One Realm Beyond

by Donita K. Paul

  She’d been confident when she started the training. If she’d been prepared then, now she should be able to knock down mountains.

  In her hamper, Bixby had a crown that enabled her to discern whether or not a person told the truth. She smiled at Dukmee. She didn’t need the crown.

  Light burst into the room as the doors to the outside swung open, and Bridger and Cantor stepped in. Cantor stopped and held the door as he watched out across the veranda. Jesha darted out.

  Bridger came to Bixby’s side. He took her hand. “Are you all right? You look a lot better. You looked bad before. Not bad as in ugly, but bad as in sick. Well, looking sick did look ugly, but you’re all right now. Right?”

  She smiled. “I am much better. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but it wasn’t just me. Cantor helped, and of course, Dukmee took care of you once we had you here.”

  He turned his head as if listening to a noise from outside.

  “What is it?” asked Bixby.

  “We have a visitor.” He smiled, flashing rows of pointy teeth.

  Could it be Totobee-Rodolow? Bixby held her breath.

  Cantor stepped back and Feymare entered with Jesha in his arms. Of course, it wasn’t Totobee-Rodolow, but Feymare could help find her, couldn’t he?

  He greeted Cantor, Bridger, and Dukmee, then came to sit with Bixby.

  “Have you had breakfast?” asked Dukmee.

  “No.” He placed a hand on the side of Bixby’s face, cupping her chin. “You’re doing well. I was alarmed to hear of your experience.”

  “I forgot to be cautious.”

  “That’s true, but the endeavor was exacerbated by the content of the minds you probed. They are truly depraved men, and their evil is a malady of hedonistic hearts.”

  “I’m hungry,” said Bridger. “I’ll go to the kitchen and have breakfast brought to the library.”

  Bixby wondered how the Primen warrior would take this mundane statement. After the delivery of his explanation of her severe reaction and the thorough corruption of these men, surely a comment about food was out of place.

  She needn’t have worried. Feymare bestowed a glowing smile on the dragon. “Thank you, friend. I’m hungry too. Food sounds utterly practical. And then we must talk.”

  While they waited for Bridger to return, Cantor sat across from the Primen warrior, determined to find out about Ahma and Odem. They all sat at the small round table. Dukmee had moved Bixby’s tray out of the way.

  Feymare answered Cantor’s question even before he could ask it. “I’m sorry, Cantor. I’ve heard nothing. But the fact that we haven’t had news is actually news in itself.”

  Cantor tried to form an optimistic expression but knew he was scowling. “How so?”

  “There are only a few places they could be hidden from my ability to locate them.”

  The scowl slipped. “So you can guide us to these places, and perhaps we’ll find them.”

  “The first one is right here in Gilead.”

  Dukmee leaned forward. “The dungeons.”

  The possibility of rescuing Ahma and Oden within the next few hours excited Cantor. “We’ve had information that Totobee-Rodolow has been taken there. And I heard directions on how to enter the dungeons.”

  Feymare’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed, this is good news. I heard yesterday about Totobee-Rodolow’s disappearance. I was able to find out who kidnapped her, but not why, and not where she’d been taken. I was coming here anyway to suggest we look for Ahma and Odem under the Guild Center. And I had a message from Toolooknaut. He has more information and will meet us here later in the morning.”

  Dread squeezed the joy out of Cantor’s expectation of finding his friends. What would their state be after so long in such a wretched place? Were they even still alive? His fault if they were ill. His fault if they were beyond regaining health. A discreet knock on the door, followed by the arrival of breakfast, cut off the blame Cantor heaped on himself.

  The servants brought a long table and trays of food. While they worked, Feymare examined each one in turn. Cantor wondered what interested the warrior.

  The men filled plates from the impromptu buffet, and Cantor brought Bixby a fresh cup of tea. She sat back from the table, cradling Jesha in one arm. The cat spilled onto Bixby’s lap as a furry, limp, and happy feline.

  After the servants left the room, Bixby repeated what she’d learned. “The servants are spies for the guild.”

