The Book of Taltos (57 page)

But I fervently hoped that I would have a chance to give my Demon Goddess a piece of my mind before all was said and done.

I
T WAS EARLY AFTERNOON
when I was summoned to Morrolan’s lower workshop, the place set aside for his experiments with sorcery. I was much calmer, and beginning to be nervous. Make that frightened.

I picked up Aibynn on the way. Sethra, Daymar, and Morrolan were there, staring at the black stone and speaking together. They looked up when I came in and Sethra said, “Here, Vlad, catch,” and tossed me the stone. “Now, speak to me psionically.” I attempted to do so, and it was like it was back on the island; no one was home. I shrugged. “Now,” she said, “watch.” She gestured with one hand, and my rapier began rising out of its sheath. She stopped, it slid back in.

“Well?” I said.

“The stone has no effect on sorcery whatsoever.”

“All right. But then—”

She held up a hand. “Now, if you please, set Spellbreaker spinning.”

“Eh? All right.” I let the chain fall into my left hand, wondering what she was after. It was very cool in my hand, and alive like a Morganti weapon was alive, yet different. I did as she’d said. When it was going good, spinning between Sethra and me, she gestured again. This time, nothing happened, except perhaps the faintest tingling running up my arm.

“Well?” I said. “We knew Spellbreaker interfered with sorcery. That’s why I gave it the name.”

“Yes. And so does whatever else is on the island. Does the similarity strike you?”

“Yes. What’s your point?”

“There is more to that chain than I know,” she said. “But I think we are able to determine one thing now. It is not, in fact, made of gold. It is made of gold Phoenix stone.”

“Is that what you call it?” put in Aibynn, who’d been so quiet I’d forgotten he was there.

“What do you call it?” asked Morrolan, in all innocence.

“In my land,” said Aibynn, “we call it a rock.”

I said hastily, “I’m not really surprised that Spellbreaker isn’t just gold; I’ve never seen gold as hard as the links of this chain.”

“Yes. Black disables psionic activity, gold prevents the working of sorcery.”

I studied Spellbreaker. “It certainly looks like metal,” I said. “And feels like it.”

“As I said, there’s more to that chain than I understand.”

“Well, all right. Now, do you know how to use this information to get past it to the island?”

“Possibly. Set Spellbreaker spinning again.” I did so. She looked at Daymar, nodded, and gestured. Once again, the sword began to rise from its sheath, only very slowly. She stopped, it returned.

“Looks good,” I said. “How?”

“How did Aliera break through the wall the last time you were on the island?”

“Pre-Empire sorcery,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Can you control it well enough to teleport with it? I’d understood such fine control was impossible, which is why the Orb was invented in the first place.”

“Yes and no,” said Sethra. “I can create a disturbance in the field set up by the Phoenix Stone, which allows Daymar to direct his energy through the gold stone, ignoring the black, which allows me to channel mine through the black, ignoring the gold. It isn’t easy,” she added.

“It is similar,” added Morrolan, “to the way you and Loiosh communicate. It isn’t exactly psionically, it’s more—”

“Never mind the details,” I said, “as long as it will work.”

“It should,” said Sethra. “As long as we can get a solid enough image of the place.”

She looked at Aibynn. He stared back, looking innocent.

“All right,” I said. “Sethra, what about getting us back?”

“Daymar will have to try to break through to you.”

“All right, when?”

“Let’s talk about it.”

We decided that they would give us a couple of hours, and, after that, Daymar would attempt to reach me psionically every half hour until we said we were ready to return.

Sethra said, “You know, don’t you, that it is much more difficult to teleport something to you than from you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I trust you.”

“As you say.”

“Then we can proceed.”

“Yes,” she said. “Are you ready?”

“I was born ready.”

“Then let us call Aliera and be about it.”

Aliera arrived almost at once. She was wearing the black and silver battle garb of a Dragonlord. She was barely taller than I, which was quite short for a Dragaeran. It used to bother her, I guess, since she was in the habit of
wearing long gowns and levitating rather than walking, but she had recently stopped doing this. I thought that I’d ask her why at some future date, then realized there probably wouldn’t be some future date for me. I shivered. At her side was a shortsword called Pathfinder, which was one of the Seventeen Great Weapons, though I knew little about it beyond that. That it was Morganti was sufficient information for most people, myself included.

Morrolan, as always, wore black. At his side was Blackwand, about which the less said the better. Sethra had us stand in a triangle, with me at the V, Morrolan in front of me to the right, Aliera in front to my left. Loiosh was on my right shoulder, Rocza on my left. Rocza seemed a bit jumpy; Loiosh as cool as steel. Sethra said, “Put an arm on Morrolan’s shoulder, and one on—hello, Master Taltos.”

I looked up and saw my grandfather ambling his way toward me. For a moment I was afraid he was going to insist on coming along, but he only wanted to slip an amulet over my head and kiss my cheek.

“What is it?”

“It should prevent you from feeling discomfort while you journey in the elflands.”

It took me a moment to translate that, then I said, “You mean I won’t get sick anymore when I teleport? Noish-pa, my life is complete.”

“No,” he said. “It is not complete until you have given me a great-grandchild. Don’t forget that.”

I looked into his eyes for just a moment, then kissed his cheek. “I won’t.” He stepped back until he was next to Aibynn, who was next to Daymar and Sethra. I put my hands on Aliera’s and Morrolan’s shoulders and said, “All right, Sethra and Daymar. Cast off.”

“Concentrate on the location, Aibynn. Do you have one in mind?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Concentrate on it, and open your mind to me—oh, take that thing off.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.”

“Now, think about it. Remember every detail you can, what it feels like—excellent. You’re good at this. I think we’re ready, Vlad.”

