So, which is scarier—that they have created a river of amorphia, or that they are able to create a river of amorphia? Or, for that matter, the fact that the Jenoine have permitted us to see all of this?”

“I begin to believe,” she said, “that the reason we haven’t been molested is that, quite simply, we are too insignificant to worry about.”

“Insulting,” I said, “but it could be true. It would explain why we’ve been permitted to see this, too—we just don’t matter.”

Teldra exhaled briefly through her nose and watched the scene. I watched with her. She said, “And we were wondering if there was any magic here.”

I listened to chaos splash over the cliff. From where we stood, we could see the rush of the gathered amorphia about to plunge over the falls. Now that I knew—or, perhaps, now that I had admitted to myself what it was—it looked even less like water; the color changed as you tried to focus on it, but now appeared mostly to fluctuate between steely grey and a dark, unhealthy green. And while it almost behaved as water should, it didn’t quite do that, either.

“Well, we’ve certainly learned something,” I remarked into the air.

Amorphia. The stuff of chaos. According to some, the stuff of life; according to others, the basic building block of all matter and energy. I didn’t know; I wasn’t a magical philosopher, and I’d certainly never studied the ancient, illegal, and frightening branch of sorcery devoted to such things.

I’d used amorphia once, and since then had skimmed a couple of Morrolan’s books to pick up useful-looking spells, bur I’d never studied it.

I had used it once.

A long time ago, in the heart of the city, trying to save the life of Morrolan (who was dead at the time; don’t ask), faced by several sorceresses of the Bitch Patrol—the Left Hand of the Jhereg—I had called upon abilities I didn’t know I had, I had hurled something at them they could not have anticipated any more than they could counter it. Yes, I had done it once.

I let that memory play around in my head, remembering the feel of a tavern floor against my face, and a sense of desperation; a desire to do something, anything, and the explosive release of power I had inherited because, once, my soul had been close to the soul of some idiots who played around with that power. That day, I had been an idiot, too, and had been rescued by Aliera before I dissolved myself and a section of Adrilankha into the basic component of all matter and energy, or whatever it was.

I remembered that day, years ago, and separated from me by so many experiences that it might as well have happened to a different person.

Only I wasn’t, really, a different person. And, try as I might, I couldn’t shy away from the implications of that.

“Boss—”

“Not now, Loiosh. Let me work it through on my own; there are too many angles to this thing.”

“All right.”

If anyone asked me if I knew the Elder Sorcery, I could say no with a clear conscience. I didn’t know it, in any meaningful way.

But—

The Elder Sorcery is, perhaps, the most difficult branch of magic, at least until you try to throw them all together and tie them up in some object where you also keep your soul so you get to call yourself a “wizard” for whatever satisfaction that will bring you. I had once harbored illusions about learning sorcery as it was practiced before the Empire, before the Orb, before what I’d call civilization. I had a sort of start, owing to an accidental relationship in my past life. I abandoned the study early on, because not only was it difficult, and scary, but I just had damned much else going on in my life at the time. But I did have a pretty good memory of step one—that is, the first and easiest spell, the one necessary to continue on to the more difficult spells. And this spell, if I could pull it off, just might prove useful.

My brain raced, and worked at a few of the angles until it ran down, by which time I had already opened up my small pouch of witchcraft supplies, and dug around for a bit. I didn’t have a lot of stuff with me, and everything I did have was valuable, but what can you do? I picked out the ceramic bottle of dira juice because it wasn’t too hard to come by, and the main use it had was treating a particular jungle fever that I’d so far managed to avoid. I poured the contents on the ground. I noticed Teldra looking a question at me. I shook my head.

I found a loop of leather and hung it around the neck of the bottle; then I walked over to the bank where the amorphia flowed like water.

Teldra cleared her throat. “I was just wondering,” she said, “how you’re going to keep the bottle from dissolving in the amorphia you’re trying to capture.”

“Oh,” I said. “You’ve known Morrolan a great deal longer than I have; haven’t you read any of his books?”

“Not on the Elder Sorcery. Have you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Oh.” She considered. “And you learned how to do what­ever it is you’re doing?”

The questions were a bit intrusive for Teldra, but I couldn’t blame her; hanging around while an incompetent plays around with amorphia is worth at least a couple of innocent questions.

“More or less,” I told her.

She bit her lip and didn’t ask anything else, for which she ought to have received whatever sorts of medals her House gives out.

I started the bottle spinning in a wide, slow loop, directly in front of me, about a foot over the stream. “It really isn’t that difficult,” I said, “if all you want to do is capture some of it. It’s just a question of speed.” As I spoke, I started spinning the bottle a little faster—not much. “Amorphia will take, uh, some measurable fraction of a second before it begins to operate on matter that comes in contact with it. The trick is just to get it before it destroys or alters whatever vessel you’re using to capture it.” I glanced at her. “Move a couple of steps to the right, please.”

She did so, silent.

The other trick is the little matter of the spell.

There isn’t a lot to say about it. It’s a pretty simple spell, really—well described by the book. You just draw the power through your link to the Orb ....

Yeah.

There’s the catch. The whole “link to the Orb” problem. I was currently missing one of those.

To the left, however, there were alternatives, if you were willing to risk interaction with unfettered, raw amorphia. I happened to have a supply of that near to hand.

I stared at the stream.

Do you know how hard it is to look at water? To see it, When it’s flowing past you? You see foam, or swirls, or crests, or whitewaters, or maybe the streambed, or maybe the reflection off the surface, but it is very hard to actually see the water. It is even harder when it isn’t actually water, but amorphia, the quintessence of formlessness; it is hard to see formlessness, be­cause what we see is form. Try it sometime, if you have any raw chaos lying about; it is simultaneously too much and too little to grasp.

But I kept trying, staring at and then past the subtle color shifts, rigorously refusing to believe in the shapes my mind tried to impose on the shapelessness. And at length—I don’t know how long it was—I began to seep into it. Those sorcerers who spend a lot of time working with amorphia say that every such experience is a step closer to madness. Judging from Aliera and Morrolan, I think that is probably true. But fortunately, I didn’t have to go too far, just enough contact for one little spell.

I felt a response within me; something like and yet unlike the first feelings that a spell is working. To the right, I felt as if I were secure and comfortable and relaxed, and to the left I felt as if I were on the edge of a precipice and one small step, or the loss of my balance, would send me hurtling over into insanity.

The balance issue was a good metaphor, and also quite real, because, as I readied the spell, I leaned over the stream. Should I slip in, it would be a quicker death than many that I’ve come near, but it isn’t how I choose to spend my last measurable fraction of a second.

I changed the angle, so instead of spinning parallel to the stream, it was almost perpendicular. I timed the spin—it was just over a second for a full loop. I wished I remembered just what the measurement on that measurable fraction of a second was; at the time, that hadn’t been the sort of detail I was in­terested in, not being able to imagine being in this situation. Was it around half a second? A little less? I sped up the spin just a trifle, then let my breath out slowly.

“Here we go,” I said aloud. “Keep your eye on this thing; there should be something flying out onto the shore behind me.” I executed, or perhaps I should say released the spell as I lowered my arm so the bottle splashed into the stream.

The first good news was that I didn’t fall in; but I hadn’t really expected to.

The second good news was that the stream didn’t splash on me; I’d been afraid of that, but couldn’t think of a good way to avoid it.

The third good news was that the leather suddenly felt lighter in my hand, and a glance told me that there was nothing hanging on the end.

But the real good news was that Teldra cried out, “I saw it! Something flashed. It went off that way.”

I followed her pointing finger, dropping the leather just in case there were unpleasant things clinging to the end of it.

The grass here wasn’t terribly long; it only took five minutes or so before I found it. I reached down and picked it up, just as if doing so didn’t scare me.

It took the form of a small stone, perfectly round and about an inch in diameter; it was very heavy for its size, and had a sort of milky hue somewhere in between blue and purple. “Got it,” I said, holding it up.

She came over and inspected it, Loiosh doing the same from my shoulder.

“Pure amorphia,” I said, “but in a form that can be worked with.”

“If you say so,” said Teldra.

“I say so.”

I slipped it into my pouch as if it were no big deal.

Teldra nodded as if it were no big deal, and said, “All right, then, Vlad, what next?”

That was a good question. But I now had Spellbreaker, a powerful Morganti dagger, a chunk of amorphia, my training as a witch, and my native wit. Might as well use them for something.

I said aloud, “Patience my ass; I’m going to go out and kill something.” 9. How to Break Unwelcome News

Teldra frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind; an old Jhereg joke. Let’s go back.”

“Back, Vlad?”

“To our prison.”

I watched her face, and decided she was struggling between courteously agreeing and rudely asking if I had lost my mind. I politely cut in before she had to choose.

“This place”—I gestured aimlessly—“gives me the creeps. I don’t mean just here, I mean this whole area. The Jenoine will be able to find us anywhere on their world, if they want to, so being out here will only make it harder for Morrolan and Aliera to find us.”

“Ah,” she said. “You’ve resigned yourself to being rescued, then?”

“Heh. I’m still thinking about it.”

“And you have another idea, don’t you?”

“Hmmm. Sort of a plan.”

She smiled. “That’s good enough for me,” she said, and we headed back for the building that had been our prison. I should, perhaps, have been surprised that it hadn’t vanished while we were out of sight, but it hadn’t, and the door was still where we’d left it. We went back inside. The door vanished as we stepped through, but I wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of being startled by that.

“What’s the plan this time, Boss?”

“If I told you, you’d just laugh.”

“Probably.”

“You could learn a lot from Teldra.”

“The ocean says the river is wet. The snow says the ice is cold.”

“Is that like, the jhereg says the yendi is a reptile?”

“Shut up, Boss.”

I studied the big, empty room on the big empty world, considered my predicament, thought over my idea, and tried to be optimistic. I glanced over to where the shackles still hung on the wall. The Jenoine could put us back in them easier than I’d gotten out of them. But why should they? After all, the whole reason—

“Teldra, do you think I’m paranoid?”

She blinked. “Lord Taltos?”

“I keep seeing devious plots everywhere, and thinking that everyone must have two or three layers of subterfuge behind every action.”

“I recall, my lord, your affair with the Sorceress in Green It seems to me you were correct on that occasion.”

“She’s a Yendi.”

“And these are Jenoine. Much more worrisome. With a Yendi, one at least knows everything is subterfuge and misdirection. With the Jenoine, we don’t understand them, and we don’t know if they understand us.”

I nodded. “Okay, a point.”

She continued, “I think it reasonable to wonder if we’re doing what they want us to—if they have everything planned, and each step we have taken is in accordance with their wishes. Didn’t Sethra say as much? Yet it is uncertain, because we behave unpredictably, and we don’t yet know to what extent they can anticipate and understand us. I’m working on that,” she added.

“You’re working on that?”

“Yes.”

I wanted to ask her in exactly what way was she working on it, but if she had wanted me to know, she’d have told me. All right, then. I’d go ahead and assume I was right in my surmises until I found out I was wrong—by which time it would probably be too late, and I wouldn’t have to worry about it. There are advantages to fatalism.

“Hungry, Teldra?”

“No, thank you.”

I grunted and shared a bit of jerky with Loiosh. Teldra went over to the wall and sat down, her knees up, arms around her knees—she managed to make the position look dignified and graceful.

I said, “Teldra, what, exactly, is the soul?”

“I hope you’re asking rhetorically, Vlad. I’ve never studied magical philosophy. I only know the mundane answer—that which is left after the death the physical body—the life essence—the personality, separated from matter.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never studied magical philosophy eith­er. I guess I should have, at some point.”

“Is it important?”

“Yes.”

She looked a question.

I touched the Morganti dagger at my belt and said, “These things destroy souls. It would be very useful right now to know exactly what they destroyed, and how they did it, and what it all means. I’m trying to avoid being embarrassed at a critical moment.”

“I see. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

She had already helped. I leaned against the wall next to her and pondered the soul.

“Boss, why is it you always get philosophical just when—”

“Shut up, Loiosh.”

He snickered into my mind; I ignored him. To think of the soul as a field of sorcerous energy usually anchored to a living body might be incomplete, but also might be close enough to be useful; at least, to the best of my knowledge, that was how a Morganti dagger treated it. It said nothing about how such a nebulous thing as a personality could be contained in a field of sorcerous energy, but Morganti weapons are notoriously unconcerned with personalities.

If it was good enough for a Morganti dagger, it was good enough for me.

Heh.

Teldra was looking at me.

I cleared my throat. “I assume you want to be let in on what my plan is.”

“That’s up to you, Vlad. If you think I should know, tell me. Otherwise, not.”

I stared at her. “You really do trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“By the Halls of Judgment, why?”

“Because you keep surviving, Vlad.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that I was almost convinced “Heh,” I said. “I’m just being saved for some spectacularly awful death.”

“If so,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll comport yourself with dignity.”

“Dignity? Me? Not bloody likely. If I go down swinging, it’ll be because I think swinging is more likely to get me out of it than running. If I go down running, I won’t be surprised.”

She gave me a smile as if she didn’t believe me and said, “I hadn’t meant to turn the conversation morbid.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Teldra. Most of my thoughts are morbid. I think it comes of having spent so long killing people for a living. Strange way to live, when you think about it, so I try not to, but I can’t help it. On the other hand, you work for a guy known for sacrificing whole villages, so I guess I’m a bit of a piker by comparison.”

“More like hamlets than villages, Vlad. And he was at war against them at the time, you know.”

“Oh. Actually, I hadn’t known that. I just chalked it up to another example of how charming my dear Goddess can be.”

“It was while he was consolidating his power and retaking his ancestral homelands. They worshiped Tri’nagore, a God you don’t hear from much anymore, and had overrun Blackchapel, killing everyone in it. Morrolan returned the favor, and sent their souls to his Patron Goddess.”

“I see. They don’t tell that part of the story.”

“The Lord Morrolan refuses to be put in the position of defending his actions. He considers it undignified.”

“So he’d rather everyone thought him a bloodthirsty butcher?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I guess he would at that.”

To the left, I reflected, he could be bloodthirsty enough, however much Teldra downplayed it. I recalled an incident at Castle Black. I wasn’t paying much attention, being involved in some rather nasty squabble with another Jhereg at the time, but I remember him challenging another Dragonlord to a duel, and ... doing everything to the guy except making him unrevivifiable—I mean he dismembered the poor bastard, and seemed to take great joy making the fellow’s death as slow and painful as he could. This was a memory I didn’t care to dwell on; I don’t enjoy such scenes. But it was certainly impossible to deny that that side of Morrolan existed. I wondered—

“Teldra,” I said suddenly. “Do you recall a certain Lord Vrudric e’Lanya whom Morrolan fought a few years ago?”

She looked at me quizzically and nodded.

“Can you tell me what that was about?”

“You don’t know, Vlad? Vrudric was casting aspersion on Adron’s character.”

“Adron? Adron e’Kieron?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it? Morrolan did that to him because he was casting aspersions on the character of the guy who was either so greedy, or so incompetent, or, at best, so misguided that he destroyed the whole Verra-be-damned Empire and dissolved Dragaera City into amorphia? That guy?”

“Adron is one of Morrolan’s heroes. I thought you knew that.”

“No,” I said. “I hadn’t known that. But Adron ... okay. It’s strange, but I guess I can get used to it. Hmmm. Morrolan e’Drien. Who was Drien, anyway?”

“A contemporary of Kieron the Conqueror, perhaps the first Shaman who was a warrior, or the first warrior who was a Shaman. From what I gather, he or she was brilliant, fiery, talented, creative, powerful, and emotionally unstable.”

“‘He or she’?”

“As I understand it, Drien was born female but transformed herself into a man around the time of the founding of the Empire. Or it may have been the other way around. I don’t know if the man or the woman had offspring, or both; and perhaps the story isn’t true, but that is the tradition.”

“I see. Hmmm. But then ... never mind. What about the other story? I mean the one about Morrolan charging up to Dzur Mountain when he found out that there was someone in his domain who hadn’t paid him tribute.”

“Oh.” Teldra smiled. “Yes, that one is true.”

I chuckled. “Oh, to have been there to witness that conversation. I don’t suppose you went along?”

“Hardly.”

“Did he ever say what happened?”

“No. But it can’t have been anything too horrid; they’ll’ been friends ever since.”

“Oh yeah? Does she pay him tribute?”

“I don’t know,” said Teldra, smiling.

“I’ll be sure to ask him. Sometime when we’re not in the middle of trying to batter our way out of a trap set by demigod. Which reminds me, I had an idea about that. I’ll give you the rough outline of—”

“Boss!”

I spun around. Morrolan and Aliera were back, both holding their swords in their hands, and looking like I felt—that is, full of the desire to kill something.

“Welcome,” I said, “to our temporary abode. I’m afraid our hospitality may be—”

“Where are they?” said Aliera.

I shrugged. “They forgot to say where they were going when they left. Actually, I forgot to ask them. I was napping at the time, as I recall. Oh, by the way, Morrolan, I’m curious about whether you get any tribute from Dzur Mountain.”

“Vlad,” said Morrolan, “do you have any idea what we had to do to get back here? To even find the place, much less break through, required the Necromancer to spend twelve hours pulling memories out of Blackwand—memories she didn’t know she contained. After that—”

“How long has it been, in your world?”

“Not long. A couple of days. A very busy couple of days, I might add.”

I nodded. “A few hours, here. Did you bring any food? Jerky and gammon are getting old.”