  “You’re correct, Bixby.” Feymare gestured toward the closed door. “Only one of those who were just here is truly evil. The others have fallen away from righteousness, but they could be brought back if circumstances offered them a way out of serving the councilmen. And there’s one who secretly yearns to shed himself of this company. I believe he might generate enough courage to change without aid.”

  Bixby was silent for a moment. “The shorter one who looks like he’s ten years younger than he really is. He often has a pleasant expression.”

  “That’s the one.”

  Dukmee looked around the table. “One of the talents you’ll develop as you mature as realm walkers is the ability to discern the basic character of a person.” He smiled at Bridger. “Or a dragon.”

  Feymare agreed. “It’s part of being in tune with Primen. His wisdom, His insight will guide you. I knew of your troubles before any concrete evidence came to me.”

  Cantor turned to Bridger. “Last night, how did you know Bixby was in trouble?”

  Bridger looked embarrassed. His eyes darted around the room, and he wouldn’t meet any of the others’ gazes. He twitched as if he suddenly wanted to go do something anywhere but there.

  “It’s all right, friend.” Feymare clapped him on the shoulder. “You did well.”

  He looked at his cat, who showed no evidence of sharing his embarrassment. “Jesha and I had been in the room with the councilmen for a long, long time. Jesha went to sleep. The men talked and talked, and it seemed they said the same things over and over, just in different words. My mind drifted away from my assigned task, and after some time, I sort of dozed. Something stirred me out of being half-asleep. I felt a twinge of anxiety. Then Bixby’s distress hit me like she stood beside me wailing. I woke Jesha on my way out of the room.”

  Cantor gave Bridger a look.

  He heard the dragon’s thought, loud and clear in his mind. “What?”

  He couldn’t resist teasing his friend and answered. “Asleep on the job.”

  “They were dreadfully boring.”

  “They talked about murdering people, and that was boring?”

  “Boring after you heard the same thing over and over. It wouldn’t have been boring if they’d actually been murdering people, but it was all talk. They’d think of a method to deliver the bombs, then think of reasons why that idea wouldn’t work.”

  “Did they ever come up with a plan?”

  Bridger looked uncomfortable again. “Ummm? I was asleep.”

  Feymare interrupted their silent conversation. “I’m sure the information you gathered, Bridger, will be very helpful. Combined with the others’ input, we’ll have a firm understanding and can plan accordingly. But first, this breakfast calls me.”

  After they’d eaten, noises from the hallway announced servants had moved in to work, or perhaps to listen. The friends moved to the veranda where no one could overhear without obviously being close. Over the next several hours, the five discussed in detail all the things they had learned the night before. Feymare and Dukmee shared knowledge they had from previous experience.

  “Tonight,” said Feymare, “we’ll enter the dungeons and free all we find.”

  Cantor clenched a fist. “Hopefully, that’ll include Ahma and Odem.”

  Bixby stared off toward the road to Gilead. “Didn’t you say that Toolooknaut would be coming?”

  “Yes.” Feymare turned so he could see the road. “But it looks like Ponack is coming instead.”

  “Why is he walking?�
�� Bridger asked.

  “I’d hardly call that walking. He’s almost trotting.” Bixby grimaced. “He’s too old to be in that big of a hurry.”

  Cantor squinted to get a good look at the man. “He looks upset.”

  Bixby shook her head slightly. “When I met him before, he seemed like ‘upset’ was his normal way of dealing with things.”

  Dukmee sent a servant with a pony cart to meet Ponack and bring him the rest of the way to the vilta. As soon as the pony slowed, Toolooknaut’s employee climbed off the seat and hurried to join them.

  Ponack took Feymare’s hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. Toolooknaut was to come and tell you the plot.” He panted as he spoke. “Some of the councilmen are going to cause an explosion. Gas and fire and such. At the guild building this evening, before the dinner hour. Today! Hours from now.”

