by Kay L. Ling
Sheamathan’s eyes narrowed. “The woman I told you about is mixed up in this. I am sure of it. There is no other explanation.” The woodspirit’s lips curled in a snarl. “She has the jeweled knife. How did she get it? Where has it been all these years?” Sweeping back a wave that clung to her perspiring face, she leaned forward again, her eyes filled with hatred. “I should have been more concerned when she showed up with the knife, claiming to be the gnomes’ messenger. She told me—” She stopped short, her attention drawn to the doorway as two female breghlin walked in. One carried a tray with ceramic cups, silverware and a silver teapot. The other carried a tray with bowls of mushy-looking fruit.
“Hurry up,” Sheamathan snapped. “The dead move faster than you.”
The breghlin servers wore gray pants and tunics with their name—HB and TA—stitched on the tunics, if you could call their letter designations names. A leather cord held back their dark brown hair. Their malformed, repugnant features contrasted sharply with Sheamathan’s sterile beauty. Elias knew how much that delighted her. The servers shuffled to the table with their burdens, avoiding their queen’s eyes, and with trembling hands, unloaded the contents of their trays.
“Where is Elias’s fruit? You know he dislikes rotting fruit!” She grabbed HB’s arm, her nails digging in savagely. The pitiful creature gave a strangled sob and said, “I’s sorry. I’ll bring more right away.”
Sheamathan released the server’s arm and slapped the breghlin’s face. “In the meantime, he’ll have nothing to eat with his tea.”
Elias stared down at the table. He knew from previous attempts that it was pointless to intervene. Nothing made Sheamathan angrier, and it did more harm than good. The best he could do was say calmly, “I don’t mind the occasional piece of, ah, overripe fruit.” He tried not to look at the contents of the bowls. Patches of furry mold covered most of their wrinkled skins and they had oozing, discolored spots. Insects crawled on the fruit and buzzed around the bowls.
“Fresh fruit! Now!” Sheamathan ordered. Wrinkling her nose she added, “Bring the disgustingly sweet fruits, if we have any.” She glanced at Elias and shook her head, as always mystified at his preference for sweet over sour.
TA, who was about to serve their tea, shook so badly that Elias wondered whether any tea would land in the cup. Breathing with shaky gasps, she tilted the teapot with exaggerated care and managed to fill two blue ceramic cups without spilling any. She set the cups gently in front of Elias and Sheamathan, placed the teapot on the table, and stepped back.
Sheamathan took one sip and exploded. “This isn’t hot enough! Is it so difficult to boil water?” Grabbing TA’s upper arm, her fingers tightened like a vise until the poor creature wailed in pain. Tomorrow the breghlin would have bruises shaped like Sheamathan’s fingers. He looked away and sipped his tea, which was just short of scalding. Clearly, the woodspirit’s mood was darker than usual and no one could satisfy her.
“Should I brings more water?” the server asked, snuffling as she stared at the floor.
“No. Once the dolt returns with Elias’s fruit, I don’t want any more interruptions.”
He looked at Sheamathan’s fruit, wishing the breeze would carry the odor away. How could she eat something that smelled like dirty socks?
“Yes, Mistress.” The servant grabbed the empty tray and fled from the room.
“Now, then, where were we?” she asked irritably.
“We were discussing your dog—former dog,” he corrected himself, “and the woman with his knife.”
“Oh, yes.” Her face darkened. “I believe Gem Master Jules found a way to break his bargain once he learned I had broken mine.”
“And you think the woman had a hand in it. That concerns me all the more.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of this. Not at all.”
Again Sheamathan’s eyes met his in a cold, probing stare. Had he heard anything about this? Was he really as disturbed as he seemed? He let a few troubled thoughts float on the surface of his mind.
Sheamathan looked away, sipped her tea, and then took a mushy, plum-sized fruit from one of the bowls. The fruit had rotted and burst open. Tiny insects feasted on the juices that oozed out. Elias watched transfixed as she popped the fruit into her mouth and swallowed it whole. “You may have reason to worry,” she said as she reached for another fruit, “but he won’t trouble me. Lately, I have become much more powerful.”