Morrolan and Aliera looked at each other. “No, sorry,” said Morrolan.

“Perhaps it would be best to get going, then.”

“Yes,” said Aliera. “That’s the idea.” Morrolan was frowning his frown of concentration—I hoped and believed doing what was necessary to get us out of there.

“That is,” I added, “if the Jenoine will let us. Do you think they will?”

“Perhaps not,” said the Lord of Castle Black, looking up suddenly. “But we are prepared for them to attempt to stop us. Unfortunately, the gate has shut again. I’m going to try to open it.nHe did that thing with his hands again, and he was once more holding his thin, black wizard’s staff. This time I noticed something: a blue ring that he always wore on his left hand was no longer there, yet I had been certain he had been wearing it an instant before. Okay, it was a nice trick, and it had some flash. I could always respect flash, if it didn’t conflict with practicality.

I looked at Morrolan, as if seeing him for the first time, with all that Teldra had told me buzzing around in my head. Adron? He certainly was far more complex than I had ever thought him. It suddenly flashed into my head to wonder if he and Sethra were currently or ever had been lovers. Now that was an interesting thought, and one that would probably come back to me on many cold nights—assuming, of course, that I would have the opportunity to have many cold nights.

Which brought me sharply back to the present. I said, “Sethra is in on this, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Morrolan. “And she’s at Castle Black, in the Tower, waiting to assist us.”

I nodded. “Knowing, I’m sure, that her help is likely to be either insufficient or unnecessary.”

“Yes.”

I felt myself scowling, and my stomach growled, just to make sure I understood how it felt, too.

“Got it,” said Morrolan suddenly. “Over here, quickly.’’

There was a shimmering waviness in the air, gold colored, about six feet behind Morrolan.

“Very well,” said Aliera, walking toward it. “Let’s do it; the gate won’t remain open forever. Teldra, you first. Hurry, Vlad.”

“They’re late, Boss.”

“Seems like.”

Teldra and I took a step toward her. Sometimes, things are so close—almost this, or just barely that; one thing and another, balanced just so, that there seems to be an instant where they are both happening, and neither happens, and each path is fully realized, like a psiprint, held in place by the strength of mutual impossibilities. Sometime lives—your own or another’s—depend on decisions that come within a whisper, a hair, a fraction of breath, of going one way or the other. Have you the strength of will to do what you know – know—is the right thing, or will your appetite rule the moment? Will you allow the anger of an instant to command your tongue, and make a breach that can never be healed, or will you manage to hold ire in check for just long enough—a tiny portion of a second—to escape?

Sometimes it is so close, so very close.

I took a step forward, and—

—as my footstep faded, I could almost hear—

—an infinitely extended moment, nothing happening, taking forever, but much too fast—

—was instantly aware—

—voices whispering in the silence, with the silence, not disturbing it—

—a foot almost descending, simultaneously in one place and another—occupying two places at once, but that’s what movement is all about—

—that Loiosh was no longer with me. Even before—

—leaving perception, without the awareness of whence it sprang except—

—all life is movement, which is to be here and not here and the same time, or here and there simultaneously, or to deny time, or to deny place—

—I realized that my surroundings had changed, that I was uncertain where I was, that—

—that it came from outside of self, if such a distinction is valid without time or place to hang it from, and the voices—

—is to be, in fact, nowhere, and nowhere is—

—Teldra and Aliera and Morrolan had cross-stepped while I lunged, I knew—

—came with eyes, and ears, and other things that—

—everywhere is here and there and there ought to be a way—

—that I was out of touch with my familiar and it—

—gave me the feeling that I was being studied, scanned, analyzed, and ultimately—

—to seize control, or at least to act, or at the very least to make a decision—

—had been years since I had come so—

—discarded, and permitted—

—to be holding a chain of gold light, in my mind if nowhere else so that in and through the shield of swirling gold which suddenly—

—close to panic—

—to stop, or resume—

—seemed to me to be a place, not a thing, that I could—

—but that, like so much else, is self-defeating, so I—

—the interrupted pace, the walk, the step, which in turn permitted—

—enter into and go through and be changed by—

—tried not to think about it, but trust in him and me, and just do—

—a junction of thought and a resonance of experience, that I managed, or thought I managed, or almost managed—

—spinning corridors of gold that were within and without, and then through once more, leaving me—

—and I guess it worked because what was before me became behind me, and here became there, which was all right because I—

—to make contact, once more, with my familiar familiar.

—somewhere real at last.

—was back.

“Well,” I said or thought, lying against the cold stone floor. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”

“Are you all right, Vlad?” It took me a moment to realize the voice belonged to Teldra, and even longer to understand that the question begged an answer. What the answer ought to be was beyond me.

“Vlad?”

I turned my head and made eye contact with her, looking up at her impossibly tall form, hoping she would see that I was at least somewhat sensible.

“You okay, Boss?”

“Ask something easier, it’ll take me some time to figure that out.”

“Where did you go?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you.”

Around then, I realized that we hadn’t actually gone any­where—we were still in the Jenoine’s prison.

“Vlad?” This was Morrolan’s voice. I managed to turn my head and see that he and Aliera were still there, as well. So nothing had changed, but everything had.

Story of my life.

I found my voice and managed, “How long?” In my own ears, my voice sounded weaker than I actually felt.

“How do you feel?” asked Aliera. Why can’t anyone just answer a Verra-be-damned question?

I started to say something snappy, but it was too much work, so I said, “Dry.”

Morrolan held a flask to my lips, and I drank some water. Damn, but it was good. I was going to ask him where he found it. Water. Wonderful stuff. Who knew?

“What happened, Vlad?” asked Morrolan. Yeah, like I was the right guy to ask.

“How long has it been?” I repeated. It was easier to talk now. I opened my eyes, not sure when I had closed them. Aliera and Morrolan were directly over me, staring down. Teldra was out of sight. Loiosh stood on the floor next to my left ear. Being the center of so much interest wasn’t as pleasant as I would have expected.

“As far as I can tell, you’ve been unconscious for around nine hours.”

“More like ten,” said Aliera.

Morrolan said, “My judgment—”

“Doing what in the meantime,” I said.

“Failing to reopen the gate,” said Aliera, with a look at Morrolan that the latter ignored.

“Okay,” I said. “Would someone like to help me up?”

Morrolan reached a hand out. With his help, I was able to stand up, and after a moment I was able to remain standing on my own. The room spun, then settled out, and—

“What the—?”

“What is it, Vlad?”

“Where are we?”

Silence greeted the question, which meant the answer couldn’t be anything I wanted to hear.

Aliera said, “Vlad, we’re in the same room we’ve been in all along.”

Yeah, that was one of the things I hadn’t wanted to hear.

Teldra was now looking at me, too. “What is it?” said Morrolan.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Where to begin.

“There is more to this place than used to meet the eye,” I said. “Either we’ve all been taken in by an illusion, or I’m being taken in by one now.”

Aliera closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them. “I detect no illusion,” she said. I shrugged.

“Perhaps,” said Morrolan, “you could describe what you are now seeing.”

“There is a large rock, or stone, in the middle of the floor right there.” I walked over to it, but didn’t touch it. “It’s about three feet high, maybe five feet long, and a foot and half wide at its widest point, but very irregular and jagged; it is mostly a dark shiny grey, with pink veins running through it.”

I glanced over at them, they were looking at me, not the rock.

“I don’t see it, Boss.”

“Figures.”

“That way,” I said, “against the wall, are four large jugs or vats, pottery of some kind, green with black geometrical patterns near the neck. They’re just a bit under five feet high and—” I walked over to them. “One seems to be filled with sand, another with ash, this one with, I don’t know, looks like water but I wouldn’t count on it, and this last one with something that looks like very tiny seashells.”

I turned my head. “Over this way—right here—is the doorway that Teldra and I found earlier; it is now plainly visible.”

Morrolan and Aliera looked at her; she shrugged and said, “Yes, we did find a doorway there.”

They turned back to me. “What else?” said Morrolan.

“The shelves are all filled.”

“With?”

“That one,” I said, gesturing, “has weapons. I mean, things that are obviously weapons—that look like weapons even to me. Swords, knives, daggers, lances, pikes. Things like that. There must be a hundred of them, all in all. The one over there has—I wish you could see it—it’s full of crystals. Some of them the size of the end of my finger, some of them fist size, a few of them the size of a lormelon. They’re a bit scary. And the colors vary from a mild pink to a deep purple, almost black. The big ones are both of the black color. Like I said, they’re a bit scary.”

I cleared my throat. “The shelf over at the far end has things I don’t recognize. Mostly metal, and peculiar shapes—some wheels, some devices made of several pieces riveted together, some partly made of leather or something else. Some that re­mind me of that strange object Sethra has. I would assume they are sorcerous devices of some kind, but I don’t know. I don’t feel like touching any of them. And the last shelf, this one, has more odd contraptions, but I recognize manacles among them.

“Okay,” I continued. “So much for the shelves. The walls are all painted with designs—black paint against a background that doesn’t look like I thought it did—more like a greyish blue. And the designs are, well, probably sorcerous. All geometrical shapes. The walls are covered with them, top to bottom, and there are various symbols scrawled in amongst them. I can draw them for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” said Aliera, at the same time Morrolan said, “Perhaps later.”

I grunted. “There is also a table at each end of the room, and chairs around it. All metal, all much larger than any fur­niture for either you or me. Go figure, huh? Oh, and the ceiling looks the same as it did before, except that there are more lighting devices than I’d thought.

“So, that’s about it. It’s obvious that they’ve done something to my head during this last—how long? eight hours?—or I wouldn’t be seeing this stuff. I’ll leave it up to you clever people whether I’m now being taken in by illusion, or all the rest of you are. If we go by majority, I’d guess it’s me that’s seeing things. And there’s also the fact that Teldra and I never tripped over any of that stuff earlier. And the fact that I can’t imagine why they would have messed with my head to allow me to see what’s really here. Chances are, while I was gone, they did other things as well, to make sure I’d carry out whatever plan they have. But I do want all of you to admire how calm, cool, and collected I am while discussing the fact that my head has been messed with. Okay, your turns.”

Aliera addressed Morrolan. “It’s the rock that interests me most.”

“Yes,” said Morrolan. “Does it sound familiar?”

Aliera nodded. I felt ignored. Loiosh nuzzled my ear. Teldra came over and stood next to me, not saying anything or even looking at me, but it was nice of her.

“I think,” I told her quietly after a moment, “that you ought to leave me out of your plans.”

“Do you feel as if your mind has been tampered with?”

“No.”

“Or probed?”

“No. But it seems likely, doesn’t it?”

“It is possible. But it seems more likely that a glamour has been removed from your eyes than one placed there.”

“Sure. But why? And how, for that matter?”

She shook her head. Meanwhile, Morrolan and Aliera had finished their conference. Morrolan said, “Vlad, we will not be telling you of our plans until we can ascertain whether your mind has been tampered with.”

“Hey,” I said. “Good idea. I should have thought of that myself.”

He answered me with a Morrolan look. I went over and sat down against the wall; I didn’t feel like using the Jenoine’s furniture.

“Okay, Loiosh. You know how we do this.”

“Right now, Boss?”

“Right now.”

Aliera approached. “Vlad, I’m wondering if that rock you describe has any—”

“Not now, Aliera. I’m busy.”

She raised an eyebrow, I suppose wondering if I were kidding.

“I’m having my brain examined. It should only take a few minutes.”

She glanced quickly at Loiosh, then nodded and walked away to continue her conference with Morrolan. I let my head rest against the wall, closed my eyes, and tried to think of nothing. I’ve never been good at thinking of nothing. Loiosh had done this maybe half a dozen times, and he was starting to get good at it; I felt the invasion, but there was less of that rattling, jangling sensation, like being hit on the numb­ing point of the elbow except in the brain. I sat still and waited it out, thinking of nothing but what was going on inside my head. Thinking about what is going on inside your head is a good way to make yourself miserable, if you haven’t any other methods handy, but there was no way around it. As he sniffed and poked through the nooks and crannies of my thinking gear, I’d get flashes, unbidden, of moments of my past. I remembered the descent into Deathgate, the sight of my hands gripping the ropes, their feel against my palms, and sometimes I’d look down and see the top of Morrolan’s head below my feet, the roar of the falls in my ears. I remembered the feel of Cawti’s breath, fast in my ear, my hand in the small of her back as we explored each other. I remembered the feel of a ship’s deck beneath my feet, the creaking of the sails, and the endless blue-green of the sea. I remembered the Necromancer’s cold, cold fingers on my soul, the edge of Blackwand against my throat, the voice of the Imperial Inquisitor as the Orb circled my head and the Empress looked on, and the laugh of the Serioli who led me by circuitous routes to the Wall of Baritt’s Tomb.

It indicated how much better Loiosh was getting that so few of these memories were unpleasant.

Presently he said, “All right, Boss.”

“All right?”

“All right.”

“What do you mean, ‘all right’?”

“I mean ‘all right.’”

“All right, as in, all is right?”

“That’s the all right I meant, Boss.”

“Okay, I think I got that part. Now the tough one: How certain are you?”

He hesitated. “Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“What do you mean, ‘pretty sure’?”

“I mean ‘pretty sure.’

That wasn’t exactly the answer I wanted. I’ve found I often don’t get exactly the answers I want, but I keep asking questions anyway.

“And, Boss—”

“Yes?”

“Now I’m seeing it, too.”

“Well, that’s something then. Either I’m not under a glamour, or you are as well.”

“Heh. I’m a jhereg, Boss. The being hasn’t been spawned that could put a glamour on me.”

“Cocky little son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”

“Damn right.”

“I’m back,” I announced to the room in general. No one cheered immediately, but I got a smile from Teldra. I said, “Loiosh believes my brain has probably not been tampered with, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Probably?” said Aliera, frowning.

I shrugged. “Best I can do; take it for what’s it’s worth. And he’s now seeing the same thing I am.”

“Which means,” said Aliera, shrugging, “that perhaps he is under a glamour as well.”

I said, “He’s a jhereg. The creature hasn’t been spawned that could put a glamour on him.”

Aliera frowned, looked over at Morrolan as if to see if he was convinced, then shrugged.

Loiosh said, “Thanks, Boss.”

“No problem, chum.”

I said, “Now, Morrolan, can you tell me what happened?”

“What happened?” asked Morrolan. He was leaning against the wall near where we’d been chained up, arms folded, looking cool and imperturbable.

“The attempt to get us home.”

“Oh. Nothing happened. They sealed the gate.”

“Then we’re stuck here?”

“For the moment, yes.”

“I see. Is sealing your gate, uh, easy to do?”

“No.”

“Why would they want to keep us here now, when they could have kept us here the first time?”

“I don’t know,” said Morrolan. “And I should very much like to. Is this all part of a plan of theirs, or are they improvising as much as we are? You perceive it is a rather important ques­tion.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only paranoid in the room,” I said.

“It isn’t paranoia, Vlad, if they really are—”

“So I’ve heard. Okay, so we can spend all our time won­dering if they have all this planned and every step we take is according to their wishes, and when they have us good and ready, they’ll crush us like bugs. Or, alternately, we can stop worrying about what moves they’re going to pull on us, and start thinking about what moves we’re going to pull on them.”

Morrolan sniffed and said, “Good idea, Vlad. How do you plan to go about it?”

“Nothing fancy,” I said. “I had just planned to kill them, and go from there.”

Aliera shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt,” she said. 10. Courtesy Toward Inanimate Objects

“Tell me about this rock,” said Aliera.

“All right,” I said. I walked over and stood in front of it. “The edges are all jagged. It looks like a large piece of something that was once even larger, if that gives you any idea. I told you about the colors, but there’s also a very thin sort of purplish vein running along one side.”

Aliera said, “Does it seem at all crystalline?”

“No, not... well, yes, I guess sort of, if you look at it right.”

Morrolan nodded. “Well, Aliera?”

She nodded and said, “Trellanstone.”

Morrolan nodded.

I said, “If you don’t mind—”

“Trellanstone,” said Aliera, “is what the Imperial Orb was fashioned from.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well. And here I thought it might be some­thing interesting.”

About then I caught something in Aliera’s eyes, and then in Morrolan’s, and realized that they were both a lot more ex­cited about this than they were willing to let on.

“I don’t suppose,” I said, “that either of you have studied Orb-making? I can see where having an Orb might be useful right around now.”

“Certainly,” said Aliera. “Then all we’d need would be a source of amorphia.”

“Oh, we have that,” I said, enjoying dropping it into the middle of the conversation, like, “Oh, the Easterner? Yes, he’s the Empress’s consort.”

I certainly got Morrolan and Aliera’s attention quickly enough. “What are you talking about?” said Morrolan.

“Lady Teldra and I went for a walk while we were waiting for you. It’s a lovely place, really, except for the air and how heavy you feel. There is a river of amorphia just outside of that door.”

They both glanced over at Teldra. You could see them thinking, “That’s it. Poor Vlad’s mind has snapped at last.” But Teldra nodded and said, “He is quite correct.”

“A river of amorphia,” repeated Morrolan, almost reverently.

“Impossible,” said Aliera. She turned to Morrolan. “Isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “I can’t imagine how such a thing could be. We need to look at this.”

“Yes,” said Aliera.

“I’ll wait here,” I told him. “If the Jenoine emerge, shall I ask them to wait, or suggest they return when it is more con­venient?”

