She stared down at him. “You have no time left, whoever you were. For you are not dying, my friend; you are already dead.”
Pug and Magnus stood motionless and stunned. Finally, Macros softly said, “Yes, that would make perfect sense.”
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Pug said, “It makes no sense to me.”
Audarun looked at Pug. “For you to be here, in that guise, so perfectly achieved and maintained, I can only assume you to be a magician or priest of most puissant ability. Illusion is not something we do well, we Dasati. There is no need. We are a people who prize strength and force above all else.
“But while the Deathpriests may understand necromancy in all its subtle and dark aspects, we of the Bloodwitch Sisterhood understand life in all its subtle and bright aspects.” She paused, then said, “This vessel does not contain true life.” Looking Macros in the eyes, she said, “You are a simulacrum, false life resembling the living.”
She looked over her shoulder at the young attendant and asked for a few more items, and the young woman left. Returning her gaze to Pug, Magnus, then Macros again, she said, “The magic used to create you is vast, alien to me, and of a design I can barely begin to understand. No mortal being could fashion such as you, and that leaves only one alternative.”
“A god,” said Pug.
“Of your world,” she added quickly. “Some agency in your universe judged it vital to pierce the barrier between our realms, in anticipation of some act by the Dark One, in order to aid the White. I am no theologian, but the Sisterhood has more untainted lore than anywhere else in this realm; for the Dark One’s Hierophants have destroyed everything except approved doctrine everywhere else. I shall see if I can find any reference to such an act before, but this much I know: rules have been violated, rules as binding upon the higher power as the need for air and water are upon us mortals. Whoever did this thing, whoever sent this
. . . creature here, did so knowing that the consequences of such an act could be as disastrous as that which he was trying to prevent.”
“‘Desperate times call for desperate measures,’ is an old saying among our people,” said Magnus.
“Perhaps,” said the old Bloodwitch. “But while it is sometimes wise to set a backfire to stop a wildfire from spreading, if the backfire gets out of control—”
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“It becomes a bigger wildfire,” said Pug. He fell silent.
After a moment the creature called Macros said, “If I am not who or what I think I am, why am I here?”
“I cannot tell you,” said Audarun. “When we received word that someone calling himself the Gardener had appeared, more than ten years ago, we waited and watched. We knew there were powerful forces behind you, for you merely had to appear before our followers and they would do your bidding, as if you had been leading the White for years. Martuch is one of our oldest, most loyal allies, and he was asked by Lady Narueen to seek out this Gardener and ascertain his purpose.
“We were certain it was a ploy by His Darkness’s servants, but there were too many . . . oddities. Martuch not only did not discover anything nefarious in this Gardener, but like so many others he fell easily into taking instructions from him, and assigning to him the role of leadership in the White that he claimed.
So we kept watching.
“After many months, it was clear that this creature had a mission, and as far as we could discern, that mission was in concert with our own. Moreover, he provided a strong focus and a clear mission we had lacked. Until then, the White had been little more than an association of Bloodwitches and a few sym-pathizers who shared information and occasionally saved bands of women and children from marauding Deathknights. We had enclaves, such as this one, scattered throughout the Dasati realm.
The presence of this leader, this Gardener, provided a much-needed focus for our activities. We’ve recruited powerful allies, like young Valko, and we’ve established a far more effective presence throughout the Empire, and so we are stronger.
“Thus, we have benefited from his appearance, but since the start we’ve known something about all this to be false, to be fabricated, for in the Dasati it is unheard of for a humble Lesser suddenly to rise up and become a leader of power. And using magic unknown in the history of the Sisterhood? Impossible.”
She stared for a long moment at Macros. “What is your purpose, strange creature? That is what we wish to know.”
The thing that was Macros stared back weakly at the old 1 9 3
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woman. “I . . . only know I have been driven to lead the White, to get it ready.”
“Ready for what?” asked Audarun.
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly Pug said, “I know.”
All eyes turned to the magician. Pug looked at Macros.
“You have a message, somewhere in your memory, that someone was desperate to relay to us, but not until we had been here a while and seen with our own eyes the circumstances we are confronting.”
Macros said, “But nothing stirs. Nothing is apparent.”
Magnus looked at the creature who had claimed to be his grandfather’s spirit in a Dasati body and with a detached interest said, “How do you feel?”
“The potion has restored some of my strength and I feel . . .
otherwise, I feel empty.”
“The false life given you is draining away,” said Audarun.
“Your remaining time is short. At some point you will close your eyes and cease to be. There will be no pain.”
Macros lay back and stared at the ceiling. He said, “I feel I should be angry, or frightened, or something. Instead I am merely concerned that I fulfill whatever mission I was created for, to bring you that message, Pug, if that’s what I am to do.” He fell silent and then took a deep breath. “It’s so very strange to have these memories, yet to be told they are not my own.”
“What about this Dasati body?” Magnus asked Audarun.