And I know why. “Be that as it may,” he said, trying not to watch her eat, “Fair Lands gems can disrupt Shadow gem powers. The fact that you’re more powerful won’t change that.”
Her face fell. Perhaps she had forgotten that.
“Jules won’t bargain with you again,” he advised. “He’ll try to disrupt your powers and make you look foolish.” He looked her in the eye. “If you’re right—if Jules really set the gnomes free—that was his opening shot in the war.”
She said in a dangerous tone, “He won’t trouble me. I won’t give him the chance.” She smashed her fist on the table, making the teacups jump, and her eyes took on a wild, unreasoning look that made Elias shrink back in his chair. “This time I’ll crush him! He’s no match for me!”
Elias grabbed his cup to steady it, and quickly mastered himself, resuming his plan of attack. “Don’t underestimate him. When he regained his wits during the full moons, he may have learned new gem powers to use against you. He’s dangerous, especially if he has the knife.”
“The knife,” she repeated, her frenzied hatred visibly leeching away. “A marvelous weapon that should be mine.” Her expression took on a brooding sort of gloominess, and he fought back a smile.
“Sadly, neither of us can touch it,” he said calmly.
She sighed. “We would be wise to destroy it. If we could.”
Yes, she would be safer if the knife were destroyed and safer still if no one could use any Fair Lands gems. He had been a threat to her upon his arrival in Shadow, and he would have remained so if he hadn’t become corrupt like her. She had rejoiced when she saw his toad-like skin developing and his facial features began to change. She knew what it signified. Once he lost his ability to use Fair Lands gems she became complacent, knowing no one could challenge her power. But those days were over he mused, carefully shielding his thoughts. Jules was human again, and Jules and Lana posed a threat.
He resumed his attack. “The woman carries the Challenger’s Blade, you say. How powerful is she?”
“I am not sure. I read her mind easily. On the whole, I found her frightened, timid and uncertain. And she did not know much about the knife. I was amazed it responded to her at all, considering her ineptitude.” She shrugged. “Either she is not as ignorant as she seemed, or her command of the knife improved quickly. She caused no end of trouble in the dungeon, as I told you during our last visit.” Scowling with disgust she added, “I cannot believe my dimwit guard set her free.”
“Has it occurred to you that her ignorance was a carefully contrived act? And her claim to be the gnomes’ messenger was a clever deception?”
Sheamathan gave him a dark look, and he thought she was about to reply when the serving female returned with his fresh fruit. The breghlin set the plate in front of him and waited anxiously for his approval. He selected a firm, purple fruit and nodded contentedly as he ate.
“Go now,” the woodspirit snapped. HB bowed and scurried away as fast as she could without running.
“The human is no match for me,” Sheamathan said, picking up the thread of conversation, “even if she is more powerful than she lets on.”
He made a split-second probe of the woodspirit’s mind and came away with no specific thoughts, just a general sense of uneasiness. “My main concern is that the two are working together.”
Feigning unconcern, Sheamathan ignored him. Her eyes roved to the pot of carnivorous flowers. She plucked a large, half-digested, hard-shelled beetle from the mouth of a pitcher plant and, holding it inches from her face, studied it. Elias lift
ed a brow. What could be so fascinating about a half-digested bug? Then her long, sandpapery tongue shot out, snatching it from her fingers. Munching contentedly, she sighed in satisfaction.
“What if they find a way to reverse the blight?” Elias continued, trying to keep the conversation on track despite his revulsion. “That would ruin your plans. When was the last time you checked the Amulet?”
She looked at him. Concern flickered in her eyes. “A week ago. The blight was still spreading.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “That was before Jules reversed his enchantment.”
“Yes,” she conceded unhappily. She swept back her hair. The gray metal collar gleamed around her throat and he dropped his eyes before she caught him looking at it. The collar reminded him—he had overlooked a question she would find disconcerting. “What if they tamper with the portal, and strengthen its ability to repel you?”
