Jack Of Shadows (6 page)

"Partly. It will also constitute a bit of homage to the god Justice and a benefit to society at large."

Jack laughed. The other only smiled.

"How do you intend to achieve the desired result?" he finally asked.

"I shall confine him to an inescapable prison where he will have absolutely nothing to do but exist. Occasionally, I will introduce certain items and remove them again-items which will come to occupy his thoughts more and more as time passes, inducing periods of depression and times of fury. I will break that smug self-assurance of his by rooting out the pride from which it grows."

"I see indeed," said Jack. "It sounds as if you have been planning this for a long while."

"Never doubt it."

Jack pushed away the empty platter, leaned back in the chair and considered the multitude of images that surrounded them.

"I daresay that the next thing you will tell me is that your pendant could accidentally be lost during an ocean voyage, buried, burnt or fed to hogs."

"I shan't, as it has already occurred to you."

The Lord of Bats rose to his feet, gestured casually toward a point high above their heads.

"I see that your bath has been drawn," he said, "and that fresh garments were laid out for you while we dined. I shall depart now and allow you to avail yourself of them."

Jack nodded, stood.

A thud occurred beneath the table then, followed by a gibbering sound and a brief, shrill wail. Jack felt his ankle seized. Then he was thrown to the floor.

"Down!" cried the Lord of Bats, circling the table quickly. "Back, I say!"

Scores of bats escaped his cloak and darted toward the thing beneath the table. It shrieked with fright and so tightened its grip upon Jack's ankle that he thought the bones would be pulverized.

He raised himself and began to lean for ward. Then even the pain was insufficient to prevent a moment's paralysis from his revulsion at the sight he beheld.

The hairless member was white, shiny and blotched with blue marks. The Lord of Bats kicked it and the grip was broken; but before it drew away and moved to cross the other arm, shielding the face. Jack caught a glimpse of that lopsided countenance.

It looked like something that had started out to be a man but had never quite made it. It had been stepped on, twisted, had holes poked into the sickly dough of its head-bulge. Bones showed through the transparent flesh of its torso and its short legs were thick as trees, terminating in disk-shaped pads from which dozens of long toes hung like roots or worms. Its arms were longer than its entire body. It was a crushed slug, a thing that had been frozen and thawed before it was fully baked. It was-

"It is the Borshin," said the Lord of Bats, now extending his arms toward the squealing creature, which could not seem to decide whether it feared the bats or their Lord more, and which kept banging its head against the table's legs as it sought to avoid both.

The Lord of Bats tore the pendant from his neck and buried it against the creature, uttering an oath as he did so. With this it vanished, leaving a small pool of urine were it had crouched. The bats vanished within the dark one's cloak, and he smiled down at Jack.

"What," said Jack, "is a Borshin?"

The Lord of Bats studied his fingernails for a moment. Then, "For some time now the dayside scientists have," he said, "attempted to create artificial life. Thus far, they have not succeeded."

"I determined to succeed with magic where they had failed with their science," he went on. "I experimented for a long while, then made the attempt. I failed-or, rather, was only half-successful. You have just seen the results. I disposed of my dead homunculus in the Dung Pits of Glyve and one day that thing returned to me. I cannot take credit for its animation. The forces that restore us at that place stimulated it somehow. I do not believe the Borshin to be truly alive, in the ordinary sense of the word."

"Is it one of the items you mentioned, which will serve to torment your enemy?"

"Yes, for I have taught it two things: to fear me and to hate my enemy. I did not bring it here just now, however. It has its own ways of coming and going, though I did not think they extended to this place. I will have to investigate the matter further."

"In the meantime, it will be free to enter here whenever it chooses?"

"I am afraid so."

"Then might I borrow a weapon to keep with me?"

"I am sorry, but I have none to lend you."

"I see."

"I had best be going now. Enjoy your bath."

"One thing," said Jack.

"What is that?" asked the other, whose fingers were caressing the pendant.

"I, too, have an enemy for whom I con template an involved piece of vengeance. I will not bore you with details now, save that I believe mine will be superior to yours."

"Really? I would be interested to learn what you have in mind."

"I will see that you do."

Both smiled.