“I suspect it was meant to die at that moment of faintness, when those false memories came, perhaps from a weakness of the heart or some other malady. But something—someone—seized that instant to instill the false human memories and keep the Dasati mind intact.” She shook her head slightly. “It is an admirable feat, as subtle a magic as any I’ve encountered, yet at the same time it’s extremely powerful necromancy.” She let out an audible sigh. “I wish I knew who did this.”
“Ban-ath,” Pug said.
“Who?” asked the old witch.
“Ban-ath.”
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Magnus said, “The God of Thieves?”
Macros nodded. “Kalkin.”
“Who is this being?” asked Audarun.
Pug said, “In our realm we have many gods, though from what I have learned, not as many as you had before the rise of the Dark One.”
She smiled. “How can one realm have more gods than another?”
Pug said, “I’ll leave theology to the clerics, but it may be that we merely find convenient labels for common elements so that we can better understand them; in short, fifty of your gods may in reality be only fifty aspects of a single god we worship under a single name.”
“Tell us of this Ban-ath.”
“Ban-ath, also called Kalkin, Aderios, Jashamish, and many other names by people of other nations. His simple sobriquet is ‘The Trickster,’ but he is more than this. He is the God of Thieves, but also the God of Lost Causes and Hopeless Quests, a rule breaker and a master of misdirection.”
She laughed bitterly. “Olapangi! Also known as the Deceiver to our people. I have long been a student of the old lore, and among the ten thousand gods he was always a favorite of mine. There are many old stories of the Deceiver, how he played pranks on the other gods and mortals alike. The name Dathamay, the man who this creature said came to him and made all things clear, that name is from an ancient myt
h: Dathamay was a tool of Olapangi, a dupe who went among the people telling them one thing, while Olapangi did another. The Deceiver was our most colorful, and often most dangerous, god.
“He could be gentle or vicious, compassionate or ruthless, often at whim, but always with a purpose. We have an old saying, though few among the Dasati would recognize it as originating with the stories of Olapangi: ‘by whatever means necessary.’”
“The ends justify the means,” said Magnus.
“Ah, you have similar wisdom,” she acknowledged.
“I don’t know how much wisdom there is in absolutes, but it is often the case that if the ends are vital enough, means that 1 9 5
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would otherwise be unthinkable . . .” Pug’s eyes widened. “I am such a fool,” he said softly.
“Father?” said Magnus.
“I . . . we have all been used.”
“By Ban-ath?”
“Yes,” answered Pug. He went over to Macros, leaned down and looked him in the eyes, as if trying to see something within.
“You have been most ill used of all, for whoever you were in this world, your time came prematurely and you were not even granted the dignity of being found at the roadside and given the rites of your people.”
Macros said, “Now I remember.”
“What?” asked Pug.
The Dasati with Macros’s features looked up and smiled.
“I have a memory of you, Pug. When you and Tomas and the dragon Ryath came for me in the Garden . . .” He laughed. “The Gardener! Kalkin’s an evil bastard at times, but he does have a sense of humor.” He paused and Pug could see he was now in pain. With shining eyes, Macros said, “We stood in the Garden that hovers at the edge of the City Forever and spoke of the dangers we thought we faced, the return of the Dragon Lords to Midkemia. You asked, ‘Then why haven’t the gods acted?’ Do you remember how I answered?”
Pug nodded. “Yes. You said, ‘They have. What do you think we’re doing here? That is the game. And we are the pieces.’”
“Nothing has changed, Pug. That’s the message. This is still a Game of Gods, and we are the pawns they use to win or lose.
Kalkin can break rules like no other, for it is his nature, but even he has limits to what he does directly. And there is more. It is not Kalkin acting alone. He could not affect this realm without the consent of other gods.” His voice grew weak. “I . . . Macros . . .
was always the god’s creature and he prepared the way. You are their creature, too, but you have a destiny beyond mine . . . his.”
He closed his eyes, and Pug could see that the end was fast approaching. “You must find Nakor. He has the answers.”
Pug nodded. “I will.” He put his hand over Macros’s eyes and said, “We have no more need of you.”
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The Dasati who had the memories of the ancient human magician slumped down. To the Bloodwitches, Pug said, “Do with this empty vessel as you see fit.”
Audarun said, “There were more questions—”
“And this creature had no answers,” finished Pug. “It had accomplished its task.”
“And that was?” asked the old matriarch.
“We must return to the heart of the city, for somewhere there is a being of incredible danger, and a little gambler who is my friend, who is trying to control that being. And my friend, I have just been told, has the answers.”
“What being does your friend control?” asked Audarun, motioning for her attendant to take away the dead body that had been host to Macros’s memories.
“A strange young man who is far more than merely a man.
His name is Ralan Bek and he is here to save two universes. Your prophecies name him the Godkiller.”
The three old Bloodwitches sat in silence, weighing Pug’s words. “How do you know of the Prophecy?” asked Audarun after a time.
“Martuch,” Pug replied. “He has said things in passing, and I have pieced together some sense of them. I do not yet fully understand our role in this matter, but it is as this lifeless creature said—what Macros the Black, my wife’s father, said to me lifetimes ago—that this is a Game of Gods and we are only pieces on the board.
