Ted was crazy, so he didn’t count.
She glanced back at Susan, who was still on the narrow landing beyond the door, not in the throne room at all, and saw her slip a hand into her purse.
Amy remembered that Pel had talked about emulating Bakshi’s “Wizards,” where the evil wizard was ready for any sort of magical attack, so the good wizard pulled out a pistol and blew him away. She remembered the Arab swordsman in “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” too.
Shadow, despite her power, just looked like an ordinary woman; maybe, if Susan shot her, she would just die like an ordinary woman. Maybe she would die, and Amy would live. And if there was ever going to be a time to use that pistol, Amy had to agree that this must be it—but shouldn’t Susan get closer? She couldn’t be sure she’d hit the woman at all from way back there, let alone kill her with the first shot—and Amy didn’t think she’d have time for more than one.
Maybe Susan was waiting for a distraction; well, Pel was providing that, wasn’t he?
“Let’s hear about it,” Pel said.
That was an invitation to a speech if Amy had ever heard one; maybe the Shadow woman would get talking and forget herself.
Still, Susan was too far away. Amy unobtrusively beckoned her forward, as Shadow said, “I have lived long, little people from realms beyond this world; my magicks have given me years beyond measure, have kept me from aging. I grow, not weary, but bored, and seek distraction.”
“What, so you just want to talk?” Pel asked.
That didn’t seem very likely; this awful woman would scarcely have driven them here with her monsters just to chat. She probably had something gruesome and disgusting in mind, something worse than anything Walter had done.
Amy hoped that Shadow would die before she could do whatever it was, instead of after, as Walter had.
Shadow laughed, a very unpleasant laugh. Amy turned quickly, ignoring Susan, keeping her attention on the horrible woman on the throne.
“Nay, fool,” Shadow said. “I seek to explore new worlds. I’ve my fill of this one.”
She hadn’t noticed what Susan was doing—either that, or she didn’t care. Amy wondered if Shadow could read minds. Prossie couldn’t, here in Faerie, but maybe Shadow could. If so, she was just toying with them all, she knew what Susan had in her purse.
Maybe, Amy thought, I’d better not think about it.
Instead, she tried to concentrate on what Shadow was saying, to involve herself in that—though she hoped it wouldn’t matter what Shadow wanted.
Pel frowned. “So where’s the problem?” he said. “You’re the one who can open those magical portals, right?”
Amy shook her head. Pel was being stupid. He wasn’t leading Shadow on well enough.
“She wants native guides,” Amy suggested. “People who can show her around, keep her out of trouble.” She had moved around to one side a little, hoping to draw Shadow’s attention away from Susan. She didn’t really think that was what Shadow wanted; she just wanted to keep that nasty old woman talking.
“Near the heart, wench,” Shadow answered, “but not to the meat of it.”
“So tell us, then,” Pel said. “At least, if it’s something where we need to help you consciously, and you don’t just need a bunch of blood sacrifices or something.”
“If it’s sacrifices,” Amy added, trying not to sound too upset with the idea, “I think we’d just as soon not know.” She tried very hard not to look back to where Susan was creeping through the door, nearer to Shadow’s throne.
“And what need would I have of your blood that would not be served by another’s, more easily had?” Shadow asked.
“So tell us about it,” Pel repeated.
* * * *
The villains in the stories never needed so much coaxing, Pel thought; they’d start babbling about their plans at the drop of a hint. How was he supposed to play the hero, and find a way out, if Shadow wouldn’t explain what it—or she—was up to? He smiled expectantly at the flabby, blowsy, drab woman that was Shadow.
She hardly looked the part of a world-conquering wizard, but this wasn’t Hollywood.
“Know you aught of matrices?” she asked.
“No,” Pel said. “At least, not the way you mean it, not if you mean magic ones.”
Shadow nodded. “Indeed, magic,” she said. “A matrix is a gathering of magical forces, a construction of magicks, a framework.”
