The End of the Game (46 page)

Worse was to come.

“Pass me one,” blared Storm Grower. “Pass me one as well.”

“You don’t need it,” he bellowed. “You live off my gut as well as me.”

“We live off our gut, monster. I have a tongue to taste food as well. Pass me one.”

“Get your own, Cloud Teaser.” He set himself, grunting, not giving way as the flesh between them stretched. A lightning bolt flicked him on the ear and he bellowed, jerking upright. Storm Grower took advantage of this to pull out a pole of her own, this one decked with the body of a man. I stuffed my hand into my mouth to keep from crying out, for the body was not dead.

“Not fresh,” she complained in her giant’s rumble. Stones quivered from the roof far above, and a sprinkling of dust fell upon them. “Not fresh enough.”

“Keep your voice down, idiot. You’ll have us buried alive. And what do you mean, not fresh? I saw it squirm.”

“Barely. Been there too long. Mostly dead. I like ‘em lively, Miner. Lively. So they tickle on the way down.”

“I’ll tickle you if you don’t keep your voice down. You’re bringing rock on our heads.”

“Time this cavern was opened to the sky, brother. Time to get the moles in again.”

“Time enough for that when we’ve done with our plans for mankind, sister. Soon, now. Call the creatures back. Time to dispose of them. And keep your voice down.” Still the caverns quivered at her call, a vasty bellowing as though some cataract rumbled far beneath them, summoning the Oracle’s return. When it came, it brought the Merchant with it, but only him, to stand as they had before at the gallery edge.

“Well, my son,” bellowed Storm Grower. “Have you done our will?”

“I put the powdered crythtalth in their wine at the rethepthion, if thatth what you mean.”

“All of them? Huldra? Valearn?”

“All of them. They didn’t know it wath there. They thtill don’t. Tho far ath they know, they follow you of their own free will. Jutht ath I do.”

“Ah. Well and good, my boy. Well and good.”

“Tho, now I’ve done it, I want you to tell me.”

“Tell our great boy what? What would he like to know?”

“When I’m going to grow. When will it be? I am no bigger than ten yearth ago.”

“Ah, well, when do you think it will be, Miner? When was it we began to grow?”

“Not much for the first hundred years. We were no bigger than he when we escaped. After that, sometime. And mostly in the last hundred. You’ll be mobile a while yet.”

“I want to grow.”

“What’s this? The power you have in Fangel isn’t enough for you?”

“I want to grow. I want to bring down the thky, ath you do. You have no idea what impertinenth I mutht put up with. They do not fear me ath they ought.”

“Tush, my boy. Nothing. Mere nothing. You have your city, your servants, your hunters. You have your warehouses full of creatures ready to come out and do your bidding when we empty the world of men! You have your army laid away for the coming day. You have a city full to come out and play at the sound of your gong. What more would a boy want? Ah?” And the monstrous face broke in a cavity of laughter, laughter that did bring rocks down upon their heads and made the Merchant dance back into the tunnels to escape being crushed. I was safe enough where I was, wondering if this madman was truly their son and, if so, how such a monstrous thing might have been accomplished.

“Enough,” snarled Storm Grower at last. “Be on your way out, my boy. Wait for the others at the entrance, they’ll not be long. We have one or two small items of business.”

The Oracle led him away, very silently for the Oracle, usually so full of quips and speeches. For a time the cavern was full of breathing noises, then the Oracle returned with the others. All of them.

“We have summoned you for a reason,” said Dream Miner in an insinuating whisper. “The time has come for one of our most-hoped-for projects to reach fruition. We must depend upon you for the next stage, but we know we can do so, for the rewards are great.”

“Let us talk of those rewards,” drawled the Duke. He was standing well back from the parapet, well out of reach. “They have not been inconsiderable in the past, but let us talk of them further.”

“Ahhh,” hissed Storm Grower. “Let us rather talk of punishments when our will is not done, for those are severe. I was limited in my range at one time, Betand. At one time I could bring storm only upon those places near to me. Then I began to grow, greater and more great. Over eighty years ago I began to reach out, and out, beyond this very world. It was I who tumbled a moonlet from the sky onto the Wastes of Bleer, I who wrecked Dindindaroo and all the lands between, foiling the works of Wizards and men. I am no longer limited in any way. As the disobedient people of Morp have found to their dismay. And those of Thorpe and Woeful. So will those of Betand, or of the High Demesne.”

