by Allan Cole
"Come in, but do not speak," Janos said. "My guest is skittish."
I had not noticed it before, but the upper room's roof was hinged, and was now open to the clear night and the stars. There was a single taper burning on the large desk to one side of the room. Janos sat behind the desk, his face silhouetted like an unhooded hawk in its mews. There was something else in the room. It was a swirling, hard-to-look at cloud of utter darkness, with myriad red pinflashes scattering through it. Janos did not further greet, or even look at me; all that existed for him was that eddying cloud. I was afraid, without knowing why. I found myself moving backward, my lips curling in a silent, feral snarl.
"You are in no danger," Janos said, again without looking. "My friend is pinioned within the pentagram, and has already been what he sought." Now I noticed the design Janos had described, deeply etched into the stone floor. The figure had strange curlicues in and around it that might have been a foreign tongue or signs beyond any language for all I knew. In the center of the pentagram guttered three small candles, and between them was a large brass bowl filled with a dark liquid. As I watched, the liquid swirled, then lifted toward the cloud - exactly like a waterspout I had once seen off the docks of Orissa. The cloud was absorbing - "drinking" - that carmine-appearing fluid. The bone-touching hum grew louder. In seconds, the bowl was empty. The cloud grew and the flashes within became brighter as it spun more rapidly. Janos stood and held his hands in front of him - first palms down, then facing the cloud, then turned up. The cloud blurred upward, like a dim red shooting star seen in reverse, and vanished. The humming was gone.
Janos motioned around the room and other tapers flared into life with not a match nor sparker required. Another motion, and the roof hatches silently closed above us. Now the chamber, if the pentagram on the floor was ignored, looked no more ominous than the paper-, book- and scroll-littered study of a savant.
"Friend Amalric," Janos said. "This night I have reached deep into the unknown. That being comes from beyond, and now I have given him what... he most desires, and he will come again at my beckoning."
"What manner of creature is he?"
"I do not know yet," Janos said. "But I found suggestions as to his existence, the spells to attract him and even a dark hint as to the bargain he requires in Vacaan's archives. The information was on a scroll, and its crumbling wax seal held a symbol I knew to be terrible without understanding why. The scroll looked as if it had been untouched since the time of this land's Old Ones. No one - not even Prince Raveline - seems to know of this being, nor the learning he offers. As I said days ago, there is knowledge far beyond what anyone in this kingdom has learned. Knowledge for he who dares. Tonight I have begun walking that path."
Janos came out of his exaltation and looked shamefaced. "I have been boasting, my friend. And Gatra said your voice told him some catastrophe was pending."
"I fear so."
"Will wine lessen the calamity... or make it worse?" I managed a rueful smile. Janos opened a cabinet, took out a decanter and glasses, and without ceremony dumped papers from a chair so I might sit down. "What has happened? When we last spoke, you said nothing of any pending quandary."
I began at the beginning, and as soon as I had mentioned the invitation from Prince Raveline, Janos' face darkened. He said nothing, so I continued. Several times in the course of my narrative, he almost blurted something, but held his tongue until I was quite through.
"Is that all?" Janos asked. I ran the events past my mind's eye again, and nodded. I had described what had happened as completely, and as impartially as I was capable.
"Damn that--" he began.
I interrupted. "Janos! Remember what I just said? He knew you were not sleeping nor absorbed with your concubines. Be wary of your tongue."
"We shall see about Prince Raveline and his spying," Janos muttered, went to his desk, and found a flask. He scattered powder from it around the room, quickly muttering a spell. "Now, if our Black Prince is listening, he will hear nothing but the repeat of a drunken conversation you and I had about whether there would be profit in opening a restaurant serving the food of Vacaan back in Orissa."
"Won't that be a signal clue to Prince Raveline, and make him suspicious?"
"That man drew suspicion in with his first breath," Janos said. "Nothing that we do can make him more wary. Now, let me return for a moment to where I was. Damn that man! When he first broached the subject of what he saw Orissa's future to be, I told him you could not be tossed a bribe as casually as if you were some greasy Evocator at a customs shed! Not even when the bribe is a Kingdom!"