  Bixby reached to take Cantor’s hand. “They talked about this. Those men. Errd Tos. I remember now. Glee. Evil, maniacal glee over the destruction of so many. And shattering the foundation of what the guild has been.”

  Cantor squeezed her hand. “We still have time to save them. Ahma, Odem, and Totobee-Rodolow. There’s time.”

  Bixby stared into Cantor’s eyes. He saw terror and panic. “What is it, Bixby?”

  “Errd Tos was in my mind. He blocked the memory of the bomb plot. Does he know who I am, Cantor? Will he destroy us all through my weakness?”

  Ponack reclaimed their attention with his dramatic gestures and shrill voice. He let go of the Primen warrior and turned to the others, wringing his hands, whining his news. “Toolooknaut was arrested. He was coming here. They arrested him right on the street outside his quarters. And where did they take him? To the guild building!”

  Now he paced and wrung his hands. “We must free him. An explosion. Enough power to knock down the whole building. No respect for life. No respect for our history. The Realm Walkers Guild stood for honor and generosity and forbearance. But that was years ago. Now it’s nothing like it should be. Rotten. Rotten!”

  He stopped and shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief. Then he resumed pacing — pacing, shaking his head, and wringing his hands, muttering. “Good men will die. Records, artifacts, history will burn as if they never were. And that’s what they want. They don’t want reminders of the past when the guild ruled justly. A sad day. Sad. We must rescue Toolooknaut.”

  Bixby came to her feet. Her dragon’s name came like a soft stutter to her lips. “Totobee-Rodolow.” She looked around the room, seeing the strength and purpose in her comrades. Her voice gained intensity. “She’s there! We can save her.”

  Bixby grabbed Cantor’s hand. The current he used to unlock doors and move objects tingled in his fingers. The energy grew as it passed back and forth between the two realm walkers. She looked intently into his eyes and he knew what she would say. “And Ahma. And Odem.”

  Feymare’s gentle voice sealed their intent. “So be it.”

  IN SHADOW INN

  Feymare, Dukmee, and Ponack rode to town together in a closed carriage. Bixby, Cantor, and Jesha traveled by horse, or rather, by dragon — Bridger. They took a longer route and had agreed to meet Feymare and Dukmee at the In Shadow Inn across from the guild building.

  Bixby fidgeted in front of Cantor. Her nerves wouldn’t let her settle. She held back a stream of chatter, knowing Cantor would not find her way of relieving tension to his liking. She stroked Jesha, then patted Bridger on his neck.

  “Can’t you hold still?” Cantor asked.

  “I can be quiet or hold still, but I can’t do both when I’m so nervous.”

  “Your jumpiness is driving me crazy. Try talking for a while. That might be better.”

  “All right. What do you want to talk about?”

  He made an exasperated noise. “Not me. You. It doesn’t matter what I want to talk about. You’re going to talk instead of twitch.”

  Bixby sighed and tried to think of something they hadn’t talked about for hours already that day.

  “I know!” She wiggled a bit to get comfortable before she switched from shifting to speaking. “I heard one of the farmhouse men say that Dukmee was on their side.”

  “Dukmee? You jest.”

  Bixby twisted in Cantor’s arms so she could face him. “No, but I misunderstood what he meant.”

  “You’re supposed to be still.”

  She faced front again. “He said that it was a good thing Dukmee was our mentor, because he wouldn’t train us properly.”

  “How could he know that?”

  “I thought he meant Dukmee would deliberately leave things out of our rounds so we’d make bad mistakes when we went on missions.”

  “I think we’re learning more than we have to know.”

  “But,” said Bixby, ignoring the interruption, “he meant that Dukmee was an inadequate mentor. He thought that he didn’t have the qualifications to be a mentor and Dukmee was too caught up in his own interests to pay much attention to us.”

  Cantor’s chest jostled Bixby’s back as he laughed. “You have to admit he reads a lot.”

  “That’s probably why they gave him that huge library. To keep him preoccupied.”

  “But why would they think he’s not qualified?”

