In the Empire of Shadow

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  For a moment, firelight flared, as a particularly dry bit of kindling caught; then it flickered and died down.

  “And that would account for their garb, I would suppose,” Taillefer said at last, “but that yourself, Valadrakul, and him you name Stoddard, wear the same. And lo, Vala, your hair is much transformed; had you fleas, perhaps, that would not yield without this butchery?”

  “We have sojourned in the Galactic Empire,” Valadrakul explained, “and there were forced to make do with what attire came to hand.” He put a hand to his head. “As for this, ’twas but the result of misfortunes that bear no retelling here and now.”

  Taillefer nodded thoughtfully. “And Elani? For surely, ’twas she who sent you thither?”

  “Dead,” Valadrakul replied bitterly. “Slain by Shadow’s black beasts.”

  Amy’s stomach lurched, and she called, “Can we get on with it, please?”

  Taillefer threw her a glance, then turned back to Valadrakul. “’Tis a grievous loss you speak of,” he said, “and when time more freely permits, I’ll mourn her as she is due. Erstwhile, howsoever, he that you called the Brown Pellinore spoke of going home. Home to this Earth, is it?”

  “Aye,” Valadrakul said.

  Amy could hear Wilkins and the others trying to help the fire along, could hear the bits of wood scraping on the stone floor and the muttering of their voices, but she could no longer see their faces. Someone was cursing under his breath, but she couldn’t tell who it was.

  “And you’d have me open the portal, then?” Taillefer asked his compatriot. “’Tis for this that you summoned me and sought my aid?”

  “Aye,” Valadrakul replied.

  “And you’d have it here in Regisvert, I suppose? Do you think me mad, Vala?”

  “The place was of your own choosing, Taillefer, that it might be readily found by us all; I’d no mind as to where the portal might be.”

  “What’s wrong with right here?” Amy demanded.

  Taillefer turned a disdainful stare her way, his face ghostly in the gloom. “Methought you’d have none of the history, woman,” he said.

  “I don’t need any lectures,” Amy snapped. “What’s wrong with here?”

  Valadrakul sighed and turned to her. The darkness hid his features. “Four hundred years and more agone,” he said, “this Castle Regisvert was hearth and stronghold for the Green Magician, sworn foe to Shadow. ’Twas built upon this spot because here the currents of magic are strong, the flow of power rich and full; and as was ever the case, that drew the attention of Shadow, who one dire night came and, after a famous battle of eldritch skill and might that lasted for many days, Shadow struck down the Green Magician, threw down the castle to ruin, and drew the powers of this place into its own web. The magic yet runs strong here—but likewise is it yet linked close to Shadow, and as any touch upon the strands of a spider’s web will draw the spider’s eye, yet will any spell worked in this place draw Shadow’s gaze.”

  “You tell it briefly, and without interest,” Taillefer said, “yet is that the essence of the tale, and of my reasoning.”

  “Then we’ll go somewhere else,” Amy said. “We don’t care where you open the portal, we just want to go home.”

  “And I’ve no doubt you desire it,” Taillefer said, “but I’ll have none of it. Go where you will, yet I’ll not conjure you home.”

  Wilkins, squatting, looked up from the fire; Stoddard, who had been standing impassively nearby, unfolded his arms from across his chest.

  Ted giggled hysterically. “I knew it,” he said. “I’m never going to wake up from this one. I must be comatose, or maybe dead.”

  And Amy’s stomach betrayed her again; she bent, clutching her belly, and threw up most of her stolen supper.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Raven frowned and glanced at the black-haired Earthwoman, the one called Susan. She was tending to her sick companion, and her black bag rested on the ground beside her. The madman, ted-Deranian, was leaning against a broken wall, staring at the stars. Pel the Brown and the witch-woman Thorpe were dividing their attention between their fallen comrade and the wizards, while the four soldiers had eyes only for Raven, Valadrakul, and Taillefer.

  Stoddard was standing back, beyond the fire, but Raven had no worries where Stoddard was concerned; the man had been true all his life, the most faithful helpmeet any could ask for.

  And Valadrakul had returned to his customary silence; he was standing there, looking first to his compatriot in the mystic arts, then to his liege lord, and saying nothing.

