Nightlord: Orb (83 page)

The Quaen river flowed again in its accustomed riverbed.  Looking northward, there was no sign of the avalanche that once formed a temporary dam.  Did someone clear it, or was it another example of earth-moving by a super-colossal earth elemental?  Regardless, the river was back and the city of Bildar once again had a river running under most of it.  The bridge-city seemed to be in suspiciously good shape.  I suspected mountaineering influences.

All in all, everything seemed quiet and well-ordered, at least from a bird’s-eye view.  Give credit to an iron-fisted tyranny; it gets things done.

I wondered how long things would stay that way.

I shut down the mirror and started getting things together.

Boss?

“Yes?”

You’re still angry.

“Yes.”

Are you about to do something grumpy?

“You sound worried.”

Only because I know you, Boss, and sometimes you scare me.

“Am I scaring you?  I don’t mean to.”

You don’t usually stay this upset for this long without doing something…

“Something?”

Drastic?

“No, I’m not doing anything drastic.  At least, I don’t intend to.”

Now, see, that’s part of what scares me, Boss.  I’ve seen some of the things you think about and about half of them are things
you
don’t consider drastic.  It’s not the things themselves, bad as those are, but the fact you
don’t
think of them as drastic.  See what I mean?

“I think so.  But I’m also not planning to do anything extreme.  All I’m doing is trying to find Tort.  I’ve given it some thought while I was looking over the kingdom.  I’ve had time to calm down.  I’m not going to send out an ultimatum to all the kingdoms of the world.  I’m not even going to dump cities into the ocean.

“What I am going to do,” I continued, sharpening a piece of chalk, “is what any decent wizard would do when he’s lost something.  I’m going to cast a detection spell.  I don’t expect it to work.  I’ll seek for Tort, then for T’yl.  If I get a hit, great.  I’ll keel over in shock.  If I don’t, at least I’ll have confirmed what I already know.”

Uh, if you know it’s not going to work…?

“I’m trying it anyway,” I explained, “because, while I am a fool, I’m not a
complete
fool. You have to try the simple things.  Besides, if I later discover all I had to do was send out a seeker spell, I’ll have to be angry again, but angry at myself.”

Well, at least you’ve had practice at that,
Firebrand observed.  I slapped the hilt and it shut up.

I spent the rest of the night hammering out those two spells.

Friday, January 30
th

I was right.  They didn’t work.

Sunrise convinced me to give it up and hit the waterfall.  I did so, then went looking for a mortal breakfast.

Whoever stocked the place—Tort?  T’yl?  Probably T’yl; he was the one living here—saw to it the food stayed fresh.  The mountain hates enchantments on it, but it has no objection to keeping a room cold for you.  All you have to do is ask.  Add some enchanted chests and some specialized spells, you’ve got a fantastic walk-in refrigerator with freezer compartments, all without the clunky machinery.

It raised an interesting question, though.  Why was the palace still empty?  It was all set up to be living quarters—lavish living quarters—for a king.  Why didn’t the local baron occupy the place?  Why was it empty, but ready for immediate use?  Who put it in order and kept it so?  T’yl?  Did he have the kind of clout required to tell the local baron to go climb a tree?  Or was it a case of “You’re merely some appointed noble and that’s the Palace of the Demon King”?

I barely finished frying breakfast when Bronze alerted me to someone at the door.

“Did we close the front door?” I asked Firebrand.

I don’t think so.

“Great.”  I picked up my plate and carried it with me to the great hall, munching as I went.  I didn’t feel any worry or concern from Bronze, so it wasn’t a matter worthy of skipping breakfast.  It’s the most important meal of the day.

Bronze stood in one half of the open doorway.  A tall, stunning redhead had her arms around Bronze’s lowered neck.  The woman wore  bright yellow robes, cinched at the waist with a chain belt of gold links and rubies.  She practically glowed in the shadow of the mountain.  I recognized her instantly: Tianna, my granddaughter.

“Morning,” I offered.  “Had breakfast?”

“I have, thank you.”  Her fine eyebrows drew together as she frowned.  “You carry my grandfather’s sword.”

“I do.  Does the face fuzz make me look so different?” I asked.  I realized then I’d left my disguise spells on.

“Grandfather?  Is that you?”

“Of course it is.”

“Will you come into the light?  I can hardly see you.”

I stepped outside, still carrying the plate.  We walked around the curve of the courtyard into the sunlight.  She broke into a smile.  I’m tempted to say it was a radiant smile.  It certainly reminded me of the sun coming out from behind clouds.  It was much like her mother’s.  Her grandmother’s, too, come to think of it.

