The Dagger of Trust

by Chris Willrich

  Three ukobach devils leapt giggling into the chamber, followed by Chelaxians in dark robes.

  Sebastian hesitated, eyes following the laughing devils, torn between what was and what might have been. "What have I done..."

  "No," Corvine said. "The question is, what will you do?"

  "I couldn't let go of all this—of Mistwatch. Its legacy. People have died..." He looked again at Merrigail's body.

  "Many can still live," Gideon said. "This war hasn't begun yet. You can stop it. For Taldor's sake. For your own. Sebastian Tambour can still make his mark."

  "Perhaps...perhaps I only thought I was manipulating her. When truly she—it—was manipulating me." He set his jaw. "No more."

  And Sebastian stepped into the fog.

  He stood there, quivering, his eyes rolling back into his head. Beyond him, distantly, the images of his parents grappled.

  "Gideon!" Corvine said. "You need to do it, too! Quickly, while there's a chance!"

  "Do what? I don't even know what he's doing!"

  "You're linked to the fog. Help him tip the balance! We'll hold off the Chelaxians. Go!"

  Despite all the chaos, one thing remained clear to Gideon: he couldn't refuse Corvine Gale.

  He stepped into the fog and shut his eyes.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "Where am I?"

  "That's not the right question," Sebastian answered. "The real question is: why are you here?"

  They stood within a twilight landscape beside the smoldering ruins of a riverside castle. Here and there, within the morning mist, fires still burned. It might have been Mistwatch, years ago.

  And yet the river that flowed here was not the Verduran Fork but the Sellen, and the shore was not rocky but muddy, as the bank beside Bellis had been the night Gideon slept, guarded by the future seer-queen of the bog striders.

  There she was, in fact, looming in the shadows between the bushes, watching him.

  "This place," Gideon said. "It's made of our memories. These are the scenes we always come back to, you and I."

  "Not precisely." Sebastian pointed to a disturbance on the river.

  There, where the fog was thickest, the ghostly figures of a human man and an elven woman grappled atop the water. They moved unnaturally slowly, as though rehearsing a strictly choreographed number. If so, it seemed to Gideon that the script called for the man to eventually lose.

  "I wonder," Sebastian said. "Did I restore my father's work, reanimating the fog from the remnants within the laboratory, because at the back of my mind I wanted them back? In the end, am I simply a pathetic little brat who wanted his mommy and daddy?"

  "And if you were? We're only human, Sebastian."

  Sebastian stared. "Help me," he said at last, and walked into the river.

  Unlike the ghosts, the two men sank into the water. "If this is a dreamscape," Gideon wondered as they waded, "why are we reduced to swimming?"

  "Our control's limited, I think. It's primarily my mother's dream. Or rather, the thing that's borrowed her image."

  They began to swim.

  If I ever run the Shadow School, lucid dreaming will be on the curriculum. Also, the piloting of esoteric vehicles. And cryptozoology—

  "When this is done," Sebastian interrupted his thoughts, speaking between strokes, "there's a thing I would ask of you. In Canal Row in Oppara, at a tavern called The Cat and Feather, you may find a server named Roesia with the tattoo of a cat's eye on her arm. If you do, tell her I'm sorry."

  "She may prefer to hear it from you."

  "I doubt I'll be at liberty. Will you do it?"

  "Yes."

  They reached the struggle. The image of Sebastian's father was being shoved beneath the river.

  Sebastian grabbed one ankle of his mother's image, and this time his control of the dream sufficed. Gideon grabbed the other ankle. Their weight pulled her down.

  "No! No!" she shrieked, and Gideon was afraid his heart would stop at the pain in that voice. "You all betray me! If your father wins now, it's all for nothing. The end of our family honor. No glory. No fulfillment."

  "There was never fulfillment," Sebastian gasped, struggling to keep his head above water. "He abandoned us, and that's all there is."

  "You're right, son," came Tarquin Tambour's voice. "I'm sorry."

  "But I won't abandon you..."

  It was as though each of Sebastian's words was a weight tied around their legs. The two humans plunged into the water, and his mother's ghost came with them.