Aliera snorted. There was a lot of that going around. Having made her statement, she turned and headed toward where I told her the door was, stopped, and turned back.

“Where is the bloody door?” she said.

I managed not to chuckle, started to answer, but Morrolan said, “One thing at a time, please. I, too, wish to observe this thing, but I wish first to address the issue of why Vlad can see what we cannot, and what, if anything, we can do about it.”

I could see that Aliera wanted to argue with him, but ap­parently couldn’t find any good pretext, so she clamped her jaw shut, and returned. I found I was enjoying this: two sorcerers, who had to be dying to investigate one of the most remarkable discoveries in the history of magical philosophy, and they were just going to have to wait.

To add some more confusion into the mix, I said, “Excuse me. This rock-that-turns-into-Orbs. Would you mind telling me about it?”

“It’s magical,” said Aliera dryly.

I glanced over at Teldra, but she was just standing, near the wall, the epitome of patience. I turned back to Aliera and said, “Thanks loads.” She started to speak, but I cut her off. “Look, there’s too much I don’t understand here, and neither do you. If we’re going to work this together, I’d like to have some idea of what this stuff is we’re talking about. We’re paralyzed until we have at least a reasonable guess about what is real and what isn’t.”

“I have never,” said Aliera, “had any particular problem knowing what is real.”

“Oh, no? Think about it. Morrolan is right. Why do I see what you don’t? Whose mind has been tampered with? What is the illusion? And, more important, why? That’s the part that really bothers me. I can understand casting an illusion in front of all our eyes, but why then remove it from one of us, or some of us, whichever it is?”

Aliera frowned. “All right,” she said. “Granted. I don’t know.”

Morrolan cleared his throat. “It is possible,” he said, “that removing the illusion was an error. We still don’t know exactly what happened while you were gone. Did you, for example, use your chain?”

I was suddenly very aware of Spellbreaker, wrapped around my wrist. “Yes,” I told him. “As it happens, I did. At least, in my mind. I thought about it. Could just invoking Spellbreaker in my mind have broken the illusion?”

“Perhaps,” said Morrolan.

“Perhaps,” I agreed. “Then again, perhaps not? How can we tell?”

“Let me think about that,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed. “While you’re thinking, could you fill me in a little?”

“On what?”

“For starters, just what is that rock?”

“Well,” said Morrolan, “you know, basically, how sorcery works, right?”

“I know how to do the simple stuff, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I’m talking about how it works. The theory.”

“Oh. No, I’m proud to say I haven’t a clue.”

“Oh,” said Morrolan, with a look that indicated he was sud­denly stumped. I took a perverse pride in that. I guess I was in a mood.

Aliera came to his rescue. “The basic idea,” she said, “is simple enough: Everything is made of matter, or energy, which is the same thing in a less organized form. Amorphia is the opposite of matter. The purple vein in that rock is necrophia. Necrophia is a substance which can control amorphia, and which responds to the human—or Eastern—brain. Sorcery is the art of learning to manipulate necrophia, as Elder Sorcery is the art of learning to manipulate amorphia.”

She stopped, as if she were done. Heh. I said, “And necromancy?”

“The art of using necrophia, and amorphia, to control the energy levels of different life-states.”

Oh, well, now I understood everything. Heh. I said, “And witchcraft?”

She looked at me, blinked, then turned to Morrolan.

“Witchcraft,” he explained, “is something else again.”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, good. That helps.” Before they could respond, I remarked, “I’ve never heard of necrophia before.”

“Your education,” said Aliera, “is sadly lacking.”

Morrolan said, “Witchcraft is a process of understanding and changing—the more you understand a thing, the more you can change it, and the more you work to change it, the more deeply you understand it. Sorcery is a process of correspondence—the minute amounts of energy generated by the mind must be made to correspond to the Orb, which in turn permits the release of the energy contained in the Sea of Amorphia, and this energy thus becomes available to use to manipulate the world.”

“You should have been a teacher.”

He ignored me. “That rock you describe contains an ore that has the property of resonating with amorphia, and with our minds; that is why the Orb was constructed from it.”

“All right, I can see that. Mmmm. I imagine it is rare?”

“It only appears as a gift from the gods.”

“Okay, that would be rare. Is it sentient?”

“How could it be sentient?”

“You’re right,” I said. “Stupid question.” I don’t know if he caught the irony, but I’m fairly sure Aliera did; she smirked. I continued, “All right, I think I see a bit of how the parts fit together. Now: Why would the jenoine put us in a room with this in it?”

He didn’t have an answer for that one. Morrolan has always been better at understanding how objects work than how other beings are thinking.

Teldra said, “They don’t think the way we do.” Because it was Teldra, I didn’t make any remarks. She continued, “They don’t consider us enemies in the same way we consider them enemies; nor do they see us as threats. They worry about our escaping the way one might worry about a pet greeterbird making its way out of its cage; and they worry about our damaging their artifacts the way one might worry about a pet kitten getting into the jewelry box. By sealing the area against necromantic gates, and laying a mild glamour on us so that we cannot see the objects in the room, they believe they have done enough.”

There was a moment of silence; then Morrolan cleared his throat. “How long have you known this?” he said.

“I suppose, in a way, since I spoke to them. What I have just told you, my lord, only occurred to me this instant. I am still considering the matter and trying to understand, but it seems to me that they spoke to me—insofar as I could perceive tone—in the tone one might use to, well, a greeterbird. They were amused that I could form any sort of coherent thought; they think we’re cute.”

“Cute,” said Aliera e’Kieron.

“Cute,” said Morrolan e’Drien.

“I am cute,” said Loiosh.

I said, “And that didn’t, uh, annoy you at all?”

“I thought it interesting,” said Teldra. “Actually, I didn’t put it together in exactly that way; I’ve been thinking about it since the conversation, and that is my conclusion.”

“Hmmmm,” I said.

“Cute,” repeated Aliera.

“All right,” said Morrolan. “I think we can accept that. So, what do we do?”

“Kill them,” said Aliera.

Morrolan rolled his eyes. “Of course we’re going to kill them,” he said. “I meant, how?”

“I wonder,” said Aliera, and her voice trailed off.

Morrolan waited, then said, “Yes?”

Aliera hesitated, then finally said, “Do you suppose, if Vlad were to strike us with Spellbreaker, it would break the glamour on us?”

Morrolan frowned his thoughtful frown. I contemplated giv­ing Morrolan and Aliera a good, hard whack apiece, and tried to refrain from smiling. Morrolan said, “I believe it would be less likely to remove the glamour than to, uh, damage many of the items you and I carry about with us, if you understand what I mean.”

Aliera nodded. Oh, well. I wouldn’t have enjoyed hitting Teldra anyway.

“But,” said Morrolan, “I do want some way to remove the glamour; that stone could be very useful. And, perhaps, some of the other things in here could be useful as well. Have you any ideas, cousin?”

She shook her head. Then Lady Teldra cleared her throat; conversation stopped and we all stared at her. It would have been terribly embarrassing if she’d had nothing more than the need to clear her throat. But, no, she said, “It is just possible that the stone itself could help.”

Aliera frowned. “I don’t understand. If we can’t even see it ... ?” She was a lot more polite than she’d have been asking that question of Morrolan or me.

Teldra said, “Vlad can see it.”

Morrolan scowled. “The air in this place must slow my brain down. You’re right, of course.”

I cleared my throat; quite a different effect than when Teldra did it. “Uh ... what exactly does this involve?”

“Nothing you haven’t done before,” said Morrolan.

“Heh. There are many things I’ve done before—”

“You must let me see through your eyes,” he said. “It is a simple enough spell, as you recall.”

“Yeah, I know that. But there’s a no sorcery here. Can we do it with pure psychic energy?”

“Not reliably enough,” he said. “But we have no need to.”

“Oh? Without sorcery, what do you use as a link?”

For answer, he drew Blackwand. I recoiled instinctively from the assault on my mind—the feeling, something in between hearing and smell, of a hungry animal; a feeling that has to have been built into me at some level of instinct or below, that made me aware of the sweat in my armpits, and how hard it was to breathe, and made the room, however large it was, seem too close.

Suddenly I wasn’t having fun anymore. “I’d rather not touch the blade, if it’s all the same to you,” I said.

He seemed amused; maybe it was his turn to have fun. He said, “Well, I’m certainly not going to let you hold her.”

“I—”

“Don’t worry; she doesn’t bite.”

I stared at the dark, dull grey blade, then back at Morrolan. “Yeah, right.”

“Do it, Vlad.”

“I—”

“Do it.”

I took a deep breath, hesitated, then laid my palm on the blade quickly, before I could think about it too much. It was faintly warm, which metal isn’t supposed to be. And it almost seemed as if it were vibrating, or trembling, just a little.

“Okay, dammit, do it before—”

“Keep still, Vlad. I have to concentrate.”

I tried to keep my growl inaudible.

Loiosh’s feet shifted on my shoulder; he wasn’t liking this either. I can’t say why, and it doesn’t make sense, but that made me feel a little better.

The most terrifying things, in some ways, are those that catch us off guard—a shock out of nowhere, danger unanticipated, all that. And yet, in other ways, to see something coming, know it is about to happen, and be unable to prevent it has its own special terror. But there are times—rare, but they happen when you see the danger before you, it builds up, you brace yourself—and then it’s over, before you had time to really get a good scare going, much less the unpleasantness that you were scared of.

This was like that.

Morrolan said, “Okay, I’m done.”

“You’re done?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?” Even as I questioned him, my hand was free from that blade, jumping off as if of its own volition. “That’s it,” said Morrolan.

“Uh ... did it work?”

He nodded and turned to Aliera. “All right, cousin. Your turn.”

“I don’t feel any different,” I said.

They ignored me. Loiosh said, “Boss, it would be Morrolan who feels different.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I knew that.”

Now Aliera drew Pathfinder, but she swung it over toward Morrolan; it no longer had anything to do with me, so I was free to back away. I did so.

Presently, Aliera turned to Lady Teldra. “This will be trickier,” she said.

Teldra nodded and came forward; I didn’t want to watch, so I walked over to Morrolan. “Well?” I said.

“Well what?”

“Are you now seeing—”

“Yes.”

Creep.

“So, how was my description?”

He glanced around the room, and grunted; I imagine so he wouldn’t have to tell me how good a job I’d done. Teldra, by this time, was blinking rapidly and looking all about.

“Okay then,” I said. “We’ve gotten this far. What next?”

No one answered me directly, but Aliera looked at the door that she could now, evidently, see quite clearly. Then she looked inquiry at Morrolan. He winced. It was obvious that he wanted to go exploring, and was damned curious to see our river of amorphia; it was equally obvious that he didn’t think it was what he should do just then.

“All right,” said Aliera, who could read him as well as I could. “We’ll wait on that.” She went over to the rock, and began studying it; her hands reached out as if to touch it, stopped, drew back. She frowned.

“Yes,” she said. “It is trellanstone.” She smiled suddenly, “And a nice, big, juicy one, too.” Her eyes were green, and looked alarmingly catlike, and I would have gotten worried if I hadn’t been worried already.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s hear it.”

“It’s simple enough,” said Aliera. “The trellanstone will per­mit us to break through whatever is blocking—”

“No,” said Morrolan.

“What do you mean, no?”

“That isn’t how we’re going to do it.”

“Oh?” said Aliera. “It isn’t? Then, pray, how are we going to do it?” She let the irony drip from her lips onto the floor and crawl over to rub against Morrolan’s leg.

My eyes rolled up of their own accord. I walked to the far side of the room, pretty much out of earshot, because listening to Morrolan and Aliera yell at each other was already getting old; I found it was not one of the things I missed, although it had never bothered me before. I wondered if being away from people had changed me, made me less patient with minor annoyances.

“No, Boss, it’s just made you introspective.”

“Shut up, Loiosh.”

“Impatient, too.”

I sent a psychic growl in his direction, then sat down against a wall and leaned my head back. Morrolan and Aliera, after an instant of conversation, walked out of the door Teldra and I had found. I blinked. Well, I suppose they figured if they were going to argue, they might as well investigate our story at the same time.

Teldra came over and sat down next to me. I said, “Well, whatever happens, it has been a pleasure having the chance to speak with you.”

“Thank you, Vlad. I feel the same way.”

I wondered if she really did. That’s the tricky part about the Issola; you can never be certain how they are feeling. Maybe it doesn’t bother Dragaerans, not knowing how someone is actually feeling, but we Easterners aren’t like that. I wondered if it bothered Teldra to know that, when she really, actually liked someone, that person would always have to wonder how much was genuine, and how much was show.

After some time, Morrolan and Aliera came back through the door, approached us, and Morrolan said, “All right, we have a plan.”

“That’s lucky,” I told him.

His eyes narrowed, but he must have decided to let it pass, Best for him.

“Worked yourself into a mood, haven’t you Boss?”

I mentally grunted at my familiar. Morrolan said, “We’re going to attempt something with the trellanstone. We’re going to—”

“Use it to break through whatever is blocking you from opening the gate?”

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. Then he slowly and carefully explained the plan to me. Teldra gave nary a twitch of an eyebrow, and Aliera’s eyes had turned blue. When Morrolan was finished, he said, “Are there any questions?”

I hardly knew where to begin. I said, “How did you come up with that idea?”

“In part, because of your river of amorphia. The fact that they have it changes everything. And, moreover, this is some­thing that—I believe—lies within our power.”

I grunted at him and muttered, “If all you’ve got’s a stick, everything looks like a kneecap.”

“Beg pardon?” said Morrolan.

“Never mind; old Jhereg saying.”

He graced me with a look of distaste and turned to Lady Teldra. “You are clear on your role?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Aliera?”

She rolled her eyes, which Morrolan and I took as an affir­mative.

“Then let’s begin.”

“He didn’t ask if I was ready.”

“And I’m not going to either.”

Morrolan took a position next to the trellanstone, hovering over it like a goose over her goslings. Aliera stood in front of it, to Morrolan’s left, and laid her hands on it, touching and feeling it as if looking for handholds. For this stage, Teldra and I were back and out of the way, watching. Aliera’s hands came to rest, and she nodded to Morrolan. He licked his lips. I rec­ognized that gesture—I’d been there often enough myself, just before trying something difficult and a little scary.

Sometimes it almost seemed as if Morrolan were human. He placed his hand on the stone, near Aliera’s. Presently he said, “All right, I’m getting something.”

“Yes,” she said.

I couldn’t see her face, but I saw the concentration in the muscles of her back, and in Morrolan’s case, in the muscles of his jaw. They were working. It was nice to see for a change. They fell silent, I assume communicating psychically; Teldra and I waited patiently for them to finish. Or, rather, Teldra waited patiently; I waited. Presently my feet started to hurt; standing hurts more than walking. I shifted from foot to foot and tried to catch Teldra’s eye, but she was watching the sorcerers work. Abruptly, and for no reason I could see, the veins in the stone began to glow—not much, you had to be watching closely, but it was there, like a yellow phosphorus, if you can imagine such a thing.

Morrolan said, “Okay, Vlad. Get ready.”

“I’m ready,” I told him, which wasn’t entirely a lie. I let Spellbreaker fall into my hand, and felt a very small, subtle vibration running through it, almost a tremble, as of eagerness.

“Boss—”

“Not now, Loiosh.I don’t want to think about it.”

Easier said than done, that not thinking about it business; but I really didn’t want any distractions just then, because if Morrolan’s plan worked, things were just about to get interesting. I touched the rapier at my side, started to check my daggers before remembering that most of them were lying in pieces around the room. My hand accidentally touched the sheath of the Morganti blade I still carried; my hand then returned to the hilt of my sword and remained there, so I looked like I was ready to draw in a hurry—like I was ready for action. Maybe Morrolan would be impressed if he glanced over at me. Maybe if the Jenoine showed up suddenly they’d see how ready for action I was and die of fear.

“I’m getting something,” said Aliera. “It’s opening.” I happened to notice her hands, which now gripped the stone very tightly; her fingers were white. I looked for some change in the stone itself, but didn’t see anything.

“All right, Vlad,” said Morrolan, in that tone of voice uses when he’s keeping tight control on his emotions—which is usually, now that I think of it.

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, and, under my breath, I began an invocation to Verra. It was one of the old ones, one of the first I had ever learned, and I shan’t repeat it here. At first, I was only going through the motions, but soon enough I felt Morrolan’s presence, and, through him, Aliera’s, pointing out to me the direction, as it were, in which to, well, direct my efforts. I recited the invocation over and over, trying for some sort of response, or at least the feeling that I was getting through.

It is strange, the things I’ve done to the inside of my own head. In one way or another, that is where all magic is; that is what all magic is, and that is why it is magic—you treat the contents of your skull as if they were a sort of world that you can walk around in, filled with objects that you can manipulate; creatures with whom you can communicate; landscapes that you can observe. This bit of witchcraft is a narrow stream, and you dip your feet in it and splash. This piece of sorcery is a lever you can move stones with, and you grunt and sweat until it moves and you feel the satisfaction of watching it roll down a hill. And the invocation was a chat with a Demon Goddess who bore only the most passing and coincidental relationship to the being I had met, who had from time to time aided me, and who had used and was using me for purposes I was only beginning to have a glimmering of.

