Fire and Dust

by James Gardner

  The githyanki and githzerai sauntered along the wooden walkway, glancing casually around to see if anyone was looking their direction. Their gaze brushed past my hiding place, but didn't stop. When they were happy the coast was clear, they simply stepped forward and disappeared. From my position I couldn't see what lay beyond the gate in the brief moment it was active; but a thick sifting of dust puffed out of the opening, slowly settling toward the catwalk and the water surface below.

  Moments later, my three teammates came into sight, still pushing their wheelbarrow as if they were genuine fish farmers. Sharp-eyed Oonah immediately noticed the dust cloud, still drifting downward – I could see her point to the dust, then up to the glow around the archway. Without hesitation, Kiripao dashed forward along the catwalk; but when he reached the portal he passed through it without effect, coming to a stop on the planks of the walkway a few paces beyond.

  Typical of a Cipher like Kiripao: galloping full speed ahead, without an ounce of caution. Angrily, Oonah and Yasmin stormed onto the catwalk toward Kiripao, both women scolding him for taking such a chance… and that was when Bleach-Hair and friends came up behind them.

  I had to give Bleach-Hair credit – he must have been a clever man to recognize Oonah in those dirty work clothes. On the other hand, she still carried her silver staff, which Bleach-Hair had good reason to remember from the rotunda. Whatever the reason, he took one look at Her Honor and I could see his lips mouthing DeVail. He must have realized that a Guvner lurking on the very brink of this portal meant big trouble, so he took immediate action: he seized a firewand from one of his companions and shouted, «Don't move!»

  Yasmin and Oonah froze immediately. Kiripao rushed back through the inactive portal, showing every intention of trying to fight the three fireballers by himself; but he had to pass Yasmin and Oonah first, and Yasmin grabbed him, whispering something short and sharp. As quickly as he had begun, the good Brother stopped and simply turned to face Bleach-Hair.

  «You would not dare to shoot fire up here,» Kiripao said, his voice loud enough to carry clearly across the street to me. «This structure is wood and we are far above the ground. If you set the tower on fire, you couldn't reach safety before tons of water crashed down around your head.»

  «You have no idea what I'd dare to do,» Bleach-Hair snapped. «Drop your weapons and get down on your bellies.»

  «Weapons?» Yasmin said innocently, taking a step toward him. «I don't have any weapons. All I have is this.» She waved the rolled-up sketch of herself; but from my vantage point, I could see the bulge of her longsword, slung behind her back and hidden by her work clothes.

  «One more step and I fire,» Bleach-Hair told her. «This ain't no bluff. I've been beat up and bobbed and badgered today, and no tiefling is gonna peel me now. Got that?»

  Yasmin's jaw tightened; so did the faces of Bleach-Hair's two companions. They didn't seem nearly as eager to start shooting fireballs ten storeys up a wooden tower… but they were obviously too afraid of Bleach-Hair to interfere.

  «Come along,» Oonah said to Yasmin, taking her by the shoulder and pulling her back along the catwalk. «We have to be sensible here.»

  «The sensible thing is to lie on your bellies,» Bleach-Hair shouted. «Now!»

  If only I had a cross-bow, I thought to myself. Or even a good-sized stone I could whip at Bleach-Hair's head. I had a decent chance of hitting him – the street between us was as narrow as every other street in the hive. But the rooftop where I crouched had nothing but the tiniest pebbles… and the pitiful garden, and the chicken coops…

  Oh.

  As my three teammates continued the standoff with Bleach-Hair, I opened the coop in front of me. «Nice chicken,» I whispered, «friendly chicken, quiet chicken…»

  The hen inside glared at me with one furious eye. The other eye was missing, gouged out in some long-ago battle with another chicken or a cat. I hoped that didn't mean she liked to pick fights – she was sitting on an egg that would make a fine distraction when hurled at Bleach-Hair's head.

  «Under normal circumstances,» I told the hen in my most soothing whisper, «I would never deprive a lady of her offspring. But this is an emergency, life or death; maybe the fate of the whole city hangs in the balance. Just be quiet and let me —»

  The leatherheaded bird pecked my hand: a good solid peck that drew a drop of blood. I bit my lip to avoid crying out, then snatched the sodding egg before the hen could tag me again. She let out a squawk, but only one; no doubt she had long ago resigned herself to the regular abduction of her children.

  Bleach-Hair didn't react to the hen's noise: all his attention was focused on my three teammates. They were slowly backing away from him, but showing no sign of surrender. If I threw the egg, if I could hit Bleach-Hair in the face from this distance, and if he didn't immediately fire his wand… then Oonah could attack him with her staff, and both Kiripao and Yasmin would charge forward.

  Of course, if everything didn't go perfectly, I'd get them all killed.

  Wait, I told myself. Wait for the right moment.

  «This is my last warning!» shouted Bleach-Hair. «Lie down or burn.»

  «Why don't you speak sense to him?» Oonah called to Bleach-Hair's companions, as she continued to back away on the catwalk.

  Bleach-Hair's men looked queasy but said nothing.

  «I'm counting to three,» Bleach-Hair said. «One.»

  I took a deep breath.

  «Two.»

  I cocked my arm to hurl the egg.

  «Thr —»

  Yasmin threw herself backward. She must have intended to pull Oonah and Kiripao with her down into the vat of water, where they'd be safe from the fireball. However, her lunge moved her right under the arch of support struts, the one that glowed with the light of a portal. In an instant, Yasmin and my other two teammates were sucked through the gateway, yanked from this plane of existence.