"Until later, then."

"Until later." The Lord of Bats vanished.

Jack bathed, soaking himself for a long while in the lukewarm water. All the fatigue he had accumulated during his journey seemed to seize him then, and it took a mighty effort of will to rise, dry his body and walk to the bed, where he collapsed. He felt too tired to hate properly, or to begin planning his escape.

He slept, and while sleeping he dreamed.

He dreamed he held the Grand Key of Kolwynia, which was Chaos and Formation, and with it unlocked the sky and the earth, the sea and the wind, bidding them to fall upon High Dudgeon and its master from all corners of the world. He dreamt that there the flame was born and the dark Lord was held in its heart forever like an ant in amber, but alive, sleepless and feeling. Exulting in this, he heard the sudden chatter of the World Machine. He moaned and cried out at this omen; and within the walls, infinities of Jacks twisted on sweatdrenched beds.

JACK SAT IN the chair nearest the bed, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, fingers interlaced beneath his chin. He wore the red, white and black diamond-patched clothing of a jester; his wine-colored slippers curled at the toes and ended in loose threads, where he had torn off the bells. He had discarded the quinopolus, and the belled cap had gone into the chamber pot.

Any moment now, he decided. I hope the Borshin does not follow him.

The remains of his thirty-first meal in that place, a breakfast, occupied the table. The air about him was cooler than he found comfortable. The Borshin had visited him on three occasions since his arrival, plumping into sudden existence, drooling and snatching at him. Each time, he had fended it off with a chair, while screaming as loudly as he could manage; and the Lord of Bats always followed after a few moments and drove the creature away, apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. Jack had been unable to sleep well since the first such visit, knowing that it could happen again at any time.

The meals appeared regularly, quite undistinguished repasts, and he ate them automatically while thinking of other matters. Afterward, he was never able to recall what they had featured, nor did he wish to.

Soon now he reflected.

He had exercised to keep from growing soft. He had gained back some of the weight he had lost. He had fought boredom by planning and rejecting many plots for escape and vengeance. Then Rosalie's words had returned to him, and he determined his course of action.

The air seemed to shimmer. There came a lone, not unlike the snapping of a fingernail against a goblet, somewhere near at hand.

Then the Lord of Bats was beside him, and this time he was not smiling.

"Jack," he began immediately, "you disappoint me. What were you attempting to establish?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You just completed some sort of weak spell a few moments ago. Did you really think I would

be unaware of a working of the Art here in High Dudgeon?"

"Only if it succeeded," said Jack.

"Which it obviously did not. You are still here."

"Obviously."

"You cannot shatter these walls, nor pass through them."

"So I've learned."

"Do you find time's weight increasing upon you?"

"Somewhat."

"Then perhaps it is time to introduce some additional element into your environment."

"You did not tell me there was another Borshin."

The other chuckled, and a bat emerged from somewhere, circled his head several times, suspended itself from the chain he wore.

"No, that is not what I had in mind," he said. "I wonder how much longer your sense of humor will hold up?"

Jack shrugged, rubbed idly at a smudge of soot on his right forefinger.

"Let me know when you find out," he said.

"I promise you will be among the first."

Jack nodded.

"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from further endeavors along magical lines," said the Lord of Bats. "In this highly charged atmosphere they could produce severe repercussions."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Jack.

"Capital. Sorry to have interrupted. I'll let you get back to your normal activities now Adieu."

Jack did not reply, for he was alone.

It was some time later that the additional element appeared within his environment.

Realizing that he was not alone, Jack looked up suddenly. At the sight of her coppery hair and her half-smile he was, for a moment, almost startled into believing.

Then he rose, moved toward her, moved to the side, studied her from several angles.

Finally, "It is a very good job," he said. "Give my compliments to your creator. You are an exceedingly fine simulacrum of my Lady Evene, of the Fortress Holding."

"I am neither a simulacrum nor am I your Lady," she said with a smile, curtseying.

"Whatever, you have brought me brightness," he said. "May I offer you a seat?"

"Thank you."

Seating her, he drew up another chair and set it to her left. Leaning back in it, he regarded her obliquely.