  Darkness overtook Gideon, and cold, and he felt he was dead flesh upon broken bones, rolling down the river, as in the ghost-witch's song.

  Down the river you will shiver

  Till you meet the sea...

  So be it. He would join Grizzendell, and Leothric, and Gareth, and all the endless others who had dwelled on Golarion and whose substance went to feed new life. All things went in their time to the sea. His time had come and gone.

  Yet a glow like the rising sun came to him, and he thought he beheld a young woman smiling up at him from the deep.

  Not yet, she said.

  The hair that swam about her was dark, and she herself was pale, with brown freckles. She bore a gleaming sword.

  Muse, he tried to say. I thought she ...

  She took my place for a time. You had to know her and resist her, before you could see me clearly again. But I will never abandon you.

  Are you real? Or a thing I made up?

  What's the difference?

  She grinned and swung her sword, and in its brightness it clove apart the dream of fog.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  He awoke to the smell of smoke and the babble of many voices.

  "Gideon!"

  Corvine was beside him, and she helped him rise. He was back in the chamber of the pit. The battle was done. Chelish wizards, ukobach devils, and tower guards lay dead near the remnants of the trapdoor. Many true soldiers of Taldor were here now, and they surrounded the still forms of Sebastian, Merrigail, and the elf Zethril.

  "Are they—"

  "They're all dead, Gideon."

  Adebeyo came closer, Dymphna's body in his arms. With him stood Hammerton, Briar, and Tyndron.

  Dymphna's symbol of Sarenrae gleamed about her neck. Gideon met Adebeyo's gaze.

  "It's so wrong," Gideon said. "So unfair."

  Adebeyo nodded. "At least the killing is done. I'll take Dymphna to the river now. Asta too. There will be a pyre. They can join Grizzendell. The holy symbol will go with them."

  "I'm not certain Dymphna would want that," Corvine said. "The symbol, I mean. Take it with you."

  "I'm not one of the Dawnflower's followers."

  "I don't think that would matter to Dymphna," Gideon said. "Keep it with the dagger you claimed from Riposte. Someday there'll be another ship. Keep them together, so you can remember."

  Adebeyo grunted. "I'd meant to plunge that dagger into Tambour's heart." He looked toward his former captain's body. "Yet it seems pointless now. I almost feel sorry for the man. I'll do as you say."

  When they had gone, Corvine said, "What happened in the fog, Gideon?"

  "A dream." The details were beginning to blur. "A nightmare. What did you see?"

  "We saw faces shifting through the fog—the mother's, the father's, Sebastian's, yours. In the end, it was Sebastian's face that dominated. He reached out with a hand made of fog and attacked the Chelaxians." She nodded toward the fallen wizards. "They and the devils went mad in his grip. They mostly destroyed each other. They might have overwhelmed us, but Sebastian saved us in the end."

  Gideon saw Ozrif and Viridia leaning against each other beside a window. They nodded at Corvine and Gideon, their faces solemn. It was good to see them together, at least.

  Corvine looked around at the open windows. "Once the foes turned against each other, the fog disintegrated and dispersed. Like a million pale droplets scattering in all directions. I think it's truly gone."

  Music slipped into his m
ind, and for once it was nothing sinister. He began to hum.

  "What's that?" Corvine asked.

  "I think I finally understand something," Gideon said. "When we sing 'The Ride of Alysande,' or other patriotic songs, it's not in pride, or anger. We sing them in awe, and gratitude. There won't be a war, Corvine. Whatever the cost, there won't be a war between your country and mine."

  She embraced him, tears in her eyes. "You must remember that. That it mattered. We must all remember it."

  He thought back to his crumbling recollection of the dream, remembered Sebastian's simple plea beside the river, the moment when his friend returned, for a brief, final time. Help me.

  "Help me," Gideon said. "Help me to remember."

  "Always."

  Coda in Oppara

  Longnight was clear and bright, and the full moon and stars blazed over Oppara as the House of the Immortal Son flickered with light and vibrated with the sounds of the thaumacycle competition.

  It was considered bad form for the actual authors of a work to perform it, or even view it on its opening. Gideon and Corvine lurked outside a stage entrance, listening to Death and Dreams on the Sellen come to life.

