A Darkness at Sethanon (13 page)

Tomas turned to
Pug with a smile. “I think her so. In my dreams of ancient days
I touched the minds of her ancestors, and this dragon is to them as
they were to your Fantus.”

“Then it
is good she joins us willingly. It would have been difficult to
persuade her otherwise.”

Tomas agreed. “I
could have destroyed her, without a doubt. But bend her to my will? I
think not. The days of the Valheru ruling without question are long
since vanished.”

Pug studied the
alien landscape below the ledge. “This is a sad and hollow
place. In the tomes harboured in Elvardein this world is described.
It was once adorned with vast cities, homes to nations; now nothing
is left.”

Tomas asked
quietly, “What became of those people?”

“The sun
waned; weather changed. Earthquakes, famine, war. Whatever it was, it
brought utter destruction.”

They turned to
face the cave as a figure appeared in the entrance, shrouded from
head to foot in an all-concealing robe; only one thin arm appeared
from a sleeve. That arm ended in a gnarled old hand holding a staff.
Slowly the man, or so he appeared to be, approached, and when he
stood before them, a voice as thin as an ancient wind issued from
within the dark hood. “Who seeks out the Oracle of Aal?”

Pug spoke. “I,
Pug, called Milamber, magician of two worlds.”

“And I,
Tomas, called Ashen-Shugar, who has lived twice.”

The figure
motioned for them to enter the cave. Tomas and Pug passed into a low,
unlit tunnel. With a wave of his hand, Pug caused light to appear
about them. The tunnel opened into a monstrous cavern.

Tomas halted.
“We were but scant yards below the peak. This cavern cannot be
contained within . . .”

Pug placed his
hand upon Tomas’s arm. “We are somewhere else.”

The cavern was
lit by faint light issuing from the walls and ceiling, so Pug ended
his own spell. Several more figures in robes could be seen in distant
corners of the cavern, but none approached.

The man who had
greeted them upon the ledge walked past them, and they followed. Pug
said, “What should we call you?”

The man said,
“Whatever pleases you. Here we have no names, no past, no
future. We are simply those who serve the oracle.” He led them
to a large outcropping of rock, upon which rested a strange figure.
It was a young woman, or, more appropriately, a girl, perhaps no more
than thirteen or fourteen, perhaps a few years older; it was
difficult to judge. She was nude, covered in dirt, scratches, and her
own excrement. Her long brown hair was matted with filth. Her eyes
widened as they approached, and she scampered backward across the
rocks, shrieking in terror. It was obvious to both men she was
entirely mad. The shrieking continued while she hugged herself, then
it descended the scale, changing into a mad laugh. Suddenly the girl
gave the men an appraising look and began to pull at her hair, in a
pitiful imitation of combing, as if she was suddenly concerned about
her appearance.

Without words,
the man with the staff indicated the girl. Tomas said, “This,
then, is the oracle?”

The hooded
figure nodded. “This is the present oracle. She will serve
until her death, then another will come, as she came when she who was
oracle before died. So it has always been and so will it always be.”

“How do
you survive on this dead world?”

“We trade.
Our race has perished, but others, such as yourselves, seek us out.
We abide.” He pointed to the cowering girl. “She is our
wealth. Ask what you will.”

“And the
price?” inquired Pug.

The hooded man
repeated himself. “Ask what you will. The oracle answers as she
chooses, when she chooses. She will name a price. She may ask for a
sweet, a fruit, or your still-beating heart to eat. She may ask for a
bauble with which to play.” He indicated a pile of odd devices,
cast off in the corner. “She may ask for a hundred sheep, or a
hundredweight of grain or gold. You must decide if the knowledge you
seek is worth the price asked. She sometimes answers without a price.
And ofttimes she will not answer, no matter what is offered. Her
nature is capricious.”

Pug stepped up
to the cowering girl. She stared at him a long moment, then smiled,
absently playing with her stringy hair. Pug said, “We seek to
learn the future.”