I felt my temper rise, but held it in. "You are saying you knew of Raveline's scheme some time ago, but did not say anything to me?"
Janos's expression flickered. "I did, my friend. I suppose I should beg your pardon for not alerting you when I first was told. But there was a reason."
"Which was?" I demanded, and I knew anger was in my voice.
Janos studied his wineglass, then drained it. "I must chose my words carefully, Amalric. Do you promise you will hear me until I'm finished until you speak?"
"I... yes. I'm listening."
"Let us assume the worst - which I am not prepared to do - and accept your somewhat hysterical assertion that Raveline intends to rule both Orissa and Lycanth with an iron fist. Even if that's true, I have met harsher masters than Raveline, and can name some now in power in lands we both know. "I understand him a bit better than you, Amalric. Raveline is a man who shall never be king here in Vacaan, and this has embittered him. When he realized this, it was like a yet unforged bloom of iron being hurled into a quenching bath. In a sense it shattered him rather than turning him to steel. Raveline is a creature of enthusiasms, moving from one great project to another as his interests wax and wane."
"He has been interested in us for quite a number of years," I said.
"I asked you to hear me out. Please! So he is infatuated with our lands, and has been, as you say, for a period of time. I believe this is simply because they have always been beyond his grasp, in the same sense a child desires a sweetmeat different from the one he sucks. Once the umbrella of the Far Kingdoms has overspread Orissa and Lycanth, he will find another enthusiasm. Perhaps it will be further exploration, perhaps it will be his harem. But he will look away, I promise you. By then we Orissans shall be as rich as anyone here."
I waited, but Janos said nothing more. I took a chance. "He wants us to serve him. What are the penalties if we should displease him? I do not know if he has the power to duplicate that great wasteland he said came from the Old Ones, but he made it very clear to me he would happily dispense such a judgment on anyone, and I use his words, who dares stand against Vacaan. Which means Prince Raveline. Further. He said he tested us, but did not elaborate. I wonder what those tests were... precisely? What Evocator cast the spell that rebuilt Wehumwa? Was it his sorcery that destroyed the finest soldiers Orissa could field?"
"No!" Janos said loudly, then stopped. "Well... I must be honest," he went on, in a calmer tone. "I'm not sure. I don't think so. But what if he did? Would we Orissans have taken measures if a great army tramped steadily toward our borders?"
"Not before we found out their intent," I said.
"I wonder," Janos said. "I wonder. Let us consider something else, as long as we are talking about Orissa. We - you and I - won a victory not long ago against the Evocators and their strangle hold on Orissa. They represented the long dead past, and they used that past to diminish today's life and tomorrow's dreams. Do you think all of those hidebound fools vanished with Cassini? I know they will try to impose their choking tradition again, most likely within a short time after we return to Orissa and inform them the old ways are doomed. And what of Lycanth? I know those people. I know their Archons. They are talking even now of rebuilding their damned monstrous wall. How long before they begin increasing the size of their army? And once that is accomplished they will cast covetous eyes on Orissa."
"Wha
t of it?" I wanted to know. "We defeated them once, we can do it again."
"I am not sure of that," Janos said. "I have not seen men in Orissa recently with the mettle people like your father and his generation showed. No, Amalric, we need Raveline. I beg your pardon, let me be more exact. We need what he represents. We need the knowledge that this city and these lands hold. I sneered at those dusty archives and their librarians, but there is more knowledge on one cobwebbed shelf than in the entire Citadel of the Evocators. With this knowledge, with these powers, we can bring about a Golden Age; a Golden Age such as Man passed through before, and then was found unworthy to live in. In a few years we shall have all the wisdom these lands possess, and then we can step beyond them. We are a young people, and they are old, tired and set in their ways. I see Vacaan, Irayas and Raveline as a false dawn, a harbinger of a new, fresh age, an age beyond gold."
