9

How to Break Unwelcome News

Teldra frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind; an old Jhereg joke. Let’s go back.”

“Back, Vlad?”

“To our prison.”

I watched her face, and decided she was struggling between courteously agreeing and rudely asking if I had lost my mind. I politely cut in before she had to choose.

“This place”—I gestured aimlessly—“gives me the creeps. I don’t mean just here, I mean this whole area. The Jenoine will be able to find us anywhere on their world, if they want to, so being out here will only make it harder for Morrolan and Aliera to find us.”

“Ah,” she said. “You’ve resigned yourself to being rescued, then?”

“Heh. I’m still thinking about it.”

“And you have another idea, don’t you?”

“Hmmm. Sort of a plan.”

She smiled. “That’s good enough for me,” she said, and we headed back for the building that had been our prison. I should, perhaps, have been surprised that it hadn’t vanished while we were out of sight, but it hadn’t, and the door was still where we’d left it. We went back inside. The door vanished as we stepped through, but I wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of being startled by that.

“What’s the plan this time, Boss?”

“If I told you, you’d just laugh.”

“No,” I said. “I hadn’t known that. But Adron … okay. It’s strange, but I guess I can get used to it. Hmmm. Morrolan e’Drien. Who was Drien, anyway?”

“A contemporary of Kieron the Conqueror, perhaps the first Shaman who was a warrior, or the first warrior who was a Shaman. From what I gather, he or she was brilliant, fiery, talented, creative, powerful, and emotionally unstable.”

“‘He or she’?”

“As I understand it, Drien was born female but transformed herself into a man around the time of the founding of the Empire. Or it may have been the other way around. I don’t know if the man or the woman had offspring, or both; and perhaps the story isn’t true, but that is the tradition.”

“I see. Hmmm. But then … never mind. What about the other story? I mean the one about Morrolan charging up to Dzur Mountain when he found out that there was someone in his domain who hadn’t paid him tribute.”

“Oh.” Teldra smiled. “Yes, that one is true.”

I chuckled. “Oh, to have been there to witness that conversation. I don’t suppose you went along?”

“Hardly.”

“Did he ever say what happened?”

“No. But it can’t have been anything too horrid; they’ve been friends ever since.”

“Oh yeah? Does she pay him tribute?”

“I don’t know,” said Teldra, smiling.

“I’ll be sure to ask him. Sometime when we’re not in the middle of trying to batter our way out of a trap set by demigods. Which reminds me, I had an idea about that. I’ll give you the rough outline of—”

“Boss!”

I spun around. Morrolan and Aliera were back, both holding their swords in their hands, and looking like I felt—that is, full of the desire to kill something.

“Welcome,” I said, “to our temporary abode. I’m afraid our hospitality may be—”

“Where are they?” said Aliera.

I shrugged. “They forgot to say where they were going when they left. Actually, I forgot to ask them. I was napping at the time, as I recall. Oh, by the way, Morrolan, I’m curious about whether you get any tribute from Dzur Mountain.”

“Vlad,” said Morrolan, “do you have any idea what we had to do to get back here? To even find the place, much less break through, required the Necromancer to spend twelve hours pulling memories out of Blackwand—memories she didn’t know she contained. After that—”

“How long has it been, in your world?”

“Not long. A couple of days. A very busy couple of days, I might add.”

I nodded. “A few hours, here. Did you bring any food? Jerky and gammon are getting old.”

Morrolan and Aliera looked at each other. “No, sorry,” said Morrolan.

“Perhaps it would be best to get going, then.”

“Yes,” said Aliera. “That’s the idea.” Morrolan was frowning his frown of concentration—I hoped and believed doing what was necessary to get us out of there.

“That is,” I added, “if the Jenoine will let us. Do you think they will?”

“Perhaps not,” said the Lord of Castle Black, looking up suddenly. “But we are prepared for them to attempt to stop us. Unfortunately, the gate has shut again. I’m going to try to open it.” He did that thing with his hands again, and he was once more holding his thin, black wizard’s staff. This time I noticed something: a blue ring that he always wore on his left hand was no longer there, yet I had been certain he had been wearing it an instant before. Okay, it was a nice trick, and it had some flash. I could always respect flash, if it didn’t conflict with practicality.

I looked at Morrolan, as if seeing him for the first time, with all that Teldra had told me buzzing around in my head. Adron? He certainly was far more complex than I had ever thought him. It suddenly flashed into my head to wonder if he and Sethra were currently or ever had been lovers. Now that was an interesting thought, and one that would probably come back to me on many cold nights—assuming, of course, that I would have the opportunity to have many cold nights.

Which brought me sharply back to the present. I said, “Sethra is in on this, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Morrolan. “And she’s at Castle Black, in the Tower, waiting to assist us.”

