The Sword Of Bheleu

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

For three days Garth had tried to burn out the sword's power with storms and earthquakes, but had succeeded only in exhausting himself and disrupting the reconstruction of Skelleth. Finally, when the gem still glowed as brightly as ever at the end of the third day, he admitted defeat.

At least, he admitted temporary defeat; he had not yet abandoned hope, but only convinced himself that he could not exhaust the sword in such displays. He suspected that he might manage to free himself by allowing the sword a surfeit of killing, but that was not a method he cared to employ; it was to avoid unnecessary killing that he wanted to dispose of the thing.

He spent the following day sitting in the King's Inn, drinking and talking with Scram. The reconstruction was continuing, but only slowly; the cold had made work difficult, and materials were running love-stone excepted. The embassy had been sent to Kholis, as planned. The petrified thief had been set up in the center of the marketplace on an elaborate pedestal of stone blocks from the Baron's dungeon. Galt, Garth, and the other overmen considered this to be a mistake, but Scram and Frima insisted that the pitiful figure was appropriate and admirable.

Another petrified villager had been found in a ruin nearby; apparently someone had had the misfortune to look out a window while the basilisk was being moved through the streets. This figure was not to become a public statue; even had it not broken in half when the house it was in collapsed in flames around it, it was much less attractive. The person in question had been a plump matron, bent over to peer around a shutter.

No one had known that this second petrification had occurred until the rubble had been cleared from the house. The victim had been a recluse, little liked by those who knew her at all. Garth still thought it odd that her absence could have gone unnoticed for the intervening months.

"I had hoped," he remarked to Saram, "that the death of the basilisk would remove the spell that it had cast upon its victims."

"It would seem that magic is not as transitory as some tales would have it," Saram replied.

"I suppose that if it were, then Shang's death would have ended the usefulness of his charms, and thereby freed the basilisk from my control."

"And if that had happened, you might be a statue now yourself."

"But on the other hand, these two, innocents would not."

"Oh, you can't be sure; what if the basilisk had begun roaming, once freed, and eventually reached Skelleth?"

"That seems extremely unlikely."

"Yes, it does. But then, the very existence of such a creature seems unlikely."

"It does, doesn't it? Everything that's happened to me since I first came south seems unlikely. One strange event has followed another, almost as if they were planned."

"Perhaps they were."

"Perhaps they were, but by whom and how? Is it all a scheme of the Forgotten King's contrivance? If so, how did he influence me to ask the Wise Women of Ordunin the questions that would send me to him in the first place? If not he, then who? Have I become a pawn of the god of destruction? Is there some other power manipulating us all?"

"Perhaps it's fate; or destiny."

"The Wise Women mentioned fate when last I spoke with them, fate and chance; I have never believed in fate, but only in chance."

"Yet now you say that events don't appear to be shaped by chance. That would seem to leave fate, if your oracle's words were complete."

"They probably weren't."

"You don't trust these women?"

"They're overwomen, actually, despite their name, and I am not sure whether I trust them or not."

"Perhaps you should go and speak with them again, and settle the matter once and for all. They might know how you can be freed of the sword."

"They might, at that. They are, however, in Ordunin, where I am now an outlaw."

"Do you know of any other oracles?"

"I'm not sure; I once met a seer, of sorts and of course there is the Forgotten King, who knows more than he should. There was also a priest in Dыsarra who was said to have special knowledge. None of these are even as trustworthy as the Wise Women."

"I would say, then, that you would be well-advised to return to Ordunin, outlaw or not, and speak with your oracle. If you travel by night and stay clear of the city, can you not manage it?"

"Probably. I will think about it."

He did think about it and by morning he had resolved to make the attempt.

Unfortunately, by morning the winter snows had begun, blowing down from the northern hills. This storm was wholly natural, but fierce enough that he decided travel would be foolhardy. He would wait it out, he told himself.

It was only after two days of tedium, sitting in the King's Inn worrying about the warbeasts' food supply-five of eleven, including Koros, had stayed in Skelleth when the others had returned to Ordunin-that it occurred to him that, if the sword could create storms, it might be able to control natural ones as well.

It could. He ripped the storm into tattered shreds of cloud and sputtering gusts of wind in ten minutes of concentration.

A foot of wet snow lay on the ground, but he thought Koros could handle that without undue difficulty. He set about gathering supplies.

With the ground under snow, game would be scarce along the way, and foraging difficult; furthermore, he did not dare to visit his home, which meant that he needed supplies for a round trip. Saram was reluctant to part with so much of the village's meager provisions.

Garth also wanted another sword, a more ordinary blade that he could use without worrying about whether he was controlling it or it was controlling him, a knife for skinning and dressing whatever game he might find, an axe to cut firewood, and various other tools that were in short supply in Skelleth. His friendship with Saram did not provide unlimited credit, and he found himself spending part of the Aghadite gold to purchase what he needed.

It took another two days before he felt himself properly equipped; but at last, one morning, he mounted his warbeast and rode out the North Gate toward the hills that marked the border of the Northern Waste.