“Why bring the Darksword here?” Mosiah pursued with extraordinary patience.
“Because, my dear thickheaded clodhopper friend, this is obviously the last place they would think to look! Having lost you, they are this moment turning Zith-el upside down searching for you and the sword. You don’t see them searching down here, do you?”
“He’s got a point,” Scylla admitted.
“He always does,” Mosiah grumbled. “Why didn’t we see the Technomancers or they see us when we entered the cave?”
“You would have, if you’d come in the front.”
“You’re saying we came in the back?”
“I didn’t see any flashing signs, exit or egress, don’t you know, but if you want to think of it that way, yes, you came in the back.”
“Is my father in a cell?” Eliza asked. “Is he being guarded? How many guards?”
“Two. As I said, everyone is certain you’re in Zith-el—”
Scylla moved away from the cavern door, back toward us. “We should go now,” she said. “Quickly.”
“I don’t trust him.” Mosiah was grim. “He betrayed Joram once and caused his death—almost caused his death,” he amended. “Whatever Simkin does, he does for his own amusement. Don’t fool yourself, Eliza. He cares nothing for you, nothing for Joram, nothing for any of us. I have no doubt that if he thinks the Hch’nyv would provide him a moment’s entertainment, he’d wave that orange scarf of his and direct them to the landing site.”
Eliza turned to the bear, only to find its eyes closed. It was gently snoring. “Simkin!” she said, imploring.
The eyes snapped open. “What? Oh, pardon. Must have dozed off during that long harangue. As for me, what our cowturd-kicking friend says is absolutely true. I’m not to be trusted. Not in the slightest.”
The black button eyes glinted. The black-stitched mouth quirked. “Listen to Mosiah, the wise Duuk-tsarith. Now, there’s a trustworthy bunch. We are all ears, my friend. I could be, if I wanted, you know—all ears, that is. What is your suggested plan of action?”
Mosiah’s lips tightened. He said nothing, however. I am sure he was remembering that in that other life of ours, it was the Duuk-tsarith who had betrayed us. Simkin knew this, too. I could tell from the squint in the bear’s eye. He knew and he was laughing at us.
Eliza made her decision. “If the Technomancers are searching somewhere else for us, we should not pass up this opportunity to rescue my father and Saryon. We may never have another chance.”
“It could be a trap,” Mosiah warned. “Just as the Interrogator impersonating your mother was a trap.”
“It could be,” Eliza said calmly. “But if so, it really doesn’t matter, does it? We’re running out of time.”
“But which time? That’s the question,” Mosiah muttered.
Eliza hadn’t heard him. I did, and it gave me cause for thought.
“What about the Darksword?” she was saying. “Should we take it with us?”
“Too dangerous,” Scylla advised. “If they capture us, at least they won’t have the Darksword. We may still be able to use it to bargain our way out. Why not leave it here where it will be safe?”
“Out in the open?”
Scylla flashed the light around the cavern, halted the beam. “There’s all these rocks stacked up over here. We’ll hide the sword underneath them. Build a cairn over it.”
Eliza placed the Darksword on the cavern floor. She and Scylla gathered stones, began to build a cairn around it. It was like watching a video rewind. I saw them build the cairn up, whereas only moments before, I had seen Eliza and Father Saryon tear the cairn down. At this, my mind rebelled.
I hurried over to join Mosiah, who was standing silent, hands folded, watching.
“Tell me what is happening!” I signed frantically.
“Do you mean our little game of time hopscotch? I’m not sure,” he mused, sotto voce. “It appears that there is a time line running parallel to the one in which we now find ourselves. An alternate time line, for in that one Joram died twenty years ago and in this one it was Simkin, disguised as Joram, who ‘died’ at the hands of the assassin. But why is this happening? And if Scylla and Eliza are present in both worlds, why is it that you and I appear to be the only ones conscious of both worlds?”
“Do you know the answer?”
He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, Reuven. I am sure of one thing, though. The Hch’nyv were coming in that other world. They’re coming in this one. As Her Majesty says, time is running out.”