  "You shouldn't worry," Corvine said.

  "I always worry."

  "Linota, Avoca, and Waleran are three of the finest singers available."

  "I'm more worried about the spellcasters."

  "Fabian and Eustace are two of the most...enthusiastic illusionists available."

  "We're doomed."

  She patted his shoulder.

  Two weeks, much of the time aboard ship, was a reckless span in which to write an opera, even a necessarily short one. And although the opera house had connected them with a director and performers, it had all been a frantic mess. Only by comparison with the previous weeks did it seem tolerable. There was nothing like fear, death, and averting a war to put things in perspective.

  But Gideon was an artist, and so he worried.

  "Am I intruding?" came a voice.

  The figure had stepped up to them with no warning, seemingly manifesting out of the moonlit shadows. Gideon and Corvine jumped.

  "Sir," Gideon began, uncertain what to say. For there was no mistaking the tall man with multicolored eyes, his face unreadable.

  "Good evening, Gull."

  "Corvine, this is, ah..."

  "Dominicus Rell, Mistress Gale." Gideon's ultimate superior bowed. "I'm one of those disreputable associates he says so little about."

  "Charmed. Call me Corvine. Shall I leave you two alone?"

  "Oh, I'm the third wheel here, Corvine." That bland face with the piercing gaze turned to Gideon. "I merely wish to ask if Gull has come to a decision."

  "Decision?" Corvine said.

  "He's proven his skills, and is worthy to graduate into my little circle of errand-runners for the Grand Prince. All that waits is his consent. We're eager to have it, since the other members of his cell have chosen to leave us."

  It would never be comfortable talking to Rell, Gull realized. But this wasn't a month ago, nor was it the Pindrop Room. "I'll let you know tomorrow."

  "I look forward to the news." Rell paused, listening to the music pouring out of the House of the Immortal Son. The big three-way number of the first act had begun. Corvine and Gideon's characters had begun their rafting trip back to their old home in Cassomir. The brother, Leo, wished to return to Cassomir's Locker, while his sister Merri unwillingly accompanied him. Unheard by the siblings, the kelpie who hunted them mocked them.

  MERRI: O my brother, do not go

  Down to where no light is known

  Chase no more a foolish dream

  Of magic's lure and treasure's gleam.

  KELPIE: Down the river you will shiver

  Till you meet the sea

  Ever broken till you've spoken

  Words of love for me.

  LEO: Frost and fate are gathered here

  At the turning of the year

  Bones of creatures scattered there

  Never more to love or share

  Hear them sighing on the breeze

  Sister, I implore you please

  Let me live the life I've got

  While breath is dear and blood is hot

  Even if I join the lost

  Gathered here by fate and frost.

  "Strange," said Rell. "I'd say there are some elven stylings in that music."

  "We try to be open to influences at the Rhapsodic," Gideon said.

  "By the way. I saw the Royal Adjunct Vice-Critic for Moral Suasion in the Fine Arts lurking at the front entrance, making notes. I handed him a fiery Galtan tract I discovered in the marketplace this morning. I believe he'll be too preoccupied for the immediate future to trouble the two of you."

  "Thank you," Corvine said.

  "Well. Good evening."

  They watched him go, but weren't quite certain when he'd truly vanished.

  "So," Corvine said. "You won't accompany me to Andoran?"

  "I may need to join you later. There may be—duties."

  "Ozrif and Viridia are certain they don't want to join the Lion Blades, after what they've seen. Why is it different for you?"

  "Speak of the ukobach—"

  "Gideon! Corvine!" Viridia waved and sprinted to them. Ozrif smiled and strolled up behind. "We thought you would be about. It seems to be going well."

  "We shouldn't even be here," Corvine said. "Bad luck. But a parent fusses."

  "It sounds good," Ozrif said.

  Gideon shrugged. The encounter with Rell had given him new worries. "I think we'll be beaten by The Opera Murders. Taldan audiences love a good self-referential bloodbath. Did you see Rell?"

  "What?" Ozrif looked around. "Where?"