“But we are also beings of will and intelligence and I will not see any of us squandered in a foolish gambit.” Pug turned to look at Magnus. “We have a long journey.”
“I think I can take us straightaway to the Grove, Father.”
Pug looked surprised. “Really?”
Looking on as four young women came to pick up the dead Dasati and carry him away, Magnus said, “Mother’s been teaching me and I’m sure I can do it. I can transport us there without a device.”
“We need to collect Valko and go,” said Pug.
Audarun held up her hand. “Young Valko will not travel with you.”
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Pug looked warily at the old woman. Whatever else these Bloodwitches were, they were Dasati and capable of instant and extreme violence. This enclave of women might lack the aura of insanity of the rest of this race, but that made them no less potentially dangerous. “Why?”
“He has a role to play, which is as critical in its own fashion as yours, of that I’m certain.” She rose slowly. “If the Dark One vanished this instant, the slaughter in his name would not.
There are too many, from the TeKarana down to his lowest ser-vitor, who have a vested interest in seeing things remain here as they are.
“The society we live in has at its heart an evil that infects every aspect of our lives. Even if that heart dies now, the infection will continue for centuries. Too many would continue as if nothing had changed.
“There must be a wholesale reordering of our culture,” said the oldest of the Triarch. “Not only must the Dark God be destroyed, but the TeKarana and the Karanas, as well as the topmost leadership of the Dark One’s temple, all must be removed, and once that has occurred, we will still have to endure decades of unrest.”
“As powerful lords rush to seize power,” said Magnus.
“You speak of chaos.”
“It is better for there to be chaos,” answered Audarun,
“than an order that calcifies a race, stagnates it until it becomes a thing despicable, a culture of death and horror. It would be better to become the animals we devour, for at least they care for their young.” She fixed Magnus with a steady gaze. “Let the strong survive, but we shall teach them, eventually, to care for the weak.”
Pug said, “You choose a harsh path.”
“It was chosen for us long ago, magician.” Audarun rose.
“We are not your allies, but we do share common interests. We have no desire to see your realm invaded or your world subjugated. Our race can survive only through expansion, for we will turn on ourselves if we cease to look outward. So, we must force that inward turning, create a civil war that will last generations, 1 9 8
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and end the horror that is what we have become. We must cut off our own hand before it does even graver injury.”
Pug nodded. “Harsh indeed. But many will attempt to seize power in the name of the Dark One, even if he is somehow vanquished, and they will use the existing social order to crush opposition.”
“We are the only opposition,” she said. “Our hallowed history, of the time in antiquity when we were more than you see now, tells us we had many gods, human. We served them with joy and they guided us. But now we have no rallying point save to oppose the Dark One. If somehow they were to return to us, perhaps we might find a less terrible fate, but that is the stuff of dreams.’ She indicated the direction Valko had been taken. “He is our beacon, he will stand in opposition to the horror that our leadership has embraced.
“Valko has been chosen, along with several others of noble rank and honored lineage, to be the next generation of leaders for our race. With good fortune, he may even be the next TeKara
na.
“You have no concept of how remarkable it is that he could learn the truth and assimilate it as rapidly as he has; most young warriors would have flown into a killing frenzy at a suggestion of the things he has calmly embraced. Most would have killed you by now for the mere fact of your existence.
“We, the Triarch, have lived here in this refuge our entire lives, spared the constant madness emanating from the pit where-in lies the Dark One. His poison seeps out of there and reaches across the stars and damns every last Dasati. We are among the few who have escaped that touch, yet even to us your presence is a . . . trial.”
“Then, lady,” said Pug, “we shall remove ourselves as quickly as we can, and be on our way. Know that while the survival of our race is our paramount concern, I also hope we will be helping yours and we wish you well.”
“Then you are a better race,” said Audarun. “But one day perhaps we shall equal you.”
Pug turned to Magnus. “Let us go now.”
Magnus came to stand next to his father and put his hand on 1 9 9
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Pug’s shoulder. He closed his eyes for the briefest second, recalling the secret room below ground in the Grove, and instantly they were there.
Two Lessers leaped away in terror until they saw the faces of the two who had mysteriously appeared before them. Pug made a gesture of reassurance, as he glanced around to find themselves alone, then said to Magnus, “Let us rest and see if Martuch and Hirea return this night. Else it is just the two of us in an alien place and we have a difficult task ahead.”
“To find Nakor?”
“To find Nakor.”
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Chapter 13
secrets
Bek lashed out with his sword.
The trainer barely leaped aside quickly enough to survive, and received a glancing blow off his left shoulder.
It rocked him and he staggered a step back, which saved him from losing his head as Bek halted the travel of his sword to his left, and reverse-cut to his right, a backhand blow that was all but impossible for any but the stron-gest, fastest swordsmen in the Dasati Empire. For a novice Deathknight, it should have been impossible.
Wrath of a Mad God Page 22
