by Alexey Pehov
“Because he is the Player, the Masters have no right to kill him.”
“I thought I heard you say the Master knew how the Game would go? Surely he could have foreseen that the Horn would fall into the wrong hands? Stop. Just who is the Player?”
“Good thinking, Harold. Good thinking. The Master figured everything out, but everybody makes mistakes, especially when they have to rely on people. People are weak, and the Player has proved to be no exception to the rule. The Master knew that the Horn would end up with the Player, but he didn’t expect the old fox to go running off to another den. I’m talking about Artsivus.”
“No. It can’t be!”
“Why not? The Master knew you would definitely give the Rainbow Horn to the Order, which means to Artsivus.”
“But why him?” I could believe anything at all, but not that the fine old man Artsivus was the influential figure who wanted to kill me.…
“Why are you so surprised? The Player has to be a magician. The Master offered him knowledge and power for his services.”
“And what did the other Master offer him?”
“Youth and immortality.”
“Then it all makes sense.”
And the Messenger started telling me things. It was Artsivus who had suggested I should go on the expedition to get the Horn. He thought I wouldn’t manage it, and the artifact would stay in Hrad Spein.
Then, when the stars told a different story, he decided to kill me. Only at this point the Master intervened and personally forbade the magician to touch me. But then Artsivus found Paleface—it was the archmagician’s ring that the two master thieves showed at the Royal Library, and that was why they killed poor old Bolt.
It was Artsivus’s people who stole the Shadow Horse. The archmagician needed the magical object that could control the demons for his own purposes (by this time he had already been recruited by a Master from another world), and he didn’t want to share it with the Order. But then the ubiquitous Harold put in an appearance, and old Artsivus had to save the Shadow Horse in order not to arouse the suspicions of the Dancer of Siala.
When I went for a ride in the carriage of the Master of the Order after that free-for-all over the Shadow Horse, my life was hanging by a thread. Old Artsivus had no intention of taking me to the king, he was listening to my story to see if I’d guessed that the Master of the Order was mixed up in the shady business with maps of Hrad Spein and the Shadow Horse, and taking me for delivery into the caring hands of a gang of killers. What saved me was that I said I didn’t have the papers with me. Artsivus let me go and set the killers on For, quite reasonably assuming that he might have the papers.
“I could go on, thief, but time is short. You have to steal the Horn.”
“Even so, there are too many things in your story that don’t fit,” I said. “The Horn has already been in Artsivus’s hands for more than a month. Why does it have to be tonight? He could have done everything as soon as he got it. While the city was under attack, when everybody was busy with other things and no one would have bothered him?”
“Yes, he could have used the Horn at the very beginning, but he wouldn’t have got the result that his new Master is expecting. It is only tonight that the Shadow Horse and the Rainbow Horn can be combined together.”
“I bet that your Master has known the Player was a traitor for ages. And he definitely foresaw what was going to happen tonight. Right?”
“That could be so.”
“Then, in the name of Sagot, why couldn’t I have stolen the artifact sooner? Why today? Why didn’t you tell me about this a week ago? A month ago?”
I thought I heard him chuckle.
“Then there wouldn’t have been any risk. No edge to the Game. No interest. You are the Master’s trump card. He wanted to see how well you could deal with things at the very last moment.”
The world was teetering on the edge of a precipice, and the Master was still playing his silly little games!
“Then why did Artsivus let me go? Take the leash off?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Harold. Yes, he knows you’re a Dancer in the Shadows, but he doesn’t know a thing about your deal with the Master, and he thinks you have no idea who he is. So will you get the Horn?”
“I don’t really have much choice, do I?” I said with a bitter laugh.
“I’m afraid not. Either the Rainbow Horn has to be removed from the hands of the Player or … you simply have no idea what that magical item is capable of if it’s combined with something like the Shadow Horse! The scales of the balance will collapse, the Houses of Siala will fall, and there won’t be much left of your … that is, our world. The Game will be lost. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“I’m not interested in your Game. But I will try to get the Horn. What’s the deposit on the deal?”
“Your life. How does that suit you?”
“Just fine. And the payment?”
“Get the Horn, and you’ll never see me again.”
Well, nothing could have suited me better than that arrangement.
“I request Shadow Harold to accept my Commission.”
“I accept the Commission.”
“I have heard you, thief. Now, in conclusion, let me advise you to get it done before midnight. At midnight the Player will commence the ritual, and then you probably won’t be able to steal the artifact from right under his nose.”
“I doubt that I’ll even be able to get into the Tower of the Order. I can hardly expect the magicians not to ask any questions when they notice me.”
“None of the magicians are in the Tower. Artsivus has sent them all away.”
“That doesn’t change things much. I still have to get in.”
“I can’t help you there. I cannot enter the Tower of the Order.”
“Listen, what’s the point in him doing all this? Doesn’t the Master of the Order realize that after he does this, it will be the end of everything?”
“Why wouldn’t he understand? Of course he does. But there are many worlds, he’ll have somewhere to go.”