The girl’s
eyes narrowed and suddenly there was no hint of madness within. It
was as if another person instantly inhabited her. In a calm voice she
answered, “To learn this, then, will you give me my price?”

“Name your
price.”

“Save me.”

Tomas looked at
the guide. From deep within the hood the dry voice said, “We do
not truly understand what she means. She is trapped within her own
mind. It is that madness which grants her the gift of oracularity.
Free her of that madness and she no longer will be the oracle. So she
must have another meaning.”

Pug said, “Save
you from what?”

The girl
laughed, then the calm voice returned. “If you do not
understand, you cannot save me.”

The figure in
robes seemed to shrug. Pug considered, then said, “I think I do
understand.” He reached out, seizing the girl’s head
between his hands. She stiffened, as if about to scream, but Pug sent
a comforting mental message. What he was about to attempt was
something formerly thought to be solely the province of clerics, but
his time with the eldar at Elvardein had taught him that the only
real limits to magic were those of the practitioner.

Pug closed his
eyes and entered madness.

Pug stood in a
landscape of shifting walls, a maze of maddening colours and shapes.
The horizon changed with each step and perspective was nonexistent.
He looked down at his hands and watched them suddenly grow larger,
until they were the size of melons, then just as rapidly shrink,
until they were smaller than a child’s. He looked up and could
see the walls of the maze receding and approaching, seemingly at
random, while their colour and pattern flashed through a dozen
changes. Even the ground beneath his feet was a red and white
chessboard one moment, a pattern of black and grey lines the next,
then large blue and green spots on red. Angry, flashing lights sought
to blind him.

Pug took hold of
his own perceptions. He knew he was still within the cavern and this
illusion was an extension of his own need for a physical analogue in
dealing with the girl’s madness. First he stabilized himself so
the strange shifting of limbs halted. To act rashly at any point
could destroy the girl’s brittle mind, and he had no way to
judge what that would do to him, given his present contact with that
mind. He might somehow be trapped in her madness, an unpleasant
prospect. Over the last year Pug had learned a great deal about
controlling his arts, but he had also learned their limits and he
knew what he did carried some risk.

Next he
stabilized the immediate area around him, changing the shifting,
vibrating walls and dazzling lights. Realizing that any direction was
as valid as another, he set out. Walking was also illusory, he knew,
but the illusion of movement was required for him to reach the seat
of her consciousness. Like any problem, this one required a frame of
reference, and it would be one the girl would provide. Pug could only
react to whatever her demented mind dreamed up for him.

Abruptly he was
plunged into darkness, so silent that only death could match that
stillness. Then a single, odd sound came to him. A moment later,
another came, from a different direction. Then a faint pulse in the
air. With more rapidity, the darkness was punctuated with movement in
the air and odd sounds. At last the blackness was full of pulsing
noises and fetid odours. Strange breezes blew across his face and odd
feathery things brushed against him, moving away too quickly for him
to seize. He created light and discovered himself in a large cavern,
much like the real one in which he and Tomas now stood. Nothing else
stirred. Within the illusion he called out. No answer.

The landscape
shuddered and shifted, and he stood upon a beautiful greensward,
lined by graceful trees, too perfect to exist in reality. They formed
boundaries that pointed toward an impossibly lovely palace of white
marble adorned with gold and turquoise, amber and jade, opal and
chalcedony, a place so startlingly wonderful that Pug could only
stand in mute appreciation. The image was emotionally laden with the
feeling that this was the most perfect place in the universe, a
sanctuary where no trouble intruded, where one could wait out
eternity in absolute contentment.

Again the
landscape shifted, and he stood within the halls of a palace. From
the white marble floors flecked with gold to pillars of ebony, it was
the most lavish image of wealth he had ever perceived, surpassing
even the palace of the Warlord in Kentosani. The ceiling was carved
quartz, admitting sunlight with a rosy glow, and the walls were
bedecked with rich tapestries, woven with gold and silver threads.
Ebony doors with ivory trim and studdings of precious stones were
common to every portal, and wherever Pug looked, he saw gold. In the
centre of this splendour a white circle of light illuminated a dais,
upon which stood two figures, a woman and a girl.

