16

 

The horizon jumped and twisted, the candle exploded, the knife vibrated apart, and the humming became, in an instant, a roar that deafened me.

On the ground before me, the rune glowed like to blind me, and I realized that I was feeling very sleepy. I knew what that meant, too. I had no energy left to even keep me awake. I was going to lose consciousness, and I might or might not ever regain it, and I might or not be mad if I did.

My vision wavered, and the roar in my ears became a single monotone that was, strangely, the same as silence. In the last blur before I slipped away, I saw on the ground, in the center of the rune, the object of my desire—that which I’d done all of this to summon—sitting placidly, as if it had been there all along.

I wondered, for an instant, why I was taking no joy in my success; then I decided that it probably had something to do with not knowing if I’d live to use it. But there was still somewhere the sense of triumph for having done something no witch had ever done before, and a certain serene pleasure in having succeeded. I decided I’d feel pretty good if it didn’t kill me.

Dying, I’ve found, always puts a crimp in my enjoyment of an event.

I’D LOVE TO SEE a map of the Paths of the Dead.

Ha.

We followed the wall to the left, and it kept circling around until we ought to have been near the thrones, but we were still in a hallway with no ceiling. The stars vanished sometime in thee, leaving a grey overcast, yet there was no lessening in the amount of light I thought had been provided by the stars. I dunno.

The wall ended and we seemed to be on a cliff overlooking a sea. There was no sea closer than a thousand miles to Deathgate Falls, but I suppose I ought to have stopped expecting geographical consistency some time before.

We stared out at the dark, gloomy sea for a while and listened to its roar. It stretched out forever, in distance and in time. I can’t look at a sea, even the one at home, without wondering about who lives beyond it. What sorts of lives do they have? Better than ours? Worse? So similar I couldn’t tell the difference? So different I couldn’t survive there? What would it be like? How did they live? What sorts of beds did they have? Were they soft and warm, like mine, safe and—

“Vlad!”

“Uh, what?”

“We want to get moving,” said Morrolan.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m getting tired.”

“I know.”

“Okay, let’s—Wait a minute.”

I reached around and opened my pack, dug around amid the useless witchcraft supplies I’d carried all this way, and found some kelsch leaves. I passed them around. “Chew on these,” I said.

We all did so, and, while nothing remarkable or exciting happened, I realized that I was more awake. Morrolan smiled. “Thanks, Vlad.”

“I should have thought of it sooner.”

“I should have thought of it, boss. That’s my job. Sorry.”

“You’re tired, too. Want a leaf? I’ve got another.”

“No, thanks. I’ll get by.”

We looked around, and far off to our right was what seemed to be a large rectangle. We headed toward it. As we got closer, it resolved itself into a single wall about forty feet high and sixty feet across. As we came still closer, we could see there was a large circular object mounted on its face. My pulse quickened.

Moments later the three of us stood contemplating the Cycle of the Dragaeran Empire.

RAIET PICKED UP A carriage at the Imperial Palace the next day and went straight to the home of his mistress. A Dragonlord rode with him, another rode next to the driver, and a third, on horseback, rode next to the carriage, or in front of it, or behind it. Loiosh flew above it, but that wasn’t part of their arrangements.

Watching them through my familiar’s eyes, I had to admire their precision, futile though it was. The one on top of the coach got down first, checked out the area, and went straight into the building and up to the flat, which was on the second floor of the three-story brick building.

If you’d been there watching, you would have seen the rider dismount smartly as the driver got down and held the door for the two inside while looking up and down the street, and up at the rooftops as well. Raiet and the two Dragons walked into the building together. The first one was already inside the flat and had checked it over. Raiet’s mistress, who name was Treffa, nodded to the Dragon and continued setting out chilled wine. She seemed a bit nervous as she went about this, but she’d been growing more and more nervous as this testimony business continued.

As he finished checking the apartment, the other two Dragons delivered Raiet. Treffa smiled briefly and brought the wine into the bedchamber. He turned to one of the Dragons and shook his head. “I think she’s getting tired of this.”

The Dragon probably shrugged; he’d been assigned to protect a Jhereg, but he didn’t have to like it, or him, and I assume he didn’t. Raiet walked into the bedchamber and closed the door. Treffa walked over to the door and did something to it.

“What’s that, babe?”

“A soundproofing spell. I just bought it.”

He chuckled. “They making you nervous?”

She nodded.

“I suppose it’s starting to wear on you.”

She nodded again and poured them each a glass of wine.

