Wizard's Holiday, New Millennium Edition

by Diane Duane

  Esemeli turned Its attention to Nita and Kit and smiled at them sweetly… a little too sweetly. “You, at least,” the Lone Power said to Nita, “will recognize the source of the Whispering you’ve heard in the nights. This is the Whispering’s core, the place into which the souls of the Alaalid die, when they die into the world. Here, by virtue of the Choice the Alaalids made, everything is preserved forever as it was when it arrived. Think of it as a sketchy little version of Timeheart.” The furious, hating twist It put on the word gave Nita an abrupt shiver. “Too sketchy, though. And also by virtue of that Choice, nothing that comes here ever leaves here, whether it comes of its own free will or not.”

  Esemeli directed the full force of that infuriating smile on Nita. “You should have asked fewer questions about how soon you could get where you were going,” the Lone One said, “and more about whether you could get out afterward. But most to the point, you forgot the line in the Binding Oath about not allowing you to err by inaction.”

  Nita felt all the blood run straight down out of her face, leaving her staggered and shivering. She and Kit looked over at Druvah.

  The most powerful of the ancient Alaalid wizards nodded regretfully. “What It says is true,” Druvah said. “I have no power to change it. And the one who has that power has not come with you, as I had hoped she would.” His voice was filled with regret, and Nita’s mouth went dry with fear. “Indeed, that was my only hope. But the future has not turned out the way I thought it would. It seems my people must remain as they are. And here we must all stay, until the day after forever… ”

  The Lone One’s laughter began to echo in that bright place, filling it, and drowning out all other sound, even the sound of the Whispering.

  ***

  The wizardry brought Dairine, Roshaun, Filif, and Sker’ret out in the midst of a hurricane of fire.

  Not exactly in the middle of it, Dairine thought, trying desperately to keep hold of her nerves, for the status readouts hanging in front of her own part of the wizardry told her exactly what was going on out there, and it terrified her. It was one thing, as she’d once done, to sink a skinny little spatial slide into this nuclear fury and pull out a pencil-sized stream of molten mass. When she’d done that, she’d been dealing with a star’s core, and the core was a placid pool on a windless night compared to the place where they now found themselves.

  By definition, the tachocline was turbulent. Its name meant “the place where the speed changes,” and it was where the more placid motion but more terrible temperatures of the radiative zone below met the boiling madness of the convective zone above. The tachocline slid between the two zones like ball bearings rubbed between two hands, in wide belts and roiling spots like the atmosphere of Jupiter, but at wind speeds that made Jupiter’s seem tame. And “wind” seemed a pitiful word for the insensate power that was raging around them in wildly varying directions. The solar medium was no denser than water here—but even water would become a deadly weapon when blasting past you at twenty times the speed of sound and at a temperature of two million degrees.

  Filif was pouring power into the wizardry at a prodigious rate, but even so, the wizardry itself was suffering under these atrocious conditions. It wouldn’t hold forever. And it was being buffeted around like a Ping-Pong ball in the terrible, constantly shifting pressure. Through all this, Roshaun was trying to get a reading on the lowest levels of the tachocline, but Dairine saw that every second the readings changed more violently. The layer was like a blanket being wildly shaken up and down by people holding it at the edges. Until it calmed, there was no chance that they were going to be able to do what they needed to do. And it was not going to calm—

  Come on, Roshaun said to the Sun in the Speech. He spoke silently to be heard over the roar. Come on, cousin! What are you waiting for? Why all this trouble? You know what you need to do. Otherwise, life on all your planets is going to become problematic. Give us some help, here. Let us help you sort yourself out!

  The Sun raged around him; the tachocline bucked and heaved like a live thing, stung by the approaching magnetic anomalies swinging around from the far side of the Sun, the skin of the border layer twitching and shuddering. Dairine started to hear something she never would have imagined it was possible to hear: the Sun itself speaking, like a sentient thing. It was using the Speech, but she couldn’t understand the words. It wanted something; it was trying to tell her, but she couldn’t understand—

  That’s impossible. I have to be able to understand; it’s the Speech! What’s the matter?

