The Complete Dilvish, The Damned

by Roger Zelazny

  "Obviously our guest is a sorcerer," she replied. "I find this more than a little awkward."

  "How so?"

  "We hurried to get home today because it is tonight when the moon stands full in high heaven that I must do the things to insure the power of which I spoke."

  "To grant me powers like your own?"

  She smiled.

  "Of course."

  They mounted a stair and passed into a large entrance hall. There was more music, from somewhere off to the left. Reynar sniffed exotic perfumes.

  "And this sorcerer… ?" he inquired.

  "I don't care for the idea of having one of his sort about just now. His arrival is strangely timed."

  Reynar smiled as she led him toward a stair.

  "It may be that I can arrange the time of his departure to suit your taste," he said.

  She patted his arm.

  "Let us not be too hasty. We will dine with the man and take his measure shortly."

  She led him up the stairway and into her chambers, where she rang for a servant. A woman resembling Andra, though taller and heavier, answered the summons.

  "When," Oele asked her, "will dinner be ready?"

  "As soon as you wish, ma'am. They are all dishes of a sooner or later sort. The meat has been turning slowly on a low flame for some time."

  "We shall dine an hour hence. Ask the man to join us."

  "Only the man, ma'am? Not his woman?"

  "I did not realize that there were two of them. Say me their names."

  "He is called Dilvish, and his lady is Reena."

  "I've heard that name before," Reynar said. "Dilvish… It seemed familiar when the other one mentioned it out in the yard. A military man, perhaps?"

  "I do not know," the woman answered.

  "Of course you are to tell Reena also," Oele said. "Go and do it now."

  The woman departed and Oele laid out her clothing for the evening—a surprisingly simple gray garment and a silver belt. She stepped behind a screen where water and towels awaited her, and shortly after that Reynar heard splashing sounds.

  "What do you know of this man?" she finally called out.

  Reynar, who had crossed to the window and was staring out over the yard, turned.

  "I believe he is said to have distinguished himself at a place called Portaroy," he answered, "in those interminable East-West border wars. Something about his riding a metal horse and having raised an army of the dead. But I don't recall the details. I know nothing of the woman."

  "He's a long way from Portaroy," she said. "I wonder what he is doing here?"

  He moved to her dressing table where he combed his hair and cleaned his fingernails. He located a nondescript piece of cloth and began wiping his boots with it.

  "Uh—if he is here for something which might be at cross-purposes with your own plans for tonight," he said, "can you deal with—something like that?"

  "Do not worry yourself," she replied. "I am not without certain resources. I'll take care of you."

  "I never doubted it," he said, smiling and polishing his belt buckle.

  Reena had changed into a long, decollete green dress with black trim and puffed sleeves, Dilvish into a brown blouse and soft green leather vest, his black trousers belted with matching green. They heard the music from the dining hall as they descended the stair —strings and a flute, slow. Soon the cooking odors reached them.

  "I'm anxious to meet our hostess," Dilvish stated.

  "I must confess I am more anxious to make the acquaintance of a warm meal," Reena said. "How long since that last inn? Over a week…"

  Smiling, Oele rose when her guests entered. Reynar hastened to imitate her. The introductions were brief, and she bade Dilvish and Reena be seated. Servants moved to bring in the first course and to pour wine. A fire crackled on the hearth, across from Dilvish, behind Reena. The musicians were stationed at the far end of the room.

  They had been eating for several minutes before Dilvish realized that there was another diner, not in their company. At a small table at the far side of the fireplace sat an old man clad in skins, his staff leaning against the wall. It appeared to be the same man who had met them on the trail earlier. When their eyes met, he smiled and nodded. The man gestured toward his throat and Dilvish touched the charm inside his shirt and nodded back.

  "I hadn't noticed the old man," Dilvish remarked.

  "Oh, he's been by before," Oele said. "Keeps flocks. Passes this way occasionally. Reynar tells me that he believes he recalls your name in connection with a place called Portaroy. Did he get it right?"

  Dilvish nodded.

  "I fought there."

  "I've begun remembering stories I've heard," Reynar said. "Is it true that the metal beast you ride is really a demon who helped you to escape from Hell and that one day he will carry you off?"

  "He carries me off almost every day," said Dilvish, smiling, "and he has helped me in many ways—and I, him."

  "… And there was some business about a statue. Is it true that you once were one—as the beast is now?"

  Dilvish looked down at his hands.

  "Yes," he said softly.

  "Extraordinary," Oele remarked. "Might I ask what brings a man of your—background—so far from the scene of your triumphs?"

  "Revenge," he said, beginning to eat again. "I am on my way to find someone who has caused me and a great number of other people a good deal of trouble."

  "Who might that be?" Reynar asked.

  "I do not wish to bring a curse upon this place by mentioning his name in it. He is a sorcerer."