“Valadrakul said something about webs,” Amy said. Pel glanced at her; she seemed to be getting more talkative, all of a sudden.
“Aye,” Shadow agreed. “A web, or a net—i’truth, a matrix can be likened to many things, all in some way truthful, yet none a complete description. And there are some—or there were—who had the talent for the weaving of them.”
Pel nodded encouragingly; she was finally telling her story.
Shadow settled back in her chair. “This was centuries past,” she said, “long ere your fathers’ fathers were born. There were those of us in the world who learned the making of matrices, and we were friends, and teachers, and students, and rivals, one to another, and sometimes we were bitter enemies. We twined our magicks, erected our structures thereof, each after his own fashion, but each learning from the others.
“Thus it was, for many years, for centuries before my own birth; how it began was lost in the past. Magic was loose and wild in the world, free for the taking, so that any person who could speak the words of a simple charm might use it, but only a few of us, only a very few, had the talent for binding the wild magicks and building matrices that we could take with us, that we could send forth, that we could use for purposes more profound than mere kitchen spells.
“Yet the matrix wizards of that time were mortal, and died, and when each died the matrix he had built crumbled, and the magicks bound therein burst free. See you the way of it?”
“I think so,” Pel said. It seemed clear enough.
“See then, in time, certain discoveries were made; a method was found whereby a wizard’s matrix might be taken from him intact, and bound to another, should the binder be present when the wizard failed. Further, ’twas learned how one could turn magic upon one’s own aging and stave off the ravages of time; a matrix wizard need not grow old, should he attain sufficient mastery.”
Pel nodded.
“But see you, then, what this meant,” Shadow said, gesturing dramatically. “We had the time to gather to ourselves all the magicks, to bind and bind and bind until the wild magicks were no more, until only matrix wizards, or those we permitted to tap our matrices, could work even the simplest spell or cantrip. And further, when that was done, there was no way to gain more, save by the usurpation of another wizard’s matrix—and most commonly, by another wizard’s murder, for how else to wrest away a well-made matrix? That rivalry that had always been present, that competition amongst us, turned deadly, and we began to entrap one another, to slay one another, to form alliances and partnerships, only to betray one another when better alliances offered.” She sighed. “Perhaps were better that had never been, but nonetheless, thus it became.”
“I understand,” Pel said.
He thought he did, too. Like animals fighting over a prize until only one survived, the matrix wizards had killed each other off—and the survivor wouldn’t be the best or brightest, but the most vicious killer of the lot.
And here she was in front of him, presumably.
He wished he could see how to use this against her. Had she built her matrix around a magic ring, or something? There had to be some flaw in her power.
“I was called Shadow,” she said, “because I kept ever in the background; I’d been a timid child, and change was slow in coming. Yet I was no fool, and I chose my allies and my betrayals carefully, so that in time, I controlled the greatest single matrix ever held.” She waved a hand, and brilliant colors rippled through the air for a moment, a reminder of her power. “I took this fortress for my own, slaying the wizard who held it before me, b
ecause ’twas in this place that the natural lines of power were strongest. I built my matrix ever larger, in my own time and quietly.” She sighed. “But of course, the tallest tree is the one every woodsman wishes to hew down, and my power became too great to conceal. The other matrix wizards banded against me, and spread lies among those who could no longer wield magic, and among those who could tug at the stray ends of it, as it were, but who could not weave their own webs. They made me out a figure of terror and evil; they turned my own name ’gainst me, named me Shadow as ’twere the shadow of death; they spoke of this marsh as a damned, dead place, when i’truth ’tis but an ordinary marsh; they noted my dislike for the sun, and the rains I summon, and made of this something twisted and dark.”
Pel could read mounting anger in Shadow’s face; these were obviously not happy memories for her. Maybe he could use that somehow. Maybe he could psychoanalyze her into impotence or surrender—except he wasn’t a psychiatrist, he was a marketing consultant.
He wondered how much truth there really was in her story, and how much was marketing.