“Tsk,” said the Oracle. “We need not speak of punishments, lady. These good people are eager to help you.”

“Hear us, then. In our caves here we have prepared a new crop of crystals. They are of a lovely amethyst color. Those who take them will be our slaves. They will find their way here, eager to do our will. It is our desire that they be widespread among the lands of the south. There are Demesnes there which we need to have under our sway. You will be our agents in this matter.”

“Where do you want them distributed?” The Duke, sulky, not liking this. His notion of the fitness of things was suffering. Punishments were not a proper thing to have discussed. Still, for some reason, he did not seem inclined to rebellion. I thought I understood this. They sought their own advancement through following the giants and were as much the lackeys of these great beings as the Oracle had said.

Storm Grower was continuing. “Firstly in the Bright Demesne, to a Wizard called Himaggery and one called Barish. I have ended their works before, but they have had the luck of man and may yet bring something from it. They are contentious. Ambitious. So far, all they do is meet and plan and devise processes while time spins away, and it is likely they will not need my crystals to spoil their future. They may do it for themselves. Still, why should we risk, eh? Give one also to a Shifter there called Mavin. And in Schooltown to Mavin’s brother, King Mertyn. Those first. Those most importantly. They are engaged in a project we do not wish to see fulfilled. They would raise the hundred thousand frozen Gamesmen, the great Gamesmen, those who lie in the ice caverns near the place we were born. We do not wish those great Gamesmen raised. Let them lie, let them lie, until time spins out and the world cools. Let no man come near that place.

“Thus, when you have given crystals as well to all in Schooltown and the Bright Demesne and to those in Xammer, and Dragon’s Fire, and the other Demesnes in that land, and particularly among the Immutables—they are governed by a man called Riddle. Him first, then all others, being sure to include a man named Quench—I say when this is done, then go to the caverns I have spoken of, destroy those who sleep there, and guard the place until we tell you a guard is needed no more.”

“We are your willing servants,” said the Duke.

“You are what you are, Betand. And what you are is not quite good enough. Do not fear. You will enjoy being our servant. Enjoyment is built in.” Dream Miner laughed, a hugely hideous laugh that shook the rock walls, causing me to tremble to the floor and lie there curled against the wall, hoping it would not fall. “This, however, is a negotiable point. If you can do us a small service we have previously mentioned, you will earn your freedom of the crystals.”

“Any service is too small to convey our gratitude,” Huldra, bowing, smirking. “The Oracle has told us what is needed. We will be glad to comply.”

“We won’t discuss it here,” snapped Storm Grower.

“What we may discuss is the yellow crystals.” I got up from the floor, pricked my ears, and listened. Yes, yes, the yellow crystals.

“They must be stopped!”

“Stopped! I thought they were yours?” The Duke, much surprised. “I thought you had dug them.” The cavern rumbled as the giants shifted upon the Backless Throne. Discomfort there, so I thought, some vast distress. What was it?

Dream Miner, rumbling like a forest fire. “We have dug no crystals for fifty years. Until then there were many we could use, many we could change to suit ourselves. Our moles dug them in the deep mines and brought them here.” He gestured to the low arch at his left. “And here we changed them, corrupted them. We would look into the crystals to see what message they carried, and then we would corrupt that message. It is easy. Easy when one knows how. As we knew how.” Storm Grower, flicking tiny bolts of lightning around the cavern, playing, fitful gusts of wind teasing at the garments of those on the gallery. “As we knew how. Some we used to corrupt Pfarb Durim, ancient city of your kin, Oracle. And Hell’s Maw, which lay at its feet. And those who dwelt there. Some we used to move Huld—this should interest you, Huldra—into bringing forth the great army of bones upon the Wastes. He would not have done it had we not moved him. That was a favourite project of ours.”

“He failed,” Huldra said, her voice dead. “He died there.”

“He failed because someone opposed us. Some deep dweller brought forth by a girl, a creature called Jinian. A girl we were warned about in advance by our Seers. The girl you were supposed to have disposed of for us, Basilisk.”

Dedrina Dreadeye looked coldly into the giant’s eyes. “We attempted to do so. I sent my own daughter to take care of it.”

“It was not taken care of. You, Bloster, hiding there behind your sister. You had her in your hands.”