"Now will you riddle me your words?" he said. "If you are not my Evene nor a simulacrum

composed by my enemy to trouble me, then what are you? Or-to be more delicate-who are you?"

"I am Evene of the Fortress Holding, daughter of Loret and the Colonel Who Never Died," she said, still smiling; and it was only then he noticed that from the silver chain she wore depended the strange gemstone that was shaped in semblance of his chamber. "But I am not your Lady," she finished.

"He did a very good job," said Jack. "Even the voice is perfect."

"I can almost feel sorry for the vagabond Lord of nonexistent Shadow Guard," she said, "Jack of Liars. Being familiar with all forms of baseness, it has become difficult for you to recognize the truth."

"There is a Shadow Guard!" he said.

"Then there is no need for you to grow agitated at its mention, is there?"

"He taught you well, creature. To mock my home is to mock me."

"That was my intention. But I am not a creature of he whom you call the Lord of Bats. I am his woman. I know him by his secret name. He has shown me the world in a sphere. I have seen all places and things from the halls of High Dudgeon. I know that nowhere is there such a place as Shadow Guard."

"No eyes but mine have ever looked upon it," he said, "for it is always hidden by shadows. It is a great, sprawling place, of high, torch-lit halls, underground labyrinths and many towers. On the one hand it faces some light, and on the other the darkness. It is furnished with many mementos of the greatest thefts ever committed. There are things of great beauty there, and things of incalculable worth. The shadows dance in its corridors, and the facets of countless gems gleam brighter than the sun of the one-half world. That is the place you mock: Shadow Guard, next to which your master's keep is but a pigsty. It is sometimes, true, a lonely place; but the real Evene will brighten it with her laughter, touch it with her grace, so that it will endure in splendor long after your master has entered the final darkness as a result of my vengeance."

She applauded softly.

"You make it easy to recall how your words and your passion once persuaded me, Jack. I see now, though, that when you speak of Shadow Guard you speak too well to be describing a real place. I waited for you for a long while, and then I learned of your beheading at Igles. Still, I was determined to await your return. But my father decided otherwise. At first, I believed his lust for the Hellflame ruled him. I was wrong, however. He realized from the first that you were a vagrant, a braggart, a liar. I wept when he bartered me for the Hellflame, but I came to love the one to whom I was given. My Lord is kind where you are thoughtless, intelligent where you are merely shrewd. His fortress really exists and is one of the mightiest in the land. He is all things that you are not. I love him."

Jack studied her now unsmiling face for a moment, then asked, "How did he come to possess the Hellflame?"

"His man won it for him in Igles."

"What was that man's name?"

"Quazer," she said. "Quazer was champion of the Hellgames."

"A moderately useless piece of information for a simulacrum to possess," Jack observed, "if true. Yet, my enemy is of the fussy, thorough sort. I am sorry, but I do not believe you are real."

"It is an example of the egotism that blinds one to the obvious."

"No. I know that you are not the real Evene, but rather a thing sent to torment me, because the real Evene, my Evene, would have refrained from judging me in my absence. She would have waited for my answer to whatever was said against me."

She looked away then.

"More of your clever words," she finally said. "They mean nothing."

"You may go now," he said, "and tell your master you did not succeed."

"He is not my master! He is my Lord and lover!"

"...Or you may stay, if you do not wish to go. It matters not at all."

He rose then, crossed to the bed, stretched out upon it, closed his eyes.

When he looked again, she was gone.

He had seen, however, that which she had not wished him to see.

...But I'll not give them anything, he decided. No matter what evidence they offer, I will explain it as a trick. I will keep my knowledge where I keep my feelings, for now.

After a time, he retreated into sleep, dreaming in bright colors of the future as he would have it.

He was left alone for a long while after that, which suited him perfectly.

He felt that he had held the Lord of Bats at bay, that he had defeated his first design upon his sanity. He occasionally chuckled as he paced the walls, ceilings, floors, surfaces of his chamber. He meditated upon his plan and its dangers, on the years that might be involved in achieving it. He ate his meals. He slept.

