Warlock

by Glen Cook

  The object of discussion was growing more irate by the moment. Barlog’s cold stare helped her control her tongue.

  “Zertan,” Gradwohl said again. “Enough. I have seen all the reports you have, and more.” For a moment the Maksche senior seemed startled. “Can you tell me anything new? Anything I do not know? How does she feel about the sisterhood?”

  After a silence that began to stretch painfully, Zertan admitted, “I have no idea how she feels. But it does not matter. A pup’s attitudes are the clay that the teacher —”

  Gradwohl did not seize upon Zertan’s clumsiness. Instead, she shifted approach. “Senior Koenic reported to me shortly before Akard fell. Among other things, we discussed a feral silth pup named Marika. This Marika, though only fourteen years old, was directly responsible for the deaths of several hundred meth. Senior Koenic was as scared of her as Gorry was. Because, as she put it, this Marika was an embryonic Bestrei or Zhorek — without the intellectual handicaps of those two dark-walkers. Senior Koenic knew Bestrei and Zhorek before her rustification. She watched Marika for four years. She was in a position to form an intelligent estimate of the pup.”

  Gradwohl eased down off her stool, surveyed the assembly. “What does it matter what a pup thinks of the Community? Consider two ideas. Trust, and personal loyalty.

  “For all the backbiting that goes on, trust cements the Reugge Community. We know we are in no physical danger from one another. We know none of our sisters will willfully work to the detriment of the order. Our subordinates know we will protect and nurture them. But Marika believes none of that.

  “Why? Because her hamlet and hundreds of others were overrun by savages the Reugge were pledged to repel. Because genuine attempts have been made upon her life. Because she has not been educated to see the good of the Community as paramount.”

  Gradwohl sounded like some windy Wise meth giving the convocation on a day of high obligation. The longer Gradwohl talked, the less closely Marika listened and the more she became wary. There was some silth game running and she was just a counter.

  “About personal loyalty, few of you know a thing,” the most senior continued in a hard voice. “Let us experiment. Moragan. Proceed.”

  Moragan got off her stool. She drew a long, wicked knife from inside her robe, presented it to Senior Zertan.

  Gradwohl said, “Carry out your instructions, Zertan.”

  Zertan left her stool with obvious reluctance. She looked at Marika for a moment.

  She flung herself forward.

  Marika’s response was instantaneous and instinctive. She ducked through her loophole into the ghost realm. A thought captured a ghost. A mental shout scattered the few others before any other silth could come through and seize them. She hurled her ghost at the vaguely perceived form plunging toward her.

  She returned to reality while the bark of a rifle still reverberated through the chamber. Zertan was pitching forward, dropped knife not yet to the floor. Gradwohl was turning, spun by Barlog’s bullet. Marika flung up a paw, restraining Barlog before she commenced a massacre.

  The chamber door exploded inward. The guards posted outside tumbled through. Grauel leaped through with a Degnan ululation, shield on one arm, javelin poised for the cast. Behind her, a quivering Braydic menaced the guards with a sword she had no idea how to use.

  Not one of the silth on the stools moved more than the tip of a tail.

  Some silth game.

  Most Senior Gradwohl recovered. The bullet had but clipped her shoulder. She met Marika’s cold stare. “I seldom miscalculate. But when I do, I do it big.” Her paw went to her shoulder, where moisture seeped into the fabric of her robe. “I did not anticipate firearms. Halechk! See to Zertan before she dies on us.”

  A silth with healer’s decorations left her stool and hastened to Zertan.

  Gradwohl said, “Personal loyalty. Even in the face of certain disaster.” Her teeth ground together. Her wound had begun to hurt.

  Zertan’s knife had come to rest only inches from the tip of Marika’s right boot. She kicked it across the floor to the most senior’s feet.

  Gradwohl’s cheek began to twitch. She whispered, “Have a care, pup. Had it been real, you might have gotten through it by having surprise on your right paw.”

  “Had it been real, there would be only three meth alive in this room right now.” Marika spoke with conviction. She broke eye contact long enough to glance at the knife. “We had a saying in the Ponath. ‘As strength goes.’” She had to say it in dialect. Gradwohl did not react. Perhaps it went past her.

  “When I am manipulated or pushed, mistress, I must push back.”

  Gradwohl ignored her. She surveyed the silth, still perched upon their stools. “This assembly has served its purpose. It is as I suspected. Someone has been remiss. Someone allowed prejudice to overwhelm reason. Listen! This pup ambushed and destroyed a ranking sister of the Serke Community. And I promise you, that House is giving that fact a lot more attention than this one has.”

  Gradwohl stared at Marika hard. Marika continued to meet her gaze, refusing to be intimidated. Beneath, beyond the test of wills, she sensed a kindred soul.

  “This assembly is at an end,” Gradwohl said, still holding Marika’s gaze. “Go. All but you, pup.”

  Silently, silth began filing out. Two helped carry Senior Zertan.

  Barlog and Grauel did not move.

  Braydic, though, Marika noted, had disappeared. Ever cautious and timid Braydic.

  Just as well, perhaps. Just as well.

