Reave the Just and Other Tales (53 page)

My full trepidation returned, whetted and ready, when at last I drew near enough to see my gates. I dreaded the prospect of my overseer’s distress—and the recall of his bitter appeal.

If you don’t rescue us, we’ll never be free.

Some distance ahead of me, the stranger gained the gates. Without hesitation or delay, he opened them and entered the grounds of my villa.

In surprise, I limped to a halt. Earlier those same gates had been closed against me. Why now did not one impede my usurper?

Had some new disaster befallen my home?

Urgency drove me forward. Spurred by fright, I managed an unsteady trot until I reached the gates.

There I saw that the grounds appeared as deserted as Benedic. No one attended the gates. No one except the stranger walked the carriageway curving gracefully toward the villa. No one moved upon the kempt greensward, or among the discreet outbuildings. No guard showed his pike, no courtesan enjoyed the sunlight or the clear air, no servant followed the behest of duty or leisure.

They must, I told myself frantically, they must all have secreted themselves within the villa, fearing the thwarted necromancer’s ire. Yet that explanation was as inadequate as my attire. Sher Abener had already claimed Tep Longeur. In effect, he ruled here. What remained for my servants, ladies, and guards to fear—or to avoid?

Staggering weakly, I began to run.

I was no more than three or four steps behind my usurper as he ascended the villa’s marble portico and approached its high doors. Though my breath gasped and rattled in my chest, tearing at my throat, I rushed to reach the doors before him. Shouldering him aside, I flung the doors wide and stumbled inward, crying out for attendance as I entered.

My call echoed from the polished tile of the floor, but no voice answered. For a moment, the comparative darkness within the entry hall seemed to strike me blind, and I saw only gloom and shadows on every side, vague shapes cowering against the walls, fear crouching in the corners. Then, however, my sight cleared, and the emptiness of the villa made itself plain.

Never in my life had I passed those doors without being admitted by retainers assigned to that duty. A ragged shout brought no response. A feverish tug on a satin bellpull by the doors produced chiming echoes muffled by distance, but no other result.

Filled by horror and chagrin, I understood what had occurred.

Sher Abener had indeed been forewarned.

His theurgist had failed to penetrate the stranger’s glamour. Believing my usurper to be Sher Urmeny, the man had been shocked and shaken by my interference. He had fled the Thal’s mansion, bearing to the necromancer a confused tale of unguessed and unrecognized opposition.

Hence the abandonment of my villa.

That knowledge defeated me, and I fell to my knees. Only my palms upon the cool tiles spared me from striking my head. The foolish hopes with which I had nurtured my heart evaporated from my eyes, and I saw that all was lost.

The stranger gazed about him, frowning slightly. “Is this customary?” he asked. With a gesture, he indicated the entry hall’s emptiness.

I shook my head. Still panting, I answered, “Sher Abener has been given warning. He has called all who serve him to his manor.” I was certain of what I said. “Tep Longeur is there. Perhaps others. Everyone else has fled.”

“Tep Longeur?” My usurper appeared to require confirmation. “Your overseer? The man this necromancer has possessed?”

“Yes.” I raised a hand to wipe my eyes. Abjectly, I explained, “Sher Abener was surprised that his theurgist met resistance. He is unsure of your power. Therefore he fears it. He seeks to gather all his might against you.

“He has suffered defeats elsewhere.” Tep Longeur had revealed this. “He does not mean to do so here.”

“Then he will be disappointed,” stated the stranger firmly. His tone had changed. Its former mildness had been replaced by hinted iron and determination. “I do not condone possession.”

Deliberately he turned toward the doors.

He astonished me so greatly that I forgot myself. Weariness, burning, and thirst all dropped from my mind. I felt nothing except a trembling and avid fury.

In an instant, I had regained my feet. Before my feigned self had taken two steps, I sneered at his back, “And do you believe he
cares
whether you do or do not condone it?”

The stranger paused to face me. Briefly he scrutinized me as he had once before, on the banks of the Ibendwey. Then he nodded as though he had been reassured.