I nodded. “Knowing, I’m sure, that her help is likely to be either insufficient or unnecessary.”

“Yes.”

I felt myself scowling, and my stomach growled, just to make sure I understood how it felt, too.

“Got it,” said Morrolan suddenly. “Over here, quickly.”

There was a shimmering waviness in the air, gold colored, about six feet behind Morrolan.

“Very well,” said Aliera, walking toward it. “Let’s do it; the gate won’t remain open forever. Teldra, you first. Hurry, Vlad.”

“They’re late, Boss.”

“Seems like.”

Teldra and I took a step toward her.

Sometimes, things are so close—almost this, or just barely that; one thing and another, balanced just so, that there seems to be an instant where they are both happening, and neither happens, and each path is fully realized, like a psiprint, held in place by the strength of mutual impossibilities. Sometimes lives—your own or another’s—depend on decisions that come within a whisper, a hair, a fraction of breath, of going one way, or the other. Have you the strength of will to do what you know—know—is the right thing, or will your appetite rule the moment? Will you allow the anger of an instant to command your tongue, and make a breach that can never be healed, or will you manage to hold ire in check for just long enough—a tiny portion of a second—to escape?

Sometimes it is so close, so very close.

I took a step forward, and—

—as my footstep faded, I could almost hear—

—an infinitely extended moment, nothing happening, taking forever, but much too fast—

—was instantly aware—

—voices whispering in the silence, with the silence, not disturbing it—

—a foot almost descending, simultaneously in one place and another—occupying two places at once, but that’s what movement is all about—

—that Loiosh was no longer with me. Even before—

—leaving perception, without the awareness of whence it sprang except—

—all life is movement, which is to be here and not here and the same time, or here and there simultaneously, or to deny time, or to deny place—

—I realized that my surroundings had changed, that I was uncertain where I was, that—

—that it came from outside of self, if such a distinction is valid without time or place to hang it from, and the voices—

—is to be, in fact, nowhere, and nowhere is—

—Teldra and Aliera and Morrolan had cross-stepped while I lunged, I knew—

—came with eyes, and ears, and other things that—

—everywhere is here and there and there ought to be a way—

—that I was out of touch with my familiar and it—

—gave me the feeling that I was being studied, scanned, analyzed, and ultimately—

—to seize control, or at least to act, or at the very least to make a decision—

—had been years since I had come so—

—discarded, and permitted—

—to be holding a chain of gold light, in my mind if nowhere else, so that in and through the shield of swirling gold which suddenly—

—close to panic—

—to stop, or resume—

—seemed to me to be a place, not a thing, that I could—

—but that, like so much else, is self-defeating, so I—

—the interrupted pace, the walk, the step, which in turn permitted—

—enter into and go through and be changed by—

—tried not to think about it, but trust in him and me, and just do—

—a junction of thought and a resonance of experience, so that I managed, or thought I managed, or almost managed—

—spinning corridors of gold that were within and without, and then through once more, leaving me—

—and I guess it worked because what was before me became behind me, and here became there, which was all right, because I—

—to make contact, once more, with my familiar familiar.

—somewhere real at last.

—was back.

“Well,” I said or thought, lying against the cold stone floor. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”

“Are you all right, Vlad?” It took me a moment to realize the voice belonged to Teldra, and even longer to understand that the question begged an answer. What the answer ought to be was beyond me.

“Vlad?”

I turned my head and made eye contact with her, looking up at her impossibly tall form, hoping she would see that I was at least somewhat sensible.

“You okay, Boss?”

“Ask something easier, it’ll take me some time to figure that out.”

“Where did you go?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you.”

Around then, I realized that we hadn’t actually gone anywhere—we were still in the Jenoine’s prison.

“Vlad?” This was Morrolan’s voice. I managed to turn my head and see that he and Aliera were still there, as well. So nothing had changed, but everything had.

Story of my life.

I found my voice and managed, “How long?” In my own ears, my voice sounded weaker than I actually felt.

“How do you feel?” asked Aliera. Why can’t anyone just answer a Verra-be-damned question?

I started to say something snappy, but it was too much work, so I said, “Dry.”

Morrolan held a flask to my lips, and I drank some water. Damn, but it was good. I was going to ask him where he found it. Water. Wonderful stuff. Who knew?

“What happened, Vlad?” asked Morrolan. Yeah, like I was the right guy to ask.

“How long has it been?” I repeated. It was easier to talk now. I opened my eyes, not sure when I had closed them. Aliera and Morrolan were directly over me, staring down. Teldra was out of sight. Loiosh stood on the floor next to my left ear. Being the center of so much interest wasn’t as pleasant as I would have expected.

“As far as I can tell, you’ve been unconscious for around nine hours.”

“More like ten,” said Aliera.

Morrolan said, “My judgment—”

“Doing what in the meantime,” I said.