It occurred to him then that while at any given moment the Lord of Bats might be observing him, he could possibly be under observation at all times. He immediately had visions of the strange gemstone being passed from hand to hand by shifts of his enemy's servitors. The thought persisted. No matter what the action in which he was engaged, there came the nagging feeling that someone might be watching. He took to sitting for long spells glaring at possible watchers behind the mirrors. He would turn suddenly and gesture obscenely at invisible companions.

Gods! It's working! he decided one time, on awakening and looking quickly about the chamber. He is reaching! I suspect his presence everywhere, and it is beginning to unbalance me. But I've laid the groundwork. If he will just give me the opening I need and all other things remain as they are, I may have a chance. The best way to insure the opening, though, is to remain as untroubled-seeming as possible. I will have to stop pacing and watching, stop mumbling.

He lay there and opened his being and felt the sobering chill of the heights.

After that, he took to silence and slow movement. It was more difficult than he had thought to suppress his smaller reactions. But he suppressed them, sometimes seating himself, clasping his hands and counting through the thousands. The mirrors showed him that he wore a good-sized beard. His jester's garb grew worn and soiled. Often he would awaken in a cold sweat, unable to recall what nightmare had been tormenting him. Though his mind sometimes darkened, he now maintained the semblance of normalcy within his ever-lit prison of mirrors.

Is there a spell involved? he wondered. Or is it just the effects of prolonged monotony? Probably the latter. I think I'd sense his spell, though he's a better magician than 1. Soon now, soon. Soon he will be coming to me. He will feel that it is taking too long to distress me. There will come a counter-effect. He will be troubled. Soon, now. Soon he will come.

When he did, Jack had had advance notice.

He awakened to find a drawn bath-his second since his arrival, how many ages ago?- and a fresh costume. He scrubbed himself and donned the green-and-white garb. This time, he let the bells remain above his toes and he adjusted the cap to a rakish angle.

He seated himself then, clasped his hands behind his head and smiled faintly. He would not allow his appearance to betray the nervousness he felt.

When the air began to shimmer and he heard the note, he glanced in that direction and nodded slightly.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello," said the other. "How are you?"

"Quite recovered. I'd say. I should like to be taking my leave soon."

"In matters of health one cannot be too careful. I would say that you still require rest. But we shall discuss that matter at a later time.

"I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you," he went on. "I have been occupied by matters which required my full attention."

"That is all right," said Jack. "All efforts will shortly come to nothing."

The Lord of Bats studied his face, as though seeking some sign of madness upon it. Then he seated himself and, "What do you mean?" he inquired.

Jack turned his left palm upward, and, "If all things end," he said, "then all efforts will come to nothing."

"Why should all things end?"

"Have you paid heed to the temperature recently, good my Lord?"

"No," said the other, perplexed, "I have not stirred physically from my keep for a long while."

"It might prove instructive for you to do so. Or, better yet, open your being to the emanations from the Shield."

"I shall-in private.-But there is always some leakage. The seven whose presences are required to dam it will learn of it and act. There is no cause for concern or foreboding."

"There is if one of the seven is confined and unable to respond."

The other's eyes widened.

"I don't believe you," he said.

Jack shrugged.

"I was seeking a safe place from which I might disembark when you offered me your- uh, hospitality. It is certainly easy enough to verify."

"Then why did you not speak of it sooner?"

"Why?" asked Jack. "If my sanity is to be destroyed, what is it to me whether the rest of the world goes on existing or is destroyed?"

''That is a very selfish attitude," said the Lord of Bats.

"It is my attitude," said Jack, and he jingled his bells.

"I suppose I must go check your story." The other sighed, rising.

"I'll wait here." said Jack.

The Lord of Bats led him into the high hall that lay beyond the iron door, and there he cut his bonds.

Jack looked about him. There were familiar designs worked in mosaics on the floor, heaps of rushes in the corners, dark hangings upon the walls, a small central altar with a table of instruments beside it, an odor of incense in the air.

Jack took a step forward.

"Your name was strangely entered in the book of Ells," said the Lord of Bats, "for that of another was blotted out above it."

"Perhaps the tutelary deity had second thoughts on the matter."

"To my knowledge, this has never occurred before. But if you are one of the seven chosen, so be it. Hear me, though, before you move to essay your part of the Shield duty."