  None stepped forward to confront this rogue Taillefer, who sought to betray the cause. That was a leader’s duty.

  That was his duty.

  And he’d no wish to shirk that duty; he would be only too glad to berate the scoundrel, to demand an explanation, to demolish the fool’s every argument against doing as they asked. Yet it would not do to be over­hasty. He had expected a tumult of protest when the wizard spoke his defiance, and had bethought himself to enter as the voice of calm reason, quieting the roil; the woman Amy had put an end to that by her illness, puking on the holy stones of Castle Regisvert like an over­fed bitch. To speak up whilst her condition was unknown would have been seen as unseemly.

  But her attendants were about her, and it would scarcely do to leave Taillefer too long unchallenged.

  “Look you, wizard,” Raven said, trying to sound calm and reasonable, “wherefore say you this, that you’ll not conjure the portal to the realm called Earth?”

  “And I’ll not,” Taillefer answered coldly. “’Tis reason enough.”

  “Play no games with me, Taillefer,” Raven snapped. “Say then, why you will not conjure as we ask.”

  “Because, O Raven, I love my life, and would not see it early ended. Much as I appreciate that all must in time return to the breast of the Goddess, yet am I in no hurry to do so.”

  “Nor are we, wizard,” Raven retorted, fighting down anger. “What does this with the conjuring?”

  Taillefer sighed ostentatiously. “See you, Lord Raven,” he said, “who has conjured this spell that you ask me to perform? Why, imprimis, there is Shadow, who created it, by what means we know not, for Shadow’s ways are unknown to us. An it was human once, we might well doubt that it is yet, and it has lived these many centuries, it draws upon such unlimited powers, it binds together a web of powers and magicks the like of which no mortal has ever known. That Shadow survives the conjuring between worlds means naught for such as myself.”

  “I know that…” Raven began.

  Taillefer held up a silencing hand. “Secundus,” he said, “there was Quarren, who sought the title Light-Bearer, and who bethought to lead all the wizards remaining in crusade ’gainst Shadow. ’Twas he who first stole the secret of the portals, brought it from Shadow to the light, as it might be said. You well know what befell him.”

  “He died,” Raven said. “I can scarce deny it, he was slain by Shadow. Yet the conjuring of portals was in no way the cause, Taillefer.”

  “Ah, but know you that in certainty, you who call yourself Raven? And remember, tertius, was Elani of the Scarlet Cloak, who stood among your companions ’gainst the rule of Shadow. And where is she now, O bird of ill omen?”

  “Dead likewise, in truth,” Raven admitted. “But see you, Taillefer, she died not from the conjuring of a portal, but from merest mischance, that we should be in that forest when Shadow’s hellbeasts passed by.”

  “Say you so, then?” Taillefer shook his head. “An you do, I say you lie. ’Twas no mischance, methinks.”

  “And I say ’twas just that, wizard,” Raven replied, glaring. “I was there by her side; were you?”

  “Nay,” Taillefer admitted, “yet do I know that which you do not. You and Valadrakul and Elani, you were gone many days, O Raven, vanished from the face of the land—to the Galactic Empire, ’twould seem, from Vala’s words. There were reports that hinted at such, from our agents—and yes, I bespoke them, I opened
the portals as you would have me do. And every time I did, Shadow’s creatures descended upon me, swiftly and with deadly intent, until I dared not do so again. Shadow’s reach is long, Raven, and it has ways of knowing that we do not; perhaps it feels tremors in its web, perhaps it sees in ways we do not. Whatever the means, I doubt me not that Shadow knows, upon the instant, when any lesser being dares open the gates between worlds. When my compatriot told me that Elani was dead, slain by Shadow’s beasts, I knew in an instant that she had conjured one portal too many, and I’ll not follow her down that path.”

  Raven glowered at him. “’Twas not quite the way of it, wizard,” he said. “True, that perchance the beasts were drawn by a gate between worlds, but ’twas none of Elani’s conjuring. The mages of the Galactic Empire, those they call scientists, opened the portal.”

  “What matter, then?” Taillefer demanded. “You see my point; ’twas the gate that drew Shadow’s attention, whosoever conjured it.”

