"But what of them?" said Krunzle. "And, for that matter, me? Three of us were drawn here by dreams: me of wealth abounding, Brond of reviving his nation, Raimeau of performing some great deed."
Thang-Sha shrugged and recovered the spyglass. "Not my doing," he said putting the tube to his eye and studying again the conduit of power. "Our friend down there"—he indicated the shadow beneath the floor—"reaches out to dreamers. Some of them respond. It is like a fisherman seeding the waters with blood and ordure to draw fish to where his lure awaits them. One will strike at the bait and be pulled in; the rest will thrash and trouble the sea, darting about aimlessly under the spur of unrequited appetite."
Krunzle felt a coldness descend upon him. "All my dreams, the desires that have drawn me through this life, they are nothing more than chum broadcast by some ancient creature that seeks souls to devour? To keep itself in half-life?" He looked over at the three prisoners. A terrible pain showed in the thin face of Raimeau; an even worse suffering had dulled the eyes of the dwarf. Only Gyllana seemed unaffected—but then the thief remembered that the dream that had drawn her here was not hers, but Berbackian's.
"It is a harsh world," said Thang-Sha. He tucked the ivory tube away in his robe. "Now, I believe the interflux between the talisman and its owner is nearing its maximum potency. Having fed, it will seek to cast its lure back into the world and begin once more the reeling in."
The spellcaster went back to where he had left his black bag and began to rummage around in it. "I,"—he looked at the captives—"that is, we, will interrupt the flow, capture some of the energy, and store it in"—from out of the dark fabric he drew a globe of purest black—"this."
He flourished the stygian orb. It resembled, Krunzle thought, a great black pearl, except that it had no sheen, but was dull all over, like Brond's eyes, as he gazed inward at his life's dream debased. Thang-Sha carried it toward the tripod. At a small distance from the spinning talisman, he stooped and busied himself for a moment, and the thief saw that the black object had its own, smaller tripod of gold rods to support it. Thang-Sha set the globe on the floor, measured by eye the distance to the larger tripod, and made a slight adjustment.
Krunzle would have liked to examine the black orb through the spyglass. It seemed to him that the moment it had come out of the wizard's bag, the brilliance in the diamond chamber had dimmed—and that it still continued to dim further. He took the slit-goggles from his eyes and, though the space around him remained preternaturally bright, he was not blinded as before. The black globe must be absorbing some of the light.
Thang-Sha, finished with setting the object in place, had gone over to consider the three captives, stroking his sparse whiskers. "You'll do to start," he said to Brond, tapping the dwarf on the shoulder. "Arise and follow."
The hairless face showed no resistance, only brute despair, as the wizard guided Brond to the black orb. He ordered the dwarf to lie with his feet toward, and almost touching, the globe; his head was a short distance from the many-colored column of light that stretched from the diamond floor to the spinning talisman.
"Scooch a little this way," said Thang-Sha. The dwarf wriggled his shoulders and pushed with his heels to bring himself fractionally closer to the vertical stream of colors. "Excellent. We are ready." He backed away from the apparatus and pushed Krunzle farther toward the dais with a back-extended hand.
"Now," Thang-Sha said to the enthralled Noble Head, "reach out with one hand above your head."
A tear rolled from the corner of one eye as the dwarf did as he was ordered. His hand neared the colored stream and Krunzle saw a subtle change in the flow of energy: the column showed more red and yellow, while the blues and greens diminished. The thief had an impression that he was seeing a representation of mounting anger.
Then Brond's fingertips touched the stream. Two things happened: First the flow of colors was partly diverted, the blue and green continuing from the floor to the spinning talisman. Then a portion branched off to envelop the bald dwarf's body in a cocoon of crimson and saffron, from his fingertip to the soles of his boots. After a moment came a third effect: from Brond's feet to the orb leapt what Krunzle could only think of as a spark of pure black energy that crackled and flashed for several heartbeats. Simultaneously, the dwarf's whole body juddered and shook within its sheath of angry colors, his spine bent like a bow so that he touched the diamond floor only at the crown of his head and where his heels beat a vibrating tattoo on the unyielding surface.
