Shade and Sorceress (34 page)

“My friend,” said Eliza. “Dinnay worry, Charlie. We’ll get out of this.”

Rom Tok looked miserably at Eliza. She knew he was wishing she hadn’t come but wouldn’t say so again.

“Have you been here the whole time? In this room?” asked Eliza, straightening up again and looking around. She knew their situation was desperate, but just seeing her father, so strong and clever and brave, she felt better, somehow hopeful.

Rom nodded. “There’s no night or day, so I haven’t been able to keep track of how long, but I’d guess a couple of weeks.”

“What about food?” asked Eliza, thinking of the general eating the penguin in the aquarium.

“Conjured food,” said Rom. “Or perhaps Illusion, though I think that would only stave off hunger. Either way, I don’t think she’ll let us starve. She’ll come up with something more creative than that.” He looked around, his dark brow fiercely creased. “She’s not going to accept any kind of a deal, so we’ll have to find a way to get you out of here without her noticing. But honestly, I’ve spent my whole time here trying to think of a way out and I haven’t come up with much.”

Eliza tried the window. It was locked.

“We could break it,” she said.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve broken that window and punched up the walls,” said Rom with a grim laugh. He showed her his scabbed knuckles, and her heart gave a sick little lurch. “How can we escape when we can’t see what is really there, when our own movements lie to us? We have only our senses to go by, and they’re all caught up in her Magic.” His voice grew louder as he spoke and when he was finished he stood flexing his fingers, his jaw working furiously. “Forsake the Ancients!” he burst out suddenly, in a strange, harsh voice Eliza had never heard him use. “What good am I? Can’t do a thing. My own daughter, and I can’t do a thing.”

“Da,” she said, her mouth dry. It was terrible to see him this way. His eyes met hers for a moment and then he turned away, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms and pacing the length of the room.

“Let me think, let me think,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

An idea came to Eliza and she put it aside immediately. Not because she didn’t believe it would work, but because she believed it might. She knew that to voice the idea to her father, or even to think on it too intently, could alert the Sorceress.

Eliza still had the dragon claw, which hung cold as a log of ice around her neck, as if it alone were impervious to the Illusion that kept her warm. Though she didn’t yet know how she might put it to use, it was the one powerful item in her possession and Nia could not take it from her. The only other power she had lay in the depth of her connection to Nia. The Sorceress had been able to come to her in dreams and trances, and Eliza had felt as soon as she laid eyes on her that she knew her somehow, not in the way one ordinarily knows people, but in far more profound and complicated way. She could feel it when Nia’s attention was on her, like a warm glow, and she could feel it when that attention shifted elsewhere. She felt Nia’s mood lift, or her energy flag, almost as if these were her own feelings. If she concentrated on the vast waves of energy she felt from Nia now she could place her precisely. She walked, eyes closed, to one of the walls and placed her hand against it. Whatever Nia was doing, she was doing it right behind this wall, and the wall was thin because Nia had nothing left over to make it thicker. She had expended enormous energy in creating the city to impress Eliza. Now she had left them in a bleak little room, undecorated, without even creating any view beyond the Arctic whiteness outside, because she was busy doing something else that required all her strength. And so although it seemed that they were more trapped than before, in this tiny room, Eliza knew that they were in fact less trapped, and that if they were to escape at all it would have to be at such a time, when Nia was not paying attention, when her power was at a low ebb or concentrated elsewhere. Eliza pressed her face to the wall. Whatever the Sorceress was doing, it must be immensely difficult. And she was doing it just a few feet away.

“Eliza...” Rom began, then stopped. She seemed to have gone into a kind of a trance. He watched her closely, and a great confusion of pride and horror and grief tangled together within him. He wanted to tell her to leave everything to him, to stop whatever she was doing. He wanted to promise that he would save her. But no words came. Ever since his wife had come back from Tian Xia twelve years ago holding this tiny squalling bundle with his face, all that had mattered to him was protecting her, keeping her safe. But he couldn’t protect her anymore, and he couldn’t keep her safe. What he saw now with such a mix of emotions was that she was no longer really a child, and that she was indeed her mother’s daughter.