“Failing to reopen the gate,” said Aliera, with a look at Morrolan that the latter ignored.

“Okay,” I said. “Would someone like to help me up?”

Morrolan reached a hand out. With his help, I was able to stand up, and after a moment I was able to remain standing on my own. The room spun, then settled out, and—

“What the—?”

“What is it, Vlad?”

“Where are we?”

Silence greeted the question, which meant the answer couldn’t be anything I wanted to hear.

Aliera said, “Vlad, we’re in the same room we’ve been in all along.”

Yeah, that was one of the things I hadn’t wanted to hear.

Teldra was now looking at me, too. “What is it?” said Morrolan.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Where to begin?

“There is more to this place than used to meet the eye,” I said. “Either we’ve all been taken in by an illusion, or I’m being taken in by one now.”

Aliera closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them. “I detect no illusion,” she said. I shrugged.

“Perhaps,” said Morrolan, “you could describe what you are now seeing.”

“There is a large rock, or stone, in the middle of the floor—right there.” I walked over to it, but didn’t touch it. “It’s about three feet high, maybe five feet long, and a foot and half wide at its widest point, but very irregular and jagged; it is mostly a dark shiny grey, with pink veins running through it.”

I glanced over at them, they were looking at me, not the rock. “I don’t see it, Boss.”

“Figures.”

“That way,” I said, “against the wall, are four large jugs or vats, pottery of some kind, green with black geometrical patterns near the neck. They’re just a bit under five feet high and—” I walked over to them. “One seems to be filled with sand, another with ash, this one with, I don’t know, looks like water but I wouldn’t count on it, and this last one with something that looks like very tiny seashells.”

I turned my head. “Over this way—right here—is the doorway that Teldra and I found earlier; it is now plainly visible.”

Morrolan and Aliera looked at her; she shrugged and said, “Yes, we did find a doorway there.”

They turned back to me. “What else?” said Morrolan.

“The shelves are all filled.”

“With?”

“That one,” I said, gesturing, “has weapons. I mean, things that are obviously weapons—that look like weapons even to me. Swords, knives, daggers, lances, pikes. Things like that. There must be a hundred of them, all in all. The one over there has—I wish you could see it—it’s full of crystals. Some of them the size of the end of my finger, some of them fist size, a few of them the size of a lormelon. They’re a bit scary. And the colors vary from a mild pink to a deep purple, almost black. The big ones are both of the black color. Like I said, they’re a bit scary.”

I cleared my throat. “The shelf over at the far end has things I don’t recognize. Mostly metal, and peculiar shapes—some wheels, some devices made of several pieces riveted together, some partly made of leather or something else. Some that remind me of that strange object Sethra has. I would assume they are sorcerous devices of some kind, but I don’t know. I don’t feel like touching any of them. And the last shelf, this one, has more odd contraptions, but I recognize manacles among them.

“Okay,” I continued. “So much for the shelves. The walls are all painted with designs—black paint against a background that doesn’t look like I thought it did—more like a greyish blue. And the designs are, well, probably sorcerous. All geometrical shapes. The walls are covered with them, top to bottom, and there are various symbols scrawled in amongst them. I can draw them for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” said Aliera, at the same time Morrolan said, “Perhaps later.”

I grunted. “There is also a table at each end of the room, and chairs around it. All metal, all much larger than any furniture for either you or me. Go figure, huh? Oh, and the ceiling looks the same as it did before, except that there are more lighting devices than I’d thought.

“So, that’s about it. It’s obvious that they’ve done something to my head during this last—how long? eight hours?—or I wouldn’t be seeing this stuff. I’ll leave it up to you clever people whether I’m now being taken in by illusion, or all the rest of you are. If we go by majority, I’d guess it’s me that’s seeing things. And there’s also the fact that Teldra and I never tripped over any of that stuff earlier. And the fact that I can’t imagine why they would have messed with my head to allow me to see what’s really here. Chances are, while I was gone, they did other things as well, to make sure I’d carry out whatever plan they have. But I do want all of you to admire how calm, cool, and collected I am while discussing the fact that my head has been messed with. Okay, your turns.”

Aliera addressed Morrolan. “It’s the rock that interests me most.”

“Yes,” said Morrolan. “Does it sound familiar?”

Aliera nodded. I felt ignored. Loiosh nuzzled my ear. Teldra came over and stood next to me, not saying anything or even looking at me, but it was nice of her.

“I think,” I told her quietly after a moment, “that you ought to leave me out of your plans.”

“Do you feel as if your mind has been tampered with?”

“No.”

“Or probed?”

“No. But it seems likely, doesn’t it?”

“It is possible. But it seems more likely that a glamour has been removed from your eyes than one placed there.”

“Sure. But why? And how, for that matter?”