Abruptly, it was over. The crackle became a hiss, then ceased altogether. The red and yellow cocoon of light winked out of existence. The flow of colors from the tomb to the talisman resumed its previous appearance. And in the place of the Noble Head of the Regulate of Grimsburrow the thief saw a smoking mass of black stuff, pocked and fissured, roughly the shape of a dwarven corpse with an arm stretched above its head. From it rose a stench the like of which Krunzle had never known; it seemed to invade the innermost recesses of his skull, searing and grating his membranes. Pinching his nostrils shut and breathing through his mouth brought only partial relief.
Thang-Sha showed no discomfort. Instead he was standing over the stinking object, the ivory spyglass to his eye, examining the black orb. Krunzle thought the globe had grown larger.
"Good," said the wizard, after an inspection from several angles. "Very good." He turned to Krunzle and indicated the smoldering husk that had been Brond. "Sweep this out of the way. We will perform another drain."
Gagging, Krunzle approached the mess. He reached for what was left of the corpse's outthrust arm, but it fell to ashes in his hand, leaving a foul-smelling, tarry residue. Another gust of stench rose from the charred remains, and he used his unpolluted hand to close his nostrils again. He kicked the mess aside, regretting the smears of filth deposited on his buskins, until the space between the colored stream and the black orb was clear except for some irreducible stains.
Thang-Sha, meanwhile, had been withdrawing the globe to a greater distance. Krunzle thought that the spellslinger probably meant for Raimeau to be the next sacrificial conduit. His surmise was confirmed when the wizard straightened and pointed at the gray-haired man. "You," he said, "come."
Raimeau stood, his face a mask of helpless rage. At that moment, an idea came to Krunzle, softly, like a whisper stealing beneath the curtain that separated his consciousness from the rear reaches of his mind. "I think," he said, "the woman would be better. She is more..."—after a moment the word came—"corporeal."
It seemed impossible to the thief, but the outrage on Raimeau's face actually deepened, even as he walked toward where Thang-Sha waited. The thin man's show of anger was matched, however, by the expression Gyllana now wore, though hers was mixed with disgust.
The wizard, however, looked from Raimeau to Gyllana and said, "Hmm, I think you are right. It would make a difference." To the gray-haired man, he said, "Go back to where you were," and with a beckoning finger, turned to the woman and said, "you, come."
Raimeau did as he was bid, still possessed by impotent fury. Gyllana rose, and Krunzle saw fear fill her face even as her limbs carried her toward where Thang-Sha waited. The wizard stooped and nudged the black orb a little closer to the stream.
No words formed in Krunzle's mind. The connection between him and Chirk was now much subtler than that. He simply knew what to do and how to do it, and he knew that he must not think about it. He took a step toward Thang-Sha, at the same time stretching his hand out to his side. The short sword left its scabbard behind the throne and flew into his grasp and, again without pause to think, he swept the blade around in a sidewise swipe.
Thang-Sha, seeing the motion from the corner of his eye, turned toward the thief, his fingers forming the opening arrangement for some spell, his mouth actually uttering the opening syllable. But then the ensorcelled point—ensorcelled by his own powers—met the bulge at the front of the wizard's throat and passed right through it.
The second syllable was neve
r uttered. Thang-Sha choked, one hand going to the gash where the sword had severed his vocal cords. But in his eyes the thief saw not shock, but cold determination. The spiderlike fingers of his free hand formed themselves a fist then opened flat. A finger began to curl into a particular position, but Krunzle did not need Chirk's prompting to bring the sword up and down again. In a moment, the wizard's hand fell limp to the diamond floor.
The thief raised the weapon to sever the spellcaster's bald head from his neck, but he heard Chirk's voice say, No! Bind him.
The thief used the wizard's own belt to confine his arms to his sides, then lowered him to the floor. The stump of Thang-Sha's wrist had stopped bleeding, as had the slit in the front of his throat, which argued for the spellcaster still possessing usable powers.
