by Eve Forward
In the divine realms, beyond the eyes of man, even the heavens tilted into balance as ancient gods of darkness and evil returned, cautiously, taking their places in opposition to the gods of goodness and light. Hruul watched from the shadows, his eyes glinting, and Tharzak, with his collection of blades, walked the sharp edges of existence.
Baris and Bella came sneaking back, grinning and poking each other, and thought up new mischief. Azal, Lord of Death, far beyond the lesser gods, had never truly been away, and only smiled softly as the world shifted back to normal. The divine beings circled each other warily. Slowly, men and women who, for their own reasons, turned from the light, or reverted to their old ways as some of the whitewashing magic slowly faded, would turn to these gods and begin to build temples and relearn old rituals.
Kaylana sat against a large boulder torn free of the mountain, her staff across her knees. The world was back in balance, she could feel its gentle turning beneath her like a wooden bowl, spinning gently and evenly. A War as great as that that had led to this might never happen again ... but once more there was the conflict, the battle between good and evil, life and death, that let the seasons turn, that let existence continue. She would have to go back to her forest, or another forest... sooner or later, some people would turn their backs on both good and evil and seek to learn the ancient ways of balance, and Kaylana would be there to instruct them. It might be lonely, though ... she’d never thought of being lonely before. An image of blond hair and laughing hazel eyes drifted across her thoughts, and she shook her head, trying to forget, to remain aloof and away from such emotion ... but it was not easy. She almost sighed.
Suddenly her head jerked up. Something out of the corner of her eye ... she sprang to her feet and the others spun around to see what had alarmed her.
With a stumble, a figure in patched black silk fell out of a flat shadow on the rock and collapsed on the grass, face pale, clothes bloodstained.
“Sam!” Arcie shouted, as Kaylana dropped to her knees and touched his chest, gripping her staff and reciting words of power. Slowly the color returned to the assassin’s face as his wounds healed. His hazel eyes blinked, opened, and looked around with a cool sparkle.
“Hello,” he said. “I swear, I think I’ve passed out more times these past few weeks than ever in all my Life. By the way, if the situation should arise again, don’t run so damn fast. Even through Shadow I had a hell of a time tracking you down.”
“We thought you were dead,” stammered Robin. Sam shook his head.
“Takes more than that to kill an assassin ... speaking of which...”
“Here,” Arcie said, in relief, tossing a small sack of gemstones to him. “By rights there must be more than some thousand gold worth in there... plus this.” He dug around in a pocket and pulled out a large, red-gold coin; a blood-coin, carried for many years. He handed it to the assassin, who took it respectfully, bowing his head as tradition demanded, accepting the stigma of the kill with the coin. “A fine job, laddie.”
Valerie shook her head. “I must admit, I’m amazed we made it...”
“But Blackmail...” began Sam.
“It was his choice, at the end,” said Kaylana gently. “I heard him say as much.”
Sam nodded. He sat up. “That’s a lot better, thanks ... So we won?”
“Yes,” a new yet familiar voice said, “You did. But then, I knew that.”
They looked up, startled, to see a tall figure sitting on the rock before them. He was dressed in loose, rippling garments of some strange substance that shifted and changed colors like a soap bubble. His eyes, still shivering with knowledge like a rushing flame, were truly insane, but with a calm, self-assured madness that was different than the wildness they had seen before.
“Bhazo!” exclaimed Arcie, taking a few steps backward, in case the freed semi-deity decided to lunge for him, while at the same time being unsure whether to run for it or bow in respect. The others reacted instinctively; Sam tensed, Kaylana gripped her staff. Robin, caught lying down, froze as the others did, though he had never seen the figure before. Valerie inched back slightly, her hand holding her Darkportal. But Bhazo simply sat and watched them, a faint insane smile playing across his lips.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I just came by to thank you.”
“Thank us?” asked Kaylana. “But we left you trapped!”
Bhazo smiled. “Ah, but when you brought the darkness back, there was enough negative energy at last for the necessary to happen... for a divine being to die.”
“You mean you’re... dead?” stammered Arcie. Sam’s professional opinion was that Bhazo didn’t look dead, but one never could tell with deities ...
Valerie stammered, “Sorry about that whole thing with the Darkportal and all, I was really not... “
Bhazo waved a hand genially. They could see around his neck a large scar from where the dragonfire noose had burned so long.
“I’ve gotten what I wanted, and it’s you five, plus the knight, who helped me. By the way, remember what I said about the fruits, it’s very important. Any by the how-whatwhy, I’m glad things worked out as they did. You know, the Tests were designed so that only the one person who as fated to do so could win it... It’s nice how Fate can sometimes come through.”
“We didn’t need to work so hard? We’d have passed the Tests anyway?” Robin gasped. “But that can’t be! The Tests were designed by Heroes, for heroes ...”
“Heroes are what you make them, and where you find them. No, neither gods nor Heroes knew who the people that could pass the Tests would be; that was left up to the workings of Fate, who isn’t a deity, by the way. Even I didn’t know if you’d make it... but, as I said, I’m glad you did. And if you hadn’t worked hard, Robin of Avensdale, you might not have been the precise person needed to pass the Test.”
“Very strange,” said Sam, shaking his head. “And what happened to the Darkgate?”
“Gone but still here, in everything without being anywhere. Sort of like shadows, and you know what I mean, assassin.” Bhazo winked. “You’d have to be mad to understand it...”
