by Steven Brust
Morrolan shook his head slowly. “Your Majesty, I confess I do not know. It astonishes me that we have held so long. But the enemy still has overwhelming force, and seems determined to make yet another charge. And now that the animals summoned by our friend have been driven off, I do not know what is to stop them. In a moment, they will re-form, and break through our fortifications as if they were thinnest paper, and manned only by cut-out shapes, such as are used to represent crowds of people in theaters in the land of my birth.”
“We had similar cut-outs,” observed the warlock Brimford, who, it seemed to Khaavren, was only with great effort keeping his eyes from straying to the Empress.
“I have an idea,” remarked Khaavren.
“Well then,” said Zerika, “let us hear it.”
“This is it: You are able to communicate with the Enchantress, are you not?”
“I am.”
“Well, is it not the case that, at the time of the Disaster, she was able to save the Orb, in much the same manner that Adron himself preserved our lives, by causing us to move from one place to another?”
“I had not known about yourselves, but it is true that the Enchantress thus saved the Orb.”
“Well then, in the same way, she can save you. She must sorcerously transport you to the safety of Dzur Mountain. That is my plan.”
“That is your plan?” said Zerika. “But, what of the rest of you?”
“We mean nothing,” said Khaavren. “You and the Orb must be preserved. The rest of us do not matter.”
Morrolan, hearing this, looked at the warriors who had fought so hard over the last two days, but, if he had been about to make an observation, he was unable to do so, because before he could speak, Zerika said, “I reject this plan.”
“And yet,” said Khaavren, “consider—”
“No,” said Zerika. “Now, has anyone else a plan?”
Khaavren, with some difficulty it is true, did not pursue the matter.
“Well then,” said Tazendra, approaching suddenly. “I have a plan.”
“I know your plan, my friend,” said Khaavren.
“How, do you?”
“Of a certainty. And I shall prove by naming it in all its details. This is it: You wish us to man the defenses and all die gloriously for the Empire.”
Tazendra stared at Khaavren in astonishment. “Have you learned, then, to read thoughts as if they were a letter already written and delivered?”
Khaavren shrugged.
“Has anyone else a plan?” said Zerika. “If not, well, I am not far from adopting Tazendra’s.”
“As to that—” said Khaavren.
“Ah, who is this who now approaches?” said the Empress.
Morrolan bowed. “A friend of the Eastern lands where I was raised. My high priestess, Arra. Arra, this is Her Majesty, the Empress. But tell me, why are you here?”
“To inquire, my lord,” said the Easterner, after bowing respectfully to Her Majesty, “if there was anything you wished me to do.”
Morrolan shook his head. “Not unless you can make the temple fly.”
“No,” said Arra. “Alas, we do not have the power to do that, nor will we until you can find me another five hundred witches in addition to those we have.”
Morrolan stared at her. “Are you speaking seriously? If we had another five hundred witches, you could raise this temple?”
“Oh, certainly. With the Circle, in proper form, number, and alignment, it would be possible. Even now—”
“Yes, even now?”
“If you were, somehow, to make it levitate, we could hold it there, but—”
“You could?” said Morrolan.
“You could?” said the Empress.
“You could?” said Khaavren.
“You could?” said Tazendra.
“Oh, assuredly. We have, after all, the power of hundreds of us working together. Once it is raised, to maintain it is well within our power.”
“But, for how long?”
“Oh indefinitely,” said Arra. “It is not difficult. But to actually lift it—”
“Oh, I could manage that,” said Tazendra, shrugging.
“You could?” said the Empress.
“Well, it is not a large structure. And, you recall, in the old days, why, all of the e’Driens had floating castles.”
“Shards! That is true!” cried the others.
“Indeed,” observed Morrolan, “this temple is built from the ruins of a castle that fell.”
“It is, in fact, the falling part that concerns me,” said the Empress, with a glance at Arra.
“I assure you, madam, that—”
“Address her as Your Majesty,” said Khaavren.
“Very well. I assure you, Your Majesty, that we can manage this.”
“We must talk, my dear,” said Teldra softly in Arra’s ear.
“Besides,” said Tazendra, “if it fails—”
“Well, if it fails?” said Zerika.
“Think of how many of the enemy we will crush below us.”
“I am consoled,” said Khaavren dryly.
“How much area can you lift?” asked the Empress.
“Your Majesty,” said Tazendra, “it is not a question of area, it is a question of weight.”
“I understand that, my dear. But, you perceive, they are related. To begin, you have said you could lift the temple.”
“Oh, the temple, certainly.”
“And the stables?”
“Easily.”
“And the fortifications?”
“Probably.”
“Then we will confine ourselves to the temple and the stables, for I mislike probables when the matter at hand concerns great heights.”
“Very well.”
“And you could hold it there?”
“As to that—”
“Well?”
“I am certain that, once I have learned the proper spell, it will be a simple enough matter to cast it.”
“It is a different spell to raise it than to hold it?”
“To raise it is simple levitation, though on a large scale. But, with the power now flowing through the Orb—”
“But holding it?”