We should make sure of him, Krunzle thought.
Soon enough.
The internal exchange brought Thang-Sha's head around, and the thief was glad to discover that the wizard could not kill with a mere look, else his life would certainly be fleeing his body.
He feels betrayed, Krunzle said.
His feelings do not concern me.
Meanwhile, Gyllana and Raimeau remained under the wizard's control. The thin man sat where he had been and the woman, having crossed the floor as bidden, stood beside her recumbent master. Both wore expressions of shock, but Gyllana's, as she looked down at the wounded wizard, was giving way to an obvious desire to do Thang-Sha harm.
What now? Krunzle asked the snake.
His bag.
The thief went to where the sack lay on the seat of the throne, opened it. A deep chill emanated from within it.
Say these words, Chirk said, and planted a string of sounds in the man's mind. Krunzle dutifully repeated them, feeling as he did so a strange rushing sensation from his feet to his throat, as if a great wind had passed through him. He shivered.
Your first spell? Chirk said.
Indeed.
You did well, then. The bag's defenses are annulled. Reach in and think about this: an image formed in Krunzle's mind, of a green jewel.
He remembered it from the night in Eponion's house. As the image became clear in his mind, he felt a cool presence in his hand. He withdrew it from the bag and saw that he held the emerald that had sealed Chirk's grip upon its own tail.
Touch it to me, said the snake. Anywhere will do.
From the floor, Thang-Sha attempted a sound, but could produce only a hiss of air through the slit in his throat. The noise did not distract Krunzle, who touched the jewel to the snake's metal skin. A sensation like pins and needles went through the thief's fingertips as the two substances met, and the jewel seemed to change shape and substance for a moment, as if he held not a gem but some great animal's eye—then he realized that, for the first time in days, his throat was unencumbered by a torc of bronze.
Chapter Fifteen
Chirk Unchained
He expected to hear a clang as the snake fell to the floor, but he did not. When he turned, he saw, standing behind him, a willowy, gray-skinned form that resembled nothing so much as a man interrupted in the process of transforming into a snake, or vice versa, clad in a loose garment of woven, shimmering gold. The snake-being's eyes, cool and dark as a subterranean pool, were level with his own. "Chirk?" Krunzle said.
The lipless mouth was ill suited to make a smile, but he heard a trace of amusement in the voice—deeper than the one he'd heard in his head—as it said, "You may call me that, if you wish, but it was never my name. You do not tell creatures like that,"—he indicated the bound spellcaster—"your name. It gives them power over you."
"He had power over you," said the thief. "You did his bidding."
"The jewel held the power," said the snake-being, "and only as much as I had given it."
"I don't understand."
"You have no need to." The being Krunzle had called Chirk bent itself in a curve and lowered its face to study Thang-Sha. The wizard was struggling against the belt that confined him, while one hand attempted some magical mischief. Chirk reached into the man's open robe and retrieved the ivory spyglass, transferring it to his own garment. Then he gestured with his own sinuous limbs and hissed something complicated. The cincture around the bound man grew to become a cummerbund, then a sheath, then a long, tight tube of leather that confined Thang-Sha from throat to ankle.
"Still," said Krunzle, "I would like to know what I have been conscripted into." He paused to regard the still-struggling wizard, whose face was contorted with frustrated intent, and the still-paralyzed Raimeau and Gyllana. "And whether it is yet over."
Chirk glanced over at the man and the woman. "I could break the spell," it said, "but it would pose some risk to your companions. In any case, it will lapse in a short while,"—the black eyes glanced at Thang-Sha—"through its own internal dynamics."
It brought out the spyglass and examined the black orb, the stream of many-colored energies, the floor, and lastly, Thang-Sha himself. The wizard mouthed silent curses, to which the snake-being apparently saw no need to respond. Finished with his inspection, Chirk hissed in what Krunzle took for irritation, though for all he knew, it could have been gay laughter.
A moment later he decided the sound had expressed worse than irritation, for the snake-being swung its scaly tail to thump Thang-Sha in his side. The thief saw it as the equivalent of a well-earned kick, Chirk's delicate lower limbs not being designed to deliver much punishment.