She shook her head. Meanwhile, Morrolan and Aliera had finished their conference. Morrolan said, “Vlad, we will not be telling you of our plans until we can ascertain whether your mind has been tampered with.”

“Hey,” I said. “Good idea. I should have thought of that myself.”

He answered me with a Morrolan look. I went over and sat down against the wall; I didn’t feel like using the Jenoine’s furniture.

“Okay, Loiosh. You know how we do this.”

“Right now, Boss?”

“Right now.”

Aliera approached. “Vlad, I’m wondering if that rock you describe has any—”

“Not now, Aliera. I’m busy.”

She raised an eyebrow, I suppose wondering if I were kidding.

“I’m having my brain examined. It should only take a few minutes.”

She glanced quickly at Loiosh, then nodded and walked away to continue her conference with Morrolan. I let my head rest against the wall, closed my eyes, and tried to think of nothing. I’ve never been good at thinking of nothing.

Loiosh had done this maybe half a dozen times, and he was starting to get good at it; I felt the invasion, but there was less of that rattling, jangling sensation, like being hit on the numbing point of the elbow except in the brain. I sat still and waited it out, thinking of nothing but what was going on inside my head. Thinking about what is going on inside your head is a good way to make yourself miserable, if you haven’t any other methods handy, but there was no way around it. As he sniffed and poked through the nooks and crannies of my thinking gear, I’d get flashes, unbidden, of moments of my past. I remembered the descent into Deathgate, the sight of my hands gripping the ropes, their feel against my palms, and sometimes I’d look down and see the top of Morrolan’s head below my feet, the roar of the falls in my ears. I remembered the feel of Cawti’s breath, fast in my ear, my hand in the small of her back as we explored each other. I remembered the feel of a ship’s deck beneath my feet, the creaking of the sails, and the endless blue-green of the sea. I remembered the Necromancer’s cold, cold fingers on my soul, the edge of Blackwand against my throat, the voice of the Imperial Inquisitor as the Orb circled my head and the Empress looked on, and the laugh of the Serioli who led me by circuitous routes to the Wall of Baritt’s Tomb.

It indicated how much better Loiosh was getting that so few of these memories were unpleasant.

Presently he said, “All right, Boss.”

“All right?”

“All right.”

“What do you mean, ‘all right’?”

“I mean ‘all right.’”

“All right, as in, all is right?”

“That’s the all right I meant, Boss.”

“Okay, I think I got that part. Now the tough one: How certain are you?”

He hesitated. “Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“What do you mean, ‘pretty sure’?”

“I mean ‘pretty sure.’”

That wasn’t exactly the answer I wanted. I’ve found I often don’t get exactly the answers I want, but I keep asking questions anyway.

“And, Boss—”

“Yes?”

“Now I’m seeing it, too.”

“Well, that’s something then. Either I’m not under a glamour, or you are as well.”

“Heh. I’m a jhereg, Boss. The being hasn’t been spawned that could put a glamour on me.”

“Cocky little son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”

“Damn right.”

“I’m back,” I announced to the room in general. No one cheered immediately, but I got a smile from Teldra. I said, “Loiosh believes my brain has probably not been tampered with, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Probably?” said Aliera, frowning.

I shrugged. “Best I can do; take it for what it’s worth. And he’s now seeing the same thing I am.”

“Which means,” said Aliera, shrugging, “that perhaps he is under a glamour as well.”

I said, “He’s a jhereg. The creature hasn’t been spawned that could put a glamour on him.”

Aliera frowned, looked over at Morrolan as if to see if he was convinced, then shrugged.

Loiosh said, “Thanks, Boss.”

“No problem, chum.”

I said, “Now, Morrolan, can you tell me what happened?”

“What happened?” asked Morrolan. He was leaning against the wall near where we’d been chained up, arms folded, looking cool and imperturbable.

“The attempt to get us home.”

“Oh. Nothing happened. They sealed the gate.”

“Then we’re stuck here?”

“For the moment, yes.”

“I see. Is sealing your gate, uh, easy to do?”

“No.”

“Why would they want to keep us here now, when they could have kept us here the first time?”

“I don’t know,” said Morrolan. “And I should very much like to. Is this all part of a plan of theirs, or are they improvising as much as we are? You perceive it is a rather important question.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only paranoid in the room,” I said.

“It isn’t paranoia, Vlad, if they really are—”

“So I’ve heard. Okay, so we can spend all our time wondering if they have all this planned and every step we take is according to their wishes, and when they have us good and ready, they’ll crush us like bugs. Or, alternately, we can stop worrying about what moves they’re going to pull on us, and start thinking about what moves we’re going to pull on them.”

Morrolan sniffed and said, “Good idea, Vlad. How do you plan to go about it?”

“Nothing fancy,” I said. “I had just planned to kill them, and go from there.”

Aliera shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt,” she said.