“That does not concern me,” he replied. “You have not described how you incurred this necromancer’s enmity, and I do not ask. The answer is plain. Still I am in your debt. It is your dread of possession which caused you to abandon your home and your life. It caused you to abandon Tep Longeur, who served you. Is that not so? In order to repay you, I must confront this necromancer. As I have already said.

“I am,” he concluded, “a man of my word.”

I found his confidence maddening. I had in fact done all that he said. Yet my fear was the fear of a reasonable man, a sane man, and I did not merit blame for it. Certainly I did not deserve to be held responsible for my usurper’s lunacy.

Did he mean to suggest that I should have stood by my word to Sher Abener?—that having accepted a commission I should have held to it? Then what would I have done when Tep Longeur declined to obey me? Would the stranger have found my actions honorable if I had enlisted the necromancer’s aid to compel my caravaneers?

My position was intolerable. I could not stomach Sher Abener’s demand for
slaves
.

“You intend to seek him out?” I protested, fuming. My indignation seemed to expand until I could no longer contain it. “In his manor? With all his powers and servants about him?”

My usurper regarded me sternly. “I am a man of my word,” he repeated.

His eyes had lost none of their clarity. Events had not diminished his
vividness,
or his air of substance. Indeed, he seemed more potent than ever—beyond suasion or compromise. Now, however, he did not daunt me. Instead he fed my ire.

“You are also a great fool,” I shouted at him, “and soon you will be a dead one! But that will not end your usefulness to Sher Abener. He is a
necromancer
. His strength is
drawn
from the dead!

“Heed me,” I pleaded. “Hear me. I do not understand this
debt
of which you speak, or your notion of repayment, but I release you from it. It is accomplished, forgotten. Restore my name, and I am satisfied.

“Here is my villa.” I flung out my arms, including all my riches in their sweep. “Raiment aplenty. Food and drink. Horses to bear us. Coin to pay our way.” My strongboxes held a considerable sum of saludi. If Tep Longeur had not taken them for Sher Abener’s use— “All this will enable us to flee with some prospect of success.”

My usurper frowned. “As I have said, I am a—”

“You are a man of your word!” I cried in fury and dismay. I could not bring myself to strike him. Rather, I flailed at the empty air. “You are a man of your word.
I heard you!
But you are also
deaf
. Do
you
hear nothing? Mere fools and madmen are wiser than to confront necromancers with nothing more than their virtue to protect them.

“Have you entirely failed to notice that you would have
died
in the hall of wisdom if I had not rescued you? I
fought
for you. In all my life, I have never lifted my hand in anger against another living man, and
I fought for you
.

“I will not do so again!” There I lowered my voice. My shouts meant nothing to him, and I wished him to understand that I, too, would not be swayed. “I will not dare enter Sher Abener’s manor.” I could not. The mere thought caused my heart to quail utterly. “If you go there, you will learn that I have spoken the truth. Doubtless your power to assume my name and place amuses you. Perhaps the master of that dwelling will be amused as well.

“Go if you must. You will go alone.”

In reply, my usurper shrugged. My failure to discourage or save him was complete. Quietly he answered, “I did not ask you to accom-pany me.”

Then he turned his back and strode away. In a moment, he had passed the doors and was gone from my sight.

He left me trembling at the extent to which I had been diminished. Although he went to oppose a
necromancer,
he placed no value upon my aid. All that he desired of me was my name.

Very well, I thought as I shook with anger.
I did not ask you to accompany me
. Nor had he asked me to defend him in the Thal’s mansion. I had done so because I had persuaded myself to the hazard, hoping to reclaim some vestige of myself.

Now, for the same reason, I meant to abandon him to his chosen fate. Whatever the cost of his usurpation, he had incurred it himself. While he repaid his
debts,
I would at last provide for my own survival.

To do so seemed simple enough. Despite my long reliance upon servants, I knew my own home sufficiently to obtain what I needed from it. Food, apparel, saludi, a mount—I could dispense with everything else. The stranger had given me one gift—a respite, an interval during which Sher Abener’s attention would necessarily be concentrated elsewhere. If that interval lasted as long as an hour, I would be safely beyond his reach.