"Trouble?" he said.
"It could be worse," said Chirk. It looked again through the ivory tube. "At least it's not irreparable." It gave Thang-Sha another smack with the tail. "But it will cost me a deal of effort."
As the snake-being spoke, a tremor went through the chamber, accompanied by a sound like ice crystals cracking on a winter-frozen lake when the spring sun begins to spread its warmth. Krunzle saw that a change had occurred in the floor of the chamber—or, more properly, the roof of the sarcophagus. What had been clear blue gem was now clouded. And the stream of light between floor and talisman had stopped.
"I will have to work fast," said Chirk. "Thang-Sha's stupidity has given the entity its best chance in more than a millennium to break free of the stasis that constrains it." The snake-being looked at Krunzle. "You will help me."
"I thought a better use of my time would be to take the wizard's bag and go fill it with blue gems at the last lava tube," said the thief. "On my way out."
"The bag is not a bag," Chirk said. "It is a being from another dimension, enslaved by Thang-Sha and forced to keep his arcane impedimenta out of reach of the covetous. The moment it is released from servitude, which it soon will be, it will return to its own plane. If you have been outraging its dignity by stuffing diamonds into its maw, when it departs, it will probably do so with you in its gullet. Besides, unless I undo the harm Thang-Sha has done, you will be worse than devoured—by that." The snake-being pointed at the floor, where a network of cracks was now visible—and expanding—while the dark shape beneath seemed to be moving.
"I am eager to help," Krunzle said.
It turned out that all that was required was muscle—Chirk being somewhat gracile in construction, and Thang-Sha an uncooperative dead weight. Krunzle dragged the writhing leather tube and its contents over to where the cabinet of gold vessels stood. While he was doing so, the snake-being levered up and out two concealed leaves that fitted flush against the furnishing's upper surface, expanding it considerably. When the extensions were braced and firm, Krunzle was instructed to hoist the silently raging wizard onto what now more resembled an altar than a cupboard.
"Face-up," said Chirk, and when the man had rotated the bound wizard accordingly, the snake-being said, "and now bring the orb. But be careful to touch only its gold supports. If your flesh—even so much as a hair—comes into contact with the surface, the thing will take what you would call your soul."
Krunzle gingerly retrieved the object. The gold tripod that held it was icy cold, surprising him so much h
e almost dropped it. But he recovered and brought it to where the snake-being indicated.
"Now the talisman," Chirk said, "but touch only the filament from which it hangs." The thief remembered what had become of Wolsh Berbackian and was careful to keep the talisman at a distance until Chirk took it by the golden thread and held it above the bound spellcaster. Thang-Sha's face went several different colors before settling on rage-red. His breath hissed from the slit in his throat even as his lips formed powerless words. So much magic was based on the wielder's will, born of spirit which was expressed in breath.
Chirk paid him no heed. "Be ready to hold up the orb," it told Krunzle.
The thief knelt and prepared to grip the ice-cold, golden rods beneath the black globe. Above his head, Chirk elevated the talisman and whispered a long susurration of sibilant sounds, a language that Krunzle had never heard, though he would wager its written form was the sinuous script that graced the talisman and the gold vessels beneath the altar.
"Pick up the orb and position it between the altar and the place where the colored stream came from," Chirk ordered, "but do not let your body block the path." When the man had done as bidden, Chirk voiced another string of hisses and placed the talisman on the bare forehead of Thang-Sha. The wizard's eyes spoke volumes—each a fat-spined book filled with the direst maledictions—until the metal form of a flower-headed snake sank sizzling into his flesh—then went even deeper, into bone, and his mouth opened in a scream that would never be heard.
"Hold it still!" said Chirk, as a crackling burst of black energy leapt from the altar to the orb. The thrust of its power was so great that Krunzle was pushed sideways, his feet sliding against the diamond floor, toward where the roof of the sarcophagus was visibly cracking and something dark—something big and powerful—surged against the failing barrier.
Song of the Serpent Page 24
