Glancing back, he saw what appeared to be a continuation of the argument, for the Baron was stamping about and gesturing wildly. He could hear his angry shouts, though he had come too far to distinguish the words being shouted. He broke into a run, knowing that his absence would not remain unnoticed much longer. He topped a small rise, raced down its eastern slope, cursing the loss of his blade.
He tired quickly but forced himself to move at a dog-trot, stopping only to arm himself with two easily held stones.
Then for a moment his shadow lay long before him, and he stopped and turned in his tracks. A great blaze of light had occurred beyond the hill and within it, like ashes or blown leaves, hordes of bats were eddying, rising, darting. Before he could take advantage of shadows, the light dimmed and darkness came again. The only sound now was his own heavy breathing. He glanced at the stars for guidance and hurried on, looking as he went for a hiding place from the pursuit that he knew would follow.
He kept glancing back but there was no recurrence of the phenomenon. He wondered as to the outcome of the conflict. The Baron, despite his brutish mien, was commonly known to be an uncommonly able sorcerer; also, the situation of the border indicated that both stood at the same relative distances from their places of power.
It would be pleasant, he decided, if they would annihilate one another. Although that was unlikely. Pity.
Knowing that by now his absence must have been noted and realizing that the only thing which could stay pursuit would be a drawn-out struggle, he prayed that it would be a lengthy affair, adding the observation that the ideal outcome would entail death or severe injury for all parties involved.
As if to mock his petition, it was only a brief while later that a dark form flitted past him. He hurled both his stones, but they went wide of the mark.
Resolving not to travel in a straight line, he turned to his left and headed in that direction. He was walking slowly to conserve his strength; and as perspiration evaporated, he felt the chill once again. Or was it just that?
It seemed as if a dark form paced him, far to his left. Whenever he turned his head in that direction, it vanished. Staring straight ahead, however, he detected something of a movement from the corner of his eye. It seemed to be drawing nearer.
Soon it was at his side. He felt the presence, though he could barely discern it. While it made
no hostile movements, he prepared to defend himself at its first touch.
"May I inquire as to the state of your health?" came the soft, sweet voice.
Suppressing a shudder, Jack said, "I am hungry, thirsty and tired."
"How unfortunate. I will see that those conditions are soon remedied."
"Why?"
"It is my custom to treat my guests with every courtesy."
"I was not aware of my being anyone's guest."
"All visitors to my realm are my guests, Jack, even those who abused my hospitality on previous occasions."
"That is good to know-especially if it means that you will offer me assistance in reaching your eastern frontier as quickly and safely as possible."
"We will discuss the matter after dinner."
"Very good."
"This way, please."
Jack followed him as he bore to the right, knowing that it would be futile to do otherwise. As they moved, he occasionally caught a glimpse of that dark, handsome face, half-touched by starlight, half-hidden by the high, curved collar of the cloak he wore; the eyes within it were like the pools that form about the wicks of black candles: hot, dark and liquid. Bats kept dropping from out of the sky and vanishing within his cloak. After a long, silent while, he gestured toward a prominence that lay ahead.
"There," he said.
Jack nodded and studied the decapitated hill. A minor place of power, he decided, and within this one's reach.
They approached it as they climbed slowly. When Jack slipped at one point, he felt a hand upon his elbow, steadying him. He noted that the other's boots made no sound, though they passed over some gravel.
Finally, "What became of the Baron?" he inquired.
"He has gone home a wiser man," said the other; and there was a flash of white within a momentary smile.
They reached the hill's level top and moved to its center.
The dark one drew his blade and used it to scratch an elaborate pattern upon the ground. Jack recognized some of the markings. Then he motioned Jack away, moved his left thumb along the edge of the blade and let his blood fall into the center of the pattern. As he did this, he spoke seven words. He turned then and gestured for Jack to come and stand beside him once again. He then drew a circle about them and turned to address the pattern once again.
As the words were spoken, the pattern took fire at their feet. Jack sought to look away from the blazing lines and curves, but his gaze was trapped within the diagram and his eyes began to trace it.
A feeling of lethargy overcame him as the pattern took hold of his mind to the exclusion of all else. He seemed to be moving within it, a part of it...
Someone pushed him and he fell.
He was on his knees in a place of brilliance, and the multitudes mocked him. No.
Those who mimicked his every movement were other versions of himself.
He shook his head to clear it, realized then that he was surrounded by mirrors and brightness.
He stood, regarding the confused prospect. He was near to the center of a large, many-sided chamber. All of the walls were mirrors as were the countless facets of the concave ceiling and the gleaming floor beneath him. He was not certain as to the source of the light. Perhaps it had its origin, somehow, in the mirrors themselves. Part way up the wall to his right, a table was laid. As he approached it, he realized that he was walking up an incline, though he felt no extra strain upon his muscles nor any disturbance of his sense of equilibrium. Hurrying then, he passed the table and continued on in what he deemed to be a straight line. The table was behind him, then above him. After several hundred paces, it was before him once again. He turned in a right angle from his course and repeated the walk. The results were the same.