I asked the question I had most feared asking. “Time ran out for us in that last world, didn’t it? We were all killed. I know, because when I try to catch a glimpse of that other life, I see nothing anymore. I only feel a great and terrible anger at those who betrayed us, and bitter sorrow over what will be lost.”
“You are right,” Mosiah said. “The dragon slaughtered us. I saw you die. I saw Eliza die. I saw my own death approaching. The one person I didn’t see, though, was Scylla,” he added. “Now, isn’t that interesting?”
I waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more.
I signed, “Do you think we’ve been given another chance?”
“Either that,” Mosiah replied, “or someone is being highly entertained by our struggles against the inevitable.”
We both looked at the bear, who was again slumbering contentedly against the stalagmite. And it may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw Teddy smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Strike me dead. I’m rotten.”
SIMKIN, UPON CHANGING HIMSELF INTO A TREE; FORGING THE DARKS WORD
The Darksword was buried under the cairn, a cairn that was exactly like the one I had seen before, down to the placement of the last rock. I could not look at it without feeling a shiver creep up from my tailbone and I was glad when we left the chamber. We moved cautiously through the spiraling tunnel, this time going up instead of down. It did not appear as if the Technomancers had searched the lower levels—there was no reason why they should. To judge by the thick layer of undisturbed dust on the smooth floor, no one had been here for perhaps as many years as the magically shaped tunnel had been in existence. We took no chances, however, and crept along as silently as possible, guided by the ghostly image of Simkin and the faint eerie glow of his orange silk scarf.
Simkin’s transformation had come about under duress. Before leaving the chamber, Mosiah had insisted on carrying Teddy, in order to keep an eye on him.
“Absolutely not!” Teddy was appalled at the indignity and pleaded and bleated. Finding Mosiah proof against both the bear’s threats and Eliza’s intercessions on his behalf, Simkin had abandoned his stuffed self and condescended to appear before us “naked,” as he put it.
“It takes a great deal out of me, maintaining this form, as you can see. Or can’t see,” Simkin said in gloomy undertones as we walked through the tunnel. The orange glow from his scarf lit the way for Mosiah and me. Scylla and Eliza came behind us, using Scylla’s flashlight.
“Odd,” said Mosiah. “The Kij vine finds enough magical Life to thrive. I am surprised you don’t.”
“The Kij vine,” Simkin observed, “is a weed.”
“Precisely,” Mosiah said dryly.
“Oh, very funny. Ha-ha and all that. According to you, I have Life coming out my ears and I’m just frittering it away, scattering it to the four winds in a blithe and merry dance of revelry. I’ll have you know,” Simkin added in aggrieved tones, “that I haven’t changed clothes in twenty years! Twenty years!”
He dabbed at his eyes with the scarf, which was the only solid piece of him.
“Perhaps you’re using your magic for other purposes,” Mosiah suggested. “Such as sending us hopscotching through time.”
“What do you take me for?” Simkin demanded, sniffing. “A bloody amusement park? There are lots of places I would be glad to send you, Mosiah, but bounding gleefully among the nanosec-. onds is n
ot one of them.
“I say!” Simkin came to a halt, glared at us indignantly. “Have you been leaping the years? Annus touristi? And you didn’t take mel “
“What now?” Scylla demanded, coming up from her position as rear guard. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Mosiah said.
“Then keep moving! This is no time to stop and have a chat!” Scylla stalked on ahead of us.
“Got you in trouble!” Simkin said in smothered tones, and laughing, he flitted back to walk beside Eliza and flirt with her, most shamefully.
“An interesting point, don’t you think?” Mosiah said to me softly. “Simkin wasn’t with us in that other time. And Simkin would never throw a party that he himself didn’t attend!”
I conceded that this might be true. Still, as I glanced behind me, watching uneasily the orange glow bob along close to Eliza, I recalled that in each of the alternate lines of time, Simkin had betrayed Joram. Why were we to suppose that this one would be any different?