When he hadn’t appeared after his usual few hours, the Dragons knocked on the door. When no one answered, they broke the door down. They found his lifeless and soulless body on the bed, a Morganti knife buried in his chest. They wondered why they hadn’t heard him scream, or the window opening. Treffa lay next to him, drugged and unconscious. They couldn’t figure out how the drugs had gotten into the wine, and Treffa was no help with any of it.

They were suspicious of her, naturally, but were never able to prove that Treffa had actually taken money to set him up. She disappeared a few months later and is doing quite well to this day, and Treffa isn’t her name anymore, and I won’t tell you where she’s living.

IT IS COMMONLY BELIEVED that if anyone had the strength to take hold of the great wheel that is the Cycle and physically move it, the time of the current House would pass, and the next would arrive. It is also commonly held that it would require enough strength to overcome all the weight contained by the forces of history, tradition, and will that keep the Cycle turning as it does. This being the case, it seems a moot point, especially when, as I stared at it, it was hard to imagine anyone with the strength to just move the bloody great wheel.

That’s all it was, too. A big wheel stuck onto a wall in the middle of nowhere. On the wheel were engraved symbolic representations of all seventeen Houses. The Phoenix was at the top, the Dragon next in line, the Athyra having just passed. What a thrill it must be to be here when it actually changed, signaling the passing of another phase of Dragaeran history. At that point, either the Empress would step down, or she would have recently done so, or would soon do so, or perhaps she would refuse and blood would run in the Empire until the political and the mystical were once more in agreement. When would it happen? Tomorrow? In a thousand years?

Everyone I’ve asked insists that this thing is the Cycle in every meaningful way, not merely its physical manifestation. I can’t make sense of that, but if you can, more power to you, so to speak.

I glanced at Morrolan and Aliera, who also stared at the Cycle, awe on their faces.

“Boss, the kelsch won’t last forever.”

“Right, Loiosh. Thanks.”

I said, “All right, folks. Whatever we’re going to do, we’d best be about it.”

They looked at me, at each other, at the ground, then back at the Cycle. None of us knew what to do. I turned my back on them and walked back to look out over the sea again.

I WON’T SAY THAT I’m haunted by the look in Raiet’s eyes in that last moment—when the Morganti dagger struck him—or his scream as his soul was destroyed. He deserved what happened to him, and that’s that.

But I never got used to touching that weapon. It’s the ultimate predator, hating everything, and it would have been as happy to destroy me as Raiet. Morganti weapons scare me right down to my toes, and I’m never going to be happy dealing with them. But I guess it’s all part of the job.

The whole thing gave me a couple of days of uneasy conscience in any case, though. Not, as I say, for Raiet; but somehow this brought home to me a thought that I’d been ignoring for over a year: I was being paid money to kill people.

No, I was being paid money to kill Dragaerans; Dragaerans who had made my life miserable for more than seventeen years. Why shouldn’t I let them make my life pleasant instead? Loiosh, I have to say, was no help at all in this. He had the instincts of an eater of carrion and sometime hunter.

I really didn’t know if I was creating justifications that would eventually break down or not. But a couple of days of wondering was all I could take. I managed to put it out of my mind, and, to be frank, it hasn’t bothered me since.

I don’t know, maybe someday it will, and if so I’ll deal with it then.

I DON’T KNOW HOW long I stood there, perhaps an hour, before Morrolan and Aliera came up behind me. Then the three of us watched the waves break for a few minutes. Behind us, the way we’d come, were the Paths of the Dead and the Halls of Judgment. To our right, beyond the Cycle, was a dark forest, through which lay the way out, for some of us.

After a time Aliera said, “I won’t leave without Morrolan.”

Morrolan said, “You are a fool.”

“And you’re another for coming here when you knew you couldn’t get out alive.”

“I can think of another fool, Loiosh.”

“Another two, boss.”

“That’s as may be,” said Morrolan. “But there is no need to make the venture useless.”

“Yes there is. I choose to do so.”

“It is absurd to kill yourself merely because—”

“It is what I will do. No one, no one will sacrifice his life for me. I won’t have it. We both leave, or we both remain.”

There was a cool breeze on the right side of my face. That way was home. I shook my head. Morrolan should have known better than to expect rationality from a Dragaeran, much less a Dragonlord. But then, he was one himself.

Aliera said, “Go back, Vlad. I thank you for your help, but your task is finished.”

Yes, Morrolan was a Dragonlord and a Dragaeran. He was also pompous and abrasive as hell. So why did I feel such a resistance to just leaving him? But what else could I do? There was no way to leave with him, and I, at least, saw no value in pointless gestures.

Morrolan and Aliera were looking at me. I looked away. “Leave, Vlad,” said Morrolan. I didn’t move.