  “Yet have you, by your own words, conjured portals and lived to tell of it.”

  “Indeed, for I fled instanter, when attacked.”

  “Then do this the same!”

  Taillefer shook his head. “Nay, Raven. I have gone too oft to the well, and fear that the bucket must soon give way. These last conjurings were each for but an instant, and each guided to a particular ally in the Empire, yet I scarce won away.” He drew back a sleeve and held up his left arm, displaying deep, half-healed wounds, plainly visible even by firelight. “And that was in Old Dunleigh, seven score miles from here, and five score further from Shadow’s keep. Here, with no friend upon the other side to guide the spell home, with the need to see half a dozen men and women transported…I’ll not risk it. E’en should I open the gate, it might well deliver these to the wrong spot in yonder realm—I might send them to Stormcrack when I sought Starlinshire, as it were, or leave them in some blasted wasteland, or drop them in the sea, an I take not an hour or more to guide it. And an hour, when every second draws Shadow’s ire closer?”

  “Yet ’twould be the right world, and surely, the journey home could be made…”

  “Nay, Lord Raven,” Taillefer said, “be you not so sure. Know you, that in the realm these call Earth, there are many worlds? And that in some, the air itself is poison, if there be air at all?”

  Raven turned to Pel, who was standing close at hand. “Is’t true?” the rightful lord of Stormcrack Keep demanded.

  * * * *

  Pel had not been expecting the question; he had been standing close by, listening intently but silently, hoping that Raven would find some way to talk Taillefer around—certainly, Pel had always found Raven persuasive—but he had had no intention of getting into the argument himself, for fear of messing things up.

  But when he was directly questioned, he could hardly stay out. He couldn’t answer immediately, though; puzzling out what Taillefer meant took a few seconds. “Do you mean the other planets?” he asked. “Mars and Venus and like that?”

  “Aye.”

  “But I thought you could only open a gate to places where people spoke English…” Pel let his sentence trail off, suddenly realizing how stupid it sounded.

  “Nay, ’tis the miracle-workers of the Empire, who speak without voice, who can locate only those minds that speak the Good Tongue,” Taillefer said. “The spells of Shadow can open gateways unto any realm whose existence is known beyond doubt—that is, any realm of which certain arcane characteristics are known. But where in that realm the portal opens, who wist?”

  Valadrakul spoke up. “Friend Pel, though we esteem you greatly now, think you that we had chosen your cellars as our point of entry? Had we the fullest choice, we’d have emerged in the audience chamber of a king or prince. And think you that we chose that foul desert whither Elani sent us, when Shadow’s beasts o’ercame us at Stormcrack?”

  Pel was flustered. “But she said…she was in a hurry…”

  “As would I be,” Taillefer pointed out.

  “Listen, if you could be sure it was on Earth, on land,” Pel said, “we’d take it—at least, I would. We’d get home eventually.” He glanced at the others for support.

  Ted shrugged; Amy nodded; Susan frowned, then shook her head, once, a sharp little negative jerk.

  “I’d take it,” Pel insisted.

  “And what of the rest, who would be left behind to face Shadow’s anger?” Taillefer asked. “Not to put too fine a point on it, what of myself?”

  “You could come with us,” Pel suggested, not very hopefully.

  “Oh, aye,” Taillefer replied sarcastically. “Plunge myself into an unknown corner of a realm where all my spells and powers are for naught, where I know not a thing of the ways and customs; a realm that, alone of the three known, has no way to reach the others, so that never could I return?”

  “But why would you want to return?” Pel asked desperately. “This world’s ruled by Shadow, isn’t it? Our world isn’t; it’s not bad at all, really.” He had intended to argue further, but he stopped abruptly when he saw the expressions not just on Taillefer’s face, but on Raven’s and Valadrakul’s, as well.

  “Man,” Taillefer said, “this world may seem unpleasant to you, yet is it my world, my homeland, and I’ll not abandon it to Shadow, not leave it in its hour of need.”

  “Nor will I,” Raven said.

  Pel looked at Valadrakul, whose expression convinced Pel that he didn’t need to hear what the other wizard had to say. The Earthman sighed.