“If the Game ends, what then?”
“What then? Oh, the winner gets a prize and Game starts all over again.”
“A prize? What prize?”
“You’ve been in the World of Chaos and the shadows, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Whoever wins the Game will be rewarded with one of the shadows from the Primordial World. Just imagine—with that he can create an entirely new, ideal world. And put right the mistakes committed in other universes. Victory brings the chance to create perfection and enter it in the next Game.”
As he said that, the Messenger finally stepped out of the shade into the moonlight. I started. He hadn’t really changed much since the time of my waking dream. That is, if you disregarded the fact that now the lad was as black as tar, had a pair of wings behind his back, and his eyes were golden; to look at he was still Djok Imargo.
May the darkness take all these Masters and their idiotic Games! Worlds are no more than playing cards to them. They play, and I suffer the consequences!
“What do I do once I get the Horn?” I asked with a sigh.
“Just get it. By doing that you will disrupt the ritual, and this round of the Game will end. The Player will become vulnerable, the Master will kill him, the Horn will stay with the Order, and everything will be over.”
And so saying, he flapped his wings and was gone, as if he had never been there.
* * *
It was more than an hour since the Messenger and I had parted. I had absolutely no idea of how to get into the Order’s citadel. And I didn’t know the layout of the tower. It wasn’t all that big to look at, but, remembering the abandoned tower in the Forbidden Territory, I knew I could expect absolutely anything. Tricks with space and dimensions, for instance. It could easily be much bigger on the inside than from the outside.
And then—just my luck—the gods made me remember that Kli-Kli o
nce boasted to me about how she’d been in the new Tower of the Order and she could find any room in it with her eyes closed. She was lying! I would have sworn by the eyes of the Messenger that she was lying! But right now I didn’t have any other option.
I managed to grab the gobliness just as she was walking into the tavern where we were all supposed to meet. I had to take her to one side and ask her a few questions. Of course, she immediately smelled a rat and dug her claws into me, so I couldn’t help telling her everything. When she learned about Artsivus, she just nodded, and when she heard what the Master wanted, she decided she had to go along with me.
I tried to change her mind. I tried to reason. I argued, I threatened. I appealed to her conscience, asked her to listen to reason—but none of it did any good. Kli-Kli declared that if she wasn’t going with me, then I’d have to find my own way out of this tricky situation. What finally finished me was the claim that she knew how to get into the tower without attracting any attention. So I agreed. And really, if she wasn’t concerned about my head, why should I be worried about her? We didn’t bother our friends, just left them in ignorance in the tavern. There wasn’t any point in risking their lives in this undertaking, and swords weren’t likely to be much help anyway.
The square where the Order’s massive pale blue building stood was completely deserted and covered in snow. I shivered at the memory of the dream in which I had spoken to the Gray One.
A prophetic dream. The balance really could be destroyed. By the light of the moon and the magical lanterns, the tower seemed to be carved out of blocks of ice. The only lights inside were up on the top floor.
“Well then, how do we get in without attracting any attention?” I asked the gobliness.
“I’ll show you.”
She strolled up to the door covered with its fancy design of whirls and volutes and stopped.
“Like that.”
“Just what am I supposed to make of that?” I hissed sarcastically.
“You asked me to show you the way into the tower, and I showed you,” Kli-Kli told me without batting an eyelid.
“Kli-Kli,” I said, trying to control myself. “You’re trying to be funny, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not being funny at all. The only way into the Tower of the Order is through that door, or did you think the magicians wouldn’t bother to close off all the other entrances?”
I should have realized sooner! I’d been taken for a ride!
“Have you ever really been inside?”
“Yes. With the king. Only for some reason they wouldn’t let me go any farther than the first floor.”
“Then what good are you to me?”
“I can help save your neck. And I can work a bit of magic, too.”
“Kli-Kli! Don’t pretend to be more stupid than you really are! You know perfectly well you’re no match for a magician of the Order.”
“Listen, Harold, here we are hanging about like two fools outside the door into the Order’s holy of holies. Get those lock picks to work before anyone notices us.”
“I’m afraid the magicians didn’t bother to put a lock on the door. There’s probably something else instead.”
“Then check it out! Are you a thief or not?”
She was right—hanging about in open view really was stupid. I could have a word with the gobliness later (if there was any later).
I reached out my hand to the metal ring of the door and pulled it cautiously toward me. The door didn’t budge. I pulled harder. The same result.
“Open,” Valder whispered, and the door of the tower suddenly yielded.
“Oho!” Kli-Kli gasped in delight. “How did you do that?”
“Just lucky,” I muttered, thanking fate yet again for bringing me together with the dead archmagician. “Wait for me on the edge of the square. If I’m not back out in an hour, go to the king.”
“Uh-huh,” the gobliness said, and darted in through the door. “You don’t think I’m going to leave all the honor and the glory to you, do you?”
“Kli-Kli…”
“Drop that tone of voice. I’m going with you.”
“What if I tie you up?”
