Polychrome

by Ryk E. Spoor

  Finally he shrugged. “So be it, then. The King has had little entertainment of late, and whatever your fate will be, it is sure to keep him — and possibly us — amused. We shall leave the decision of whether it will be something you find amusing to him.”

  Decision made, Krystallos turned and had his men march with us, ahead and behind. Now we didn’t have much choice but to follow him, as the ones behind made clear. We marched nearly another mile over an increasingly steep path, and abruptly Krystallos’ men took a right-angle turn and walked straight into the rock wall.

  I supposed they could be setting up a crude practical joke — to have me try to follow them and end up smacking into solid rock — but I figured I didn’t have all that much dignity to lose and I’d gain some by not flinching, if it wasn’t a joke. I turned and walked towards the cliff at the same point they had.

  It wasn’t a joke. The rock gave before me like a curtain of rippling mist, and abruptly I was in a high-vaulted corridor, with walls of polished stone, lit by blazing gems set in the walls, a sparkle of every color imaginable flickering from the walls with every step. “Whoa,” I said in my best Keanu voice.

  “An impressive piece of work, yes,” Ruggedo said from beside me.

  Zenga’s mouth was half-open. “It’s…beautiful!”

  “Did you expect rough rocky caverns and smoky torches?” Krystallos’ voice was edged with faint scorn.

  “Torches perhaps not, given the rocklight we have seen, but it was always said the Nomes lived with rock in its native state.”

  “In many areas, yes. Yet this is close to the Heart of the Mountains, the castle beneath the ground,” Ruggedo said, “and here we show the extent of our artistry to any who may come. Even Queen Ozma herself could boast no more magnificent a home than our ruler, and this is nothing but simple truth.”

  As we were led inward, through cavern after increasingly-dazzling cavern, I was forced to agree. The Emerald City, no matter how great, would be hard-pressed to beat the awesome yet Faerie-delicate constructions of crystal and gems and gold that were a part of every wall, worked through the very floors and ceilings, of the Heart of the Mountains.

  Finally we reached an immense set of doors, of hand-beaten gold and platinum and inlaid with a thousand gems — only half of which I thought I could name. The guards at either side of the doors started a bit as they caught sight of our little party, but bowed and opened the doors at Krystallos’ gesture.

  I took a deep breath as we stepped forward. Here I go again.

  The Thronehall of the Nome King was a perfectly circular room, startlingly simple in many ways compared to the increasingly fanciful and ornate caverns that had preceded it. The roof rose to a perfect polished dome of flawless agate, rippled, dendritic patterns making a natural ornamentation that no artisan could have enhanced. The walls were carved from the living rock, columns supporting the perimeter. Eight sets of doors led into, or out of, the Thronehall, and in the very center was the Throne. Cast or forged of solid gold and set with every gem known, it drew and held the eye, and shone with a light of its own, a light that limned and made darker and more mysterious and impressive the figure seated there.

  That figure suddenly leaned forward. “Ruggedo?”

  Krystallos and his men stepped aside, leaving an open aisle towards the throne. Ruggedo moved forward, stopping near the base of the throne. “It has been a long time, Kaliko.”

  “Not nearly forever, which was the term of your exile, Ruggedo,” answered King Kaliko. But his tone was more curious than angry, and a slight smile was visible on his wrinkled, beardless face. “How fare you these days?”

  “Aside from my current precarious position, well enough, well enough, old friend.” He turned and gestured us forward. “It is really to these mortals you should be speaking, however; my defense from being given the Death of Cuts, or thrown into the Pit, or whatever your favored punishment may be in these times, rests on their mission being sufficiently interesting.”

  “Indeed.” Kaliko transferred his attention to me, eyes grey as granite studying me carefully. “Then tell us, mortal, of your mission.”

  I said nothing; I simply drew forth the Jewel, and once more it painted in ethereal, transcendent color the shining glory of the Rainbow across the room in which I stood. Its celestial beauty momentarily made even the Nome King’s throne look cheap and tawdry, a dimestore toy next to the painting of a master.