  There’s something wrong here, she heard Sker’ret saying in her mind. Something’s interfering with the magnetic flow at this level.

  The bubblestorm area? Dairine asked.

  No. A darkness…

  Sunspots? Dairine said.

  No! Something else. But dark—

  Under them, the tachocline heaved ever more violently. It won’t stay still! Dairine shouted at Roshaun. How’re you going to get the worldgate down in there long enough to bleed the mass off if it keeps heaving around like this?

  There was a long silence from Roshaun. There are ways, he said conversationally.

  Something about the tone of that thought brought Dairine’s head up, made her look him in the eye. But he wouldn’t meet her eye.

  Roshaun?

  You know what I am, he said to the Sun, ignoring her.

  A blast of reply.

  Yes, Roshaun said. A Guarantor.

  Another blast. Dairine was torn between envy and unease. He could understand it and she couldn’t. It wasn’t fair—

  Sker’ret, Roshaun said, detach the worldgate for me.

  “What?” Dairine shouted.

  If Roshaun heard the thought behind the shout, he didn’t betray it. At any rate, the way the roar of the Sun was coming through even the wizardry now, there was no point in using normal speech. Sker’ret said three words, very quickly, and the black shadow that was the worldgate, reduced to a thin scrap of grayish fog in this terrible light, leaped straight into Roshaun’s hands as if he’d called it.

  What are you thinking of? Dairine demanded. Let me help you—

  You need to stay here and let me do this, Roshaun said.

  But if I can just—

  You can’t, Roshaun said, looking at her with that infuriating, amused expression. But then that’s what “Guarantor” means. If the world can’t pay the price.. if the people around you can’t pay the price… you do.

  The price? No! Dairine said. No! You don’t even like my little planet—you said so—

  No, Roshaun said. Which is possibly the best of all possible reasons to do this.

  He stepped out of the wizardry.

  “No,” Dairine whispered. “No! Roshaun!”

  Roshaun vanished in the fire.

  14: Interim Destinations

  In the heart of Alaalu, Kit looked at Nita in complete horror. “You mean that’s it?”

  She looked over at him, shivering, and nodded. “I think It’s right,” Nita said, shamefaced. “We’re stuck here… ”

  “You were so earnest,” the Lone One said. “And so careless. And so patronizing. You have deserved this so profoundly, I can barely express it. A failed fragment of the Lone Power, am I? Oh, very failed. But not so failed that this species will have any further chance to go on into whatever lovely bodiless stage of evolution might potentially await them. Their only wizard will remember her betrayal until the day she dies, and will warn all her successors never to be tempted to consider Repeal. Generation after generation of them will live out their happy little lives and die into the world. They’ll keep on doing that until their star goes cold and their species oh-so-gracefully surrenders as a whole to what they will wrongly consider Fate. So much for their intended glory; the One is just going to have to do without them…”

  Esemeli smiled sweetly at them. “And as for me, not only do I have all these poor frozen fools to amuse me the few idle aeons until Time’s end, but now I
also have you two to laugh at for the rest of this universe’s eternity. And your faces to entertain me as your souls writhe endlessly for the mistakes you made, the loved ones who’ll never see you again. Priceless,” Esemeli said, “priceless!”

  Kit and Nita looked at each other helplessly as the Lone Power’s laughter once again drowned out the Whispering, echoing all through that place—

  —and then Esemeli suddenly cried out, “Ow!—”

  —because something had dropped a large heavy stick of ironwood straight onto the Lone Power’s head.

  Everyone looked up in shock, most particularly Esemeli. Her face went in a second from an expression of brief unexpected pain to one of terrible fury. Standing there in the air above them all, looking down, was Ponch… and holding the other end of his wizardly leash, also looking down at that immeasurable assembly with an expression of relief and wonder, was Quelt.

  The two of them came walking down the air together, and everyone looked at them, most specifically Esemeli. There was a curse in Its eyes, but It said nothing.