Except that now he would not be betraying Joram. The treacherous kiss would be given to Joram’s daughter.
The tunnel seemed much longer going up than coming down. By the time we neared the top, my legs ached, I was gulping for breath, and the difficult part was only beginning.
I had pictured the top portion of the cavern as being the same as in the alternate time, if that’s truly where (or should I say when!) we had been. I soon realized I was wrong. Rounding a bend, Scylla, in the lead, suddenly switched off her light and jumped backward.
“Light!” she whispered. “It’s coming from ahead!”
Now that her flashlight was turned off, I could see the glow of another light reflected on the cavern walls. There had been no light in the other cavern, I recalled, remembering that Saryon had left a tinderbox and flint and a brand behind.
“What’s up there?” Mosiah asked Simkin.
“Rock, air, water.” Simkin waved the orange scarf. “Oh! You want specifics! Well, let’s see.” He frowned in deep thought. “This tunnel ends at the river. At the opening to the tunnel, there is a small chamber, just off to the right as you’re facing the tunnel. Or is it the left, as you’re facing the river? Of course, if you’re in the river, it’s rather behind you and—”
“Simkin, please!” Eliza said, and her voice quavered. “What? Sorry, dear girl. Truly.” Simkin looked very contrite. “Forgot that you’re taking this personally. Let’s see. Where was I? In the river … Right. We don’t want to go in the river. Not if it can be avoided. No need to, really. Joram and the Father Skinhead are being held prisoner in the small chamber which is to the right—no, make that left… . Anyway, the small chamber. You can’t miss it.”
“No, and they won’t be able to miss us,” Mosiah said grimly. “They’ll spot us the moment we walk into the light. If only I had Life enough—”
“I don’t see what’s stopping you, Enforcer. You have a catalyst right here,” Eliza said. “Father Reuven. He may be a house catalyst and not trained to the specific needs of you warlocks, but he would do in an emergency, I suppose.”
“Father Reuven!” Scylla chuckled. “How funny.” Mosiah and I did not laugh. We stared at Eliza. She had spoken of me as if we were in that other time, using the very same words Scylla had used in a similar situation.
“Why are you looking at me like that? What did I say—oh.” Eliza blinked in confusion. “What did I say? And why did I say it? Father Reuven. House catalyst. But it sounds so natural… .”
Mosiah was looking at me now, his expression thoughtful. Suddenly he thrust his black-robed arm out. “Catalyst,” he said softly, “give me Life.”
I would have laughed. My hand lifted to sign that I did not know how… . And yet, I did know how. I remembered. I remembered the wonderful feeling as the Life flowed into me. I remembered how to reach out for the magic with one hand while the other held Mosiah’s arm. I was the vessel, the magic ran into me, and for that brief moment I was blessed.
I closed my eyes and willed the Life of Thimhallan to come to me.
At first I felt nothing, and fear that I would fail, fail Eliza, twisted inside me. I concentrated all my effort, praying to the Almin, pleading… . The Life came suddenly, in a great surge, as if it had been pent up and was waiting only for release. The energy gave me a severe jolt. My body tingled and burned, as if each drop of blood was a tiny spark. The sensation was excruciatingly painful, not pleasant, as it had been in the alternate time.
Frightened and hurting, I tried to end it, tried to snatch my hand from Mosiah’s arm, but he refused to let me go. The magic leapt between us in a blue arc that twined around his arm and mine.
The flame of the arc crackled out. I was empty, the fire replaced by a sensation of cold that left me numb and shaking. I sank to my knees, my strength sapped.
Eliza knelt and put her arm around me.
“Reuven, are you all right?”
I nodded, though I felt sick and dizzy.
“Blessed Almin,” said Scylla, awed. “I’ve never seen anything like that!”
“I doubt you ever will again,” said Mosiah, massaging his arm. “That was the Life transference of a catalyst to a warlock. We thought such transferences had died with the magic, for it has not been successfully performed since the war ended. Strange,” he murmured to himself. “Very strange.”
“Not so strange if the magic hasn’t died,” Scylla observed.