Her head snapped up. For an instant, fear flashed across her face, and then she hastily looked away. “Is that possible?” Her hand strayed to her chest, her fingers closing around a dark green pendant whose stone he recognized due to its distinctive shade. It gave the user foresight. After a moment she let out a shuddering breath and released the pendant. “They can’t stop me from crossing the portal. I’m much stronger now.” Clasping her teacup with both hands, she drained it and stared into the empty cup. Her hands were trembling noticeably. Good. Very good. His worries were beginning to infect her, and apparently the insights she had received from the green gem had been less than reassuring.
He let two thoughts drift to the surface of his mind. Check on the blight to make sure it’s spreading. See if you can still pass through the portal.
She looked up and her eyes locked onto his. He knew she had read him. Wariness flickered in her eyes. Relax, he cautioned himself. She must only read the thoughts he wanted her to read. Try to breathe normally. She was still probing his mind and he must pretend he wasn’t aware of it. He concentrated on shielding his private thoughts while allowing random thoughts of friendly concern to float on the surface. Finally, she looked away. It was all he could do not to sag in relief. A sick feeling churned in the pit of his stomach. What would happen if she discovered he was baiting her?
“I suppose it pays to be cautious,” she said after a moment. “I have no idea where the wretched troublemakers are or what they plan to do.”
“There’s no mystery about Jules’s intentions. He will try to keep you out of his world.”
She absently touched the metal collar, then snatched her hand away and poured more tea. “I have not checked the Amulet since the wolfhound disappeared. No doubt everything is fine, but I should take a look, just to reassure myself.”
Good. Yes. She was playing into his hands.
“I will go tonight,” she said with a careless shrug. My driver can take us.”
“Us?” he asked.
“Yes. Us. You should see for yourself that everything is fine.”
“Begging your pardon, but in the unlikely event that something is wrong, what then?”
“Then you will help me!” she snapped.
“Certainly, certainly,” he agreed meekly. “Jules and the woman are working together. Why shouldn’t we join forces?”
“An alliance—a brief alliance,” she amended pointedly, “would benefit both of us.”
“No doubt. And I would be happy to accompany you tonight.” He was sure she would wait until dark when no one was likely to see them. Eventually, she would show herself openly, but not yet. He poured another cup of tea to have something to do with his hands. He needed to get a message to Franklin, saying Lana and Jules should go through the portal well before dark and wait on the other side. He looked up, scanning the tangle of vines covering the arbor. Was Franklin overhead somewhere, listening? Even if he were, this wasn’t a safe place to converse, and slipping away unattended to speak elsewhere was out of the question.
Sheamathan rose. “Have all the fruit you want. The sweet fruit always goes to waste.” She smoothed her dress, smiling slyly. “I have a new morgul stone I would like you to see.”
“A morgul!” he said appreciatively. “Quite a find.”
“Twelve carats and flawless, and the deep blue color is exceptional, especially for a stone so large.”
“Amazing. A breghlin found it for you?”
“Yes. Occasionally they do something right.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a morgul larger than five carats.”
She walked away, a self-satisfied smirk on her face, and he smiled too as he watched her go. Their rivalry over gems had started decades ago. She owned the largest, finest gems, and the rarest gems, which had amazing powers. How she loved to torment him with each new treasure. Undoubtedly, the morgul was locked in her private chambers. She would have to get it herself and that would take a few minutes.
He stood and paced the terrace. He was finally alone, but not for long. He could summon Franklin, but whispering was risky since breghlin guards had distressingly good hearing. He could read the bird’s mind, but Franklin couldn’t read his, despite the purple gem that linked them, so telepathy wouldn’t work.
Lucky and resourceful. Lucky and resourceful.
He headed toward the edge of the terrace. Maybe inspiration would strike while he gazed at the gardens.
Something dark moved above him in the vines. He looked up and glimpsed black feathers. Franklin! If Franklin had been listening, there was no need to warn him that Sheamathan would be back soon. Elias continued across the terrace.
Lucky and resourceful.
When he reached the bench where Sheamathan had been sitting, he glanced down and saw a sheaf of papers and a drawing pencil. She had been drawing again, but not the garden this time, and her sketch was disturbing. It looked like a city block in the Fair Lands, but the buildings were very tall and some appeared to be made almost entirely of glass. Strange conveyances lined both sides of the street—sleek, squat forms with small wheels. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, shivering with dread. She had gotten these images from someone’s mind, and clearly not his.