"Well said," I replied. "But this is not the time for a battle oration. Consider reality. Do you really think Orissa could rise up against the rule of the Far Kingdoms? I look about me at all these happy contented faces, like so many pure-bred bulls who do not realize their sole purpose is to breed more cattle and eventually grace their master's table. Do you think these people of Vacaan will ever revolt? And if they do, what would their chances be? Do you want to see Orissans, the people you've taken as your own, become like these cudchewing cattle?"
"Would they be worse off?" Janos asked. "Do not answer hastily. Think of that slum we walked through when we returned to Orissa. Cheapside. Have you seen anything near its poverty since we've been in these lands? And Cheapside is far from the worst ghetto in Orissa. I shall not even mention Lycanth's seething tenements. I believe that if you offered most Orissans a choice between the golden chains of this land, and what they now live with... they would loudly be shouting for the blacksmith, his hammer and shackles."
I held my angry retort, poured wine, and forced myself to sip. Then I became even angrier. "I remember, years ago, in the desert, when we freed Deoce and tried to free the other slaves the nomads had taken... and how furious you were at those who chose to return to their chains. So now you think it acceptable wisdom to seek out the slaver? Hold, sir. I have another statement. You said `most Orissans would chose to be ruled by the Far Kingdoms if they were richly rewarded.' What of the others - those you think to be a minority? What of men like Ecco, Gamelan, or even Maeen and the other soldiers here in Irayas? They'll think it a capital jest when we tell them what their pains have produced. And what of the women? What of that little chambermaid, Spoto? What of my sister, Rali? And Otara, her lover? Or the other Maranon Guards? Do you think they will cheerfully invite tyranny? What will Raveline do with them?"
"All kings have laws to support their rule," Janos said, a bit weakly. "Is Vacaan's law, where those who rebel simply vanish, more evil than the Kissing of the Stones? Or even the Archons' Calling?"
"As to the first," I said, "yes. No one is executed in Orissa without an open trial. As to Lycanth, I cannot answer. Especially since I have not spoken to anyone who has been disappeared, and know not what agonies were connected with their going."
"Perhaps," Janos said slowly, "we should summon such a spirit and ask him. Although I warn you the dead speak in awful tongues." Then he made a slight shift in course: "Say you are right in your doom-crying. What plan do you have?"
I took several deep breaths, again to calm myself. "I have but the beginnings of one, and welcome your additions - or even an alternate proposal," I said. "I would suggest both of us temporize with Raveline. Make vague promises such as any merchant does when a shipment is overdue. It was my impression that King Domas has already decided to allow some trade to commence. Now, since you say Raveline is a creature of momentary enthusiasms, perhaps we should use that agreement as a way for us to return to Orissa. Once in our homeland, I think it absolutely imperative we immediately put my plan of a few days ago into action.
"You, Janos, must take the entire Evocators' Guild in hand, and begin preparation. But not for an immediate war, nor for war at all. I am thinking aloud as I speak, admittedly, but I cannot see how Raveline could mount an attack, either magickal or physical, against us, when his people have no interest beyond their own noses. Further, I agree that these Vacaanese are terribly hidebound. I think we should trade with them, and learn everything we can. I think you should be in charge of synthesizing this knowledge. " I suddenly ran out of words, and slumped back in my chair. "Beyond those thoughts... no, I have no precise plan, especially since Raveline, in fact, has not even proposed attacking our lands."
"But he will, in one form or another" Janos said firmly. "However, in the end, it shall come to naught." He pulled me to my feet, and led me across the chamber to a circular mirror. "Look in this glass, my friend. Look at us. When we met, you were a boy, and I was a youth whose greatest responsibility was a company of spear-throwers. Now we have reached the Far Kingdoms, and in our grasp is all the power, all the wisdom, the gods which do not exist are reputed to hold. All that stands between us is one person, someone I know can be dealt with, in the proper time, and I cannot make my point too strongly. If we cock a snook at Raveline now, and flee for the border... I doubt we shall even make it as far as the Pepper Coast. So we die in some wasteland... and Orissa returns to its unchanging obstinacy. Amalric Antero, we were chosen to bring Orissa into a new age, and you must realize it. If we must temporize with this Raveline for a space... well, so be it. We are both still young, and there are years ahead, and the times change."