“I’ll not deny,” she said, calming somewhat, “that I was not, perhaps, the most pleasant of neighbors; ’tis true that I slew those peasants who displeased me, as I do yet, but this was the common practice among the matrix wizards at our height. Why this should be turned against me, when all did it…”
She caught herself, paused, then continued, “Yet it was. Even that sanctimonious fool who called himself the Green Magician slew half a dozen lovers, yet he turned the peasants against me. Nor was he the worst; the Light, as they called themselves, were all hypocrites and liars—yet their words did their work, and ere I knew it, my reputation was that of the wolf, the scorpion, the vilest beast upon the face of the land. And all, all because I’d dared to build to myself the mightiest matrix of them all.” She paused for a moment, then shook her head in remembered disbelief of such injustice.
“So…” Pel said, hoping she would give some clue he could use.
“So,” Shadow snapped, “in time, I was forced by such perfidy to destroy all the other matrix wizards, and add their matrices to my own, until at last I controlled all the magic in the world—or at least, I had it at my beck, for in truth the matrix is so vast that I cannot control it all for every moment. Thus, the little wizards of today can pick at it betimes, snatch away a splinter here and there for their petty spells—but what of it? ’Tis naught to me!” She waved away the whole matter. “Yet the lies about me persisted, and those poor magicless fools, the peasants and most especially their silly lordlings, still struggled ’gainst me, so that in time I was forced to extend my domain over all the mundane world, as well as the magical. I would suppose that the late claimant to the barony of Stormcrack told you some of that.”
“A little,” Pel agreed.
“He and his kind existed by my tolerance,” Shadow said. “Never were they worth the bother to exterminate.”
“I can believe it,” Pel said wryly—and honestly. He had not found Raven and his companions very impressive as revolutionaries. He’d seen no signs of a real organization, of intelligence-gathering, of anything but a willingness to oppose Shadow.
And what good was that, if Shadow was as powerful as everyone said?
“At any rate,” Shadow continued, “I found myself mistress of all the world—and I grew bored. For centuries, I schemed and fought, always expanding my power—and now I had reached the limits; there were no foes left worthy of my attention, no new lands to conquer. So I drew in to myself, and sought some new entertainment. I experimented with magic, I reached out with senses beyond your poor comprehension—and I succeeded! I found…” She turned to Prossie. “I found thy Galactic Empire, with its spaceships, its machines, its telepaths, its many worlds, its myriad wonders and delights, and there, I thought, there I saw the solution to my boredom.”
“Oh,” Prossie said uneasily. Pel glanced at her, then back at Shadow.
He supposed that Shadow meant she intended to conquer the Galactic Empire; that seemed like the sort of thing an all-powerful evil wizard would want to do.
Though to be honest, Pel couldn’t really see the point in it when she already ruled an entire world.
Shadow nodded. “First to tour,” she said, “and then perhaps to conquer, to play with, to amuse myself with entire worlds—that would be an entertainment worthy of me, and one that would last for centuries!”
Pel grimaced.
Boredom as a motive for an inter-universal war of conquest? Not hatred, or anger? Not revenge, or power-hungriness? Just plain old boredom?
Well, why not? When one had centuries in which to become bored, when one already had so much power that there were no other challenges left, why not?
* * * *
“Carrie,” Prossie screamed silently, “do you hear this?” She was on the verge of panic, she knew she was on the verge of panic, but she couldn’t help it. She was trapped and alone here, without her family to support her.
“I hear it,” Carrie answered, “but what can I do about it? Hart and Bascombe won’t listen to me; they don’t care.”
“She wants to play with whole planets,” Prossie said desperately. “How can they not care?”
“Because they won’t believe it,” Carrie replied. “They can’t think on that scale. Besides, why hasn’t she already done it, they’ll ask, and you don’t have an answer.”