~

The Emissariae set up camp in the Arctic within a heated, domed shelter. They stood in a row behind the Supreme Mancer, Kyreth. He was seated, waiting, his long fingers drumming against the arm of his chair.

“Perhaps he will not come,” ventured Ka.

Kyreth did not reply immediately. After a pause he said, “If he ignores our call this time we cannot count on him for anything. It will be open war between us.”

They were silent then, but they were all thinking the same thing: they could not afford a war with the Faeries when the Sorceress was rattling her cage. They needed friends.

The door of the shelter flew open and the silent, ghost-grey silver-hounds of the Faeries poured into the dome. The Mancers watched as the long-legged creatures moved swiftly about the shelter and among the Mancers themselves, pointing with their noses, looking about them with bottomless black eyes, seeking the scent of silver, which rendered a Faery powerless. Finding none, they let out in unison a ghostly cry and then settled down on the ground, watchful. The Faeries appeared as if out of nowhere. It was a trick of theirs, intended to impress. They were dressed in silk and brightly feathered capes. They stood in formation around the King of the Faeries himself, who did not look pleased.

Kyreth rose to his feet and began the Old Greetings but the King of the Faeries interrupted him, ignoring the formalities.

“I am not well pleased to be called into this world by you as if I were your dog,” he said, his voice ringing with anger. “That child is
not
my concern, she is yours. I agreed to fight with you when Nia poses a
threat.
I did not agree to be troubled for that nuisance of a girl who stabbed me in the foot. You ask too much.”

The Mancers bristled at his rudeness.

“Your Majesty,” said Kyreth carefully, “your behavior is uncalled for. You show a lack of trust with your hounds. Will you not now greet me as an equal?”

“Are you my equal?” demanded the King of the Faeries. “Are you sure of that? Enough. I’ve come to the coldest region of your blasted and forsaken world and my presence seems to me more than courtesy enough.”

Kyreth could feel the Emissariae tense with fury behind him but he controlled his own anger. It would not do to take the bait and quarrel with this ill-mannered King who had no respect for the old conventions. He had insulted the Mancers and they would not forget it, but for now they could not achieve their task without his help.

“The child is within Nia’s web of Illusion,” said Kyreth.

“Go and get her, then!” cried the King. “You’re powerful Mancers; why don’t you rescue your precious brat? What has it to do with me?”

The Emissariae were poised for combat, certain that Kyreth would not endure this any longer. Their terrible eyes met those of the Faeries across from them, who smiled faintly, mockingly.

“You wish to provoke me,” said Kyreth in a low rumble, devoid of anger. “But I will not be provoked today, Your Majesty. I do not need to remind you of the power of the Mancers. Nor do I need to explain to you that we cannot enter the Sorceress’s Illusion. You know this. However, the blood in your veins renders you immune. Illusion cannot hold you.”

“Oh, forsake the Ancients!” cried the King of the Faeries.
“I’m
not going in there! Are you mad?”

“It must be you, for only you can succeed in this task. No other Faery can stand in for you.”

“And even if I did agree to go in there, what by the Ancients could I
do?
You can’t expect me to just saunter in and snatch the brat and walk out again?”

“Strike a bargain.”

“What am I supposed to offer?”

“We recommend a threat.”

“Threaten her with
what?
What in the worlds can we do to her that we haven’t already done?”

A barrier leaped up between the King of the Faeries and his cohort. Taken by surprise, they pushed against it to no avail and looked to their King for his command.

“Her immortality depends on yours,” said Kyreth softly. The King stepped forward, livid.

“How dare you?” he hissed. “How
dare
you? Do you wish an outright war with the Faeries?”

“It is best that she feel your fear,” said Kyreth.