I started to respond, then really looked into the glass. At the moment I looked anything but young: my face was lined by the miles and the pain and all the deaths; my hair no longer flamed as red as it had; and my eyes looked beyond, as if I'd seen too much and my soul needed time to recover in peace and green. But I looked like a swaddling babe compared to Janos. He was but a few years older, but now, in this light, he could have passed for the father of the man who had rescued me from that dockfront bar. His thinning hair and beard were striped with gray - a yellowed gray as if Janos had recently risen from a sickbed. Time's scars slashed furrows across his face: his complexion was jaundiced; his cheeks had begun to sag, and I could see the beginnings of wattles where his beard ended. But it was the eyes that held me. They were red-rimmed and set deep in their sockets. Their haunted gaze had experienced... and welcomed, horror. I had seen eyes like that recently, and recalled where: at Lord Mortacious's banquet... when I first met the wizard's deathstare. I repressed a shudder and pulled away, angry once more.
"You actually believe that we can stand against a man who can create a nightmare city like Wehumwa?" I said. "Not only stand, but in time destroy him or render him impotent? Janos, wake up. If I agree to his plan, he will permit me to exist just so long as I follow his every desire, his every wish, as if it were graven on my soul. Pawns are not permitted to debate with the master. But there is something more important than the role I would play in Raveline's new world. Janos, I cannot believe you think you can somehow subvert this man to your ends. Frankly, I am not entirely sure he even is a man. Prince Raveline has spent his entire life playing royal games of death and power. He will eat you for a light lunch!" My voice was loud in the post-midnight silence.
Janos, too, was angry. "You think I am that weak?"
"I think you are that foolish!" I snapped. "You are dancing attendance on Raveline, just like I was a puppet for that whore Melina. Not only do I see no Captain Greycloak to come to your rescue, but in the end you will prove yourself an even bigger dunce than I was."
"How dare you," Janos hissed. "You... a merchant's son, barely a man, who never had to fight a real battle. Whose most difficult decision was the markup on a bolt of cloth. You... preaching wisdom to me, Janos Kether Greycloak, whose line has led a people since the beginning of history. How dare you?"
My fist was clenched and drawn back before I could find control. Words danced on my lips about now I had finally learned what he thought of me,
and then I saw myself in the glass, face as red as my hair, and instead of striking out I dug my nails deep into my palm. I was panting as if I had run a footrace. Calm, of a sort, came back.
"This is foolish of us both," I managed. "And produces nothing. We will continue this tomorrow. When we have both learned to behave ourselves." Janos managed a jerky nod of agreement. He began to say something more, then clamped his mouth shut. Without farewell, I turned and hurried out of the chamber and down the tower steps. In the courtyard I began shouting for Gatra and a gondola.
* * *
It was late when I returned to my palace. I did not know what to do. I shed my clothes next to the lotus pool, dived into the cool water, and swam three times across it, trying to make my muscles broaden my mind's reach as they themselves stretched. I pulled myself out of the pool, the before-dawn wind chill on my skin. I felt a bit better, but no wiser.
Politeness dictated I should have waited, but I could not. Something told me that every moment was important. I must discuss this with the one who appeared the only person in this land who was still sane. I went to a kitchen and made a pot of tea without rousing the dozing attendant. I took it to our chambers, intending to wake Omerye gently and then tell her what had happened. But she was fully alert and standing at a window. I set the tray down and took her in my arms, wanting nothing more than to be able to start eternity at this moment, and never have to leave her embrace. After awhile, she pushed me back.
"Was it that bad?"
I told her what had happened, both at Raveline's palace and with Janos. When I had finished, it lacked but two hours before dawn. Omerye poured two cups of the now-cold tea, and drank.
"There are those in Vacaan," she began, "who would find it humorous, and no more than what should be expected from a half-man outlander, that a musician should be consulted for wisdom."
"There is no one else who knows me better," I said. "No one that I trust as much, including myself."