  “They know him as a healer. And they successfully had him contained for years. If he couldn’t get through an evil wizard’s ward, how could he be an experienced realm walker?”

  “He knew how to do it, he just needed more power — us — to make it work.”

  “I know that, but just hearing someone say Dukmee wasn’t fit made me doubt. We don’t know what a realm walker mentor is supposed to do. How would we know if he is inadequate? And it is feasible that every mentor has a different agenda.”

  She felt Cantor nod his head. “And the whole thing about being at the vilta instead of in the hall is strange.” He sputtered and wiped her hair away from his face. “But, in spite of that, I think we’re making progress.”

  Bixby did too, and she’d had a lot of experience under mentors. She was about to rattle off some examples, but Cantor had a question.

  “You really thought he had given his allegiance to the corrupt councilmen?”

  “For a little while.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to go to Dukmee when you were sick.”

  “I didn’t? I don’t remember that.”

  “You were pretty out of it.” He paused. “What made you change your mind?”

  “He talked to me. He knew I was upset, and I could feel him looking through my mind for clues. I was too weak to stop him. So he kind of outlined what I was thinking, and then reassured me I was wrong.”

  “And you just believed him?”

  Bixby shrugged. “He’s Dukmee. How could he be anything but what he is? Do you remember how forthright he was when we needed his help to rescue the young men? He doesn’t prevaricate. And I suppose I dabbled in a little logic as well.”

  This time Cantor’s laugh sounded more like a snort. “Dabbled, eh?”

  “Don’t tease. I actually have a very fine intellect.” She knew better than to wait for him to agree. “The things that Errd Tos said were a result of Dukmee’s ineptitude weren’t true. Dukmee worked us hard, demanded perfection, and spent time addressing our specific needs. He wasn’t slaphazard in any way. Besides . . . Feymare trusts him.”

  “Well, that makes sense.” His sarcastic tone scraped her nerves. “If Feymare trusts him, then we should too.”

  “Of course we should! He’s a Primen warrior. Do you think His warriors are easily fooled? They do take orders directly from Primen. Some people believe these warriors have actually stood in the presence of Primen.”

  “I haven’t been all that impressed by Feymare.”

  “Why?”

  Cantor didn’t answer.

  “Why, Cantor?”

  He still remained silent.

  “Come on. You can’t just say something like that and not say why. Why is it that you’re
not all that impressed by Feymare?”

  “He hasn’t done much good in keeping the councilmen under control.”

  “Maybe Primen didn’t tell him to keep the councilmen under control.”

  “Why wouldn’t He?”

  “Seems to me, Primen is interested in citizens working through problems and causing their lives to line up with His standards. He doesn’t do it for us.”

  Bixby heard the low growl that oozed from Cantor’s tense throat.

  She poked his arm that wrapped around her waist. “What else? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  “Feymare didn’t have a clue as to where Ahma and Odem are. He still doesn’t know for sure. You’d think a Primen warrior would be more useful in finding lost realm walkers. Realm walkers take a vow to serve Primen. After a life of faithful service, Ahma and Odem don’t seem to rank much attention.”

  “Oh, that’s all twisted, but I’m not sure what to say to get it untwisted.”

  Bridger shuddered beneath them. “Ask Cantor about the man who was murdered a couple of feet away from him.”

  Bixby gasped. “When?”

  Bridger answered. “Last night.”

  “Last night? Cantor, what is he talking about?”

  “The man who talked about seeing Totobee-Rodolow taken into the dungeon was stabbed for knowing too much.”

  “You didn’t say anything about that when you told us about his information.”

  “Why should I report it? His being killed didn’t change what he’d said.”

  Bixby pondered his words. What was he not saying? And why was he not saying it?

  “You saw a man get killed, and you didn’t mention it?”

  Cantor lowered his voice. “It’s the first time I’ve seen a murder. I felt sick. I couldn’t get away fast enough. Your being wiped out gave me something else to think about, something to do. The urgent need to find care for you helped me focus. And I didn’t want to talk about it. I still don’t want to talk about it.”