“Someone must know that spell,” said Tazendra.
“I believe,” said the Empress, “that most of those who knew that spell died when it failed. And, of the rest, I should imagine most, if not all, were in Dragaera City. And, if there are any others, I do not know how to find them.”
“And yet,” said Tazendra, “if this lady,” here she bowed to Arra with all the courtesy she would have given a human, “can use her powers to hold it—”
“They are forming again,” observed Morrolan.
“Well?” said Tazendra.
“Well?” said Arra.
Zerika looked at Morrolan and Khaavren, then at Arra, and at last said, “Very well, let us do so.”
“We shall be ready in two minutes,” said Arra.
“And I,” said Tazendra, “am ready now.”
“In that case,” said Zerika, “it would be best if you waited two minutes.”
“Longer than that,” said Morrolan.
“How so?” asked the Empress.
“I trust Your Majesty will give us time to get the troops into the temple, instead of leaving them where they are to be slaughtered or captured?”
“Ah! Yes, that is only just.”
Morrolan bowed. “I am glad Your Majesty sees it that way.”
“How long will it take?”
“Half an hour.”
“And how long until the enemy attacks?”
“I cannot tell, but it will be soon.”
“More than half an hour?”
“I hope so.”
“As do I. Begin, then.”
Shortly thereafter, General Izak appeared at Kâna’s tent and begged permission to enter, which permission was quickly granted.
“Your Majesty,” began Izak, bowing.
“
Well, General? Is the attack prepared?”
“Nearly. But a strange thing is happening, and I mistrust strange things.”
“Well, what is this strange thing? They have foiled us now three times, and you have promised that, this time, you will take the position without fail. If this strange thing interferes with that, I warn you, it will not go well with you.”
“Your Majesty, it seems the enemy is deserting their position.”
“Deserting it?”
“At least, it appears so.”
“How can you account for this behavior?”
“Your Majesty, I cannot.”
“How quickly can you attack?”
“The troops are nearly re-formed. We can launch the assault in twenty minutes.”
“Do so, then.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And keep me apprised of any changes.”
Izak bowed and left to give the orders. Twenty minutes later, he returned and, once more, was admitted into Kâna’s presence.
“Well, General? Is the attack prepared?”
“The attack? Well, yes, so far as it goes, the attack is prepared.”
“Then you have done right to come for me, because I wish to observe it personally.”
“Your Majesty, there is certainly something to see, only—”
“Yes, yes, the attack will be something to see, I do not doubt it. Come, let us find a good vantage point. I do not forget that you promised me that this time you would take the position without fail.”
“Oh, as to that—”
“Yes? Do not tell me, General, that you will not fulfill your promise. I am becoming impatient with this delay.”
“So far as that goes, yes, I have no doubt we will take the position, and, moreover, do so with few or no casualties.”
“Ah! So much the better!”
“Well, yes, but—”
“But what, General? You know that I do not like ‘buts.’ You can take the position, or you cannot. Earlier you said you could, and you have just repeated it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. There is no possible doubt about taking the position. I have said it, and I even repeat it. Only, I fear—”
“You fear? A general ought not to fear.”
“Nevertheless, I fear.”
“What do you fear?”
“I fear that taking the position will constitute only a hollow victory, if it will be victory at all.”
Kâna frowned. “What are you telling me?”
“I’m telling you, or, rather, attempting to tell you—”
“Yes?”
“It is a difficult thing to say.”
“Overcome the difficulty, General.”
“Well, I will do so.”
“And quickly, I hope.”
“I have overcome it already.”
“Splendid. Then you will tell me?”
“This very instant, if you wish.”
“If I wish? And do you imagine there is anything else in life I have been wishing for this last hour?”
“This is it, then: They are all gone.”
“Gone?”
“Gone.”
“Yes, but, gone?”
“Exactly, Majesty. Gone.”
“Well, but where have they gone?”
“Would Your Majesty like to know that?”
“How can you ask, obstinate man?”
“If Your Majesty will condescend to step out of this tent, well, I believe the answer will become apparent.”
“That is all I must do to learn the answer, is to step outside?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, then I will do so at once.”
Kâna passed out of his tent, and, a moment later, returned.
“Well, I see where they have gone.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
“How high are they?”
“I cannot tell. Perhaps half a mile, perhaps more.”
“Can they remain there long?”
“Before the Interregnum, there were castles that remained in the air for years at a time. And now that the Orb is back, our enemies have access to its power.”
Kâna frowned. “It is hardly fair,” he observed.
The general, having no reply prepared for this remark, made none.
As far as history is concerned, this concluded the Ninth (or the Tenth) Battle of Dzur Mountain, as there were no more offensive or defensive movements taking place in that district (which is, we pointed out at the beginning, some distance from Dzur Mountain). However, as the reader is no doubt aware, there is a great deal more left to consider. Therefore, we feel it incumbent upon us, before closing this chapter of our history, to say two words about what was occurring within the confines of the temple that now floated off the ground, as had certain castles before the Interregnum.