  "You seem to find yourself bad enemies," Reynar said. "We've that in common. I slew a sorcerer once, in the Eastern Isles. Damn near suffocated me before I could reach him. He'd stopped my breathing. Fortunately, I'd had some experience at pearl diving…"

  Dilvish turned his attention back to his meal. A fresh question every now and then kept the sailor talking about his voyages. From the corner of his eye, Dilvish noted signs of growing exasperation on Oele's part, but she seemed to restrain herself each time he had thought her ready to silence the man. Then Dilvish realized from the direction of his smiles that Reena seemed to be listening to him with a growing fascination, even to the neglect of her food; nor were his smiles unreturned. Dilvish glanced at Oele and she quirked an eyebrow at him. He shrugged.

  Suddenly everything about her was extremely beautiful and desirable. Far more so than moments before. He recognized the feeling, though the knowledge in no way detracted from the impression. Glamourie. He had felt it years before in his homeland. She was magically enhancing her natural appeal. Yet it lasted for but a moment, faded, and left her as she had been. What had been its purpose; he wondered. A promise? An invitation?

  When they had finished eating, Oele rose, fixed him with her eyes, and said, "Come dance with me."

  He got to his feet and moved alongside the table toward the vacant area at the end of the room near the musicians. As he did, he saw that Reena and Reynar were also rising.

  He took Oele's hand and began to move to the music—stately, slow. It was a variation of something he had learned long ago, and he quickly met the rhythms. Oele moved with considerable grace, and whenever she faced him she was smiling. She seemed to be moving nearer on each such occasion.

  "Your wife is very lovely," she said.

  "She is not my wife," he replied. "I am escorting her to a city in the south."

  "… And after that?"

  "I will be about the business I mentioned earlier. I've no desire to expose another to the danger."

  "Interesting," she said, turning away again. When next she faced him, she continued, "I gather you do not care to speak much about such things, but are you a binder of demons? Can you control them?"

  Dilvish studied her face, learned nothing from it.

  "Yes," he finally said. "I've some experience in the area."

  After several more beats of the music, he asked, "Why?"

  "If you we
re to succeed in binding a truly strong one to your will," she said, "might it not serve you well in this struggle with your sorcerer?"

  "Possibly," he replied, raising her hand and lowering it again.

  She brushed against him.

  "It would be better," she said, "to control such a one than to have it control you, to order it about without having to pay it first—wouldn't you say?"

  He nodded.

  "That applies to most servants and services, doesn't it?" he said.

  "Of course," she agreed. Then: "I have such a one about…"

  "Here? In the castle?" Dilvish almost halted.

  She shook her head.

  "Nearby."

  "And you want me to subdue it?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you know its name?"

  "No. Is that important?"

  "It is essential. I had assumed you knew something of these matters."

  "Why?"

  "There is that about you which bespeaks some involvement with such forces."

  "I pay for my powers, but I do not understand them. I am tired of paying. If I get you the name will you take control of the devil and remain here with me?"

  "… And Reena?"

  "You said that she is not important, that you will be disposing of her shortly…"

  "I did not say that she is not important. What of Reynar… ?"

  "He is not important."

  Dilvish was silent for several measures. Then: "If you merely wish to be rid of your demon, I might be able to manage it without the name," he said.

  "I do not wish to be rid of it. I want to establish complete control over it."

  "I am not at all sure your demon would be that beneficial to me, but if you had the name I might be persuaded to stay a little longer and see what I can do for you."

  She was against him for a moment.

  "I will enjoy persuading you," she said. "Perhaps even tomorrow."

  Their hands rose and fell again. Dilvish glanced toward Reena and Reynar. They seemed to be talking, but he could not overhear what was being said.

  As Reena rose from a curtsey in time to the music, she noted the direction of her partner's gaze and smiled.

  "Ah, lady! You're about to pop out of that gown," he said. " 'Tis pity we're not alone somewhere, where the matter might be pursued to its proper conclusion."

  "For how long have you known Oele?" Reena asked, still smiling.

  "A few weeks."

  "Men are hardly models of loyalty," she said. "But even so, it seems brief even for an infatuation."

  "Well, now…" His face grew serious. He looked away from her breasts and glanced at Oele. "I've no reason to lie to a stranger. She's lovely and lively— but I'm just a bit afraid of her. You see, she's a sorceress."

  "Nonsense," said Reena. "She did not respond to any of the recognition signs common in the profession when I made them to her."

  "You?" he said, his eyes widening. "I don't believe it!"

  She gestured and the room vanished. They danced through phosphorescent caverns, towering stalagmites standing like pillars all about. Moments later they swirled across pale sands on a green sea bottom, bright corals and brighter fish at every hand. This, too, passed in an instant, to be replaced by the star-strewn darkness of outer space, far from any habitation of men. Giantlike, godlike, they trod the constellations, silently, to the omnipresent measures of the dance. Her hand passed like a slow, flickering comet before his eyes. They were back in the firelit, candlelit hall again, continuing the dance, and not a step missed.

  "I say that your lady is not a sorceress," Reena stated. "I really ought to know."

  "Then what is she?" he asked. "I know she's certain powers to command. She's knocked men unconscious with a gesture. She's filled my fists with gold when there was no gold."

  "That gold will turn to pebbles and dust," Reena said.

  " 'Tis a good thing then that I spent it quickly," he replied. "I'd best avoid certain people next I pass that way. But if that isn't sorcery, what is?"