  Marika focused upon this meth strong enough to rule the fractious Reugge Community.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I

  Gradwohl climbed onto a stool. “Sit if you like,” she told Marika.

  Marika settled crosslegged upon the floor, as had been the custom among the packs of the upper Ponath. Furniture had been unknown in her dam’s loghouse.

  “Tell me about yourself, pup.”

  “Mistress?”

  “Tell me your story. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

  “You know, mistress. Through your agent Moragan.”

  Gradwohl seemed amused. “She was that transparent?”

  “Only looking back.”

  “Nothing substitutes for direct examination. Begin simply. Tell me your story. What is your name?”

  “Marika, mistress.”

  “Tell me about Marika. From her birth to this moment.”

  Marika sketched an autobiography which included her first awarenesses of her talent, her unusually close relationship with her male littermate Kublin, her troubles with one of the Wise of her dam’s loghouse, and all her troubles during her stay at the fortress Akard.

  Gradwohl nodded. “Interesting. But possibly even more interesting in complete privacy.”

  “Mistress?”

  “You have told me very little about Marika inside.”

  Marika grew uneasy.

  “Do not be frightened, pup.”

  “I am not, mistress.”

  “Liar. I met a most senior when I was your age. I was petrified. There is no need. I am here to help. You are not happy, are you? Honestly, now.”

  “No, mistress.”

  “Why not?”

  She thought she had made that clear. Perhaps their backgrounds were too alien. She rambled till Gradwohl lost patience. “Get to the point, pup. There are no ears here but mine. Even were there, your sisters would make no reprisals for what you say. I will not permit that. And do not lie. I want to know what the real Marika thinks and feels.”

  Irked, Marika tested the water with a few mild remarks. When Gradwohl did not explode, she continued till she had revealed most of her dissatisfactions.

  “Exactly what I suspected. An absolute lack of vision from the very beginning. I was not a feral myself, but I endured similar troubles. They sense strength and power, and it frightens them. In their way, silth have minds as small as any common meth. Those who might be surpass
ed want to stifle you before you develop the skills to command them. It is a severe shortcoming of the society silth have developed. Now. Tell me more about Akard.”

  Gradwohl spoke no more of Marika’s place in things, nor of her feelings. Instead, she concentrated upon a minute examination of events during Akard’s final days. “What has become of the other survivors? Especially the commtech and the tradermale?” She used the Ponath dialect word tradermale as though it was unfamiliar.

  Marika reflected carefully before saying, “Braydic was assigned work in the communications center here.” Had the most senior noted the sword-carrying meth who had threatened the guards behind Grauel, keeping them from interfering? “They will not let me see her. Bagnel vanished. I assume he rejoined his brotherhood. They say there is a tradermale place here in Maksche.”

  “Presumably I could reach him through his factors.”

  “Darkship, mistress?”

  “The flying cross. That was you in the tower, was it not? You touched Norgis just before we set down.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “What did you think?”

  “I was awed, mistress. The idea of riding such a thing.... I rode one coming down from Akard, but most of that escapes me.”

  “You are not frightened by it?”

  “No, mistress.”

  “You do not find those-who-dwell frightening?”

  “No, mistress.”

  “Good. That will be all, pup. Return to your quarters.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “There will be changes in your life, pup.”

  “Yes, mistress,” Marika said as she walked toward the doorway.

  Grauel went through first, surveyed the hallway, nodded. Barlog backed out behind Marika, rifle still trained on the most senior.

  Not one word about the confrontation passed between the three of them.

  The changes began immediately. The morning following the interview, a silth the age of Marika’s dam came to her cell. She introduced herself as Dorteka. “I am your instructress, detached from the most senior’s staff for that purpose. The most senior has ordered an individualized program for you. We will get started now.” Plainly, Dorteka did not like her assignment, but she was careful to avoid saying so.

  Marika would soon note a cloisterwide shift of attitude toward one who had caught the most senior’s interest.

  That first morning Dorteka took her to a meditation chamber. They sat upon the floor, across a table of the same stone as the cloister, in the eerie light of a single oil lamp. On Dorteka’s side lay a clipboard and papers. Dorteka said, “Your education has been erratic. The most senior wants you to go back and begin at the beginning.”

  “I would be with pups...”

  “You will proceed at your own pace, independent of everyone else at every level. Where your training has been adequate, you will advance rapidly, to your limits.” Dorteka straightened a paper. “What would you like to do for the sisterhood?”

  Marika did not hesitate. “Fly the darkships. To the starworlds.”

  A trace of amusement showed in the tilt of Dorteka’s ears. “So the most senior suggested. The darkship is possible. The starworlds are not.”

  “Why?”

  “We were too late going out. We looked in the wrong places. The starworlds are all enfiefed, and they are guarded jealously by the sisterhoods who own them. Even to leave the planet now would mean an immediate challenge to darkwar. So darkwar can be our only reason for entering the dark. We will not. We have no one capable of challenging.”

  Puzzled, Marika asked, “What is darkwar? No one will explain.”

  “At your level it will be difficult to comprehend. In essence, darkwar is a bloodduel between the leading Mistresses of the Ships of Communities in conflict. The survivor wins the right of the dispute. Darkwar is rare because it usually seals the fate of an entire Community.”