The conversation was strictly one-sided; how could it not be, being a creation of myself with myself. One-sided, yet (and here is the magic) it must have done something, because as stood upon that world whose air was nearly unbreathable, in that room whose contents were nearly unknowable, doing things to my head that are nearly indescribable, feeling a connection within me in a language almost untranslatable, there appeared before my real eyes a hint of red and golden sparks generated by nothing, that shimmered there for a moment, until they took

shape, solidified, and became the Goddess herself, who appeared standing, tall,composed, and with a wry look, and she said, “Well, I’m here. Now you must tell me, are you traitors, or fools?” 11. Disagreements with Deities

All sorts of replies came to mind, but I managed to hold them back. Letting Morrolan and Aliera deal with her would be more fun.

The Goddess stood taller than Morrolan, and glared down at him. He put on his supercilious look and seemed unimpressed with her glare; if it was an act, it was a good one, and if it wasn’t he had a remarkable amount of confidence in himself. Or he was a complete fool, which I’d suspected for some years. Or, at any rate, a Dragonlord, which is much the same thing.

He said, “You believe they planned all this, Verra? That they wanted you here? Fine. So what? Sethra believes—”

“Sethra,” said the Goddess scornfully.

It had never occurred to me that I might one day hear “Sethra” pronounced scornfully; that would have to count as the big shocker for the day.

Morrolan shrugged. Aliera said, “Sorry if you were incon­venienced, Mother, but we were tired of waiting around.”

“It isn’t a matter of convenience, my dear. It is a matter of permitting them to bring me to a place where they can destroy me.”

Morrolan said, “Most of a day, I believe.” I stared at Morrolan for a second, trying to figure out how that made sense in regard to anything, then decided not to try.

“I shan’t let them,” said Aliera.

Verra said, “You shan’t let them?”

“That is correct.”

“My darling Aliera—”

Teldra cleared her throat, and instantly had everyone’s at­tention. She said, “Our apologies, Goddess, if we have been precipitate. But may I beg you to tell us, now that we have acted, what we ought to do?”

The Goddess smiled, as one might at a kitten rolling on the floor playing with a piece of string. She said, “Ah, my little Issola. How sweet. Well, I will answer your question. First, we—” She stopped in midsentence, stared at something over Teldra’s shoul­der, and said something that sounded like, “kyrancteur!”

At first I thought it was an exclamation in some foreign language, or else she’d suddenly recognized a friend who was invisible to the rest of us, but then Morrolan said, “Yes. Or trellanstone, if you prefer; that is the name we have always known it by.”

“How could it have come to this place?”

“It is,” said Morrolan. “With Vlad’s help, using an old in­vocation,” which, in case you didn’t notice, made no sense at all.

Verra didn’t seem bothered by the non sequitur. “I see,” she-said slowly. I looked up at her bony face, with its slightly askew forehead, and strange jawline, and deep-set eyes, and the thought suddenly came to me: She’s scared.

I found myself thinking, Dear Verra, protect us, before I caught myself. She glanced at me, and a smile flickered briefly around her lips, then went out. She turned her eyes once more to the trellanstone. Presently she asked, “What was it, exactly, that Sethra said?”

Morrolan cleared his throat, started to answer, stopped, and finally said, “There was a great deal of military theory in it.”

“That doesn’t astonish me,” said the Goddess.

“I might summarize it by saying that complex enemy plans are the easiest to defeat, and we shouldn’t be afraid of walking into a trap.”

“Uh huh. What else?”

“She reminded me that they can be killed.”

“So can we all.”

Morrolan shrugged. “I have never liked giving up the ini­tiative.”

“Nor I,” I muttered under my breath, earning me a quick glance from the Goddess, who evidently had very good hearing.

“And yet, my love,” said Verna to Morrolan, “we are here, on their world, and they can appear if and when they wish, so they have the initiative. And if little Sethra is that certain, why isn’t she here herself?”

“Mother,” said Aliera. “You know the answer to that very well.”

Verra gave her an indulgent smile. “Perhaps I do.”

“I don’t,” I remarked, but they all ignored me.

“Moreover,” continued Aliera, “you also know, I am certain, that if you hadn’t wanted to come, you wouldn’t have. You are no demon to be summoned and dismissed, and no one here except perhaps our Easterner could take you for one.”

“Could I have refused a plea for help from my daughter?”

Aliera snorted. “Easily.”

Verra chuckled. “My darling child, you don’t know me as well, perhaps, as you think you do.”

Morrolan said, “It is the only means we have of learning,” which made no sense whatsoever; I was starting to get used to that though.

Aliera herself didn’t deign to respond. The Goddess spread her arms and gave Morrolan an exaggerated bow. “Very well, then,” she said. “You have summoned me, and I am here. What, exactly, is your plan?”

Aliera and Morrolan looked at each other.

After an embarrassing moment, Verra said, “You don’t have a plan?”

“Not exactly,” said Morrolan.

“Plans are overrated,” I said. “Let’s just start killing things. If there’s nothing else around, we can always kill each other.”

“Don’t tempt me,” said Morrolan.

I snorted. Verra said, “Perhaps you should allow the three of us to confer, my dear Easterner.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll just amuse myself by exchanging sarcastic comments with Loiosh.”

“No doubt you will,” she said.

Lady Teldra was standing across the room, as calm and patient as an issola, as if waiting for some call that hadn’t come. She had taken herself away from the conversation while no one was watching. I reflected on what a fine skill it would be to know when you weren’t wanted at a place you didn’t want to be, so you could make everyone happy by going away. I walked over to her. She looked up at me, a slightly quizzical expression on her face. I said, “How do you do that, Teldra?”

She smiled and raised her eyebrows, and came as close to looking smug as I’d ever seen her.

I said, “So, all right, how do the laws of courtesy tell us we should handle this mess?”

“The laws of courtesy,” she said, still smiling, “are strangely silent on the subject.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“In any case,” she added, “I think you know them as well as I do.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “If there’s anything I know, it’s courtli­ness and good manners. I’m even better at politesse than I am at refining petroleum.”

“I know little of petroleum, Vlad, but I do know that you are actually quite skilled in the arts of courtesy.”

“Right.”

Behind me, Aliera and Morrolan were continuing to speak to the Goddess, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. In the event, this did not displease me.

“It is the simple truth, Lord Taltos. It is how you survived for so long in the world you used to inhabit—or, more precisely, the worlds.”

I bit back a smart reply and just waited. After a moment, she said, “The Jhereg has its own rules and customs, you know—codes of appropriate behavior. You couldn’t have survived among them without knowing what all of their signals mean. And I’ve seen you with my Lord Morrolan. That is another different set of codes.”

I snorted. “I’ve almost pushed him far enough to kill me. More than once.”

“I know that, too,” she said.

“Well then?”

“What stopped him from killing you?”

“His strong sense of self-interest combined with iron self-control.”

“I don’t believe that is entirely correct, Lord Taltos. I know him rather well, I think, and there are severe limits to his self-control, whereas there are no limits to his pride. Had you pushed far enough, you would have faced a mortal contest.”

Morrolan, Aliera, and the Goddess all turned and walked out the door. I guess if you put a pretty little stream outside your door, people will want to look at it. I hoped the Jenoine would feel gratified.

“Okay,” I said to Teldra. “Look. I’ll concede that, over the years, I’ve learned that there’s no point in making a bad situa­tion worse, and that it’s less work to talk yourself out of a tough spot than to slice your way out, and that words, while potentially deadly, are less deadly than Morganti daggers. But I don’t think that is quite the same thing as being courteous.”

“I believe, Lord Taltos, that it is very much the same thing. And you know more than those things, if I may say so. You know when a casual insult is, in fact, courteous under the cir­cumstances—and when it is not. You know when to make a friendly gibe, and when the gibe is not quite so friendly, but still called for. You know how to negotiate from a position of weak­ness but make it appear to be a position of strength. These are the sorts of things I’m talking about. And do you know how many of our folk—and yours—never learn these lessons that appear so simple to you?”

“Maybe, being an Easterner, I have a natural talent.”

“You forget how many Easterners I have known, Vlad. Your people have no such natural talent. In fact, the conditions under which your people live tend to promote the opposite: an irritating obsequiousness, or an aggravating combativeness.”

After a moment’s thought, I said, “That’s true.”

She nodded. “It is really all a question of taking appropriate action for the circumstances. I’m sure you realize that I could have this conversation with few others—human or Eastern—that I know. Some it would embarrass, others it would merely confuse.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“You have learned, faster than some of my own House, what actions—and words are only a special case of actions—are appropriate to the moment.”

“A survival skill, Teldra.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ah. That’s your point, isn’t it?”

She smiled, making me feel like my grandfather had made me feel when I had managed the correct riposte after parrying a lowline cut.

Morrolan, Aliera, and Verra returned at this point, speaking in low tones. I gestured toward them and said, “And the Goddess?”

“What about her?”

“What need has she of courtesy?”

“Toward her peers, the same as you or I. Toward us? None. Many of the gods, I believe most of them, display a certain degree of courtesy even though none is needed. Those who don’t acquire a reputation.”

“For being, say, chaotic?”

“Yes.”

“So it is all a question of courtesy?”

“It is all a question of doing the appropriate thing. Of acting as the situation calls for.”

“Appropriate thing. You keep saying that, Teldra. When someone walks up to me and says, ‘Out of the way, whiskers, you’re blocking the road,’ is it appropriate to bow and say, ‘Yes, my lord?’ Is it appropriate to suggest his mother was a toothless norska? Or to quietly step out of his way? Or to urinate on his boot? Or to pretend to ignore him? Or to put a knife into his left eye? Just what does appropriate mean, anyway?”

“Any of those things might be appropriate, Vlad, and I daresay there are circumstances where you might do any of them. But you are always, or nearly always, correct in which you choose. And this is not a matter of instinct, but of observation, attention to detail, and experience. Appropriate action means to advance your own goals, without unintentional harm to anyone else.”

“Unintentional harm.”

“Yes.”

“By Verra’s tits,” I said, forgetting then remembering that be pair of them weren’t all that far away, “you’re as cold as Morrolan, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Teldra, “I suppose so. Or as cold as you.”

“Me? I’m not cold. I’m the soul of compassion, understanding, and courtesy.”

“Yes,” said Teldra, dimpling. “You are indeed. But only when it is appropriate.”

I chuckled. And, “Okay. I’m convinced. All problems are matters of courtesy, and I am the personification of tact. So, to return to the question, what is the appropriate thing for us to do now?”

“I have no idea,” said Teldra, still smiling. “I imagine that is what our friends are discussing right now.”

I glanced over at them: heads together, deep in conversation.

“Great,” I said. “I can hardly wait to see what they’ll come up with.”

“I have no doubt,” said Teldra, “that it will be entertaining.”

I nodded. “Entertaining. Good. That’s always been high on my list for the kind of plan I need to get out of a fix.”

She didn’t reply. I shrugged, gave her a hint of a bow, and wandered over to the others. As I approached, they all stopped talking and looked up, like they’d been caught at something.

“Well?” I said. “Have we come up with the ultimate solution to all of our physical and spiritual problems? Have we saved the world, made sure the Empire is secure, and—”

“That will do, little Easterner,” said the Goddess, giving me a look that made me question what Teldra had just been telling me. I restrained an insolent shrug, perhaps answering the question.

“What do you think, Loiosh? Am I the very soul of tact, discretion, manners, and courtliness?”

“Am I a three-legged tiassa?”

“]ust checking.”

“We have decided,” said Verra, “that if the Jenoine are not polite enough to appear suddenly and force us into action, we will attack them.”

“That took serious discussion?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, okay. I sort of suspected you might come up with that one. Have you worked out the details yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Okay. How are you going to try to get me killed this time?”

“This time,” said Verra, “we just might succeed.”

“Heh. You should be so lucky.”

Morrolan said, “We’re trying to reach the Necromancer. We’re hoping she—”

“The Necromancer!”

“Yes. We’re hoping—”

“With you and Aliera and the Goddess and Sethra Lavode we don’t have enough of a concentration of power? You need to bring the Necromancer in on this? How ‘bout the Empress, for the love of V ... something or other.”

Morrolan waited for me to run down, then spoke again “We’re trying to reach the Necromancer,” he said. “We’re hoping she can find the Jenoine, and a way to get at them. Our problem at the moment is reaching the Necromancer.”

“Why do you need the Necromancer at all? Why not have Aliera do it?”

“What are you talking about, Vlad?” asked Aliera a bit im­patiently.

“Pathfinder,” I said, and suddenly they were all staring at me.

Then, “Pathfinder,” repeated Aliera.

“Damn,” said Morrolan.

“How did I manage to not think of that?” said Verra.

“How did I manage to not think of it?” said Aliera.

“Pathfinder,” said Morrolan.

“All right, all right, I’m a genius,” I said. “Now we’ve thought of it. Can we get on with whatever we’re going to do?”

“I’ve never met anyone so impatient to get himself killed, Boss.”

“Shut up, Loiosh.”

“Yes,” said the Goddess, “I believe we can, as you put it, ‘get on with it.’ Aliera, your weapon?”

I involuntarily took a step back as Aliera drew, and, as the weapon cleared her sheath, I noticed something odd.

I had been in the presence of Morganti weapons a great deal more than I cared to in my brief life; and the same is true of the Great Weapons. I had become, if not used to, then at least familiar with the ugly and terrifying sensation of their pres­ence—sort of the mental equivalent of finding sour milk in one’s pitcher, combined with the feeling of waking up suddenly after a dream of being in a cave with a dzur blocking the exit while anklesnakes slithered around behind. But what was odd was that I suddenly realized that Pathfinder felt different from Blackwand. Not that it was at all pleasant, you understand, but it was as if I were picking up bits of personality from the weapon. I don’t know, maybe what is strange is that I’d never noticed it before.

Exactly what the differences were was harder to say, except that Pathfinder didn’t seem to be quite as, well, aggressive as Blackwand. Morrolan’s weapon gave me the feeling that it would love to have the chance to swallow my soul if I’d just come a little closer; from Aliera’s weapon I got the feeling that it would devour me without a second thought if I gave it the chance, but it wouldn’t go looking for me, either. Also, Blackwand gave me a strong sense of a female personality, wherein from Pathfinder I got no clear indication of a sex. Aliera’s sword, it seemed, was more patient, perhaps more protective, and there was a sense of inquisitiveness; while from Morrolan’s blade I picked up feelings of arrogance, of strength, of the desire to get to smashing things. And there were other, more subtle differences, too, that I couldn’t exactly identify but was now aware of.

I also became aware that Morrolan had said something. “Excuse me,” I said. “I was distracted. What was that?”

“I said that is a good idea, Vlad. You may need it.”

I almost said “Need what?” before I realized that I had allowed Spellbreaker to fall into my hand. It was dangling, inert, about a foot long, with tiny little links. For a second I stared at it; then I recovered and grunted something at him, and fingered it.

Aliera held Pathfifider out in front of her, the blade at about a forty-five-degree angle toward the ceiling. Her eyes were al­most but not quite closed—reminding me, crazily, of how Aibynn looked when playing his drum. I waited, sort of expecting Pathfinder to start glowing or something, but nothing of the kind happened.

After a while, Morrolan said, “You need to find—”

“Shut up, cousin,” said Aliera pleasantly.

Morrolan clamped his mouth shut, and Aliera returned to doing whatever it was she was doing. As I waited, I felt a stirring in my left hand, as if Spellbreaker were trembling a little.

“Something is happening with that thing, Boss.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“I’m not sure I like it.”

“I just wish I understood what it meant. Any Serioli around to ask?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. We’ve got everything else.”

“Okay,” said Aliera suddenly. “I’m getting something.”

|Her eyes were a little more open now, and she was focusing in front of her, in the middle distance—I followed her glance, but there was nothing there, so she was probably seeing things not apparent to a regular pair of unenchanted human eyes. I happened to look at Verra, then, and she had an expression on her face of the sort you’d associate with any mother seeing her daughter pulling off a difficult task. If I’d let myself, I could have gotten very distracted thinking about just how bizarre that was. Then I noticed that the tip of Pathfinder was trembling, very lightly. I don’t know how much you know about the science of defense, or about Aliera’s skill as a swordsman, but, believe me, that hint of movement at the tip of her blade bespoke more intensity of magic and power than a roomful of pyrotechnics. “Here we go,” said Loiosh.

I wanted to be holding my rapier, or a dagger, or something, but I didn’t know what, so I just waited.

“They aren’t far away,” said Aliera. “This world, within a few thousand feet, in fact. But ... barriers. There are barriers of some kind. I don’t yet know of what kind, or how strong. Stand closer to me.”

We did so. I made sure Teldra was between me and the Goddess, not for any particular reason except that I didn’t feel like standing next to her.

I said, “Does anyone know what we’re going to do when we get there?”

“We’re going to attack them,” said Morrolan.

“Oh.”

“We should have surprise working for us,” he added.

“Do you really think so?”

He didn’t answer. Verra said, “The theory, my little East­erner, is that they don’t actually want to kill us, or they’d have done so already.”

“What if what they wanted is to kill you, Goddess?”

“They may find that difficult.”

Aliera was murmuring under her breath—the sort of murmuring one might expect of a rider urging his horse over a dif­ficult jump.

“Can you get through them?” asked Morrolan.

“Of course,” snapped Aliera. “Now let me concentrate. Be ready.”

Be ready.

They were always saying stuff like that. Just exactly what does that mean, anyway? Be ready. Like, have your eyes open? Be certain you’ve had a good meal and used the chamber pot? Now is the wrong time for a nap? Make sure you aren’t sneezing when it happens? What, exactly? It means nothing, that’s what it means. An empty noise. “I’m ready,” I said.