“So what happens to you, now that you’re dead?” Valerie asked.
“That I can’t tell you. By the small singing turtles, it’s confusing enough in my head with getting metaphysical! I suppose I’ll have to wait and see. But first, a final parting gift of some last mad wisdom.” Bhazo raised a finger, his eyes glittering. “Centaur; remember this. Thirty north, forty west. You’ll understand one day.” Robin seemed confused, but dutifully wrote the words down on a scrap of paper. “Valeriana Ebonstar. Replace wonnroot with greenweed some time in casting the Elder Nine Seeking spell. I think you’ll find the results interesting. You, Kaylana Nathalorial...” Bhazo paused, thinking a moment, occasionally flinching as some particularly powerful burst of knowledge thumped through his brain. Being dead, however, seemed to have helped calm his madness somewhat. He smiled. “There’s nothing really I can tell you that you’d need to know ... except a bit of advice. You’re very good at following your will ... Take a rest, young one; and yes, you are young, though you and I have seen not too different a number of summers.” There were a few startled exclamations; though they had had their suspicions, none had really been able to believe that
Kaylana was, in fact, one of the original Druids, over a century and a half old. Bhazo continued. “Let your heart off the short leash you keep it on, for a change. As the world fully balances, and your people return under your guidance, Time will begin to notice you once again. You will have a lifespan. Use it to the fullest.” He turned from the thoughtful Druid to the Barigan, with a grin. “Ah, Reinhart Corallis Macrory.” Arcie yelped, and waved his hands, trying to deny the words.
“Nay! Nay! Argh, blast your mad eyes, you fool’s god!” He pulled his hat over his face, hiding in shame.
“Reinhart?” Sam exclaimed in shock. “Reinhart Corallis? And you teased me about my name?”
“That’s not important,
” said Bhazo, waving a hand.
“Anyway, dragon gold you were after, right? I’ve got something better. Your father has a map of the Triangk Isles, but he’s read it wrong all these years. Get it, fold tile corners inward. Then it should show you something worth seeing.”
“Cor!” exclaimed Arcie, or rather, R.C., as he peered over the edge of his battered hat.
“And the assassin they call Sam,” said Bhazo at last, thoughtfully. “I could tell you your true name, but I don’t think it would serve any purpose. You are what you are, and you have always known that.”
“Yes,” admitted Sam. “I guess so. These past weeks have brought that home fairly strongly.”
“And you also are content in yourself... Therefore, simple advice. Don’t change ... unless you want to. And in response to your other difficulties... that sort of thing has troubled men and gods for all eternity. All I can suggest is patience, persistence, and being yourself. Nothing else will work in the long run. Just like an assignment.” Bhazo stood up on the rock, stretching, and they backed off slightly, in respect. “Time to go ... by the way, now that Mizzamir is dead, some of his spells may be wearing off. Things may be getting interesting in your home Lands. But, after all, that was what you wanted. Anything but boredom.” There was a last chuckle, ever so slightly insane, and a shimmer, and the Mad Godling, free at last of his mortal coil, vanished.
“Is he gone?” Robin asked after a moment, looking around.
“Looks as that way,” Arcie said, still surprised both at the assassin’s miraculous escape from death and the strange visitation by the Mad Godling. “You know, Sam, there’s bound to be work opening up for you soon ... and all your whitewashed friends may as be needing refresher courses. Are you going to go back to Bistort?”
“I don’t know,” answered the assassin thoughtfully.
There was much to think about. “Where are you all going to go?”
“Back to the tunnels,” answered Valerie with a sharp smile. “To continue my research and occasionally wreak terrible villainy on surface dwellers when I get bored. You may hear of me, but don’t come looking... or I may invite you to dinner.”
“I’m going to continue my wanderings as a minstrel,” said Robin.
“You should become a bard,” Kaylana told him.
Robin stamped a hoof and wagged his docked tail.
“But you’ve never told me what one is!”
“Then you can begin your training by looking,” answered the Druid with a cool smile.
Robin waggled his ears in thought at this. He might just know of a place to start ...
“I were thinking of going to see my father,” Arcie said thoughtfully. “Take it easy for awhile. I’m not gettin’ any younger ... You could be Guildmaster of your own Guild, you know, Sam my lad,” he added.
“Well...” mused the assassin. He looked at Kaylana shyly. Patience, persistence, he thought. “Where are you going, Druid?” he asked softly. Kaylana looked down, a bit of a smile on her face. She too was remembering Bhazo’s words.
“Back to the woods, wandering on the way ... to see if there are any who might choose to take up Druidism,” she answered. Sam raised his eyebrows.
“Wandering... it may be dangerous.”
“That is true,” conceded Kaylana with a faint smile.
“You might need someone along, just for backup.”
“That is possible,” she replied.
“Even if he isn’t a Druid, I know someone who’d be more than willing to wander with you.” Sam smiled as he spoke. Kaylana returned the gaze and expression.
“I think that would be quite acceptable,” she said.
“Och, now it starts,” muttered Arcie, rolling his eyes and pulling out his pipe. Valerie chuckled to herself, and Robin smiled at his harp, thinking of lands to visit in search of the mysteries of the bards. Sam whispered something to Kaylana, and she laughed, and the stars moved in their courses, and the sun moved across the sky, and the world turned through its delicate balance, a game of chess, a set of scales, a spinning bowl, a drifting dream of a thousand thousand possible combinations spun from two extremes.