  “You won’t do it?” he asked.

  Taillefer shook his head. “That I won’t,” he said.

  * * * *

  Amy heard it all, heard first Raven, then Pel argue with Taillefer. Her stomach had calmed, and she was in no danger of vomiting again; she was ravenously hungry, and felt weak and sick, but she was not going to throw up for awhile. She sat against the ruined wall of the castle, surrounded by shadows and gloom, and listened to the men debate the rest of her life.

  And she was losing the argument. If someone didn’t do something, it sounded as if she would be trapped in this horrible fairy-world forever.

  Raven, much as he wanted his guns and soldiers, appeared to have abandoned the argument to Pel. Pel was trying, but he argued like a man, all rationalizations and confrontations, and he was obviously losing. Taillefer felt his life was at stake; he wasn’t going to be swayed by that sort of logic.

  “But why would you want to return?” she heard Pel ask. “This world’s ruled by Shadow, isn’t it? Our world isn’t; it’s not bad at all, really.”

  Amy didn’t need to hear; she knew the answers. If anything, Pel had just convinced Raven to switch sides, rather than Taillefer. “Susan?” she said quietly.

  “Yes?”

  “You have your bag?”

  Susan took a moment to consider that.

  “I don’t think it’ll work,” she said, “but I’ll try it if you want.”

  “Please,” Amy said.

  Susan sighed, then pulled her bag up where she could reach into it more easily.

  Then she had her little revolver in her hand, the .38 Police Special; she glanced at Amy, who nodded.

  “I don’t think it’ll work,” Susan said again, as she rose, pistol ready.

  The men had not noticed anything, as yet; Pel was asking the plump wizard, “You won’t do it?”

  “That I won’t,” Taillefer replied.

  Susan cleared her throat, then raised the pistol, gripped tightly in both hands, and pointed it at Taillefer.

  “Wizard,” she called, her finger tight on the trigger.

  * * * *

  Raven turned at the sound of the Earthwoman’s voice, expecting nothing more from her than a plea for mercy; it took a second before his eyes adjusted to the dimness, but at the sight of the weapon in her hands his jaw dropped.

  Quickly, he caught himself, composed himself.

  “Aye, mistress?” Taillefer asked, as he, too, turned. “What would you, and what is this
you point at me?”

  “This thing I’m pointing at you is a weapon from Earth,” Susan explained. “It’s commonly called a handgun. If I pull the trigger, it’ll blow a hole right through you—ask Raven and Valadrakul, they’ve seen me use it to kill Shadow’s creatures. It’s what Raven wants from Earth—we’ve promised him a supply of guns to use against Shadow.”

  “Ah,” Taillefer said, eyeing the revolver with interest.

  “Now, we’re going to ask you again whether you’ll open the portal to Earth,” Susan said, “with the understanding that if you refuse, I’ll blow your head off. Will you open the portal?”

  Taillefer hesitated, then turned to Valadrakul. “Does this device what she says?”

  “Aye,” Valadrakul said, blinking at Susan. For a moment, Raven thought the wizard intended to say more, but in the end he left the single word to stand alone.

  Thoughtfully, Taillefer turned back to face the Earthwoman. “See you, mistress, the position you put me in,” he said. “An you make good your threat, I perish. An I accede to your demands, then too do I perish, but at Shadow’s hands rather than yours. Either way, I am dead. If ’tis Shadow that slays me, then mayhap others die with me. Now, consider likewise what you’d accomplish; an I refuse, and you slay me, you do not gain what you seek, for there’s none but I who can do it. An I yield, you may yet see Earth, but I die, and there shall be none who can restore the portal for the delivery of the weapons you say this worthy who calls himself Raven seeks; thus, Shadow triumphant, my people forever enslaved. I’d not have that weighing upon my soul in the afterlife.”

  “I don’t need an argument,” Susan said harshly. “I need a decision.”

  “And I say that you shall have one, in a moment—if you see it not yet. Think you, if you slay me, you shall be forevermore trapped in our world; if you refrain, the chance shall remain, so long as I live, that some way shall be found that I may safely send you home.”

  “You’re refusing, then.”

  “Aye, mistress; I refuse you.”