“As am I,” said Morrolan.

“Yes,” said Teldra.

Verra did not deign to speak, and no one expected her to, I suppose because being a goddess means never needing to sneeze.

I was watching the trembling at the end of Pathfinder, so I saw it when it happened: A tiny spark appeared on the very tip of the blade. The trembling caused it to jump around, leaving diminutive golden trails in the air; I couldn’t tell if they were really there or were just products of my vision. Not, I suppose, that it mattered. There began to be a sensation of motion—the kind of motion that happens in dreams, where nothing changed, and my feet didn’t move, but there was the feeling as if my stomach had suddenly been left behind and needed to catch up—not the wrenching nausea of a teleport, fortunately, but still unsettling.

The sense of motion increased.

“Shallow breaths, Boss.”

“Right.”

Sometime in there, Morrolan had drawn Blackwand—it tells you how messed up my senses were that I hadn’t noticed, still didn’t feel it; all I was really aware of was the sensation of motion, as if something had pulled me from the bottom of a hill and I start up up up rolling and spinning and being everywhere at once and no place at all happening at the same time and time again you’ve been through this before you realize that you’ll never forget everything you thought you knew about moving from one place to another flash of light flickering and still mov­ing past and present and future filled with unknown dangers appearing from everywhere nowhere somewhere somehow what when where was I and how did I get here from there we are slowing down down down stop.

There were four of them; maybe two of them were the same ones we’d seen before, but I couldn’t tell them apart well enough to say. Two were standing, two sitting on what appeared to be an uncomfortable-looking couch. I’d been among humans, Dragaerans, Serioli, cat-centaurs, and gods. One way or another, they were people—but these were things. They looked like things, and I thought of them as things, and I really wanted to put them away like things.

The first bit of bad news was, the things didn’t seem startled by our presence. If we were counting on surprise, we could be in real trouble.

One of the sitting ones was holding something that appeared to be some sort of tube, with projections that fit nicely into its hand. If it was a weapon, we could be in real trouble.

It was clear that two of them, including the one with the tube, were looking at Verra. It was possible that their idea all along was to kill her, and now that we had brought her, the rest of us could simply be disposed of. If that was their thinking, we could be in real trouble.

I had no time, just then, to pay attention to surroundings—I think I noted that we were indoors, and that was about it. Things happened so quickly that I just had no time to note the sort of details that can save your life; we might be in the Jenoine equivalent of someone’s parlor, or of a sorcerer’s laboratory, or the weapon room of their Imperial Guard for all I knew. We might be surrounded by Jenoine food and drink, Jenoine books, or Jenoine death traps. If the latter, we might be in real trouble.

“I think we might be in real trouble, Boss.”

“It’s possible.”

“Let’s do it,” said Morrolan.

There was no time for any other remarks, so we all got to work. 12. Exercising Due Care for the Comfort and Safety of Others

It’s funny, but it didn’t occur to me until much later to think of it in terms of four of them and five of us. None of the ways things could have gone had much to do with numbers. Morrolan and Aliera were the first to move, Great Weapons flashing. The Goddess strode forward, right behind them, leaving Teldra and me standing there for just an instant before I cursed, put my hand on the Morganti dagger, started Spellbreaker swinging in slow circle, and tried to figure out something useful to do. Nothing came instantly to mind.

The two who were sitting remained sitting. One of the others turned its hands over as if asking why we might want to disturb it—Morrolan and Aliera began moving at this one. That left the other one for the Demon Goddess, while Teldra and I were, I guess, just along as witnesses.

It seemed like the opening of some sort of dance—Morrolan and Aliera moved toward either side of the one, who stepped forward as if to place itself between them—in the worst possible position except for letting them both stand behind it. There was a strange grace to its movements. Was it an especially athletic one of its kind? Were they all like that? How can you tell when you’re seeing something typical of a species, and when you’re seeing an interesting individual of that species? Why does my mind always wander like that when I’m frightened and don’t know what to do?

Verra, in the meantime, began to circle to her left with the other Jenoine, who obligingly circled to its left, as if it had no qualms about turning its back to me.

“Careful, Boss. The two sitting ones are watching you.”

I acknowledged the warning. But, still, I had a Morganti dagger; if the thing were willing to actually show me its back how could I resist? Offering a Jhereg your back is like offering a Dzur an insult or an Orca a free piece of merchandise: he’ll find it hard not to take it even if he has no use for it. I kept my hand on the hilt of my dagger, watched, and waited.

Two things happened, then, so close together they were almost simultaneous—one was the sudden realization on my part that the room was shrinking in all directions; in other words, the walls were collapsing inward, very quickly. The other was that Verra laughed. I know that I flinched, I don’t know if any of the others did, and then, just as quickly, the walls stopped collapsing.

“Illusion,” said Loiosh. “Never fooled me for an instant.”

“Yeah. Me, either.” I told him.

Spellbreaker was about a foot and a half long, with rather thick, heavy links; I kept it spinning slowly. Verra and the Jenoine facing her had both stopped. It was, unfortunately, just short of giving me the nice shot at its back I wanted. While both of their eyes faced forward, they were also wide-set—they had, then, better peripheral vision than humans or Dragaerans, and I needed to be aware of that when trying for a back shot.

We trained professionals notice stuff like that.

The Goddess and the Jenoine appeared to have locked gazes, I couldn’t tell if they were engaged in some sort of massive, mystical, magical struggle happening on a level beyond my comprehension, or if they were just having a good old-fashioned stare-down.

Teldra came up to my side; perhaps to share in whatever protection Spellbreaker might give, perhaps just to back me up if I was attacked.

I said “Any ideas, Teldra?” and out of the corner of my eye I saw her shake her head.

“Shallow breaths, Boss.”

“Check, Loiosh.”

My thoughts were still on the Morganti dagger at my side, but I didn’t draw it; wouldn’t know quite what to do with it. My instincts told me to wait and see what happened, that this was not yet my moment.

Then Aliera lunged suddenly with Pathfinder, and Morrolan struck with Blackwand in a downward slanting arc at the same time. Their timing was precise, their coordination perfect. It ought to have been a deadly combination, the more so as the Jenoine made no effort to avoid either attack. It worked per­fectly, except for the part where the Great Weapons were supposed to stab or cut the Jenoine; that didn’t happen. Both weapons stopped what appeared to be a fraction of an inch away from their respective targets. Offhand, I didn’t know anything tough enough to withstand the direct attack of a Great Weapon. Nor, in fact, did I want to know any such thing, or even think about it too hard.

Then I realized that whatever had neatly stopped Pathfinder and Blackwand had stopped Aliera and Morrolan as well—they were standing utterly motionless, as if frozen by their weapons’ contact, or near contact, with the Jenoine. That was no good at all.

I get the shakes when I think back on that moment—Aliera e’Kieron and Morrolan e’Drien and Pathfinder and Blackwand held motionless by these things, while Verra, whether she was doing something or not, at least wasn’t casually destroying them the way she ought to be, and, on top of it all, there were those two just sitting there, not even getting involved, as if it weren’t worth their effort. That’s how I feel now. But at the time, all I felt was irritation, especially directed at those two sons of bitches who were sitting on their superhuman godlike asses.

I really wanted to do something to get their attention.

Okay, I know how stupid that is, I should have been giving thanks to Verra—who was, after all, only a couple of feet away—that I didn’t have their attention; but maybe I was temporarily nuts or something. No, I won’t say that. I won’t plead the excuse of being off my head. I remember clearly and coldly making the decision, and putting it into action.

My right hand left the vicinity of the Morganti weapon—which, powerful as it no doubt was, was certainly not going to do anything Pathfinder and Blackwand couldn’t do—and reached into my pouch. I made my motions small and smooth to avoid attracting premature attention and, almost immedi­ately, my fingers found what I’d sent them after.

“Boss, do you know what you’re doing?”

“More or less,” I told him.

“Oh, good.”

It was, in fact, something that, years before, I had been warned in the strongest possible terms never to do again. But the first time I hadn’t had any choice. This time was different: this time I was irritated.

What I was about to do wasn’t like witchcraft: a focusing of the will, a concentration on desire; nor was it at all like sorcery: an almost mechanical application of known laws to achieve a precise result. When I’d done it before, years ago, it had been born out of anger, frustration, and desperation, and on top of it I had had my link to the Orb to provide the power to get it started. This time I had none of that—just the idea, which had been in the back of my head since my walk with Teldra, and the vague notion that I ought to do something.

But I did have a few things working for me: For one, the simple knowledge that I’d done it once before, which was by itself of incalculable value. For another, my memory, confused and imprecise, but there, of how that had felt, and where I had reached into myself, and how I had found those innate abilities inherited through the connection of my spirit to ancestors stretching back to when Sethra was young. And, for still another, I had the device in my fingers—a small, purple-blue stone, smooth as a pearl, which would act like the rendered goose fat that provides the basis of a good red pepper sauce.

I held it up.

Verra said, “Vlad!”

I remember her saying it, and maybe I was just concentrating too hard to permit myself to be distracted, or maybe I decided that this was a good time to ignore her. In any case, I reached into the stone, and into myself, and cut loose the moorings that held reality anchored to time that passes and the space that uses time, tried my best to give it some focus, and let it go.

I suddenly had the attention of all four Jenoine.

I smiled at them. “Hi there,” I said.

The two who were sitting rose to their feet far quicker than I’d have thought they could. I moved Spellbreaker, which was still spinning, a little to the side so it would be out of the way of whatever I was about to do, if I could do it. Something seized hold of the unreality between my fingers, and I felt it start to dissolve.

The two Jenoine moved toward me. I concentrated on them, imagined them dissolving into the raw, eternal, basic matter—or non-matter—of the universe, all coherence vanishing in light and shadow and formlessness.

“Vlad!” said Verra. “Don’t!”

So far, so good.

Suddenly, Aliera and Morrolan were free again—and I don’t know what had been done to them, but they didn’t like it much, because they both jerked back suddenly, as if simultaneously kicked in the chest. Morrolan sprawled on his back; Aliera man­aged to stay on her feet, but, to the extent that I could spare any attention for them, they didn’t seem happy.

Verra had stepped back from the one she faced, and was looking at me; Teldra emitted some sounds that I knew to be in the language of the Jenoine—her voice was even and level as it chirped and croaked and squeaked. Verra’s hands were up, and she was making gestures in my direction and Aliera and Morrolan were charging in again, and things got even more confused, as one of the Jenoine who had just risen said something in its own language, though it was hard to hear over the roaring sound that I realized had been steadily growing, and was coming from between my fingers, which was also the source of the reddish-golden light that was streaming out toward three of the Jenoine, who held their ground, their hands clasped together in front of them in a gesture of supplication, though no doubt it meant something else to them, and in the confusion, now that my little purple stone was entirely gone, and the light and the sound were fading, I drew the Morganti dagger to give them something else to worry about, but two of them were worrying about Verra, who seemed to have taken all the light into herself or at least she was glowing, and she seemed taller as one of them lifted its hands toward her, and another, who was still holding that odd tube, lifted it until it was pointed directly at the Demon Goddess, who said, “That was stupid, little Easterner; she couldn’t have hurt me with that thing.”

“What was stupid?”

“You okay, Boss?”

“What the-?”

“Welcome back, Vlad,” said Aliera.

“Back,” I repeated, at which point things came into focus, and I said, “Sethra! What are you—?” Then, “How did I get back to Dzur Mountain?”

“Over my shoulder,” said Morrolan.

“Damn,” I said. “I missed it, didn’t I? And I’ll bet it was fun, too.”

“It was successful,” said Aliera. “That is, we’re here.”

“How long has it been?”

Aliera said, “About an hour,” at the same time as Sethra said, “A week and a day.” They looked at each other, both started to speak, then looked at me.

I managed to say, “Never mind. My fault. I—what happen to my arm?”

Sethra hesitated, then said, “We aren’t exactly sure.”

“My arm doesn’t seem to be working,” I explained.

“I know,” said Sethra.

I felt my heart start to pound. Now was a hell of a time for it to start that. I took a deep breath, reminded myself that I shouldn’t, then realized that it was all right after all. I made myself speak evenly. “I don’t know if I’m more frightened that my arm doesn’t work, or that Sethra isn’t sure why.”

“I hope to find out,” said Sethra.

I nodded. “Well, why don’t you tell me about it.”

Of course, Aliera and Morrolan started speaking at once, glared at each other, and so on. I waited patiently. Finally, Aliera said, “Do you want the short version, or the long version?”

“Just tell me what happened, all right?”

“We attacked them. There was a skirmish. You unleashed pre-Empire sorcery, which succeeded in freeing Morrolan and me from whatever was holding us, and also, it seems, broke whatever was keeping us from our gate. No one was hurt except you—”

“None of them?”

“No.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “They’re pretty tough, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” said Morrolan.

“Okay. What happened to me?”

Morrolan and Aliera looked at Lady Teldra, who nodded and said, “Yes, I saw it. You went forward toward one of them, holding the dagger—”

“—the Morganti dagger.”

“Yes.”

I nodded. “I don’t remember ... wait ... yes, I do. I remember drawing it and moving in.”

“Yes. Then one of them aimed some sort of weapon at Verra. You interposed yourself, and—”

“I what?”

“You interposed yourself between Verra and the weapon of the Jenoine, and were struck by it somewhere high on the left arm or shoulder.”

“I didn’t really.”

“You did, Boss.”

“You did, Vlad,” said Teldra.

“Why?”

Verra chuckled. Morrolan said, “I’d give my summer palace to know.”

“You don’t have a summer palace,” I said.

“True, but I’d like one.”

“I’d like my left arm back. I can’t believe I did that.”

“None of us can,” said Morrolan.

I glanced at the Goddess, who was looking at me with an unreadable expression. I’m tired of unreadable expressions. I said, “Is that what you said was stupid, Goddess? I thought you meant my use of the Elder Sorcery.”

“That too,” said the Goddess. “You could easily have destroyed us all before I could contain it.”

“I have confidence in your Godlike abilities,” I said.

“You—”

She didn’t finish the thought. I had left a Goddess speechless. I wondered how that would count when I reached the Halls of Judgment. I said, “Spellbreaker didn’t help?”

“It isn’t that kind of magic,” said Verra helpfully.

“Then what kind is it?” I asked, more because I was annoyed than because I wanted an answer; which was just as well because the only answer I got was a slight smile from Verra. I turned to Sethra. “You don’t know what happened?”

“Not exactly. Are you in any pain?”

“No.”

She nodded. “I suspected you wouldn’t be. It probably works directly on the muscle.”

Verra said, “They had something like that when I knew them, for use on test subjects. But it was larger and clumsier.”

“Test subjects,” I repeated.

Aliera said, “Any idea how to effect a cure?”

“Not yet,” said Sethra.

“I see.”

After an uncomfortable silence, I said, “All right, then what happened?”

Morrolan said, “At about the same moment you went down, Aliera and I struck at two of them.” He glanced at Aliera, then said, “I cannot speak for my cousin, but I put a great deal into that attack.”

“Heh,” said Aliera.

“They were able to avoid physical contact with our weapons—I’m not certain of the nature of their defense—but our attack that time nevertheless appeared to discommode them.”

“Heh,” I said.

Aliera shrugged. “At any rate, they were not able to paralyze us as they had the first time. We had both struck them once before, a coordinated attack—”

“I remember that,” I said.

“I don’t know what happened next,” said Morrolan, “except at it was Verra who did it.”

The Goddess said, “I did little enough. The Easterner’s foolishness destroyed the devices that were keeping us on their world; I merely transported us off it, which you or Aliera could have done. I did take the opportunity to give them a few things to keep them out of the way. They still fear me,” she added.

“I imagine they do,” I said. “Then what?”

“I picked you up,” said Morrolan, “as the gate began to open. That was, perhaps, an hour ago.”

“An hour. That’s all?”

He nodded.

I rubbed my left arm. There was no sensation in it, but neither did it feel cold or especially warm to my right hand, for whatever that was worth. It is odd touching a lifeless limb. My fingers felt my arm, but my arm couldn’t feel my fingers. It’s a strange sensation. Try it sometime.

“A very respectable escape,” I ventured. “Well done.”

“And yourself,” said Aliera. “I must disagree with Mother; I believe your attack was worth the risk. At least, I don’t know how we’d have gotten away otherwise.”

“I do,” said Verra, giving Aliera a stern look that made me want to giggle.

Aliera shrugged. “Well, we managed it, and without much harm. That’s the important thing.”

I glanced at my injured arm, and started to object to the “without much harm” business, but didn’t.

“No,” said Morrolan. “The important thing is that Vlad, however well intentioned, invoked powers he does not understand, and cannot control, and nearly got us killed.”

“Sorry about that,” I said. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It was a good idea,” said Aliera. “It was also necessary, after my cousin made such a clumsy strike at the Jenoine—”

“It was hardly clumsy,” said Morrolan. “It was quite sufficient, or would have been, if the Jenoine had not succeeded in blocking it, as, in fact, he blocked yours. More easily, I suspect.”

“Not likely,” said Aliera. “In fact, as I recall, you were late in your—”

The worst part was, I was too weak to get up and walk away.

“I was hardly late,” said Morrolan. “If anything, you—”

“Oh, stop it,” I said.

They ignored me.