He stepped
toward them. Suddenly warriors erupted from the floor like plants
springing from the ground. Each was a powerful creature of terrible
aspect. One looked like a boar made human, another like a giant
mantis. A third seemed a lion’s head upon a man, a fourth wore
the face of an elephant. Each was armed and armoured in rich metals
and jewels, and they bellowed fearsomely. Pug stood quietly.

The warriors
attacked and Pug remained motionless. As each nightmare creature
struck, its weapon passed through Pug, and the creatures vanished.
When they were gone, Pug stepped toward the dais upon which the two
figures stood.

The dais began
to move away, as if upon tiny wheels or legs, picking up speed. Pug
walked directly toward it, willing himself to overtake it. Soon the
landscape about him was a blur in passing, and he judged the illusion
of the palace must be miles in subjective size. Pug knew he could
halt the fleeing dais with its two passengers, but to do so might be
harmful to the girl. Any overt act of violence, even one as minor as
commanding the pair of fugitives to halt, could permanently scar her.

Now the dais
began a careening, banging passage through an obstacle course of
rooms, and Pug was forced to dodge and move to avoid objects hurled
into his path. He could also have destroyed anything that blocked his
way, but the effect would have been as harmful as if he had ordered
the pair to halt. No, he thought, when you enter another’s
reality, you observe her rules.

Then the dais
halted and Pug overtook the pair. The woman stood silently, studying
the approaching magician, while the girl sat at her feet. Unlike her
real appearance, here the girl was beautifully clothed in a gown of
soft, translucent silk. Her hair was gathered atop her head in a
magnificent fashion, held by pins of silver and gold, each bearing a
jewel. While it was impossible to judge how the girl looked in truth
beneath the dirt, here she was a young woman of astonishing beauty.

Then the
beautiful girl stood and grew, changing before his eyes to a horror
of gigantic proportions. Large hairy arms sprouted from soft
shoulders, while her head became that of an enraged eagle. Lightning
cascaded from her ruby eyes as claws came crashing down upon Pug.

He stood
motionless. The claws passed harmlessly through him, for he refused
to take part in this reality. Suddenly the monster vanished and the
girl was as he had seen her in the cave, nude, filthy, and mad.

Looking at the
woman, Pug said, “You are the oracle.”

“I am.”
She was regal, proud, and alien. While she looked entirely human, Pug
guessed that was part of the illusion. She would be something else in
truth . . . or had been when she was alive. Pug now understood.

“If I free
her, what of you?”

“I must
find another, and soon, or I will cease my existence. That is as it
has always been and how it must be.”

“So
another must succumb to this?”

“That is
as it has always been.”

“If I free
her, what of her?”

“She will
be as she was when brought here. She is young and will regain her
sanity.”

“Will you
resist me?”

“You know
I cannot. You see through the illusions. You know these are only
monsters and treasures of the mind. But before you rid her of me,
understand something, magician.

“At the
dawn of time, when the multitude of universes were forming, we were
born, we of the Aal. When your Valheru companion and his kin raged
across the heavens, we were old and wise beyond their understanding.
I am the last female of my race, though that is a convenient label
and not a description. Those in the cavern are males. We labour to
maintain that which is our grandest heritage, the power of the
oracle, for we are the husbanders of truth, the handmaidens of
knowledge. It was found in ages past that I could continue to exist
within the minds of others, but at the price of their own sanity. It
was considered a necessary evil to corrupt a few members of lesser
races in exchange for maintaining the power of the Aal. We would that
it were otherwise, but it is not, for I need living minds in which to
exists Take the girl, but know that I will soon have another to
reside within. She is nothing, a simple child of unknown parentage.
On her homeworld she would have become at best the drudge of some
peasant, at worst a whore for men’s amusement. Within her mind
I’ve given her riches beyond the dreams of the most powerful
kings. What will you give her in its place?”