  Quelt and Ponch stepped down onto the mountaintop and walked into the heart of that great gathering. She was wondering where you were, Ponch said to Nita and Kit. So was I. So we came looking.

  Kit started to smile. We’re not the only one who made some mistakes, he said privately to Nita. Aloud, he said to Esemeli, “You know, you’re to blame for this.”

  It turned to glare at him. “If you hadn’t hurried us along and had waited for Ponch to catch up with me,” Kit said, “he’d be stuck in here with the rest of us. But, no, you had to get going and get us nice and trapped.” Kit glanced over at Nita. “That Binding Oath is really something,” he said, “if it makes the Lone Power help us even when It’s trying to screw us up.”

  “Or else,” Nita said, looking over at the Lone One with an expression that was difficult to read, “someone’s found a really good way to do the right things without looking like they were.” And she smiled just the slightest smile. “Didn’t somebody say they were getting a lot more mileage out of ambivalence these days?”

  The Lone One turned away. “This will only work this once,” It said. “Make the most of it. When she releases me, you may later come to regret all this. In fact, I guarantee that you will.”

  Kit and Nita turned their attention back to Ponch and Quelt. Everyone else in that place was staring at them in astonishment, and the one looking hardest at them, though with the least look of being surprised, was Druvah. “Yes,” he said at last. “I foresaw this happening. But, I have to admit, not quite this way… ”

  Quelt, for her own part, hardly gave Druvah more than a glance at first. She went straight over to Kit and Nita and took first Kit, then Nita, by the shoulders in her species’ greeting. “I am so sorry,” she said. “I treated you so badly when you were only telling me the truth. I feel terrible about it. And I felt terrible before, as well! I got you started on all this!”

  Nita stared at Quelt, confused. “I thought I got you started on it!”

  “No,” Quelt said. “You just said things idly that made me think more about things I’d been thinking already. Remember how I said that there was something missing? I hadn’t been really serious about it before, but after you said you had the same thoughts, they started to matter much more. When the thoughts were inside, I was discounting them. They didn’t seem important or real. Yet you were so different, and the place you come from is so different… and you still had those feelings. That was the key.”

  Ponch ran over to Kit with the leash in his mouth, dropped it, and then began jumping around him, whining and trying to lick his face. You went farther away than usual without me, Ponch said. I was worried about you. Don’t do that again!

  Kit hugged Ponch’s head to him. Okay, he said. Just remember this the next time you go running off across the universe without telling me!

  Ponch sat down and looked up at Kit with big soulful eyes. I’ll be good…

  Quelt looked over at Druvah and smiled suddenly. “You’re taller than you looked in the Display,” she said.

  He smiled. “Too great a distance in time does alter the perspective somewhat,” Druvah said.

  Quelt turned to Esemeli. “And as for you,” she said. “Now you’ll tell me that all the things you said just now were a lie.”

  “Why, of course they were.”

  “Say it in the Speech,” Quelt said.

  The Lone Power glared at her.

  Quelt turned away from It and looked around at all that gathering of people, all the dead of Alaalu, ranged away around the mountain and up the slopes of the world, to the high horizon and beyond, it seemed.

  “For now, though,” she said, “before we can go forward, something is missing.”

  Nita and Kit looked at each other as the air around them shimmered and rumbled with power. Wizardry was being done here, but not in a mode they recognized, and Quelt was at the heart of it. She simply seemed to be standing with her arms by her sides, murmuring in the Speech—

  —and a moment later, the crowd surrounding them seemed, impossibly, much larger than it had.

  “Everyone needs to be here for this,” Quelt said softly, but her voice traveled effortlessly right across that mighty assemblage. Nita looked at the people standing nearest her and Kit and realized that it wasn’t just the dead of Alaalu who were surrounding them now. The living had arrived as well, in spirit if not in body, and were looking around in astonishment at the heart of the world.

  “Now that we are all here,” Quelt said, “now comes the time to make another Choice: whether to choose again.”