“I’m warning you! I’ll bite!”
“All right! But just don’t go getting under my feet!”
“When did I ever get under your feet?” she asked, and then bit her tongue.
We were in the brightly lit entrance hall on the first floor of the tower. On the far side of it there were three corridors and a stairway.
“Don’t make any noise,” I warned my companion, just to be on the safe side.
“The tower’s a lot bigger than it looks,” said Kli-Kli.
“I know,” I answered, and called: “Valder?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know which way we should go?”
“I’ve never been here before, but they build all these towers to the same design. I think you should go up the stairs.”
“And then?”
“If the Master of the Order intends to perform a ritual, then it will take place in the Council Hall. The magical mirror will intensify his spells.”
“I understand.”
“You know, this business with the Horn reminds me of something. I see Zemmel isn’t the only one who has ever tried to play the Game of the great ones. Be careful.” And then there was silence.
“How long are you going to stand there just staring into space?” Kli-Kli inquired. Naturally, she couldn’t hear my conversation with the archmagician.
“We should go that way.”
The stairway of dark purple marble wound its way up the tower. At first we moved cautiously, in case there was someone else here as well as Artsivus, but after the third floor we started walking more confidently.
“How long now to midnight?”
“Still more than an hour,” she panted. “We’re in good time. The important thing is not to run into Artsivus.”
The fifth floor. The sixth. On the seventh I cast a quick glance into a brightly lit corridor and saw someone sitting slumped against the wall in the distance. My blood ran cold for a moment because I thought it was Artsivus. But no, Sagot spared us. And the way the man was sitting there was kind of strange, too.
“Kli-Kli,” I said to the gobliness, who was already creeping on up the stairs.
“Yes?”
Without saying anything, I indicated the man in the corridor with my eyes.
“We have to check!”
“Have you got nothing better to do?”
“We have to check, Dancer. We can’t leave any strangers in our rear.”
“All right, but be careful,” I said, taking out my crossbow.
As we walked along the corridor the man didn’t move. Then I saw who it was and went dashing to him.
Someone had split Roderick’s head open. The floor and the wall he was slumped against were covered in blood.
“Ah, darkness!” I cursed. “Who did this to him?”
“You know who. Don’t make a fuss, Harold. The lad’s dead. He must have guessed something and his old teacher decided to get rid of him.”
“He saved my life once. I feel sorry for the lad.”
“We’ll all be in need of pity soon, if we don’t get a move on. Come on, Harold. We can’t do anything to help him now. Listen, what’s that door doing open, eh?”
It was only then I realized that the door closest to us was slightly ajar. Kli-Kli immediately stuck her curious nose through it.
“Ooh! Just look what’s in here, Harold!”
I looked in. The vast hall was crammed full of boxes and all sorts of weird things. I supposed it was probably a storeroom for magical doodads.
“The artifacts depository!” Kli-Kli had had the same idea as me. “Maybe the Horn’s still here?”
“Let’s check then,” I agreed. “But quickly!”
The storeroom was full of absolutely everything, from shelves with spell scrolls on them to mysterious and incomprehensible
objects that glowed. The only things missing were the Rainbow Horn and the Shadow Horse.
“Looks like we’re wasting our time wandering around in here,” said Kli-Kli, giving up even before I did.
“Looks like it,” I sighed, gazing at a set of shelves stacked with various shining globes and spheres.
One of them caught my eye. It was gray, and I could make out a familiar silhouette inside. I took a step toward the shelves, and the tower immediately trembled slightly.
“What’s that?” Kli-Kli asked, gazing around in fright.
“I don’t know,” I said, puzzled.
“It’s begun,” Valder told me. “The ritual has begun!”
“How can it have begun!” I yelled out loud. “It’s not midnight yet!”
“Harold, what are you talking about?” Kli-Kli asked in amazement.
“Bad news, Kli-Kli. Artsivus is impatient!”
“So what do we do?”
Before I could answer, Valder spoke again.
“The goblin girl should leave!”
“What?”
“She should leave, Harold. She’s too powerful as a shaman, and I’m already weak. When she’s here, it’s hard for me to do anything at all. And today I’ll need all my strength.”
“Harold, what’s wrong with you?”
“Let me speak to her myself.”
I relaxed, leaving Valder free to do whatever he wanted.
“What on earth’s happen— Oh!”
She gaped at me with amazement in her eyes, obviously listening to what Valder was saying. I couldn’t hear what he told her, but Kli-Kli nodded rapidly.
“Hang in there, Dancer!” the gobliness said to me at the end. “I’ll bring help.”
She rushed off and the tower trembled again.
“Why did she do that?”
“It’s for the best. You and I have to stop the Master of the Order.”
“And how do we do that?”
“I don’t know yet. Take it.”
“What?”
“That sphere. It will be useful.”
“What if he breaks out?”
“That will distract the Player for a while.”
I grabbed the sphere with the demon inside. It was cold. Well now, perhaps the Messenger was right when he said demons had a part to play in this story.