  Kaliko sat frozen, still as the stone of his realm, for a long moment. Then he gestured imperiously, and the guards — Krystallos, his men, and all the others which had been stationed around the room — left, emptying the room and leaving the three of us alone with the King.

  Then Kaliko chuckled. “Now you most certainly have my undivided attention, mortal. The Rainbow Lord begins his move, as all have hoped and feared for centuries. But the Usurpers are hardly unaware that he has intended to act against them, and may have already realized he has begun. Who are you, and what is it you seek, and why should I grant it?”

  “I am Erik Medon, of what you call the mortal world. This is Zenga, who has accompanied me from Gilgad to support me as well as to assist in protecting me.”

  Kaliko raised one snowy eyebrow. “So Gilgad has aligned itself with you? I confess to some surprise. So you come to me not merely as the emissary of the Rainbow Kingdom, but another more earthly land. And you have convinced my old King to assist you. These, I admit, speak well to who you are and that you may have something of interest to my kingdom. Speak on, then: what do you seek of us?”

  “Two things, Your Highness. First, I am not merely from the mortal world. I am, in your terms, a True Mortal.”

  Kaliko sucked in his breath. “Indeed? A True Mortal… That in itself explains many things. But continue.”

  “Unfortunately, while this gives me many advantages, my allies of the Rainbow were and are Faeries of the sky. Their armor –”

  Kaliko laughed, a tenor laugh which, I was glad to hear, had real humor and little malice in it. “—is forged of moonbeams and fantasy, material mighty against spells and magic-forged weapons…and likely to shatter like glass when you extend yourself. Oh, now I see your first request, and it is a wise thought that brings you to us. Indeed, we could forge for you armor and weapons that would let you wield your strength to the fullest without breaking, and yet would still ward off many spells and weapons mundane and enchanted both. It is possible we would do this for you, perhaps merely for the asking, perhaps not. And second? What else do you ask of us?”

  “Your lives, your fortunes, and your sacred honor,” I answered with a challenging grin.

  Kaliko set his jaw, the way someone would when confronting something they’ve long been expecting…and dreading. “You mean an alliance of arms.”

  “I quoted from some of the founders of my own country, King Kaliko, and I did not do it idly. Here, today, you are free. I do not think you expect that the Usurpers will stay always on the other side of that desert. Perhaps you have told yourself you can remain neutral, safe here in your fortress because they would not risk challenging you here. Maybe you are right…but they have Faerie of the Earth in their own service, and they would not leave so mighty a potential foe unmolested, if the rest of Faerie were in their power. You may be the last to fall, but fall you will, I think.”

  “Perhaps.” He leaned back in his throne, considering. “But perhaps not. I have many legions of warriors — perhaps more than if they converted all of Oz to their armies, and this they would not do, for they wish to rule a fruitful country, not a barren wasteland. And my artisans have not been idle in these centuries. Engines of destruction we have designed and built such as have never been seen in all of Faerie.”

  “And still these would be far better employed at a time of your choosing, with a powerful ally, or more than one.”

  A nod, acknowledging my point. “As you say. But perhaps better employed as a threat suspected and too dangerous to discover, leaving us entirely free.�
�� He shook his head, then looked to Ruggedo. “You have escorted them here, and I agree your actions were justified, Ruggedo. You may leave freely. I even give you leave to renew your supplies before you go.”

  Ruggedo bowed. “You are kind and generous as always behind your prickly exterior, Kaliko. Yet I cannot leave, for I have taken an oath to stand by this man’s side even to the very end of his quest.”

  That got Kaliko’s attention, possibly even more than everything that had gone before. Finally, after staring at us for several seconds, he spoke. “So you come having forged, not one alliance, but two. The second of which I would not have believed…but I hear the truth in your voice, my old King. Little power there may be, in the end analysis, in that alliance…but to have accomplished it at all is astonishing, given the Ruggedo I knew.”