“If anything I what,” said Aliera. “Pathfinder was—”

“Stop it!” I said, and for an instant they stopped. I rushed into the void like Sethra rushed her reserves into the breach at the Battle of Ice River Crossing (actually, I know nothing about the Battle of Ice River Crossing except that there was one and Sethra was there; but it sure sounded knowledgeable, didn’t it?) I said “Can you two, just one time, give a tired and injured man a little peace? Besides, your arguments, as always, are stupid to begin with. Morrolan goes out of his way to be contentious toward Aliera because he idolizes Adron and therefore believes his daughter ought to not only be his equal in all matters, but ought to do and say everything exactly the way Morrolan imagines Adron would; and Aliera, of course, idolizes her big, powerful brave cousin Morrolan, and so has a tantrum whenever he fails to live up to the Morrolan she’s manufactured in her head. It’s infernally stupid, and I’ve been listening to it for more years than a short-lived Easterner should have to, and I’m heartily sick of it. So shut up, both of you.”

I ran down at last.

“My goodness, Boss.”

I was a bit surprised myself; I hadn’t known I knew most of that stuff until I said it, and wouldn’t have believed I’d have said it if I knew it. And now I got to sit there and wonder if, after all of Teldra’s remarks about how tactful I was, I had finally stepped over the line.

I risked a look at the pair of them.

Morrolan was looking down, a self-conscious, maybe even embarrassed smile trying to fight its way past his facial control. Aliera was blushing. Actually blushing. This was as remarkable as having astonished the Demon Goddess. I don’t know, by the way, how the Goddess reacted to my outburst, because I carefully avoided looking at her.

Morrolan cleared his throat, started to speak, then didn’t. Eventually, Sethra filled the silence with, “Well, my friends, It is certainly the case that Vlad could use a little quiet. Or, at least, less volume.”

Morrolan grunted something that sounded like agreement; Aliera looked down and nodded. They hadn’t even looked at each other. I hoped I hadn’t made things uncomfortable for them. Except that part of me hoped I had.

Before anything else could happen, I turned to Teldra and said, “I’m glad you survived.”

“I did,” she said. “Thank you.”

“What was it you were saying to them, right when I was doing whatever I was doing that created such a fuss?”

Teldra chuckled. “I suggested that it would be easier for them to resist the effects of the amorphia if they were to release Morrolan and Aliera.”

“Oh. Was that all?”

“Almost.”

“Oh?”

Lady Teldra blushed. “I’d rather not say, if you don’t mind.”

I felt my eyebrows rising. Aliera, and now Teldra. What was the Empire coming to? Morrolan chuckled and said, “A well-timed, properly delivered insult can unsettle anyone. I don’t know exactly what she discovered that a Jenoine might find so offensive as to disrupt its concentration, but I am not astonished that Teldra knew.”

“Teldra,” I said admonishingly. “Was that polite?”

“It was,” she explained, “appropriate.”

Morrolan snorted.

“In any case, we’re alive, and free. It’s over,” I said hopefully

The Demon Goddess gave a small laugh. “Over? Do you really think so? Do you imagine that your escape has foiled what ever campaign the Jenoine have begun? Or that I will be satisfied letting them continue their mischief without making any sort of counter?”

I sighed. “No, I suppose not. But I’m injured; whatever you do won’t include me, will it?”

I looked at Morrolan, Sethra, and the Demon Goddess, and sighed. “Well, can we at least have a decent meal before we do whatever it is we’re going to do?”

Sethra nodded. “I think that is an excellent idea. I’ll see to it.”

She left to have food prepared, and my stomach growled and rumbled at the idea. I closed my eyes.

I heard the sounds of people sitting, and, wounded arm or no, enjoyed the feeling of being momentarily safe. The muscles in my shoulders and neck relaxed, and I took a big lungful of normal air that I didn’t have to think about breathing.

Presently, a rough, high-pitched voice said, “Wine, my lord?”

I opened my eyes, saw Tukko, and closed my eyes again. “Yes,” I said. And, “please,” I added, because Lady Teldra was nearby. I sat up, discovering that it was harder than I’d have thought without being able to use my left hand, and took a glass of something red and sipped it. My tongue liked it—it was faintly nutty and had a bit of tang to it—but my stomach complained that it wanted something solid before I got too involved in this whole drinking business. I caught Teldra looking at me, I lifted my glass to her. “To survival,” I said.

“Yes, indeed,” she said.

Sethra returned and said, “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” he smiled at me and said, “Will you survive that long?”

“I think so,” I said. It suddenly occurred to me that, while Sethra was off giving the order for food to be prepared, Tukko, only servant I’d ever seen here, was with us. Was there a staff of cooks I’d never met? If so, why, since Sethra’s usual diet didn’t feature anything that needed cooking? If not, had she gone off to arrange for some culinary ensorcellment? Of all the myriad mysteries surrounding the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountain, I knew that this one was going to bother me. Maybe I could bring myself to ask her. Sometime when Lady Teldra wasn’t around.

I drank my wine, and Sethra sat down next to me. “Let’s see that arm,” she said. I couldn’t show it to her because I couldn’t move it, so I just shrugged my one good shoulder and looked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her holding it, rolling my sleeve back, touching it; but I felt no sensation.

I said, “Evidently the nerves have been damaged, too; I can’t feel your charming, cold, undead fingers.”

“Mmmmm,” she said. Then, “Yes, it is nerve damage, not muscle damage.” She continued her inspection. I tried to think about other things without much success.

“Is it repairable?” I asked eventually, trying to keep my voice casual, as if I were asking if a blunted dagger could be resharpened.

“I’m not sure,” she said in much the same way. Bitch.

“Good wine,” I told her. “Thanks.”

She smiled as if sharing a joke with herself and said, “You are most welcome, Lord Taltos.”

She set my arm back in my lap and said, “We’ll have to see.”

I nodded. No one spoke. I cleared my throat and said, “So, all right, what’s the plan?” 13. While in the Care of the Physicker

“It’s too soon to talk about plans,” said Morrolan. “I’m still trying to recover.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “It’s never too soon to talk about plans. Making plans is one of the great joys of my life. Sometimes, on alazy afternoon, I just sit around and make up plans. I’ve often said—”

“Be quiet, Vlad.”

“Feel better now, Boss?”

“A bit, Loiosh.”

“You know, Morrolan,” said Aliera. “He has a point. It wouldn’t hurt any to start thinking about how we’re going to go after them.”

“It’s too soon to talk about plans,” I said. “I’m still trying to recover.”

Morrolan favored me with a disgusted look.

Sethra said, “Lady Teldra, I assume you will grace us with your company at table?”

“That is kind of you,” said Teldra. “Yes, I should be de­lighted.” For a moment that confused me, until I remembered that she was Morrolan’s servant, which fact had somehow gotten lost in the last few days.

“Good,” said Sethra.

“Let me see that arm,” said Aliera abruptly. She came over and knelt down next to me, picked up my arm, and stared at it. “Nerve damage can sometimes be repaired,” she said after a mo­ment.

“Yes,” said Sethra. “Sometimes, depending on the nature of the damage. In this case, I can’t quite tell what they did.” This of course, made me feel great. What is it about physickers, or sorcerers acting as physickers, that makes them talk about the sick guy as if he weren’t in the room?

Aliera turned to Verra and said, “Mother? Do you know how it works?”

“The one I remember worked on the muscle, not the nerve.” she said.

“Well, can you help?”

“Perhaps,” said the Goddess.

Perhaps. I liked that. What’s the point of divinity if you can’t help your devoted worshipers? I sat there, my arm hanging limp, and thought evil thoughts.

Sethra suggested I lie back down and relax until we were called to table, which seemed like a good idea, so I did, and I believe I actually dozed off for a while, to be woken by Loiosh, who is quite accomplished at waking me, explaining that he was used to surviving on scraps, but if I wanted any more than that it was time for me to be moving.

I grunted and struggled up to my feet, which, as I’ve already observed and now discovered again, is harder than you’d think when shy an arm, then followed Aliera and Teldra, who were having a quiet conversation and making their leisurely way to the dining room. I sat down with Teldra on one side of me, and Sethra, at the head of the table, on the other; Morrolan and Aliera were across from us. I said, “Where is the Goddess?”

“Is that a philosophical question, Vlad?” asked Morrolan.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“She has returned to her own domain,” said Aliera.

“What, she didn’t like the menu?”

Sethra smiled at that, but gave no response; nor was one needed, because Tukko came in at that moment, carrying a large silver platter in each hand. He set one of them down between Morrolan and me, the other between Teldra and Aliera.

“Oh,” said Sethra, in a tone I’d never heard from her before.

I looked up, and she was staring at the food with a look of distress on her face. I tried to remember when I’d seen her distressed before.

“Vlad, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize what was being prepared.”

I looked at the food again, frowned, and then figured it out and chuckled. “Oh,” I said. “That’s funny, in a grim sort of way.”

My father had never approved of what he called “half-prepared food,” of which this was a sample. I don’t have a problem with it, myself—it’s sort of fun to put things together yourself, adjusting the quantities, and so on. But my father believed that a good chef made all the decisions about food; if the guest added even a bit of lemon or salt to something my father had built, then, he believed, there must be something wrong—either with the food or with the guest.

I think this says more about my father than about food.

The item before us consisted of treska leaves—fresh, green, and curly. One would spoon a tiny bit of plum sauce onto a leaf, add a minute quantity of dried kethna, a morsel of diced leek, a piece of lime, a slice of bitterwort, a sliver of ginger, and a dusting of dried red pepper. One then rolled the thing up and popped it whole into one’s mouth. I’d had versions of this be­fore—most of the islands had something like it, using dried sea­food of some kind in place of kethna, as a lovers’ snack. Cawti and I had once—but never mind that. The point is, you need two hands to prepare it, and Sethra had just realized that it was exactly the wrong thing to serve just then, and she was mortified. I was amused. Hungry, but amused.

The funniest part was that I caught Sethra glancing at Teldra. Teldra, for her part, said, “Here, I’ll wrap one for you.”

“That would be great,” I said.

She put one together for me, her long, graceful fingers nimble and precise as she measured each ingredient out on the leaf that lay in the palm of her hand; then she rolled it up in a smooth motion, and handed it to me with the least hint of a bow. I smiled at her, took it, and ate it. It was very good; the bitterwort slid through the plum sauce, and then the ginger and the red pepper sort of burst in on your tongue along with ... well, you get the idea. I had two more of them, making a point of eating slowly to give Teldra time to wrap and eat a couple of her own. Tukko came in with the next course, shuffling about and moving much quicker than it seemed he was. He gave us each what I thought was just a ball of rice, only the rice had been prepared with ginger, and saffron, and I swear a tiny bit of honey; it was quite remarkable.

“My compliments, Sethra,” I said.

“Thank you, Vlad,” which was just about the only conver­sation for some time.

The fruit was a selection of local berries, some of which I hadn’t run into before, but they were all good, and served with ice and thick cream, after which came thin slices of beef, just barely seared and seasoned with pepper and parsley and calijo, and served with fresh, thick-crusted dark bread. I couldn’t cut it with the knife, so I just set the meat on the bread and tore off bites of both.

It was very good.

I ate a great deal.

I noticed that I was sitting with my feet wrapped around the legs of my chair, which is something I’ve found myself doing when serious about eating. I stopped at once, of course; it’s hard to look tough with your feet wrapped around the legs of a chair. Sethra picked at her food, as she had the other times I’d eaten with her. I knew she didn’t eat much, for obvious reasons; I wondered if she enjoyed the flavors. Add that to my list of things I’ll never ask her, but would like the answer to.

Eventually, I sat back, stretched out, and said, “Okay, Sethra. Give me a couple of hours to digest, and I’ll take on every Jenoine you have, all at the same time.”

“Careful what you promise,” said Sethra Lavode.

“All right,” I said. “Let me rephrase that.”

Morrolan chuckled. So did Loiosh. I’m quite the jongleur when out of danger and with a meal inside me. Eventually we made our way back to the sitting room, and Tukko brought out a liqueur that was older than Morrolan and much sweeter, fea­turing the smallest traces of mint and cinnamon—an odd com­bination, but a successful one, and I’m pretty sure there was some honey in there, too.

I moaned softly. Sethra said, “Is the arm beginning to hurt?”

“No,” said Aliera. “That’s his moan of contentment after a good meal.”

“Now, how would you know that?” I asked her.

She gave me an inscrutable smile that she must have learned from Morrolan. I grunted and drank some more, and enjoyed the transitory sense of contentment I was feeling.

Sethra looked at my arm some more—and when I say she I looked at it, that’s what I mean. She stared at it so hard I’d say she was looking right through the skin, which is probably what she was doing, at least on some mystical level that I’ll never understand.

After several minutes, she said, “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can do anything about it, but it looks like I may not have to.”

“How, it’ll fix itself?”

“I think so. It seems like it might be a temporary condition. I’ve been watching the signs of activity in the nerves, and it now seems clear that it is getting better rather than degenerat­ing.”

“Degenerating,” I said. “Okay. What would that have meant?”

“Paralysis, then death, probably from suffocation when you became unable to breathe, unless your heart became paralyzed first, which would have killed you more quickly. But, as I say, it isn’t going that way, it is repairing itself.”

“Hmmm. Okay, that’s good news. Any idea how long?”

“I can’t say.”

“Remember, we Easterners don’t live more than sixty or sev­enty years.”

“I doubt we’re talking about years.”

“Good. Then I imagine you’re not going to ask me to do anything until I have two good arms, right?”

“I’m not sure we can wait, Vlad.”

“Oh? You mean, after two hundred thousand years, or whatever it’s been, things suddenly got urgent? When, yesterday?”

“Yes,” said Sethra. “I believe things have become urgent. They became urgent when Morrolan and Aliera were taken. Everything is at a new level now, and developments are taking place quickly.”

“But—”

“More important,” she continued, “I doubt they will give us time to do anything at all.”

“They wouldn’t attack Dzur Mountain again, would they?”

“I hope so. Anything else they might come up with would be worse, because we haven’t any preparations for it.”

“Hmmm,” I said, because that always sounds wise. “Have you spoken to the Empress?”

“Yes.”

“Well then—wait. You have?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” I said. “And, uh ... what does she say?”

“She wants me to deal with it.”

“She wants you to ... with all of her resources, she has no one else to call on except—”

“Me? And Morrolan e’Drien, and Aliera e’Kieron?”

“Uh ...”

“Go ahead, Boss; talk yourself out of this one.”

“Shut up, Loiosh.”

“I was referring to myself, Sethra,” I said.

“Ah. Well, she is calling on me, and I am calling on you “

“You are—”

“Traditionally, this is exactly the sort of thing the Empress has called upon the Lavodes for; it is what we were created for. Now, as it happens, I am the only Lavode left. Well, there’s one other, but he isn’t ready yet.”

“The Lavodes were created to fight the Jenoine?”

“The Lavodes were created to handle threats or potential threats to the Empire that were fundamentally non-military.”

“I see.” I thought about it. “But I thought the Lavodes were disbanded before the Interregnum.”

“That is true, but I always thought that was a bad idea. The Empress, as it happens, agrees with me.”

“Ah. She agrees. Well, how nice. And evidently the Demon Goddess agrees with you, too. And Aliera agrees, and Morrolan agrees. And Teldra, of course, can’t help being agreeable. So I you’ve got agreement all the way around except from the Verra-be-damned Easterner who’d really like to have his left arm working again before doing anything stupid.”

“You might have a choice,” said Sethra. “But most likely you won’t.”

“Great. So we’re going to be in for it, whether we want to or not. What do we do?”

“Do you have any suggestions, Vlad?”

“For handling rampant Jenoine? No, that has never been a specialty of mine.”

“Then, perhaps, you’d care to shut up and let us figure something out.”

“Ouch,” I said. “All right. I’ll just sit here like any good weapon, and wait to be pulled from my sheath, blunted edge and all.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s just what I want.”

That hadn’t been the answer I was looking for, but I decided to be content with it before I encouraged something worse. I fell silent, just sitting there with my left arm hanging limp and useless in my lap.

“I wish,” said Aliera abruptly, “that we could find a way to carry the war to them.”

Morrolan looked at her. “Since that is such an obvious observation that you could not possibly have any reason for making it, I must assume you have an idea as to the particulars.”

She smiled sweetly at him, and suggested where he might put his assumptions, but caught herself, glanced at me, and eventually said, “No, as it happens, I was musing. I can’t think of any way to do so.”

Morrolan nodded. “If we’re speaking of wishes, I wish we understood them better.”

“I have a few guesses about them,” said Aliera, “based on what we’ve just been through, and what I’ve picked up from Sethra and my mother.”

“All right,” said Morrolan. “Keep talking.”

Sethra leaned forward attentively; I pretended to be bored with the whole thing.

“My first guess is that, whatever their long-term plans are, their next objective is Verra. We know that she has been then enemy for her entire existence, and everything that has happened can be seen that way—even the nonsense about trying to convince Vlad to kill her might be second-level deception, or even a straightforward attempt to convince him to do so.”

“Yes,” said Sethra. “I agree with your reasoning. Go on.”

“All right,” said Aliera. “My second guess is a little more daring.”

Morrolan muttered something under his breath.

“I believe,” said Aliera, “that their second target is the Orb.”

Sethra stirred. “The trellanstone?”

Aliera nodded. “The best way to attack the Orb would be with a device with similar properties.”

“Then why,” said Morrolan, “were we allowed to see it?”

“You think you were allowed to?” said Sethra. “I thought you had managed to penetrate their illusions, and see it in spite of them.”