“It
is
you!” she squealed, and hugged me.  The hug wasn’t like her mother’s, not at all.  She was solid and strong and fierce about it.  She didn’t want to let go, either.  I concluded she missed her granddad.  I put my arms around her and squeezed her carefully.

“What
have
you done?” she asked, when she released me.  She ran her fingertips over my beard as her eyes searched my face.

“I’m wearing the artificial tan and face fur to be unrecognized, at least for a little while.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I’m not fond of it, either.  Itchy.  Scratchy.  It makes my face feel weird.”

“It changes your whole face.  I’m tempted to burn it off.”

“Please don’t.”

“You still need it?”

“I’ll have to consult with the Royal Spymaster,” I decided.  “Actually, that would be the Royal Spymistress.  In the meantime, won’t you please come in?”

“Thank you.”  We moved into the great hall and I realized it had a furniture problem.  Aside from the dragon-throne and the edges of firepits, there was nowhere to sit.  Where was the furniture I glimpsed through the eyes of the Demon King?  Or was that the great hall in Carrillon?  Probably Carrillon, if he spent most of his time there.

We moved to a kitchen and sat down at a table.  Tianna encouraged me to finish my breakfast; I did.  That takes a while.  She made no small talk, only smiled and watched me eat.

“You still have an appetite,” she observed, as I finished.

“It helps with my drinking problem.”

“Good for you.  So, Mom spoke to me about your arrival.  It’s good to have you back—the real you.  Do you have any plans?”

“Find Tort.  She not only went through years of personal misery on my behalf, but risked her soul in an attempt to free me.  Whatever else anyone wants of me can wait, but I’ll happily help afterward if anyone wants me to.”

“I understand, and I don’t blame you.  But you might consider helping some other people out a little on the way to your objective.  It might make things easier.”

“How so?”

“Well, Lissette could use some backing.  She’s the Queen, but people don’t snap to and do as they’re told the way they did when the Demon King gave an order.  She used to be able to ask troublemakers if she should bother His Majesty with this.”

“Did they?”

“You know,” she said, cocking her head to the side, “I don’t believe anyone ever took her up on it.  Isn’t that odd?”  We chuckled together.

“Not at all.  If she needs my help with anything, all she has to do is ask,” I assured her.  “She should bear in mind I’m not a politician; I’m a cruise missile.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If she wants something, she should ask for specifics.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Remind me to tell you some stories about people getting what they wish for.  My point is, I don’t understand the political climate.  Even when I do, I’m not a politician.  So she can’t ask me to solve a problem; I’m likely to make it worse.  But she can ask me to cast a spell, kill a rebel, or something like that.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.  Another thing…  Royal permission to establish temples to the Mother of Flame would be helpful—and,” she added, holding up a hand to halt my incipient interruption, “it would allow
me
to travel all over the place on
your
errands.”

“I’ll think about it.  You might ask Lissette if she has any objections.  If she’s okay with it, I don’t have a problem with rescinding the edict forbidding it, if there is one.”

“I’ll ask, if I can get through to her.  There’s also Bob.”

“Bob?  What does he want?”

“Who knows?” Tianna asked.  “He’s an elf.  You know the saying.  ‘If you know what an elf wants, you’re wrong.’”

“I don’t know the saying, but I see the point.”

Tianna chuckled and hunted around for something else to drink.  As I watched her, I saw a teenager who reminded me of her grandmother.  No makeup, no fancy clothes, but beautiful and sweet.  I don’t know what she saw.  She insisted I come out of the shadow of the mountain and into the sunlight before she agreed I was her grandfather, though, so she saw something that pleased her.

Home isn’t the place you hang your hat.  It’s the place you love.  As long as Tianna and Amber are here, this world will, to me, retain some feeling of home.

“You look younger than I expected,” I told her.  “How old are you, now?  Seventeen?”

“Eighteen,” she corrected, settling down again with a glazed ceramic jug, “but my age has been slowing ever since my first blood.”

“Ah, of course.  I forgot about the long life thing.”

“Grandfather?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve missed you,” she sighed, softly.  I scooted back from the table and held out my arms.  She swarmed into my lap like a little girl—which she definitely is not; she’s got to be at least five-foot-ten—and squeezed me.  I rocked her, just as if I were still a giant to her.  My eyes might have watered a little.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I told her.  “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry your grandfather isn’t smarter.  Or wiser.  I missed most of your growing up and I regret it.”

“I forgive you.”