  The Whispering, massive already, started to turn to a mutter, the mutter to a roar, at first distant, like surf crash on Earth, then closer and closer. All around, the Alaalids closest to Nita and Kit in that great crowd were turning to one another, murmuring, distressed.

  “Oh no,” Kit said suddenly.

  Nita turned to see what he was looking at. There was a stir of motion in the crowd, and through it came Kuwilin and Demair. They went to Quelt, who looked at them with tears suddenly standing in her eyes. “Daughter,” Kuwilin said, “what are you doing? Do you know what you’re saying?”

  “Very well,” Quelt said.

  Her mother reached out to Quelt, took her by the shoulders. “Quelt, sweeting, you can’t! Don’t you hear yourself? If you do what you’re planning, you’re going to kill everyone alive on the planet!”

  “Their old lives will end,” Quelt said, “yes.” The tears began to fall.

  “We’re happy!” Kuwilin said, desperate. “Our lives are good! How can you want to end them?”

  It pained Nita to see that proud, good-natured face suddenly so frightened, to see Demair’s easy grace gone tense with terror. She saw that it pained Quelt, too. And all around, other voices began to cry out as well.

  “Everything is fine just the way it is!”

  “Why should you destroy the way a whole planet lives just because you have the power?”

  “How dare you decide for us what’s right for us all to do!”

  “Someone has to start deciding!” Quelt cried at them all. “Because you can’t start by yourselves any more!” The exasperation in her voice was good-natured, but undeniable. “Just listen to you! You should hear yourselves! You’re like a bunch of little children who don’t want to take a nap in the afternoon because you’re afraid you’ll miss something! But you have missed something. Didn’t you hear the Lone One now, speaking truly for a change? It’s told you everything you need to know. But you never needed It to tell you that, not really. You weren’t listening to the world. None of us has been! We were too happy to listen!”

  The Whispering started to die away a little. “Can’t you hear what we’ve been trembling on the brink of?” Quelt said. “Can’t you hear the darkness, the potential that’s been chasing around our world forever like the night, just waiting for someone to look up and see it? Our own Whispering’s drowned out that deeper silen
ce. We talk to ourselves all the time so we won’t hear what the silence holds—the risk, the chance—”

  “The danger!”

  “Yes, the danger!” Quelt said, turning toward whoever it was who’d spoken. “How long has it been since there was danger in our world—any real danger? Oh, occasionally there’s an accident, or some passing pain or personal sorrow—but why doesn’t it last? We’ve outgrown passion! These bodies are too used to this world, where all the edges and sharp corners have been rubbed off and everything made safe for us. We live and we die and everything is perfect and fine. What do we have to do with the rest of the universe anymore?”

  “What, then?” someone’s voice cried, desperate. “Do you want our world to go back to the way it was in the very first times, before we awoke as a sentient species, where death is dreadful, and people die wholesale in horror and pain, and the Lone Power has Its way with Life?” And here Kit covered his face, for he remembered the look on Quelt’s face when he’d told her about his world. “Do you want to—”

  “I don’t want to go back to anything,” Quelt said. “I want to go forward! To the thing that waits.”

  The stir and hush that went through that vast emptiness was awful.

  “I’m afraid,” said one voice, trembling.

  “I’m afraid!” said another, and “I’m afraid, too!” said another voice yet, and another yet, and whole crowds of voices together, and choruses of them, cities of them, nations of them. Afraid, afraid, we’re afraid!

  The roar rose to a shout, the shout to a rumble like an earthquake all around them. Finally, in a great voice, Quelt cried, “SO AM I!”

  Slowly silence fell again.

  “But I’m going to do it anyway,” Quelt said. “So that we can all make the leap together. Think about it! One way or another, we’ve all got to die eventually. That part of the Choice was never in doubt if we were going to live in Time. Now we can go forward and find another way to do it. If we fail, what’s the worst that can happen? We all go down into the darkness at once. But we’ll still be together. And even in the darkness, there’s still the One!”