“That’s what I had thought, too. But if the trellanstone is important, then why, of all the places in the Universe, would they put us near it, illusions or no? In fact,” he continued “there’s been too much of that going around with these things. Too many coincidences. Too many times we have to ask ourselves, ‘Why would they do that?’ All the way from asking Vlad to kill Verra, to doing nothing while Vlad broke us out of the manacles, and doing nothing again while he broke himself and Teldra out, and then allowing us to see the trellanstone, and—”

“My Lord Morrolan,” said Lady Teldra suddenly.

He stopped, and turned to her. He’d forgotten her, as had the rest of us. Her eyes were just a trifle wide.

“I know that look, Boss. She just got something. You get the same look when you finally figure out the obvious.”

“How would you know what I look like? You’re on my shoulder.”

“We have ways.”

Meanwhile, Teldra was holding up a finger, asking us to wait, making little nods to herself as pieces fell into place. Then she said, “If I may be permitted to express an opinion.”

Morrolan nodded impatiently.

“I think, perhaps, you do not understand the Jenoine.”

He chuckled. “That, my dear Teldra, is hardly news.”

Her smile came and went like a straight shot of plum brandy, and she said, “I learned something of the Jenoine years ago, most especially their language. I’m sure you are all aware that language holds the key to the thinking of a culture. And, of course, one cannot spend time in such illustrious company as my Lord Morrolan, Sethra Lavode, and such gods as they come in contact with from time to time, without learning more. And then, I spoke with them.”

She paused. I wondered if she got her sense of drama from Morrolan, or if he hired her because of it. “When you speak of place, you are speaking in terms that would not make sense to them. They have a concept of ‘place,’ but it is used in their mathematics, not in their daily lives.”

“All right,” said Aliera. “You have our attention.”

“I have heard some—including you, Aliera—speak as if the Jenoine had come to our world from another place. This is not entirely true. I—please bear with me, this isn’t easy to describe.” She hesitated. “The clearest way to say it is that they do not move as we do, nor do they remain stationary as we do. That room in which we were held captive is, in an important sense, the only ‘place’ they have. At least, as we would use the term ‘place.’ The world that Vlad and I explored was, to them, the same place as the room. When we shattered the enchantment that kept us from seeing some of what was in the room, what we did was the equivalent of breaking out of that room and exploring other places in the structure. When we physically left the room to explore the world outside that room, we were, in their view, spirit-walking. Well, that isn’t exactly right—it isn’t such a perfect reversal, but it is something like that.”

“Well,” said Aliera. “That makes everything clear.”

Teldra frowned. “Let me try again.”

“Take your time,” said Morrolan, giving his cousin a dirtv look.

“Think of them this way: They are to us as amorphia is to normal matter. To them, our world and the place where we were held captive are the same place, differing only as states of being. I ...” Her voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry to say,” said Morrolan, “that I don’t understand.”

I was glad I wasn’t the only one.

“The Necromancer,” said Sethra suddenly.

“Ah,” said Teldra. “Yes.”

Morrolan said, “Shall I summon her?”

The mere mention of her name explained some of it—it meant we were dealing with the sorts of mind-bending things that are beyond the powers of normal people to understand.

“I’m not certain,” said Aliera, “that I could survive that just now.”

I thought about making a comment about Aliera’s delicate emotions, but good sense prevailed. A lot of my best wit is shared with no one except Loiosh and you, so I hope you appreciate it; he usually doesn’t.

Teldra took her comment seriously. “It requires an adjustment in thinking that doesn’t come naturally. I began to get glimpses of it when I studied their language, but I didn’t actually understand it until speaking with them. Yes, the Necromancer must necessarily understand these things, and I’m certain she could explain it better than I.”

Morrolan cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose,” he said, “that you could explain the, uh, practical ramifications.”

“I believe I can,” said Sethra Lavode.

Teldra shot her a look full of gratitude. Meanwhile, I was thinking, “Wait a minute; how is it Teldra knows this stuff and Sethra doesn’t?”

She answered the question before I could decide if I wanted to ask it aloud.

“What you are saying, my dear Teldra, makes sense of many things I have almost understood. Yes. It explains why they were able to achieve access to Dzur Mountain just when they did. It was not, as I thought at the time, a failure of my mundane defenses, nor of the magical ones. It was an attack from a dire­ction that was unexpected, because, if you will, I didn’t know the direction existed.”

Teldra nodded. “To themselves, they would say they redefined your defenses.”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said. “Good. Now I understand everything.”

“In practical terms,” said Sethra, as if I hadn’t spoken, “it explains at least some of the peculiar behavior you witnessed while confined. In particular, the place they kept you is, as you said, the only place they have. The world the only world, the building the only building, the room the only room. They were, in that sense, in there with you the entire time. You didn’t see them or hear them when their attention was focused elsewhere. They—”

“Rubbish,” I said.

“Excuse me, Vlad?” said Sethra, who I imagine wasn’t used to being addressed that way.

I repeated my remark, then amplified. “I don’t care if they consider it a place, or a state of mind, or, well, or whatever they consider it. They are real beings. They have bodies. They have places those bodies are.”

“What is your point, Vlad?” said Sethra, who seemed to be doing me the courtesy of taking me seriously.

“You don’t sit a bunch of prisoners down in front of a powerful object, even concealed, unless either you want them to find it, or ...”

I stopped, considering what I had been about to say.

“Yes, Vlad?” said Morrolan. “Or?”

“Or unless you have no choice.”

Sethra said, “How could ... oh. I see. Yes, that makes sense.”

Morrolan and Aliera were already there. Morrolan said, “It was the trellanstone that was holding us in place, that was keeping that gate shut. Yes, I can almost see that.”

“Almost?”

“Well, it needs something to work with.”

“You don’t think there is enough amorphia on that world’” I said.

“Oh, right,” said Morrolan.

Sethra looked at us. “Amorphia? How could there be amorphia there? It only occurs on our world. They cannot duplicate the conditions that gave rise to it without, in all probability, destroying their entire world.”

I said, “I don’t suppose there is a quick explanation for that remark, is there Sethra?”

Morrolan and Aliera looked impatient, but Sethra said, “The Catastrophe that created the Great Sea in the first place resulted from several fluke occurrences, as well as some nasty scheming and plotting on the part of Verra and others with her. But the fact that it failed to entirely consume the world is the biggest fluke of all. Amorphia is not something that is containable, by its very nature. To create it is to end everything.”

“But Adron’s Disaster—”

“Very nearly destroyed the world again,” said Sethra, “but the one advantage the gods had in containing it was the existence of the Great Sea. Had the Great Sea not been there, the Lesser Sea might well have destroyed all life in the world.” She shook her head. “I simply cannot conceive of the Jenoine finding a way to produce amorphia.”

“Well, they did,” I said. “Or else found another way to get it, because they’ve got it.”

Morrolan and Aliera told her about the river of amorphia we had found, Teldra and I making the occasional murmur of agreement. When they had finished, Sethra said, “I didn’t think they could do that. I still don’t understand how they can do that,” which was followed by an unpleasant silence, during which we all, I suspect, contemplated the powers of the Jenoine.

“Are they gods?” said Morrolan suddenly.

Sethra shook her head. “I do not believe so. Teldra?”

“Not in any meaningful way, at least as far as how they see themselves.”

“Well, that’s something,” said Morrolan, which was much like what I was thinking. “So, then, how do we approach them? How do we defend ourselves against them, beyond that we’ve en doing for thousands of years?”

“Don’t forget the weapons,” I pointed out.

“Weapons?” said Sethra.

“They had whole racks of weapons. Mundane weapons, the sort of thing I think of as weapons. Things that cut, and stab, make nasty gouges. If those bastards are so bloody magical, what do they need with weapons?”

“Good question,” said Morrolan. “He’s right, they had quite a collection of them. What are they for?”

“That,” said Sethra, “I think I can answer. I believe that, after establishing themselves here, they intend to subvert a portion of our citizens and use them as a mundane army.”

“How can they subvert them?” said Aliera.

“If they can, indeed, attack the Orb, then they can, at least potentially, gain access to the minds of those who are linked to it.”

That thought made me shudder. For one thing, I was linked to the Orb myself.

“Well, let’s see,” said Aliera. “Consider what we know about them. They are after my mother, and perhaps others of the gods as well. It is the gods who are protecting our world—I think I now understand a little how they are doing it. But what the Jenoine want is full access to our world. What prevents them from having it are the Lords of Judgment, the Orb, the power of Dzur Mountain. They attacked Dzur Mountain once before, and failed to take it.”

“Barely,” said Sethra under her breath.

“Therefore, our defense of these things—”

“Defense,” said Morrolan like it was something foul. “Why not attack them instead? I’ve always preferred attacking to defending.”

“I know,” said Sethra. “But you are still young, and may yet learn.”

He glared at her. She ignored it and said, “Go on, Aliera.”

Aliera continued, “Our defense of these things has to happen on several levels at once. We require the assistance of the Lords of Judgment, in the first place, and I should think we really ought to consult the Necromancer after all.”

“Yes,” said Sethra; “But whatever we’re going to do, we ­ought to do it quickly. We don’t know how much time they’re going to give us. And worse, we don’t know where they’re going to attack.”

“Yes, we do,” said Morrolan suddenly, sitting upright, and staring off into space.

We all looked at him.

“Trellanstone,” he said. “It all revolves around the trellanstone, or kyrancteur, in the language of the Serioli. They managed to find some, and they are using it. They wanted Aliera and me out of the way to—”

Sethra figured it out first. “Oh,” she said. “Yes. I should have seen it at once.”

Then Aliera got it, and nodded slowly. “Foolish of me. One of them was able to stop a simultaneous attack from two Great Weapons. It should never have been capable of stopping even one of them. I was so annoyed, I didn’t stop to wonder how it managed it. Yes. There is only one way it could have done that. How annoying.”

Of course, I could have sat there for the rest of my life and never figured it out, but Sethra realized I was confused and took pity on me.

“Trellanstone,” she said. “It is useful for manipulating amorphia—raw chaos. So far as I know, there are two places in the universe where one can find amorphia, and both of them are on this world. The Great Sea of Amorphia is protected by the Orb, which is protected by the Empress, who is protected by the Lords of Judgment, by Dzur Mountain, and by the Orb.”

“Ah,” I said. “And so now we know, I’m sure, where they got the amorphia from in the first place.”

“Yes,” said Sethra. “We used the power of the Greater Sea to protect the Orb, and used the Orb to protect the Greater Sea. It never occurred to me that they might tap into the Lesser Sea, because it isn’t connected to the Orb. But they have some­how tapped into it. They have been draining it, and learning to control it with the trellanstone, and that could give them what they need to attack the Orb.”

“The Lesser Sea,” I said. “Well. Can’t we just cut it off from them?”

Sethra nodded. “Yes. And we will. I can do so myself. But then what?”

“Then,” said Morrolan, “they will use their trellanstone to attempt a permanent link with it, much as the Orb is linked to the Great Sea. If they achieve that, they will, in effect, have the seeds of their own Empire on our world.”

I nodded. “Yes. And after that things could get all kinds of difficult, couldn’t they?”

“They could indeed,” said Sethra. “We must act at once. Every moment that passes, they draw more energy, and become stronger, and it will make it harder to resist them. We must cut off their flow, and then be prepared to make certain they cannot re-establish it. That means facing them down right there, at the Lesser Sea of Chaos.”

“Adron’s Disaster,” said Morrolan.

Aliera nodded. “I was afraid Daddy would cause trouble sooner or later.” 14. Conversations with the Undead

I was glad Teldra and Loiosh were there, because I didn’t want to be alone.

Morrolan, Sethra, and Aliera had left us, continuing their discussions as to who should speak with whom about what—Morrolan to speak with the Empress, Aliera to talk to the Necromancer, and so on, and what they should tell them. Dzur Mountain is a big and lonely place, and some of that feeling rests in each chamber, no matter how small and warm; with little effort I could imagine the nightmares from my childhood creeping out of the corners—especially since this was a place where some of the nightmares were real. And it didn’t help that it required very little imagination to see Jenoine appearing out of nowhere; from all evidence, that was a very real possibility. Teldra and I spoke for a while about the meal, and the furnishings of Dzur Mountain, and other things. I wanted to ask her about Cawti, but I refrained. Instead I said, “Do you think I was out of line, Teldra?”

“My lord?”

“My, uh, blowup at Morrolan and Aliera. Was I out of line?”

“I don’t believe it is my place to say, my lord.”

“Heh. In other words, yes.”

She shook her head. “No, I simply mean it is not my place to say.”

“All right.”

She hesitated, then said, “I think you, being wounded, had the right to request respect for your injury.”

“Mmmmm. But you wish I hadn’t said it?”

“I’m not certain, Vlad. Certainly, everything you said is true. Not exhaustive, but true.”

“Not exhaustive?”

“I mean your insight was well taken. But, there is still much you don’t understand about my Lord Morrolan. For all of his skills and strengths of character, Morrolan is still a young Dragon. He knows this. It is why he wanted me as his seneschal. To know and take steps to counter one’s weaknesses is praiseworthy, in my opinion. Also, rare.”

“I see. Other than having the desire from time to time to slaughter a few hundred helpless peasants, what does it mean to be a young Dragon?”

“It means seeing the world with one’s self as the center.”

“Really? I’ve never considered Morrolan to be self-centered.”

“He isn’t,” said Teldra. “Not as the term is usually meant. There is a subtle but important difference, Vlad, between thinking only of yourself, and seeing the world as it affects you.” She smiled suddenly. “And the difference, by the way, is exactly what courtesy is all about.”

“You’ll have to explain that to me.”

“Do I, Vlad? I somehow doubt that.”

“Oh?”

“Oh. But, very well. Morrolan is generous, and self-sacrificing, and always glad to be of help to a friend, but sometimes he sees things first from how they affect him. It means he will sometimes go into a situation wondering what he should do, rather than wondering what needs to be done.”

“That’s pretty subtle, Teldra.”

“Not as subtle as you might think. Or, rather, it is a case where subtleties can become very large. Sometimes, for example, you step into a situation where the thing that needs to be done is nothing at all; someone looking at it from his own perspective is unlikely to realize this.”

I made a noncommittal sound, trying to work it all out.

“I know of one case late in the Interregnum – because Lord Morrolan told of it himself—where he was a division com­mander under Sethra. He was, he says, an effective commander, but he had the bad habit, when given an order, of sending back suggestions to Sethra about what she should do with the rest of the army to support him, not quite able to realize that she might have thought of these things, and that it was she who had the best view of the entire picture, and was placed to make those decisions. The result was a small increase in friction among the staff, and a series of delays in carrying out her orders. His inten­tions were good, but he was seeing everything from his own perspective.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “Okay, I see your point. And, yeah, Mor­rolan is like that, sometimes. So is Aliera, for that matter.”

“Yes, she is also a young Dragon.”

“Which, of course, is part of why they keep knocking heads, notwithstanding my juvenile outburst earlier.”

“Of course.”

I shrugged. “Well, okay, I’m glad we settled that. What are young Issola like?”

Teldra flashed me a smile. “Obsequious to the point of irritating, or else timid to the point of invisibility. What about young Easterners?”

“Brash, cocky, and convinced we can beat anything that walks, flies, or swims, and that we know all the answers to everything.”

“Rather like Dzur, then.”

“I guess. I’m generalizing from one example, here, but everyone generalizes from one example. At least, I do.”

That earned an actual chuckle; I felt very proud.

I added, “Of course, by Dragaeran standards, all Easterners are young Easterners.”

“Yes. Which is only one of the reasons Easterners are treated the way they are by humans.”

“Morrolan is an exception; he deserves credit for that. As are you, by the way.”

“Thank you,” said Teldra. “In my case, I can’t help it, it’s how I was raised.” She smiled.

There were footsteps in the hall, and I knew it was Sethra before she appeared, either because I recognized her footsteps, or because of some subtle psychic awareness of her that I was developing. She nodded to us and said, “Have you two solved all of our questions of grand strategy for us?”

“No,” I said, “but we’ve solved a great deal of the mystery of the mysterious Morrolan.”

“I’m impressed,” said Sethra, sitting down in an oversized chair to my left. “That’s much more difficult.” It seemed to me, watching her sit, that she was tired. I guess she’d been busy enough while we were away.

I said, “You reached the Necromancer?”

Sethra nodded. “She’ll be along directly.”

I tried to say, “Good,” but couldn’t force the word past my lips, so I settled for the old brusque nod. Sethra glanced at my arm and said, “Any change?”

“About five or six minutes ago it twitched a little. Hardly anything; I was talking to Teldra and barely noticed it.”

“Very well,” she said. “That’s probably a good sign. The muscles are coming back to life, which means, among other things, that they aren’t entirely dead.”

“You thought they might be?”

“It was a possibility.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What good would it have done you?”

“It would have given me a good excuse to have a hissy-cow right when I badly wanted to have one.”

“A hissy-cow?”

“Uh ...”

“No, no, Vlad. Don’t explain.” She chuckled. “A hissy-cow I think I like that,”

I had gotten a chuckle out of Teldra and Sethra within the same hour, and that after making Teldra and Aliera blush, and before that I’d managed to shock the Demon Goddess. My life was now complete. I decided this was a good time to quit, so I leaned back and closed my eyes, only to be interrupted by the sound of more footsteps. I didn’t want to open my eyes, for fear that the Necromancer would be there, so I did and she was.