“That was before,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know you wanted her dead, not then.”

“Perhaps not. And let us speak of you, Ogress. We had another favorite project here in the northlands. We were using your son, Valdon—”

“Do not speak of my son,” she shrieked. “My beautiful son. Valdon the glorious, the perfect boy. Do not speak of him.”

“Do not tell us not to speak.” The lightning played at Valearn’s feet, making her dance. “We speak of whom we will. Valdon, for example, stupid Valdon, proud Valdon, sucked dry by the Faces his own servant had set in the Lake. Oh, we have seen it all, our Seers have seen it all. We know. We know. So Valdon failed us and we have you, Valearn. And Bloster and Dedrina-Lucir failed us, but we have both Bloster and Dedrina Dreadeye. And Huld failed us, but we have his sister, Huldra, as well. So. We will not fail again, will we? Though our strategy in these northlands has failed somewhat heretofore, it will not fail again. Not here. Not anywhere.” Silence. The threat was palpable. Even where I crouched, far across the cavern, I could see the sheen of sweat on Betand’s face, the sick slackness of Valearn’s jaw.

“Never mind,” said Storm Grower. “Past is past. But tomorrow is ours, and we cannot brook delay or opposition. And we cannot use crystals which are dug from the mines, for they are all yellow ones, and the yellow ones we cannot change. We are forced to grow our own, but that does not stop the yellow ones being spread about upon the earth.”

“What should they do about it, Great Ones? You have not told them how they can serve you.”

“Find where they are coming from. Find whatever Wizard or Magician is responsible for them. Come and tell us. Whoever is making these yellow crystals must be sought out, caught out, destroyed! See to it!”

The Oracle bowed. To me the gesture looked mocking, sinister, as though the Oracle, had it willed, could have answered many of the questions the giants were asking. Seemingly, however, the giants found no fault with it.

“Go, now. We are weary of you,” rumbled Dream Miner.

“Beware my lightning,” whispered Storm Grower. “If you think of disobeying. Beware my hail.” The troop I had followed came toward me along the gallery, moved into the hall of pillars. I crawled down to the entrance of my rock cleft, waiting until they had passed. The Oracle was still standing at the parapet, around the curving cavern. I heard the giant ask if all had been prepared and heard the Oracle say yes, it was all in readiness, these words almost in whispers, and then the Oracle swept by in a flutter of ribbons and all of them moved through the hall to the tunnel mouth from which we had come.

I did not think.

This is true. My head was full of giant talk, conjecture, ideas, theories. I wanted only to get out of there, out into the clean air once more. Behind me the great surge of breathing faded as we turned one corner, then another...

Into blinding light and a chanting voice and a smoke that sent me reeling. A fire, a caldron, Huldra there with the smoke pouring forth, the others halfhidden in it, and the Oracle somewhere nearby.

Huldra’s voice. “Disclose by the Deep Powers. Disclose by the Shadow’s dark. Disclose by the Night’s teeth. Smoke surround, dark betray, blood holdfast.” They saw me! All of them but one were turned toward me, eyes upon me, avid and victorious, not moving, not needing to move, for there were other things swarming around me, binding me, while the smoke held me fast and I could not move. Porvius Bloster lay upon the stone, a knife deep in his back. It was his blood that held me. His life.

The words came as though in a dream, from some distantly echoing place. “Let me have her,” begged Dedrina.

“No,” the Oracle said, looking in my direction. “Such is not what the Great Ones prefer.”

“Ah, but let me have her, Oracle. I will dispose of her well enough. For my daughter’s sake, whom she killed, though we have never proved it. For my sisters’ sake. This one did us great harm, took from us a great possession. Let me have her.”

“The Great Ones have their own ways. You have all done your part. Well done, I should say, particularly Huldra. You will all be rewarded for it.”

“I will have her as my reward. Her and what of mine she carries.” Dedrina was persistent.

“The Great Ones intend that you remain free as your reward. I may, of course, go back and ask them. If you would prefer.”

“Shut yourself, woman,” demanded the Duke. “Leave well alone. You’ll have your avengement. She’ll not live long, and she’ll not leave here, ever.”

“Ah.” The Basilisk seemed in agony, dimly perceived through the veils that were settling around me. “So, so, let it be.” She seemed deep in thought, turning to the Witch as though for guidance.