As I set about my purpose, however, I found that it was not so simple as I had imagined.

The villa was my
home. My
home. Each room and hallway raised memories to teach me the cost of flight. Pangs of loss set their teeth into my heart at every turn. And wherever I went, the same voices echoed in my mind.

If you do not save us, we will never be free
.

I am a man of my word
.

I will render the marrow from your bones, and drink it while you
die
!

The entire domicile seemed ghost-ridden and forlorn, reft of life by Tep Longeur’s ruin. Malice and supplication haunted me as I readied my final departure.

You have mistaken me for my father. I am not such a man.

Go if you must. You will go alone.

Aching in pained recollection, I visited my kitchens, where I drank several flagons of water and eased my hunger with bread, cheese, and olives. Then I limped to my private chambers. After washing and tending my damaged feet, I shod them in sturdy boots. I selected garments for travel, including a dark-hued cloak which might serve as a blanket at need. When I had considered the contents of the theurgist Bandonire’s pouch, I affixed it to my belt. I equipped myself with a hardwood staff, which I could employ as either support or weapon. A well-honed dirk I hung at my side.

Thus I prepared myself, to the accompaniment of voices and remembered anguish.

It is the place of every honest citizen to name injustice whenever it occurs, and to reject it honestly.

At last, I was ready to depart. I had already chosen the road which would lead me away from my life in Benedic.

And yet—

And yet I could not do it. My resolve failed me—or was transformed. When I bid farewell to my villa, I took no coin, and no horse. I carried neither food nor drink. I had no need of them.

From my gates, I directed my steps, not away from Benedic, but toward Sher Abener’s dark abode.

My course horrified me. Indeed, I felt that my mind had failed altogether. Still I did not turn aside.

I did not ask you to accompany me.

The choice was mine to make. Therefore I made it.

I could perhaps have borne abandoning the stranger to possession and death. He had disregarded both my warnings and my attempts to save him. Somewhere during this long day, however, I had lost my capacity to endure Sher Abener’s wish to practice his cruel arts in Benedic. He did not merit my compliance.

If my usurper yearned for doom, I would require him to seek it in his own name, not in mine.

Midafternoon had turned toward evening, for I had spent more time in preparation—or in the Thal’s mansion—than I realized. The sun spread tall shadows upon the roadway before me so that they led me into darkness. Along the avenues to the necromancer’s manor, I questioned my resolve a thousand times. But I did not alter it. The easy comfort of my former life could not be reclaimed. Therefore I let it go.

All too soon, I reached the grim granite which enclosed Sher Abener’s manor.

In the walls, the black iron of the gates stood shut, as they had early this morning. Perhaps they would have opened themselves for me again if I had spoken my name, but I left the experiment untried. Although I could not hope to take the necromancer unaware, I had no wish to proclaim my approach. Instead I thrust my staff between the bars above the lock and levered until the bolt twisted from its seat. Then I stepped between the gates.

As I passed, I heard no voices, bodiless or otherwise.

Upon reflection, I was surprised by my success. I would have expected Sher Abener’s arts to hold more securely. However, I did not complain. If he believed that no one other than the supposed Sher Urmeny would come against him, so much the better. His inattention might work to my benefit.

The doors to the manor were likewise closed. Rather than seek another entrance, which might have served me ill in any case, I forced the door bolt with the point of my dirk. Easing the portal open, I slipped into the manor.

The vestibule remained as I recalled it—large and empty, furnished only with gloom, a wide stair rising toward midnight on one hand, an archway clutching its secrets on the other. Here at last I was forced to acknowledge the folly of my intentions. A lifetime ago—a lifetime measured in mere hours—when I had approached Sher Abener to recant my acceptance of his commission, I had been guided by lamps which appeared to light and extinguish themselves of their own accord. How would I find him now? By what means could I hope to discover him in this dire place?

While I fretted over the question, however, I heard the sound of a step upon stone. In alarm, I wheeled toward the stair and saw a gloom-shrouded figure descending. Some man or fiend slowly paced the treads to confront me.