Ever been punched in the gut by a statement?  All the air came out of me and I couldn’t seem to get any back.  Instead, I held her harder.  A world-class load of guilt and self-loathing dropped off my shoulders in one phrase, said simply, sincerely, and with the ring of ultimate truth.  It echoed, whether in my heart or my head, I don’t know.  It might have echoed down every corridor in Karvalen and back to us.  She forgave me for being an idiot, for missing her confirmation as a priestess, for not teaching her all my magic, for all the things I should have been there to do or to see.  In three words, she told me there could never be anything I did that could change one of the fundamental realities of the universe:  My granddaughter loves me.

My future plans coalesced around that thought.

My granddaughter has more faith in me than she does in her goddess.  I’m not sure how Sparky feels about that, but she can’t possibly be ignorant of it.  Even
I
noticed it.

“Thank you,” I tried to say.  It took two swallows and three tries.

“Done with breakfast?”

“I am now.”

“Come on.  I need to wash my face.”

We repaired to the Royal Bathroom.  Someone went to more than a little effort to fancy it up.  Instead of granite everywhere, most of it was marble or volcanic glass, all smoothed to a gleam.  Three baths—well, one bath divided into three parts—had the usual hot/cold/warm options.  The waterfall was downstream from the tub overflow, and the toilet was downstream from that.  Water flowed through a hole, angled down underneath a seat.  Bits of gold highlighted edges and corners everywhere.  Magical lights reposed in gold-plated niches in the wall, throwing a warm light over everything.

Tianna washed her face; I washed mine.  She flicked fingers at the heated bath and it boiled before she dropped her robes and stepped into the boiling water.

Okay, cultural dissonance, there.  My middle-America upbringing told me this was unacceptable.  My half-million souls from Zirafel wondered why.  I’ve seldom felt so strongly ambivalent.  Social bathing in mixed company is/was an accepted practice in Zirafel, almost as common as passing the
salus
cup around the table before the meal…

Crap.  I’m going to have to look up the
salus
cup in my headspace.  A group drink, like a toast, only everyone sipping from the ceremonial cup?  Maybe.  I suspect I won’t be participating in such rituals too often.

As for the bathtub, in Rethven there was no social bathing.  No public baths, either.  Family bathing was still regarded as acceptable, mainly because their water systems were primitive.  Rethven’s plumbing didn’t allow for the massive bath complexes found in Zirafel.  If I’d had a home and family while living in Rethven, I might have noticed sooner.

Now Karvalen has huge waterworks.  Presumably, it also has public baths.  I know the palace does.  Is that because the mountain remembered it through me from Zirafel or Rome?  Or because the mountain paid more attention to big picture infrastructure than to individualized needs?  A big bath complex is easier than a thousand individual bathrooms, after all.

But I digress.

Okay.  Fine.  I decided I could do this.  I’ll be awkward and uncomfortable, but if this is going to be home for the next thousand years, I’m going to have to fit in.  So suck it up, bub, and give it a try.

I stripped down and settled into the warm soak, not the hot section.  I once tested my immunity to fire and determined I had a virtual immunity to divine fire, but regular and magical fires were still a problem.  Getting the flesh boiled off me did not seem a good idea.

Besides, I didn’t want to share a tub with my teenaged granddaughter.  I think there’s something not quite right about that, although I’m at a loss to explain exactly why.  I’m sure I’ll get over it… eventually.

“So,” I began, settling comfortably, “the first thing we talked about was me, then the kingdom.  What about you?  How are things with my granddaughter?  ”

“Well,” she replied, thinking, swirling the steaming water.  It bubbled and boiled in the wake of her hands. “I’m living in town, next to the Temple of Fire.  We have quite the congregation.  I’m pleased and the Mother is pleased.  I seem to get along well with most of the various factions and religions in town.”

“I’m glad the priestess gig is working out,” I observed.  “Now that we’ve dealt with the religion, how’s my granddaughter?  How are your studies coming?  Having any troubles?  Got a boyfriend?” I asked.  She laughed.

“Maybe I do,” she allowed.  “I haven’t decided, yet.  When I do, I’ll tell him.  No real troubles, though.  I have a nice place—T’yl helped shape the stone—and I have access to the royal palace in Karvalen, which means I’m never at a loss for money.”

“The metals room?”

“Exactly.  I’ve helped keep it a secret, by the way.  You have no idea how many people would be after this place if they knew it had an inexhaustible supply of gold.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Tort once told me you’re sometimes her idiot angel, but she loves you anyway.”  Tianna cocked her head.  “Maybe that’s part of why she loves you; you need her.  She takes care of you.”

“Someone needs to.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Oh?”

“You were possessed by a demon spirit and we had to steal your soul to rescue you,” she pointed out.