“You heard him, boss. Let’s get out of here.”

I stood there yet another minute. I wanted to be home, but the notion of just saying good-bye to Morrolan and walking away, well, I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.

I’ve spent many fruitless minutes since then wondering what would have happened if the breeze hadn’t shifted just then, bringing with it the tang of salt and the smell of seaweed.

Dead bodies and seaweed. I chuckled. Yeah, this was a place where that phrase was appropriate. Where had I first heard it? Oh, yeah, the bar. Ferenk’s. Drinking with Kiera.

Kiera. Right. That. It just might do it. If there was only a way . . .

Witchcraft?

I looked at Morrolan and Aliera.

“It’s crazy, boss.”

“I know. But still—”

“We don’t even know if we’re on the same world as—”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“What if it does?”

“Boss, do you have any idea how much that will take out of you?”

“They’ll have to carry me back.”

“If it doesn’t work, they won’t be able to.”

“I know.”

Loiosh shut up, as he realized I wasn’t really listening to him. I dug in my pack and found my last kelsch leaf.

Aliera said, “What is it, Vlad?”

“An idea for getting Morrolan out of here. Will you two be willing to carry me if I can’t walk on my own?”

Morrolan said, “What is it?”

“Witchcraft,” I said.

“How—”

“I’m going to have to invent a spell. I’m not certain it can be done.”

“I am a witch. Can I help?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I have one more kelsch leaf left. I’m going to chew on it myself in order to get the energy to do the spell. If you help, who will carry us both out?”

“Oh. What is the spell intended to do?”

I licked my lips, realizing that I didn’t want to tell him.

“Why not, boss?”

“He’ll just say it can’t be done.”

“Well, can it?”

“We’ll find out.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always wanted to test myself as a witch. Here’s my big chance.”

“Boss, I’m serious. If you put that much into it and it doesn’t work it will—”

“Kill me. I know. Shut up.”

“And with the amount of energy you’ll have to pour into it you won’t be able to stay awake. And—”

“Drop it, Loiosh.”

To Morrolan I said, “Never mind. Wait here. I’m going to find a place to set this up. I’ll probably be near the Cycle, so stay away from there; I don’t want anyone around to distract me. When I’m done, if it works, I’ll find you.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you’ll find me.”

BRIBING TREFFA HAD cost quite a bit, as had the soundproofing spells and the escape, since I dealt directly with a sorceress who worked for the Left Hand, rather than going through Feet. Why? I don’t know. I mean, after hiring me, he wouldn’t turn around and shine me after I did the job. If word of that got around, no one would work for him again. But on the other hand, this killing was Morganti. If he had the chance to cleanly dispose of me by having a teleport go wrong, he probably wouldn’t take it, but why tempt him?

In any case, by the time all was said and done, I’d spent a great deal, but I still had a great deal left. I decided not to live it up this time, because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. I didn’t want to leave town for the same reason. This killing made quite a splash, and that made me nervous, but I got over it.

So far as I know, no one ever found out I’d done it. But once again, there were those who seemed to know. One of them was Welok the Blade, who was about as nasty as they come. I started working directly for him a few weeks later—doing collecting and trouble-shooting and keeping an eye on his people. I carefully set aside the money I’d earned, determined to invest it in something that would keep earning for me. Maybe even something legitimate.

About a month after I started working for Welok, I was visiting my grandfather in South Adrilankha, and I met a human girl named Ibronka, who had the longest, straightest, blackest hair I’d ever seen, and eyes you could get lost in. I still hadn’t made my investment.

Oh, well.

AFTER GOING THIS FAR, I couldn’t back out. The three of us were going to leave together or not at all, and now there was a chance of success. If I’d wanted to pray just then, I would have prayed to my grandfather, not to Verta, because his guidance would have been more useful.

I didn’t think he’d ever tried inventing a spell, though. Dammit, if sorcery worked around here, Morrolan could have simply caused the thing to appear from my flat. But then, if sorcery worked we could have just teleported out of here. No point in thinking about that.

I selected a spot facing the Cycle. Why? I’m not sure. It seemed appropriate, and the apropos is a vital thing to a practicing witch.

I started chewing on the leaf while I meditated, relaxing, preparing myself. When it had done as much for me as it was capable of, I spit it out.

I took my pack off and opened it, then sat down. I wondered if the gods would stop me, then decided that if they were looking at me, they would have done something as soon as I began laying out the implements of the spell. It was amusing to be out of their sight, yet right in their backyard, so to speak.

I studied the Cycle and tried to collect my courage.

Waiting would just make things more difficult.

I took a deep breath and began the spell.