“Do it, then,” I said, hoping Aibynn wasn’t sending us back into a cell, or into the sea or something. I wished I could trust him a little more. I felt
Daymar’s powerful psychic presence, as if he were tiptoeing around in my forebrain. Then there was what I can only describe as a psychic twist. Imagine, if you will, that your thoughts are neatly rolling waves in a pond, and someone comes along and throws a boulder into the middle of it. I could no longer form coherent thoughts, and my perceptions became hopelessly muddled. I remember feeling as if Castle Black were loose inside my head, and I was desperately trying to tie it down against a storm, while simultaneously realizing how absurd that was.

More went on then, a great deal more, but there is no way I can reconstruct it, or even remember most of the images the spell created. The next thing I can recall clearly, and I have no idea how long we stood there before it happened, was being covered in a bright blue light that took us all in and then resolved itself to a spear of light that went off in some impossible direction, taking us with it.

There was no nausea. There wasn’t even any sensation of movement. We stood in a grove below a tree from which I’d fallen not many days before. I wanted to open a bottle of wine, more for Noish-pa’s amulet having worked than the success of the teleport spell, but I had none handy in any case.

Morrolan said, “What’s the plan, Vlad?”

Plan? I was supposed to have a plan? “Follow me,” I said, and,
“Loiosh, do you remember the way?”

“I think so, boss. Bear a little to the left.”

We set off. It was oddly peaceful walking through the woods, I guess because of the lack of background psychic activity, the kind that’s always there but you never notice. Soon I forgot that anyone was with me except Loiosh, whom I could feel as a cool hand on the brow of my thoughts, and way in the background, faint echoes of Rocza, who was just recovering from panic induced by the teleport. I realized for the first time how strange this must be for her, and how hard it was for her to appear calm in the face of these strange sorceries, for which none of her life had prepared her. Loiosh had chosen well.

“Thanks, boss.”

“Think nothing of it, Loiosh.”

“Now, what is it you’ve been hiding from me all day?”

“Wait and see.”

We came to the place where I’d fought my first four pursuers, and I didn’t take the time to see if there were any signs of the struggle. Loiosh led me; I led Morrolan and Aliera, and in about an hour and a half we were outside the village. It was early evening. There was no one in sight.

“Where is everybody, boss?”

“Probably on ships preparing to attack the Dragaeran navy.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s eat,” I said aloud, and we took out the food that had been packed for us by Morrolan’s cook. I had dried winneasaurous and some good bread. I took my time eating, so it was nearly full dark by the time we were done.

“Now what?” said Morrolan.

I looked at their dim faces, Morrolan e’Drien and Aliera e’Kieron, watching me patiently and expectantly. I said, “Now I lead us to the place that passes for a palace and negotiate as appropriate, and get out.”

“In other words,” said Aliera, “we’re just going to improvise.”

“You got it.”

“Good plan,” said Morrolan dryly.

“Thanks. It’s one of my best.”

I led the way, with Morrolan and Aliera behind me. Quite a sight we must have looked as we walked up the wide shallow steps to the small, pillared building that housed the government of Greenaere.

We flung the door open in front of two sleepy-looking guards, neither of them in uniform, both holding the short, feathered spears I remembered too well. They stopped looking sleepy almost at once. The three of us could have put the two of them down without working up a sweat, but I held my arm up for them to wait.

The guards stared at us. We stared back. I said, “Take me to your—”

“Who are you?” croaked one of them at last.

“Unofficial envoys from the Dragaeran Empire. We wish to open negotiations with—”

“I know you,” said the other. “You’re the one who—”

“Now, now,” I said. “The past is past,” and I smiled into his face. Behind me, I felt the troops prepare for battle. There is something reassuring about having Morrolan with Blackwand and Aliera with Pathfinder ready to jump to your defense. The guards looked very nervous; not without reason. “We
would like to see the King,” I said. There was no one else in sight down the narrow corridor; they really hadn’t considered the possibility of an attack.

“I—I’ll see if he, that is, I’ll find out—”

“Excellent. Do that.”

He swallowed and backed up a couple of steps. I followed, Morrolan and Aliera behind me, forcing the other guard backward, too.

“No, you wait here.”

“Not a chance,” I said cheerfully.

He stopped. “I can’t let you past.”

“You can’t stop us,” I said reasonably.

“I’ll raise the alarm.”

“Do so.”

He turned and yelled, “Help! Invaders!” at the top of his lungs. For some reason, I still didn’t want to cut them down, so I just led us past them. As we went by, I patted the one who’d recognized me on the shoulder. They both looked rather pitiful, and the other one actually drew steel as we went by. Morrolan and Aliera drew as well then, and I heard the fellow make sounds of awe under his breath. Yes, it was still possible to feel a Morganti weapon here on the island, Phoenix Stone notwithstanding. I expected Morrolan was noting that to study when he got back.

“This way,” I said, and directed us into the throne room.

There were two more guards, a pale man with an odd white streak in his dark hair and a hook-nosed woman. They had apparently heard the warnings, because they stood with their spears out and pointed at us. To the right of the throne was an old woman with grey hair and deep eyes, and on the left were two men. One seemed quite old and rather unkempt. The other was the bushy-browed interrogator I knew so well. He was armed only with a knife at his belt, the old man was unarmed. The King, who looked like he couldn’t be more than two or three hundred (in a human that would be eighteen or nineteen, I suppose), stared at us in a mixture of fear and amazement. I recognized him, too; he’d been walking next to the King I’d assassinated, just as I’d suspected then. How long ago was that? It felt like years.

I led us up to the throne, stopping just out of range of those spears, and said, “Your Majesty King Corcor’n, we wish you a pleasant evening. Um, excuse me, is ‘Your Majesty’ the proper form of address?”

He swallowed twice and said, “It will do.”