  Kaliko rose from the throne and walked down the steps, carrying the huge scepter with the single fist-sized ruby that was the symbol of the Nome King. “I agree that — if your position is as strong as it could be — it may be in my interest to support you now rather than wait to the end. But I could also simply bide my time, perhaps strike afterward when both sides have weakened each other. I need to think on this…and, I believe, I need to see exactly what sort of a man you are, Erik Medon.” He clapped his hands, and several guards entered instantly. “Take our guests to the Crystal Suite, and house them there.” He turned back to me. “I will think on what you have said…and you, Erik Medon, I shall test, in my own way, in my own time. How you deal with these tests will do much to make my decision.”

  I bowed — it was clear this was not an offer, it was an order, really. “As you will, King Kaliko.”

  We were led through a maze of corridors to finally arrive at the “Crystal Suite“, a quite comfortable set of six generally-round rooms ornamented with natural crystals of quartz, tourmaline, and beryl. The largest was a central room that could serve as a living or meeting room and a dining area; the other rooms branched off from that central room; if you were standing looking in from the main entrance, there were two doors on your left, two on your right, and one straight ahead. The latter was basically the bathroom, and the two on each side were bedrooms. Zenga took one of the ones on the right, and Ruggedo and I took those on the left.

  After putting our meager gear in our chosen rooms, we returned to the central area, to find the table already laden with food for all three of us — odd mineralized concoctions for Ruggedo for the most part, while an assortment of more normal human food was available for Zenga and me.

  Ruggedo nodded to me as we sat down. “Well enough done, Lord Erik. But you realize he does mean to test you, and test you as hard as though you were a weapon whose temper was not known.”

  “Yes, and I suspect I know part of how this is going to go down, too.”

  “Go down? Ah, you mean, you have a guess as to exactly how the tests will proceed?”

  “Exactly…well, maybe not, but I have a guess as to the general form. What about Zenga?”

  Ruggedo shrugged. “He seemed exclusively focused on you, accepting her as a political representative and a protector from more mundane threats. You are the key. I doubt he will be testing her directly. He would not bother with me, of course; he knows — or thinks he knows — my capabilities very well.”

  Zenga shook her head. “I don’t like the idea of him doing some kind of unspecified and possibly lethal tests on you, Lord Erik. Perhaps I should stay in your room just in case –”

  “No!” That sounded too hasty. “No, Zenga, I think we have to follow this through by their rules.” I didn’t know why a mental red danger flag popped up at her suggestion; we’d been sleeping within an arm’s length or two every night out in the wilderness. But this was a bedroom — with, as I had noted, a very large and comfortable bed in each room — not the outdoors, not roughing it, and the idea of Zenga combined with bedroom somehow seemed like a very bad idea, because it also sounded like a terribly good idea. You know, I’m not a teenager any more, so why the hell haven’t my hormonal issues gone away?

  She still looked dubious, but acquiesced after realizing I was serious. This caused me to give an internal sigh of relief, not unmixed with another bit of instinctive what’s wrong with you? kicking.

  It had been a long day, and after a few more exchanges we agreed it was time to get some rest. I made sure to lock my door, then lay down on the first real bed I’d slept in since we left Gilgad.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, I came half-awake with a slight dizzy sensation. There was a faint scraping noise and the feeling that things were shifting, but it stopped almost before I really registered it.

  Nonetheless, I grinned. One more guess confirmed. The grin faded. Now I just have to live through it…

  Chapter 34.

  “We have lost track of the mortal.”

  Ugu nodded calmly. He had already heard the same news. “It is of no great import, Cirrus. We will find him again, and while we know not exactly what he sought out at sea, we know — from where you have lost him — what he seeks on land.”

  “Yes,” Cirrus said, a grim note in his voice. “An alliance with the Nome King.”

  Cirrus followed Ugu as the King of Oz strode through the grey halls which had once been the colorful and open castle of Ozma, near the center of his own Grey Castle. In truth, Ugu regretted the absolute nature of that spell; he was not insensitive to beauty of color as well as symmetry. But it had been effective.

  “You sound concerned, General.”