You must understand, it isn’t that I’m afraid of her. I’ve spoken with her, and, if you can get past the fact that she’s undead, and that her mind is perfectly comfortable living in places that would drive me mad, and that for her the distinction between the living and the dead is just a matter of which way she’s facing, she’s a perfectly decent sort, as Dragaerans go. It’s just that her showing up just then meant that things were liable to start moving, and I was very happy sitting on a couch in Dzur Mountain, feeling relatively at peace with the world, and luxuriating in the notion that no one, just at that moment, would be able to kill me.

“The technical term is ‘self-pity,’ Boss.”

“Did I ask for the technical term?”

“Hello, Vlad,” said the Necromancer, in that strange, almost hollow-sounding voice of hers, with her eyes looking more through me than at me.

“Hello,” I said, resisting the urge to growl.

Aliera was standing next to her, and nodded me a cool hello. “How’s the arm?” she said.

“It twitched.”

“Good,” said Aliera. “I was hoping it would do that.”

Bloody great.

Sethra said, “Have you explained what we require of the Necromancer?”

“No,” said Aliera. “I thought I’d leave that to you.”

“Very well. While I do so, I think you know what your next task is.”

“Yes,” said Aliera. “I shall attend to it at once.”

Sethra nodded, and Aliera took two steps forward, one step to the side, and vanished as if she had stepped through an in­visible doorway.

Sethra Lavode turned to the Necromancer, and I suddenly had the feeling that I was present at one of those great historical moments that you read about, wishing you were there. Here was the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain explaining to the Necromancer the plan of campaign against the ancient enemies of the Dragaeran race. This might be one of the great turning points in the history of the Empire. It seemed incumbent on me to say something to undercut to the whole significance of it, but nothing came to mind.

The two pale, black-clad undead women regarded each other—thin faces, ancient eyes; sort of a strange mirror image. Sethra was perhaps a little taller, and her hair was a bit darker and longer; the Necromancer gave the appearance of a little more age, though this was illusory. In addition, though I knew Sethra was a vampire, the Necromancer looked like one—so pale, wasted, drawn; like someone in the last stages of some horrible disease.

“We are expecting an attack from the Jenoine,” said Sethra.

“Where?”

“The site of Adron’s Disaster.”

The Necromancer’s eyebrows went up. “Is it unprotected?”

“Yes. The other has been protected all along, almost by accident, as it were. And it never occurred to me to look for an attack that way.”

The Necromancer nodded, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “Nothing yet,” she said.

“Are you certain?”

The Necromancer frowned and said, “What do you mean?”

“Look again. Look for anything that doesn’t belong.”

“Very well,” she said. Then, “Oh.”

“They are tapping it?”

“Someone is. It will take a while to find out where it is going, but it certainly seems like their workmanship.”

Sethra nodded. “I suspected it, from what Vlad told me. They are evidently collecting it in quantity.”

“Collecting it? Raw?”

“So it would seem.”

“How are they keeping it unstable?”

“They have found a large piece of trellanstone, and use it to keep the amorphia flowing, rather like a stream, from what Vlad and Teldra said.”

“I see. Yes, that might work, if you had someone monitoring it at all times, and if it was physically near the trellanstone.”

“The stream ran within a few hundred feet of it.”

The Necromancer nodded. “This could be a real problem,” she said, almost as if she cared. “Have they stirred?”

“They have indeed. Morrolan and Aliera were taken, Verra threatened—yes, they are stirring.”

“Then they are ready with their stroke.”

“So it would seem. Except that we have freed Morrolan and Aliera; I don’t know how that will change their plans. But we have to assume they’re still going ahead with it.”

“Very well,” said the Necromancer. “What do you require? I can cut their access easily enough.”

“Insufficient,” said Sethra. “Can you keep them out of the area?”

The Necromancer was silent for a moment; then she said, I don’t know. It’s so large. Thirty-five or forty square miles, the last time I looked.”

“Yes,” said Sethra. “The Empress will almost certainly be willing to help.”

“Then perhaps,” said the Necromancer.

“If you cannot keep them out, do you think you could, perhaps, keep them in?”

The Necromancer frowned. “One of them, certainly. Ten or twelve of them, all with access to the power of the amorphia, impossible. But the same set of enchantments can be used in both directions.”

“All right,” said Sethra. “Good. You ought to start your preparations at once. In the meantime, I need to be there, along with Morrolan, Aliera, and whoever else we can gather together quickly. How much time will you need?”

“I don’t know. I won’t know until I start. Certainly, several hours, even with the Orb. Possibly a day or two. I wish you had told me sooner.”

“I wish I had realized sooner what they were up to. We cannot wait a day or two before cutting off their link. I’m nervous about waiting even another hour.”

“I shall hurry as much as I can.”

“Yes. We will move as soon as we can, and, if you aren’t ready, then we will endeavor to hold the place until you are.”

The Necromancer nodded and said, “I’ll get started, then.” She turned away without ceremony, took three steps, and sort of faded away in midstride, leaving a trail of golden sparks behind her; possibly for effect, though that didn’t seem like the sort of thing she’d do.

She left the room just as Morrolan returned—he coming in by the door—according to some sort of law of conservation of wizards. The Necromancer left in a shower of sparks; Morrolan appeared with a flapping of wings. Jhereg wings, to be exact. Rocza’s wings, to be precise. Loiosh left my shoulder and flew toward her, the two of them doing a sort of midair dance of greeting, then flying around the room once together before landing on my shoulders, and continuing the reunion with neck and face rubs behind my head. It was all very cute.

“I told you I was cute.”

“I thought you might be missing her,” said Morrolan.

“I was, and so was Loiosh. Thank you from both of us.”

He nodded to me, then faced Sethra and announced, “The Empress agrees.”

“Good,” said Sethra. “So does the Necromancer.”

“I love it when a plan comes together,” I remarked to no one in particular.

Morrolan shrugged and said, “Here, Vlad.” He reached into his cloak and emerged with a bag, which he emptied on the table near my elbow. It contained half a dozen daggers of various sizes. “I thought you might like to restock,” he said, “so I grabbed these from my armory. I don’t know exactly what you like, but one or two of these must be all right.”

“Yes,” I said. “That was very thoughtful of you.” I inspected them, then placed all of them about my person in various ways. It took some work, with only one hand to work with; but this reminded me to make sure they were all accessible to my right hand. That put one behind my back, one between my shoulder blades, one in my right sleeve, well, you get the idea. Having them there made me feel better at once. I stretched my feet out in front of me and leaned back. Sethra said, “You look like a man who isn’t going anywhere, Vlad.”

“Well, I don’t plan on leaving here any time soon. Am I mistaken about something?”

“I had planned to bring us to the site of Adron’s Disaster right away. We don’t know when they will appear; I’d just as soon anticipate them.”

I looked at my left arm, then at Sethra, with what I hoped was an eloquent expression.

She nodded. “I take your point. But Spellbreaker could still be useful, if you can manage to wield it right-handed.”

I sighed. “Very well,” I said, and made it to my feet. “I assume Aliera will be joining us soon?”

“I should imagine. Morrolan, if you will please reach your cousin when she becomes available, and let her know that we are leaving now, and give her our precise location.”

He saluted, with, I think, a touch of irony. I imagine he was still annoyed about her “young Dragon” remark earlier.

I drained off the remainder of my wine and said, “Do you ever get tired being the general-in-chief, Sethra?”

Sethra gave me a wry smile. “This is half of a general’s dream, Vlad: a campaign with no need for a quartermaster. The other half, of course, would be a campaign with no subordinates to keep happy. If I ever have both of those at once, I’ll consider my existence fulfilled and become part of the rock of Dzur Mountain again.”

“Again?” said Loiosh.

“Again?” I said.

She shrugged and didn’t answer, damn her.

I carefully set down my wineglass and said, “Well, shall we be about it, then?”

“Yes,” said the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountain. She turned to Teldra and said, “If we have the chance to negotiate with them, we will take it, but the difficulty will be knowing if they are deceiving us. Do you think you can tell?”

“I don’t know,” said Teldra. “I hope so. I will certainly try.”

Sethra nodded. “All right. Let’s make an end to this.”

“Do you think,” I said, “that this will really be the end?”

“If we’re lucky, it will end this gambit on the part of the Jenoine.”

“That’s good enough for me,” I said, trying to sound like I was all kinds of excited to be part of it. My arm hung there, limp and useless, and Spellbreaker unraveled. I took it in my right hand, and managed, after too much effort, to get it around the wrist. It felt funny there. It also felt funny to be carrying a Morganti dagger. And not having a working left arm felt funny as well. I was a walking joke.

“Shut up, Loiosh.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know. It’s what Sethra would call a preemptive strike.”

Morrolan said, “Is there anything we need?”

Sethra touched the hilt of Iceflame at her side and said, “No, I believe we have what we need.”

“Do you have the location?”

“I will in a moment. Bide.”

Teldra came up next to me. I said softly, “Do you know what she meant by ‘becoming part of the rock of Dzur Mountain again’?”

“No,” said Teldra, just as softly. “I was wondering myself.”

“She was probably speaking metaphorically.”

“Probably.”

I wasn’t convinced; I’ll bet Teldra wasn’t either.

Teldra took a moment to construct me a sling out of a dark grey linen towel she procured from somewhere. She set my arm in it carefully, and I grunted a thank-you.

“Let’s go,” said Sethra, and we gathered around her. I touched my grandfather’s amulet, just to reassure myself that it was still there, and it occurred to me suddenly that I’d been wandering about without any of my protections and hadn’t even noticed—this could be dangerous habit. On the other hand, if we were killed by the Jenoine, I would have no need to worry about the Jhereg. You take your consolations where you find them.

I had gotten to about this point in my reflections when the walls abruptly collapsed and opened up to the outdoors—or that’s what it seemed like. We stood now on a small rock ledge, overlooking the Lesser Sea of Amorphia, where the greatest city of the Empire used to be until Aliera’s daddy had a hissy-cow at the Emperor. I must make a point of telling Sethra not to underrate the power of the hissy-cow.

I looked out upon the raw, seething amorphia below us—the quintessence of chaos, crying out to be organized, and de­fying anyone’s ability to do so. Some of those with me knew what it took to create order out of chaos; those we were ex­pecting also knew. Some wanted to use it for one thing, some another, and therefrom sprang conflict mortal. Me, I’d just as soon let the damned stuff be.

The old city of Dragaera had grown up in what once, I’m I told, was a fertile plain, fed by several streams and rivers com­ing down from a range of mountains that has more names than peaks. The mountains, which were west of the city, were now behind my left shoulder, except for bits of them that spread out in the form of sharp, ugly bits of greyish rock, one of which I now stood on. There were no signs of any rivers from where I stood, and what had been the city and most of the plain was a swirling mass of colors browns, greens, and oranges, mostly murky in places, sparkling at times, occasion­ally even pulling back to show what appeared to be brown dirt beneath. It did, indeed, seem very much like an ocean, if you can imagine an ocean with no tides, but instead with random waves that lash out up to two hundred feet from the “shore”—waves with the charming property that the merest touch will not only kill you, but cause you to instantly dissolve into nothing. It was not my favorite place to be; especially here, about fifty feet away from it.

To be fair, I should add that being above it was rather safer. Not safe, but safer.

“Now what?” said Morrolan. “Spread out, or remain to together?”

“Remain together,” said Sethra. “And settle in; we might be ­here awhile.”

“Should have brought some chairs,” I said. Morrolan gave me a Look.

So I squatted down. My arm gave another twitch. Maybe, if I were lucky, it would start working again before I needed it. I massaged the arm through the sling for a bit and couldn’t even feel it.

Sethra drew Iceflame and pointed it out toward the middle of the Sea, staring intently after it. Then she sheathed Iceflame and said, “All right. Any time now.”

“That was it?”

“That was it. I have broken their link. Now we wait. If the Necromancer can seal this place off from them before they arrive, then we can all go home. If not, then we get to fight them. If we are lucky, they will be unable to re-establish a link right away, so they will be fighting without the advantage of sorcery, and a good strike with a Great Weapon will kill them. If we are not lucky, things could be more difficult.”

“Here’s to luck,” I said.

“There they are,” said Sethra, and my heart jumped into my mouth. I stood, and tried to let Spellbreaker fall into my hand, but missed the grab and it slithered onto the ground. As I groped for it, I followed Sethra’s gaze until I spotted a shimmering in the air not fifty feet away from us, on the same ledge.

“Okay, here we go, Loiosh.”

“Boss, it’s Aliera and the Demon Goddess.”

“Oh. So it is.”

“Sethra,” I said, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“No,” said Sethra, as she took her hand off the hilt of Iceflame.

Getting the chain wrapped around my wrist again gave me something to do while I recovered. Aliera and the Demon Goddess came up to us, and looked out over the sea. There was an expression on Aliera’s face that I’d never seen before. Was she actually staring out at that and thinking of her father? How could she? Then again, how could she not?

The first words out of Aliera’s mouth were “What did the Necromancer say?”

“She’s working on it,” said Sethra. “But she says it may take a while.”

I said, “Well, we have the Goddess here; maybe she can do something.”

“Not quicker than the Necromancer,” said Verra, in that oddly echoing voice of hers.

“Why not?”

“Because,” said the Goddess patiently, “she’s better than me.”

I stared at her, wanting to say, “But you’re a Goddess!” only that would have sounded stupid, so I just swallowed and said, okay.”

Sethra said, “Very well, then, Verra, I will keep my attention focused the other way.” I’d run into people who were hard to understand; the Demon Goddess is the only being I have met who makes those around her incomprehensible. There is something very wrong about having that effect.

Aliera drew Pathfinder; I took an involuntary step back. Aliera pointed her blade out generally toward the Sea, and swung back and forth a couple of times, then she made some sort of indefinite grunt under her breath. “Nothing yet,” she said.

Morrolan said, “I could reach the Necromancer and—”

“Disturb her while she works,” finished Sethra.

Morrolan scowled, then chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “That was my intention. You don’t like the plan?”

“As much as you like waiting,” said Sethra.

Morrolan looked at her. “You don’t mind waiting, do you, Sethra?”

She laughed. “At my age, one gets used to it, little Dragonlord. I spend more time waiting than doing anything else.”

Morrolan shook his head. “I can’t imagine getting used to it.”

“You see? You have more in common with our friend Vlad than you ever thought.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it again. Morrolan had nothing to say, either. We stared out over Adron’s Disaster, which did the dance of amorphia: colors shifting, shapes appearing and vanishing, and always something faintly enticing, the way a tall cliff is enticing to someone afraid of heights. I kept my eyes above it as much as I could, because I didn’t want to look at it, but didn’t want anyone to know I was afraid to actually watch it.

“You want to look useful, Loiosh?”

“You mean just to impress them? Of course.”

He and Rocza took off from my shoulder and began flying around the area in opposite directions. I said, “Don’t get too close to it.”

“We don’t intend to, Boss.”

Sethra said, “Are we going to get any help from the Empress?”

“Yes,” said Morrolan. “She’s sending the Court Wizard.”

“Ah.”

That was irony—Morrolan had been Court Wizard for some years, since an unfortunate incident involving Sethra the Younger, who had held the post previously.

The Goddess said, “I believe we will be ready for them.”

Aliera said, “If you missed that, she said we will have aid from Barlen, and several of the other Lords of Judgment.”

This brought up several questions, such as why in blazes they needed me here; but what I said was “Aliera, why is it that whenever the Goddess your mother speaks, everyone hears something different? It seems—”

Sethra broke in suddenly, “The Necromancer says they are coming. She can’t stop them, but she hopes to be able to hold them here.”

Loiosh and Rocza returned to my shoulder. Aliera, Morrolan and Sethra all drew their weapons. I managed to unravel Spellbreaker without dropping it. I was disappointed. I’d really been hoping Aliera would answer my question. 15. When Negotiation Becomes Strained

I wondered if Sethra was happy about having guessed right. Myself, I’d just as soon she’d been wrong.

“I see them,” said Aliera.

I followed her gaze, and spotted them almost at once, about fifty yards from us, standing right next to the Sea—closer than I’d have gotten to it for any reason, ever.

“They’ve spotted us,” said Morrolan pointlessly, because they were obviously staring at us.

“What are those things they’re carrying?” I asked.

“Probably something magical,” said Aliera.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Loiosh?”

“I can’t tell from here. Should I get closer?”

“No.”

In the course of moving away from the rampant Great Weapons, I discovered I was next to Teldra. “Okay,” I said to her in low tones. “I’ve got a plan. First of all, are you secretly Mario?”

“No,” she said.

“Oh. All right, so much for that plan.”

She laughed more than it was worth; maybe she was scared too.

As far as I could tell, the Jenoine were doing nothing except looking at us; Aliera, Morrolan, Sethra, and Verra spread out a little, leaving Teldra and I just a bit behind them.

I said to her, “Perhaps you should have a weapon.”

She shook her head. “I hardly know which end to hold.”

I nodded, thinking that I’d still feel better if she were armed. But why? What did I have to offer her that could hurt them? And then, for all I knew, she could be armed; you never know about an Issola. Hell, maybe she was secretly Mario. It would certainly solve a lot of problems if she were. I looked at Spellbreaker. It was long this time—almost three feet—but the links were very, very fine. I set it swinging slowly.

I took a step forward, then, and Sethra said, “Wait, Vlad.”

I stopped. Maybe she had a plan. I’d like her to have a plan. I’d like any reason not to get any closer to those things.