There were no windows, no doors. There was the table, there was a bed and there were chairs with side-tables scattered about the various surfaces of the chamber. It was as if he were confined within an immense, luster-hoarding jewel. Reflected and re-reflected versions of himself paced infinity, and there was light everywhere that he looked. There was not a shadow to be had, anywhere.
He seated himself in the nearest chair, and his reflection stared up at him from between his feet.
A prisoner of he who has already slain you once, he thought. No doubt near to his place of power, in a cage built just for me. Bad. Bad.
There was movement everywhere. The mirrors showed an instant's infinity of motion, then all was still once again. He looked about, seeking the result of this activity.
Beef, bread, wine and water now stood upon the table that hung above him.
Rising to his feet, he felt a light touch upon his shoulder. He turned quickly, and the Lord of Bats smiled at him and bowed.
"Dinner is served," he said, gesturing toward the table.
Jack nodded, moved with him, seated himself and began to fill his plate.
"How do you like your quarters?"
"I find them quite amusing," Jack replied. "I note an absence of doors and windows, among other things."
"Yes."
Jack began to eat. His appetite was like a flame that would not be quenched.
"Your journey has left you quite wretched-looking, you know."
"I know."
"I will have a bath sent around later, and some fresh garments."
"Thank you."
"No trouble. I want you to be comfortable during what will no doubt be a lengthy period of recuperation."
"How lengthy?" Jack inquired.
"Who knows? It could take years."
"I see."
If I were to attack him with the carving knife. Ja
ck wondered, would I be able to kill him? Or would he be too strong for me now? Or able to summon his power in an instant? And if I were to succeed, could I find a way out of here?"
"Where are we?" Jack asked.
The Lord of Bats smiled.
"Why, we are right here," he said, touching his breast.
Jack frowned, puzzled.
"I do not-"
The Lord of Bats unfastened a heavy silver chain he wore about his neck. A gleaming jewel hung suspended from it. He leaned forward and extended his hand.
"Study it for a moment, Jack," he said.
Jack touched it with his fingertips, weighed it, turned it.
"Well, would it be worth stealing?"
"Most likely. What sort of stone is it?"
"It is not actually a stone. It is this room. Consider the shape."
Jack did, shifting his eyes from the stone to the walls and back several times.
"Its shape is quite similar to that of this chamber..."
"It is identical. It must be, because they are the same thing."
"I fail to follow-"
"Take it. Hold it near to your eye. Consider its interior."
Jack raised it, closed one eye, squinted, stared.
"Inside..." he said. "There is a tiny replica of this chamber inside..."
"Look for this table."
"I see it! And I see us seated at it! I am-1 am studying-This stone!"
"Excellent!" The Lord of Bats applauded.
Jack released it and the other raised it by its chain.
"Please observe," he said.
He moved his free hand toward it, enclosed the suspended gem in his fist.
There was darkness. It remained but a moment, departed as he loosened his grip.
Then he took a candle from beneath his cloak, wedged it into a hold in the table and struck a light to it. He swung the pendant near to the flame.
The chamber became warm, uncomfortably so. After a moment, the heat grew oppressive and Jack felt beads of perspiration begin upon his forehead.
"Enough!" he said. "There is no need to roast us!"
The other extinguished the flame and dipped the pendant into the water decanter. There came an immediate cooling.
"Where are we?" Jack repeated.
"Why, I wear us about my neck," said the Lord of Bats, replacing the chain.
"A good trick. Where are you now?"
"Here."
"Within the gem?"
"Yes."
"And you are wearing the gem."
"Obviously. Yes, it is a very good trick. It did not take me very long to work it out and to set it up. After all, I am undoubtedly the most capable of all the sorcerers-despite the fact that some of my most precious manuscripts dealing with the Art were stolen many years ago."
"What an unfortunate loss. I should think you would have guarded such documents most carefully."
"They were well-guarded. There was a fire, however. During the confusion, the thief was able to remove them and escape into the shadows."
"I see," said Jack, finishing a final piece of bread and sipping his wine. "Was the thief apprehended?"
"Oh yes. He was executed. But I am not finished with him yet."
"Oh?" said Jack. "What are your plans now?"
"I am going to drive him mad," said the Lord of Bats, swirling his wine within his goblet.
"Perhaps he is mad already. Is not kleptomania a mental disorder?"
The other shook his head.
"Not in this instance," he said. "With this thief it is a matter of pride. He likes to outwit the mighty, to appropriate their possessions. It seems to feed his self-esteem. If this desire is a mental disorder, then most of us suffer from it. In his case, though, the desire is often satisfied. He succeeds because he possesses some power and is shrewd and ruthless in its employment. I shall take great delight in observing his degeneration into a state of total madness."
"So as to feed your pride and self-esteem?"
"Partly. It will also constitute a bit of homage to the god Justice and a benefit to society at large."
Jack laughed. The other only smiled.
"How do you intend to achieve the desired result?" he finally asked.