  Bloodduel Marika understood. She nodded.

  “Time enough for such things after you gain a solid foundation. You wish to become involved with the ships. Then you shall become involved, if you remain interested once you become qualified. There are never enough sisters willing to work them. You do read and write?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Dorteka handed her a sheet of paper. “This is our schedule. We will adjust it as needed.”

  Marika looked it over. “Not much time left for sleep.”

  “You wish to fly darkships, you must learn to endure sleeplessness. You wish to see your friend Braydic, you will remain stubbornly devoted to your studies.” Dorteka pushed a scrap of paper across the table. The notes on it were in a paw almost mechanically perfect. “Suggested motivators for the feral subject Marika.”

  “The most senior?”

  “Yes.”

  The interest shown by the most senior was a bit intimidating.

  The sheet was filled with a complicated diagram for earning the right to visit Braydic or the city.

  “As you see, a visit to your friend requires you to accumulate one hundred performance points. Those are mapped out for you there. Leave to go outside the cloister will be more difficult to obtain. It is subject to my being satisfied with your progress. You will never get out if I feel you are giving less than one hundred percent.”

  Crafty old Gradwohl. She had speared to the heart of her and tapped forces which could make her learn. The thought of seeing Braydic sparked an immediate urge to begin. The opportunity to get into the city, too, stirred her, but less concretely.

  “I doubt that I will permit a city visit anytime soon. Perhaps we will accumulate several opportunities for later.”

  “Why, mistress?”

  “The streets could be dangerous for an untrained silth. We have been having a problem with rogue males. I expect the Serke are behind that, too. Whatever, silth have been assaulted. Last summer ringleaders were rounded up and sentenced to the mines, but that did little good. The brethren — those you call tradermales — may have a paw in the movement.”

  “The world is not so complicated on an upper Ponath packstead,” Marika observed.

  “No. You see the schedule and rewards. Are they acceptable?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “You will become a full-time student, with no other duties. You will accept the discipline of the Community?”

  “Yes, mistress.” Marika was surprised to find herself so eager. Till this morning she had cared about nothing. “I am ready to begin.”

  “Then begin we shall.”

  II

  Marika’s education commenced before the next dawn. Dorteka wakened her and took her to a gymnasium for an hour’s workout. A bath followed.

  Marika’s determination almost broke. She nearly broke her vow to obey and conform.

  A bath! Meth — of the upper Ponath, at least — hated water. They never entered it voluntarily. Only when the populations of insects in one’s fur became too great to stand...

  The bath was followed by a hurried meal prior to the first class of the day, which was an introduction to being silth. Rites and ceremonies, dogma and duties, and instruction in the secret languages of the sisterhood, which she hardly needed. She discovered that there were circles of sisterhood mysteries silth were supposed to penetrate as they became older and more skilled. Till Dorteka, she had no idea how much she had been shut out.

  She ripped through those studies swiftly. They required rote learning. Her memory was excellent. Seldom did she need to be shown anything more than once.

  She excelled in the gymnasium. She was her dam’s pup. Skiljan had been fast, strong, hard, and tough.

  The second class lay across the cloister from the first. Dorteka made her run all the way. Dorteka made her run everywhere, and ran with her. The second class was not as susceptible to rote learning, for it was mathematics. It required the use of reason. Silth naturally tended to favor intuition.

  After mathematics came the history of the sisterhood, a class which Marika devoured i
n days. The Reugge were a minor Community with a short, uneventful past, an offshoot of the Serke that had established independence only seven centuries earlier. Sustenance of that independence was the outstanding Reugge achievement.

  Silth had a history that stretched into prehistory, countless millennia back, when all meth lived in nomadic packs. The earliest sisterhoods existed long before the keeping of records began. Most silth had little interest in those days. They lived in an eternal now.

  Marika’s pack had maintained a record of its achievements called the Degnan Chronicle. That it had been kept in her dam’s loghouse had been a source of pride to the pup. Barlog still kept it up, for she and Grauel believed that as long as it survived and remained current, the Degnan pack survived. As a historical instrument, the Degnan Chronicle was superior to any kept by the Reugge even now. For the Reugge Community, history was an oral tradition mainly of self-justification.

  Broader historical studies proved no more informative. They raised more questions than they answered, as far as Marika could see. What were the origins of the meth? In olden times — as now among the nomads of the north — they were pack hunters. Physically, they resembled a carnivore called a kagbeast. But kagbeasts were not intelligent, nor did their females rule their packs. In fact, female meth did not rule the primitive packs of the southern hemisphere, where silth births were rare. There the males hunted on equal footing.

  When Marika asked, Dorteka theorized, “Female rule developed because of the high incidence of silth births in northern litters. So I have heard.

  “Primitive packs such as your own are structured around the strong. When the strong become weakened by time or disease, they are pushed aside. But a silth could stave off challengers even though she was weak physically, and once in command would tend to be partial to those who shared her talent. In primitive packs where breeding rights are reserved for the dominant females, silth dominance would mean especial favor to the spread of the silth strain.”