  Cirrus’ smile was wry. “I would hardly be a General worthy of the name if I was not concerned over the possible reinforcement of my enemy by the largest army Faerie has ever seen.”

  Ugu raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, Majesty, perhaps even larger than yours and Queen Amanita’s. No,” he corrected himself, “certainly larger.”

  The sorcerer realized that his General was deadly serious. “How is that possible?”

  Cirrus looked slightly relieved that Ugu was giving him his full attention. “Simply put, because old Ruggedo was a suspicious and hostile sort, who trusted none of his neighbors and they, with good reason, never trusted him. He spent ages amassing and equipping his army, and it was never deployed in full force save for once — and in that one attempt, he actually lost no men, only their memories. And soldiers can be easily re-trained. Kaliko, while not being inclined to either conquest nor overly fearful, has seen absolutely no reason to weaken himself, and — with no disrespect meant — the actions of your Majesties have certainly given him every reason to increase rather than decrease his military might.”

  Yes, I suppose they have. Were I in his position, I would certainly be building up my own forces. “How, then, do you evaluate the threat?”

  Cirrus gave a slightly apologetic smile. “In all honesty, not terribly great. Firstly, I have yet to determine how any great force can be brought across the barrier spell, and without that, all the force they can assemble is, in the end, pointless posturing.

  “However, even if they do have some nigh-miraculous way of bringing across their forces to confront mine…” Cirrus stiffened, a look of caution on his face, “…pardon, yours…”

  Ugu chuckled. “Fear not. In warfare they shall indeed be yours, in the end, though working for our goals.”

  “So. Even if they can reach us, individually their warriors are on average even less formidable than those of my former home. Oh, they have some quite dangerous individuals, and my agents have given us some intelligence indicating that the Nome King may have constructed some impressive war machines; still, while his forces may outnumber ours, even combined with those of Iris Mirabilis I do not believe it will be enough…even,” Cirrus added with a sharp smile, “if they knew that I was to direct the defense of Oz.”

  “Which,” Ugu said, returning the smile, “they almost certainly do not.” He was happy to see that smile — and that very feeling, the warmth of knowing that a…friend…was recovering from a justifiably dee
p and conflicted period of gloom, startled him. How strange this is. Never did I think of any man or woman as a true friend, and few indeed have been the chances I had, since once I set myself apart from my fellow Herkus.

  “No,” agreed Cirrus, oblivious to the startled state of Ugu’s mind. “I think that –” He broke off abruptly, as they came around the corner to see the one remaining spot of color in all the Castle of Ozma.

  The huge, broad, thick strip of leather and gold and silver and gems sparkled like a piece of Iris’ rainbow brought to earth and carved by the greatest sculptors imaginable. Cirrus approached, his steps slowing as he studied the girdle-like Belt, gripped in the hands of a grey statue, and then turned with stunned disbelief to Ugu. “Is that –”

  “—The Belt of the Nome King? Yes, indeed. The very source of my original undoing.”

  “Why have you not taken it to use?” There was an unspoken implication there, which they both understood and neither verbalized: that such a powerful talisman might well provide the final key to safe victory over the volatile Queen Amanita, when the time came.

  Ugu’s lips curved in a thin smile. “Take it for yourself…if you can.”

  Cirrus stepped forward and grasped the Belt in both hands; his hands were far larger than the delicate fingers that had been tight on the Belt when the change came on her, and Ugu winced to see the sharp, strong pull; instinctively he expected to see those slender digits of stone break, as even far larger pieces of stonework would have broken under the strength of a Faerie warrior such as Cirrus Dawnglory.

  Yet the Belt remained fast; the stone fingers did not so much as bend the width of a hair. After several increasingly violent attempts, Cirrus gave up and looked with complete confusion at his King. “How…?”

  Ugu laughed. “Ah, it is really quite ironic. A matter of a few seconds either way, and the Belt would have been mine. But Princess Dorothy was in the very act of seizing the Belt and putting it on; as you can see, there is no way of removing the belt without breaking at least a few of her fingers.