To say the temple was crowded would be to make what can only be called a lamentable understatement. Consider that the altar room had been designed by Morrolan (with, we should add, assistance from certain Chreotha) to hold, at the most, one thousand and one hundred worshipers, this size being determined by the skeleton of the structure as he found it. It is true that there were other rooms, and the roof, and a certain amount of ground outside of the temple itself. But there were, all in all, upward of five thousands of beings (human, equine, and Eastern) in this space, many of whom had taken wounds, more or less serious.
Most of the roof, in fact, was set aside as a sort of hospital, whereas another section was made the command center, where Morrolan, Fentor, Khaavren, and the Empress remained to consider matters and to make decisions. Of the smaller chambers within the temple structure, Arra claimed the one reserved for herself, but permitted Teldra and a few others to remain there as well. Arra’s witches occupied the large basement room set aside for that purpose. These witches, according to their custom, held themselves in strict seclusion from all others—indeed, Morrolan’s witches formed within themselves a sort of small community upon which many volumes could be written, a task we shall leave to any of our brother historians who should feel drawn to this matter. For us, it is sufficient to say that they carried on as they would, spending most of their time in circles, hands linked, making certain chants, and preventing the castle from falling down.
In one of the smaller antechambers adjoining the altar room were those late brigands led by Grassfog; as they felt themselves excluded from the others, so they maintained their isolation. In an alcove set aside for private consultations between Priestess and penitent gathered Piro, Kytraan, Röaana, and Ibronka.
Together, they shared the sudden fright as the structure trembled, shifted, moved, and began to climb.
“It worked,” remarked Piro uselessly.
“I hope,” said Kytraan, “that it can be maintained; I should hate to have the temple fall suddenly.”
“And I,” said Röaana, “should hate the sudden stop which inevitably comes at the end of a sudden fall.”
“And I—” said Ibronka.
“Yes, you?” said Kytraan. “What do you hope?”
“Hope? Oh, I hope nothing. I was only thinking that I am glad there are no windows in this room that look out, for I do not think I would enjoy the view.”
“Would you not?” said Röaana. “I am not certain. I should be frightened, but I believe I would enjoy it anyway.”
“Ah, but you see,” said Ibronka, “that is exactly the reason. That is, I might be afraid, and being afraid, I would feel shame, and no one wishes to feel shame.”
“So then,” said Kytraan. “One might nearly say that you fear fear.”
“What else is there to fear?” asked the Dzur naïvely.
“Sudden falls,” said Piro, “and the sudden stop that follows them.”
“You are witty,” said Röaana, “and that provides us a certain welcome distraction at this moment. Don’t you agree, dear Ibronka?”
“Oh, that is to say . . .” Ibronka’s voice trailed off as she faltered for words, while Piro bowed to
acknowledge the compliment.
“You are most kind,” he said.
“My dear Ibronka,” said Röaana, “you have been acting most peculiar of late. Are you ill?”
“Why yes,” said the Dzurlord, reddening slightly. “That may be it. Perhaps I have a touch of fever.”
“I hope not,” observed Kytraan. “We are hardly able to treat it here as it should be treated, and in these close quarters—”
“Nonsense,” said Röaana. “The Orb is back. Is it not the case that simple diseases are easily subject to cure if the physicker is able to use techniques of sorcery?”
“Yes, yes, that is true,” said Piro. “You are right, my lady, we need not fear disease, I think.”
“Bah,” said Kytraan. “What is all of this talk of fear? We should think of all that we have come through to get here. It is not a time to speak of fear, but, rather to speak of all that we have helped to accomplish.”
“Yes, you are right, my friend. We have had the honor to be a part of great events—so great, that whatever might happen to us from now, well, I nearly think it doesn’t matter.”
“Ah!” said Ibronka, looking at Piro with an expression that he did not understand, but from which he quickly averted his eyes.
This did not go unobserved by Kytraan, who said, “My dear Viscount, are you well? It seems you are suddenly flushing.”
“Perhaps,” observed Röaana naïvely, “he has a touch of the same illness Ibronka has, and which we have already demonstrated is no cause for unease.”
Ibronka took Röaana’s arm and whispered fiercely in her ear, “Why do you do this to me? I tell you it is not the act of a friend!”
Röaana, in her turn, whispered, “It is exactly the act of a friend. Why do you not let him know what you are feeling?”
“Oh, I would rather die!”
In the meantime, Piro, unaware of what was passing between the two girls, said, “Let us speak of something else.”
“Yes, let us do so,” said Ibronka quickly.
“Very well,” said Kytraan. “Of what should we speak?”
“Let us speak of the future,” said Röaana, her attention once more upon the conversation.
“Oh, yes!” said Kytraan. “Let us, indeed, talk of the future. What could be a better subject?”
“Indeed,” said Ibronka. “Consider that the possibilities are limitless. In the future, why, anything can happen.”
“You think so?” said Kytraan. “Then, you do not believe that the paths which our feet are to tread are already laid out for us?”