Never mind the drawing, however disturbing it may be. Here is your luck, Elias. Take it! He snatched up a blank piece of paper, folded it to a more manageable size, and with her pencil wrote in large, block letters:
LANA AND JULES, GO TO THE PORTAL. CROSS AND WAIT. I’M COMING WITH SHEAMATHAN TONIGHT. He looked up. Franklin was directly overhead, watching through the vines. After a moment Franklin nodded that he understood. Elias probed the bird’s mind briefly: Lana and Jules were waiting at Strathweed. Franklin would take the message there.
The bird flew away. Elias walked to the edge of the terrace, tore the message into confetti, and watched the wind carry it away. Feeling as if a burden had lifted from his chest, he walked back to the table and sat down to wait for Sheamathan to return with her morgul.
Chapter 35
Sheamathan walked to her private chambers, fuming silently.
That devious old fool is up to something. His mind was swept so clean there was nothing to find but dust in the corners. When has he ever gone to such great lengths to shield his thoughts? It can only mean one thing. He is hiding something. She let out her breath in an angry hiss and whispered, “What is he hiding?” The stone passageway echoed her whisper, mocking her.
Her eyes narrowed. One hand strayed to her chest. She curled her fingers around the dark green gem, feeling more and more alarmed. We had been discussing Gem Master Jules and the woman Lana when the gem showed me I was in danger. She wet her lips nervously and released the stone, afraid to receive further troubling premonitions. She was being challenged on all sides. What had Elias said? Jules would try to disrupt her power and thwart her ambitions. The old fool did not need to tell her that. Of course Jules would try to break her grasp on the Fair Lands. Otherwise, a hundred years of his life had been spent in vain. And then there was the woman. The wretched gnome-lover. Sheamathan groun
d her teeth in frustration. She demanded I liberate the gnomes and treat them kindly! What a ridiculous notion! The gnomes are weak, useless fools—worse than breghlin. Sheamathan’s eyes narrowed. How she despised weakness! Her hand moved to the gray metal collar and she cursed under her breath. The loathsome thing would not come off, and it was a symbol of weakness, but at last she had overcome it. Under no circumstances would she ever submit to such humiliation again.
She walked faster, hardly noticing the cold stone on her bare feet. A soft breeze from the open terrace blew through the passageway, faintly stirring cobwebs on the ceiling. Soot had darkened the upper walls. A few torches flickered. Murky light played over the stone blocks.
Elias was the only one who accepted her for who she was, she thought grimly, and now he was behaving suspiciously. Why is he so worried about the blight’s progress? Nothing can stop its destruction. Satisfying images flashed through her mind: dead grass, rotting fungi, mottled diseased leaves, and trees with bare, lifeless limbs. Soon all the forest’s plants and trees would be dead. The disease would march onward like an advancing army, destroying everything. Before long starvation, poverty, and chaos would allow her to conquer and pillage the humans’ world. Humans were almost as weak as gnomes, she thought with disgust. It was hard to say which would be more satisfying—using her powers to paralyze them, or turning them into creatures that amused her.
A scornful laugh escaped her lips as she thought of her first interview with the human boys. They thought they were being clever. They knew they should not tell me about their world, but their minds were full of useful images. How unfortunate that the woman Lana had escaped. She might have provided fresh information.
Sheamathan frowned. If only she could get mental images from the wolfhound, but his dog mind was useless, and during his lucid periods he managed to keep his mind nearly blank. It would have been easier to make her conquest of the Fair Lands long ago when their world had been more primitive—more like Shadow. Now, judging by what she had seen in the boys’ minds, the human world had many advanced countries. She would face weapons and technologies that had not existed in Jules’s day, but it did not matter, she told herself. Modern weapons were merely an inconvenience. If necessary, she could reshape their atoms into something harmless. More likely, she would simply subvert high-ranking officers and take command of the humans’ weapons. In every world there were those who would remain “gnomes” and those who would become “breghlin.” Her brief study of humans suggested that she would find no shortage of “breghlin” to serve her.