  "He walked in your direction...Oh, what am I saying?" Gideon laughed. "He could still be standing here, for all I know."

  Viridia frowned at the shadows and the moonlit cobblestones. "Let's walk. He isn't trying to recruit you still?"

  "He is," said Corvine, as they left the opera house and wandered in the direction of the Grand Bridge. "And Gideon is still thinking about it."

  "I'm surprised," Ozrif said. "You were more harmed than either of us by what happened."

  "And more healed," Gideon said, realizing it only as he said it. Before they could ask him what he meant, he said, "Where will you go?"

  Ozrif didn't answer.

  "Well, I want to head back to Cassomir," Viridia said. "The bardic scene there looks big enough to be lively, but small enough that you can make a mark. And it's not as stuffy as Oppara. Will you still show me around, Corvine?"

  "That's what I said, the morning before Mistwatch. I'll honor my promise. If I'm there, anyway."

  "Were you planning to go somewhere else?"

  "Well..."

  "Gull!" someone called behind them. "Gale! Hey, that's Viridia and Ozrif!"

  They turned and saw the four survivors of Riposte running up to them. There were Adebeyo, Tyndron, Hammerton, and Briar. The companions cheered and hugged—except Tyndron, who smiled slightly and shook hands.

  Adebeyo said, "We looked for you at the opera house, and nearly missed you."

  Gideon said, "I haven't seen any of you since we chanced to meet at The Harp and Harpoon, Adebeyo."

  "We've been busy getting ourselves a ship," said Hammerton. He put his arm around Briar and beamed. "You're looking at the masters of the merchant ship Second Intention, home port of Almas."

  Briar said, "We have hired Adebeyo as captain and Tyndron as first mate."

  "My condition," Adebeyo said, "is that we never go up a river. At least no farther than Oppara lies up the Porthmos."

  "And my condition is that we avoid parting," Tyndron said. "So that we may remember."

  "Grief brings us together," Hammerton said. "But in time, this crew will have other, better memories that bring us together, too."

  "I think we're walking to the Grand Bridge," Gideon said, and the bards didn't dissent. "Join us?
"

  "For a while," Adebeyo said. "We've much to do tomorrow."

  "It's Longnight," Corvine said. "Staying up till dawn is traditional."

  "It is also traditional to hate yourself in the morning," Ozrif said.

  They walked together, the three couples and two bachelors, and for a time, hand-in-hand with Corvine, Gideon could pretend it was old times again, and better than before.

  If Sebastian had never recommended him for the Rhapsodic and the Shadow School, Gideon wondered, what would be different now? Would he have managed to lead a decent life in Cassomir, with his music and Corvine? Had Sebastian's machinations tainted his life forever?

  And yet, without the thrill of danger the Shadow School had offered, would he have slipped back into the gutter?

  "Unanswerable," said Ozrif.

  "What?" said Gideon, startled.

  They had come to the Grand Bridge, passing the statues of General Coren and other worthies. They ascended over the Sellen, with the lights of the city burning in winter's heart like swarms of summer fireflies.

  Ozrif sighed. "I was asking myself what will come of my meeting with Brother Zaganos, and I realized the question, as with all dealings with the druids, is unanswerable."

  "You met with Zaganos?" Corvine asked. "When?"

  "When we rested in Cassomir, after the business upriver was done. I...have grown fascinated with the druids' perspective. I've always juggled and joked my way through everything, but in talking to them more after we parted on the Sellen, I glimpsed something serious behind their strangeness. Something important."

  "This is Ozrif's great secret," Viridia said. "It's why he's leaving the Shadow School. He is going to study with Zaganos, to see if he wishes to become a druid. Zaganos is tolerant of the idea."

  "‘Young organisms need to grow'—I believe those were his words," said Ozrif. "He's not so bad, I think. I believe he took pity on us, before our journey up the Sellen. Thus the symbol, which certain river beings could perceive. That's how word reached the bog striders."

  Adebeyo said, "How much did Zaganos know, or suspect?"

  "Unanswerable," quipped Gideon.

  "Well," Viridia said, "I hope Corvine can answer something I asked before. If you won't be in Cassomir, where will you be?"