Simkin yawned. “While you all are playing at being magi, I’m off to reconnoiter. Wait for me here. Do you know, I’m quite enjoying this!”
“Wait—damn!”
Mosiah clutched empty air. Simkin had vanished.
“Now what do we do?” I signed.
“Hand ourselves over to the Technomancers,” Mosiah said bitterly. “We might as well.”
“Nonsense,” Eliza said crisply. “We’ll wait here for him to return. He will return. I have faith in Ted—Simkin.”
“So did your father,” Mosiah said grimly. He glanced around, stiffened. “We’re missing someone else.”
We could see a short distance down the tunnel by the light reflecting off the rocks. Scylla was nowhere in sight.
“Back!” Mosiah urged, and he started herding Eliza and me down the tunnel. “Back the way we came! We can hold out—”
“Psst! Over here!” came a piercing whisper.
A hand waved at us from the darkness.
An arm attached to the hand appeared and Scylla emerged from the shadows. “I’ve found another chamber. We can hide in here and keep watch!”
Eliza gave Mosiah a reproachful glance and went to join Scylla. I started after her. Mosiah clamped hold of my arm.
“Do you remember another chamber in the cave the last time we were inside it?”
I shook my head. “But it was dark and confused.”
“Wasn’t it,” Mosiah said coolly.
The chamber Scylla had found was located directly across the tunnel from where we had been standing. It provided a clear view of a small cavern. Two Technomancers, in their silver masks and robes, stood guard outside the entrance.
Long minutes passed. Nothing happened, and the thought occurred to me that Simkin had been right about one thing, at least. The Technomancers must have felt their prisoners were secure and that we were far away. Either that or the prisoners were not in there at all. I was wondering if Simkin had led us on a wild-goose chase when one of the Technomancers spoke.
“Time to check on them,” he said.
The other nodded and turned on his heel, took a step, and fell headlong, sprawling on the cavern floor.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” the man swore as he picked himself up.
“What the hell happened to you?” his companion asked, turning to stare.
“I fell over a rock! That rock!” The Technomancer glared and pointed.
“Well, watch where you’re going next time.”
The Technomancer stared balefully at the rock. “I’ll swear, t
hat wasn’t there before.”
“You’re just clumsy,” said the other Technomancer, shrugging.
“No, I’m serious. I’ve been in and out of this blasted prison cell thirty times today and I’ll swear that rock wasn’t there!” The Technomancer picked it up. “I’ll be damned!” he said, amazed. “This rock has … eyes!”
Those of us hunkered down in the chamber exchanged glances. None of us said the word, but we were all thinking it.
Simkin.
“What the devil are you two doing? Standing there discussing a rock,” came another voice. I recognized it and so did Mosiah.
“Smythe!” he whispered.
“If you’ve taken up geology,” Smythe continued, “do it on your time. Not mine.”
The two Technomancers snapped to attention. Smythe appeared, coming from the direction of the cavern entrance. He was not wearing the business suit in which I’d last seen him, but was dressed in the robes, trimmed in gold, that he’d worn in the hologram. His face was in the light and it was a good thing I had recognized him from his voice. I might not have done so otherwise. The face that had been so handsome and charming was grim and contorted with suppressed rage. Four bodyguards in silver trooped after him.
“But, sir, look at this rock—”
“Is it darkstone?” Smythe demanded impatiently.
“No, sir, it doesn’t appear to be. Ordinary limestone, maybe. But it—”
“Darkstone is the only rock in which I’m interested. Toss it in the river.”
The Technomancer looked again at the rock and seemed to want to argue. A glance at Smythe’s scowling face, and the Technomancer gave a heave, flung the rock into the dark, swiftly flowing water.
I could swear that I heard a faint indignant shriek as the rock sailed through the air. It hit the water with a splash and sank … like a rock.
“How are the prisoners?” Smythe asked. “Any change?”
“That Joram’s growing worse, sir. He won’t be with us long if he doesn’t get help.”
Legacy of the Darksword Page 27