“I might in a few minutes,” Prossie replied. She was having trouble accepting Carrie’s apparent indifference; this was her cousin, her friend, a person she’d shared her thoughts with over and over. It was true Prossie had deliberately left the family, given up her ties to the Empire, but even so, how could Carrie be so uncaring?
It was as if, to Carrie, she was no longer a telepath at all.
She knew that some of her distress must be leaking through, that Carrie knew what she felt, and she waited for Carrie to give her some sort of reassurance.
Carrie replied with the mental equivalent of a shrug.
* * * *
Now, Pel thought, they were getting to the traditional villain’s pitch. They’d gone through the whole self-justification speech; now Shadow could get to the point.
He wondered again how much of her story was true.
“So what does that have to do with us?” he asked. “Why didn’t you just go invade the Galactic Empire, if that’s what you wanted?”
“Because I can’t, fool!” Shadow shouted. “Think you I’d be here now, could I?”
“Oh,” Amy said, “I get it. Magic doesn’t work there.”
“Ah,” Shadow said, pointing at Amy, “one among you has some wit!”
“So you can’t conquer the Empire directly,” Pel said.
“But you sent your creatures,” Prossie pointed out. “You could send more, couldn’t you?”
“Aye, my creatures,” Shadow agreed. “I can send whatever spies and servants I please, and hearken to their reports when they return—and what of it? They tell me of marvels; I would see those marvels for myself! Conquest, when I know not what there is to conquer? I can create homunculi, I can raise the dead to fight for me, and i’truth I think I could lay waste all the Empire and claim it for my own, in time—but what sort of ruler would I be, unable to set foot upon my own land? How could I call those lands my own, if I could not see to them?”
Pel blinked.
“Can you really make whole armies of those things?” Prossie asked.
“Certes, I can,” Shadow replied. “Do you doubt it?”
“Oh, well, it’s been seven years, and all the Empire ever found were scouts and some dead monsters…”
“And ’tis all I’ve sent, thus far, those and my spies, but ’twas no true test of my powers, woman—I have not yet begun. I sought to learn what could live in that unnatural realm of yours; i’truth, the forms that abide well there are sore few!”
“But wait a minute,” Pel said. “If you can send whole armies there, why can’t you go?
Even if your magic doesn’t work there, you could go visit, then come back, couldn’t you?”
“Ah, now we reach the kernel. No, fool, I cannot. For think you, if I leave this world, and take my matrix not with me, what befalls? And if I open the gate and step forth, but remain not here to hold the gate open, how shall I then return?”
Full understanding of Shadow’s dilemma abruptly dawned on Pel.
“Oh,” he said.
“Now you see,” Shadow said. “And see you this also, I even thought that perhaps I might yield up the matrix, and go forth to dwell forever among the Empire’s worlds, with an army to serve me and keep me strong—until I bethought of the passage of time. For what is it that preserves me from senility and death, but the matrix I hold? The Empire’s not worth my very life!”
“You mean, like, you’d instantly age a thousand years, or however old you are, without your magic?” Amy asked. Pel immediately thought of movies again—“Lost Horizon” and others, where immortal villains had done just that, fading to dust when their magic was lost.
Shadow snorted in derision. “Nay,” she said, “this age of mine is no seeming, but truth. I’d be there as I am here. Howsoever, I’d not remain so, but would age as others do, would grow old and in the fullness of time, as the traditional phrase of those with little understanding would have it, I would die. Die! I, face death? I’d not have it, when by staying here I have eternity.”
“An eternity of boredom,” Pel pointed out.
“Exactly,” Shadow agreed. “Wouldst choose death o’er ennui? I’d never.”
“I still don’t see what you want from us, then.” Amy said. “We can’t play native guides if you can’t go there.”
“I think I see,” Pel said, with sudden comprehension. He couldn’t really believe he had this right, but he couldn’t come up with anything else Shadow could want.
And if he was wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time.
Startled, Amy turned to him. “What?”
“She wants someone to hold the door for her until she gets back,” Pel said.
In the Empire of Shadow Page 26