The King of the Faeries glared at the Supreme Mancer. He longed to hurl Curses at him, to sweep him up in a nightmare of Illusion, but he knew when he was beaten. Nia, if she were free, would seek revenge. He could not keep
her
at bay with Illusion – not so long as she wore his blood around her neck. She could not kill him, of course, but she would come for him nonetheless and she would be full of ideas to make him pay. Though he held the Mancers in contempt, he could not ignore those who imprisoned her. He struggled to master his rage. The task they put before him was foolish, dangerous, and he was angered by their bullying tactics, but he had no choice. He would have to face his one-time wife, the only being he had ever truly loved.

~

On the other side of the wall from where Eliza stood there was a struggle of some kind. Eliza felt it deep inside of her: the ferocious onslaught and the desperate, determined resistance. Then it ceased. Feeling the Sorceress’s exhaustion, she seized the moment.

“This is pathetic!” she said loudly, turning towards her father and speaking Kallanese. He had been watching the disturbing play of light and dark on the floor that was Charlie and startled when she spoke. “I thought she was so powerful but this room doesnay even have anything in it! She told me the
Mancers
were unimaginative, like
she
was so special compared to them, aye, but anybody could do something better than this. She couldnay even keep that city going for long.”

Rom Tok gaped at her in bewildered horror. She could feel Nia’s outrage surging up within her. The room became glass, and then it shattered. A hand caught Eliza by the throat and dragged her choking to her feet. The broken glass became water. They were standing in the middle of a still grey ocean that stretched to the horizon on every side. Rom Tok, the general and the group of celebrities were all splashing in the water and gasping for breath. Even held by the throat in the midst of her fear and shock Eliza could see that Nia looked ragged and gaunt. She had to press the closest thing she was likely to get to an advantage.

“You look terrible,” she croaked, and Nia dropped her. She sucked in a great lungful of air before she hit the water. It was so cold that for a moment she couldn’t breathe at all. She saw Nia still standing on the water and undoing the locket. Eliza made a feeble lunge in her direction but she could barely move to keep herself afloat. Nia looked in her little mirror and became once again youthful and dazzling. She cast a hateful look at Eliza splashing helplessly at her feet, then turned and walked away across the water. As she did so, Eliza saw that a hazy whiteness was forming at the edges of the grey water. The Illusion was simple by necessity, and Nia could not maintain it. She was tired, she was flagging, and Eliza could not give up, could not give her time to regroup. She tried to shout something but couldn’t catch her breath. Nia had noticed the whiteness closing in as well and glanced back sharply to see if her victims had seen it.
It’s only water,
Eliza thought fiercely.
It’s no better than the room. It doesnay take any talent.
She tried to throw her thoughts towards Nia and Nia clearly caught them because she came back towards Eliza, skipping over the water, and said nastily, “If you really want something special, just ask, Smidgen.”

A great slithery black back surged through the water towards them. Eliza looked on, horrified and unable to act, as a great fanged head emerged and snatched the blond actor, dragging him down.

“Stop!” cried Eliza, finding her voice. She struck out towards the creature. The water was colder than anything she had experienced before but she was a strong swimmer. The thing surged up again, heading for the contortionist, who began to scream. Eliza got there first and lunged straight into the creature. It melted to sludge in her grasp. Nia laughed. For one dizzying moment Eliza saw only snow before the scene flickered and changed. She was in a small room in front of a fireplace, alone. The warmth and charm of the room after the cold water was tantalizing but she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting the Illusion to take hold of her. Nia was tired and all this was barely held together.

“Da!” she shouted, reaching, and she felt his hand in hers. There was a tug deep inside her:
This way, this way,
it seemed to say. Hope poured through her. The walls were weak; they would find their way out. She plunged in the direction she knew they had to go, her father with her. She heard him cry out and knew from the sudden blistering heat that she was taking them into the fireplace. She didn’t hesitate but leaped through the fire, through the wall.