"I shall confine him to an inescapable prison where he will have absolutely nothing to do but exist. Occasionally, I will introduce certain items and remove them again-items which will come to occupy his thoughts more and more as time passes, inducing periods of depression and times of fury. I will break that smug self-assurance of his by rooting out the pride from which it grows."
"I see indeed," said Jack. "It sounds as if you have been planning this for a long while."
"Never doubt it."
Jack pushed away the empty platter, leaned back in the chair and considered the multitude of images that surrounded them.
"I daresay that the next thing you will tell me is that your pendant could accidentally be lost during an ocean voyage, buried, burnt or fed to hogs."
"I shan't, as it has already occurred to you."
The Lord of Bats rose to his feet, gestured casually toward a point high above their heads.
"I see that your bath has been drawn," he said, "and that fresh garments were laid out for you while we dined. I shall depart now and allow you to avail yourself of them."
Jack nodded, stood.
A thud occurred beneath the table then, followed by a gibbering sound and a brief, shrill wail. Jack felt his ankle seized. Then he was thrown to the floor.
"Down!" cried the Lord of Bats, circling the table quickly. "Back, I say!"
Scores of bats escaped his cloak and darted toward the thing beneath the table. It shrieked with fright and so tightened its grip upon Jack's ankle that he thought the bones would be pulverized.
He raised himself and began to lean for ward. Then even the pain was insufficient to prevent a moment's paralysis from his revulsion at the sight he beheld.
The hairless member was white, shiny and blotched with blue marks. The Lord of Bats kicked it and the grip was broken; but before it drew away and moved to cross the other arm, shielding the face. Jack caught a glimpse of that lopsided countenance.
It looked like something that had started out to be a man but had never quite made it. It had been stepped on, twisted, had holes poked into the sickly dough of its head-bulge. Bones showed through the transparent flesh of its torso and its short legs were thick as trees, terminating in disk-shaped pads from which dozens of long toes hung like roots or worms. Its arms were longer than its entire body. It was a crushed slug, a thing that had been frozen and thawed before it was fully baked. It was-
"It is the Borshin," said the Lord of Bats, now extending his arms toward the squealing creature, which could not seem to decide whether it feared the bats or their Lord more, and which kept banging its head against the table's legs as it sought to avoid both.
The Lord of Bats tore the pendant from his neck and buried it against the creature, uttering an oath as he did so. With this it vanished, leaving a small pool of urine were it had crouched. The bats vanished within the dark one's cloak, and he smiled down at Jack.
"What," said Jack, "is a Borshin?"
The Lord of Bats studied his fingernails for a moment. Then, "For some time now the dayside scientists have," he said, "attempted to create artificial life. Thus far, they have not succeeded."
"I determined to succeed with magic where they had failed with their science," he went on. "I experimented for a long while, then made the attempt. I failed-or, rather, was only half-successful. You have just seen the results. I disposed of my dead homunculus in the Dung Pits of Glyve and one day that thing returned to me. I cannot take credit for its animation. The forces that restore us at that place stimulated it somehow. I do not believe the Borshin to be truly alive, in the ordinary sense of the word."
"Is it one of the items you mentioned, which will serve to torment your enemy?"
"Yes, for I have taught it two things: to fear me and
to hate my enemy. I did not bring it here just now, however. It has its own ways of coming and going, though I did not think they extended to this place. I will have to investigate the matter further."
"In the meantime, it will be free to enter here whenever it chooses?"
"I am afraid so."
"Then might I borrow a weapon to keep with me?"
"I am sorry, but I have none to lend you."
"I see."
"I had best be going now. Enjoy your bath."
"One thing," said Jack.
"What is that?" asked the other, whose fingers were caressing the pendant.
"I, too, have an enemy for whom I con template an involved piece of vengeance. I will not bore you with details now, save that I believe mine will be superior to yours."
"Really? I would be interested to learn what you have in mind."
"I will see that you do."
Both smiled.
"Until later, then."
"Until later." The Lord of Bats vanished.
Jack bathed, soaking himself for a long while in the lukewarm water. All the fatigue he had accumulated during his journey seemed to seize him then, and it took a mighty effort of will to rise, dry his body and walk to the bed, where he collapsed. He felt too tired to hate properly, or to begin planning his escape.
He slept, and while sleeping he dreamed.
He dreamed he held the Grand Key of Kolwynia, which was Chaos and Formation, and with it unlocked the sky and the earth, the sea and the wind, bidding them to fall upon High Dudgeon and its master from all corners of the world. He dreamt that there the flame was born and the dark Lord was held in its heart forever like an ant in amber, but alive, sleepless and feeling. Exulting in this, he heard the sudden chatter of the World Machine. He moaned and cried out at this omen; and within the walls, infinities of Jacks twisted on sweatdrenched beds.
5
JACK SAT IN the chair nearest the bed, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, fingers interlaced beneath his chin. He wore the red, white and black diamond-patched clothing of a jester; his wine-colored slippers curled at the toes and ended in loose threads, where he had torn off the bells. He had discarded the quinopolus, and the belled cap had gone into the chamber pot.
Jack Of Shadows Page 5