  "Sorcery," she replied, "is an art. It requires considerable study and discipline. One must generally apply oneself for a fairly long period even to obtain the relatively modest status I have achieved. But there are some other routes to magical power. One might be born with a natural aptitude and be able to produce many of the effects without the training. This is mere wizardry, however, and sooner or later—unless one is very lucky or careful—such a one gets into trouble from lack of knowledge concerning the laws involved in the phenomena. I do not believe that this is the case with your lady, though. A wizard usually bears some identifying mark visible to others in the trade."

  "What then is her secret?"

  "She may draw her power directly from a magical being she either serves or controls."

  Reynar's eyes widened and he looked toward Oele again. He licked his lips and nodded.

  "I believe that's it," he said. Then: "Tell me, is such power transferable? Can it be shared?"

  "Why, yes," she answered. "It could be done. The other would serve, also—or share control, as the case may be."

  "Is there any danger in such a thing?"

  "Well… possibly. There are too many things about the situation that I do not understand. But why would she want to share her power? I wouldn't."

  He looked away.

  "Perhaps I have too high an opinion of myself," he finally said. "How long will you be about?"

  "We should be leaving in the morning."

  "Where are you headed?"

  "Southward."

  "On your mission of vengeance?"

  She shook her head.

  "Not mine. His. I'll be starting a new life, perhaps in Tooma. He will be continuing on. I don't believe I can talk him out of it—or should if I could."

  "In other words, you'll be going your own ways before very long?"

  The right corner of her mouth tightened.

  "It looks that way."

  "Supposing," he said, "supposing we both just chucked everything and ran away together? I've my own ship, and it's south I'd be going if I were to be leaving suddenly. There are a lot of strange and interesting ports. There would be some excitement, new foods, dancing—and of course the good company of myself."

  Reena was surprised to find herself blushing.

  "But we've just met," she said. "I hardly know you at all. I—"

  "It does work both ways, and I'll admit I'm an impulsive devil. But I've always been good to my women, for so long as we're together."

  She laughed.

  "It's a little too sudden, but thank you anyway. Besides," she said, "I'm more than a little afraid of the sea."

  He shook his head.

  "I had to try, as you're the loveliest thing I've ever seen. If you should change your mind while you're still in a position to do something about it, remember that I'm wavering here myself because of my fear. Your decision would make mine."

  "I'm flattered," she said, "and it might be fun for a time, but no. You will have to make your own decision, for yourself."

  "Then I've a mind to go along with things," he said, "and see what happens. The gain might still be great."

  "I might guess at the things," said she, "and I wish you luck. When?"

  He looked to the window, where a pale glow was now visible.

  "The moon is rising," he replied.

  "I'd suspected as much."

  "How?"

  "From your actions, your feelings."

  "Well, is there any advice you might give me, seeing as you're familiar with these matters?"

  She stared into his eyes.

  "Run away," she said. "Go back to your ship, to the sea. Forget it."

  "I've come this far," he answered.

  She reached out and brushed her fingertips across his forehead as the music moved them nearer.

  "Already the mark of death is beginning to appear upon your brow. Do as I say."

  He smiled crookedly.

  "You're a love
ly lady, and mayhap a bit jealous of your skills—or fearful of what may happen should I gain a few myself. As I say, I've come this far, and I've a fair wind at my back. It's more to the setting of the sails I'd be concerned."

  "In that case," she replied, "I can only give you a general caution: Be wary of what you may be presented to eat or drink."

  "That's all?"

  "Yes."

  He smiled again.

  "After a meal like this, that should be no problem. I'll be remembering you, and we may get together yet."

  She blushed again and looked away.

  Later, as the music drew to a close, he took her hand and led her back to the table for a sweet and a final round of wine.

  When they had finished and were retiring, Dilvish felt a tugging at his sleeve as he followed the others from the hall. Turning, he saw that it was the old man who had sat by the fire.

  "Good evening to you," Dilvish said.

  "Good evening, sir. Tell me, are you going to be leaving now?"

  Dilvish shook his head.

  "We will be staying the night, leaving in the morning. Did you wish to travel with us?"

  "No, merely to repeat my caution."

  "What do you know that I don't?" Dilvish asked.

  "I am not a philosopher, to answer such a thing," the man stated, taking hold of his staff, turning and limping off toward the kitchen.

  … There was Jelerak, leaning above the sacrifice. Dilvish advanced upon him, blade in hand, kicking aside magical paraphernalia, cursing, rushing to the aid of the victim. Only… only now he was not rushing. He felt his limbs grow heavy, his movements slow. When he looked into the hate-filled eyes of the shadowy figure hovering before him, he looked past his own clenched fist, unnaturally whitened, grown stonelike in response to the clipped words that had summoned the forces that fell upon him like a torrent, constricting his insides, slowing his heartbeat… He swayed, he halted and grew numb—except for his spinal column, which seemed to be afire. Something was wrenching at his consciousness and a fault, gibbering voice reached him through a sound like a roaring wind. It felt as if he were being torn out of his body…

  He was being shaken. He raised his hands and lowered them again. The panic began to recede as he realized that he was in bed.