  Another puff of dust billowed out into the air.

  Bleach-Hair lowered the wand. I quietly sank back behind the chicken coop, the unthrown egg still in my hand.

  «Well, what are you berks waiting for?» Bleach-Hair yelled, turning to his companions and cuffing their heads. «We've got them boxed in now, don't we? Let's get 'em.»

  He grabbed each man by the shoulder and dragged them forward. When they reached the portal, all three bashers vanished.

  The catwalk was empty, save for falling dust.

  6. THREE BLOODS TO RESCUE

  Racing down the stairs from the rooftop, I had only one question: what was the portal's key? The githyanki and githzerai had been carrying packs; no doubt the key was inside one of those packs where I couldn't see it. Kiripao had run through the portal without activating it, so he didn't have the key. Yasmin, however, did – when she dove backward, she had hit the portal first, carrying Oonah and Kiripao with her. Then Bleach-Hair had done the same thing, taking the lead and dragging the other two behind.

  But Bleach-Hair had almost nothing on his person: just the pants he'd stolen from the clothes line… the firewand he'd borrowed from his cohort…

  …and the tattoo on his arm. A picture of himself, that he'd purchased with his last piece of gold.

  Need I repeat, Yasmin had been carrying that piking sketch I'd made of her?

  A portrait of yourself – that must be the key that opened the portal. It was the only answer. That's why Bleach-Hair had been so desperate for the tattoo: it was his only way home.

  I hit the ground running and sped to where Hezekiah lurked in the alley, still watching the base of the tower. «What's wrong?» he asked as I dashed up to him.

  «They have Yasmin and the others trapped,» I answered. «Enemies in front and behind. We have to rescue them.»

  «How?»

  «Take the bad guys by surprise. Can you cast another teleport spell?»

  «It's not exactly a spell,» he said. «I convince myself that here is there, and the world goes along with the idea just to humor me.»


  «Explanations later,» I told him. «Can you get us up there?»

  «Where?»

  I pointed. And I pointed again. And I said a lot of, no, not that catwalk, the other one, just to the right… no, no, up one floor, can you see the dogfish…

  You know how it is. When you're in a hurry, the people around you are always impenetrably leatherheaded. And every second counted; I had to save Yasmin. The moment Hezekiah was sure where to go, I grabbed him and shouted, «Now, now, now!»

  The world flickered and we were suddenly standing on the edge of the catwalk. The very edge… in fact, we teetered on the verge of falling, with shark-like dogfish circling below us. By myself, I could have caught my balance; but Hezekiah had wrapped his arms around me to make sure we teleported together, and now he was dragging me over the brink.

  «Hezekiah!» I had time to say. Then someone grabbed the two of us from behind and pulled us delicately back to safe footing.

  I turned to see who had saved us from taking the plunge. There was nobody there.

  «Wheezle?» I whispered.

  «A pleasure to be of service, honored Cavendish,» answered the invisible gnome. «I am surprised to find you here.»

  «It surprised us too,» I told him. «Did you see what happened when Bleach-Hair caught up with Yasmin and the rest?»

  «Only from a distance,» Wheezle replied. «Mr. Bleach-Hair's legs are considerably longer than mine, so I had difficulty keeping up.»

  «Pity… the others could have used your help. But it's still not too late.» I pulled out my sketchbook and a piece of charcoal. «It'll just take a second to make a key for that portal.»

  «What portal?» Hezekiah asked.

  I ignored him as I started drawing my own face, but Wheezle answered the boy's question. «There is a transplanar portal anchored in the archway in front of us. Alas, persons from the Prime Material plane do not have the attunement to see such portals, but those of us born in the Outer Planes have no trouble discerning it.»

  «A portal?» Hezekiah said, squinting at the arch. «I came through one of those to get to Sigil. My Uncle Toby showed me where it was.»

  «Well, you aren't going through this one,» I told him, still drawing. «You're heading straight back to Lady Erin so you can report everything that's happened.»

  «Like what?» Hezekiah asked.

  Pausing a second, I ripped off a blank page from my sketchbook and handed it to the invisible Wheezle. «Why don't you jot down everything Lady Erin should know… just in case Hezekiah isn't sure what's important.»

  «I know what's important,» Hezekiah objected. «And it's not fair: you get to dash to the rescue while I have to stay in Sigil.»

  «We don't have time to argue,» I snapped. «Someone has to rescue our teammates, and someone else has to report to the authorities. It's the only sensible plan.»

  «Then you report to the authorities,» Hezekiah said. «I'm going to save the others.» And he stepped toward the portal.

  I didn't try to stop him; I doubted that he carried a picture of himself, and I had a sketch of my own to draw – every second I wasted might be one second too many for Yasmin.

  Wheezle, however, didn't know what opened the portal and obviously didn't like taking chances. «Please, honored Clueless,» he said to Hezekiah, «I cannot permit you to rush in unwisely.» The paper I'd handed Wheezle fluttered in the air, then moved toward the portal as the gnome tried to block Hezekiah's passage. I had time to think, That's a blank piece of paper and Wheezle's invisible. Wouldn't it be a laugh if that counted as a picture of himself?

  Then Hezekiah tripped over the invisible gnome, the two of them pitched forward under the archway, and, the portal was open.

  * * *

  You can never see much through a portal, and this one was murkier than most – a gap of twilight in the middle of Sigil's afternoon. The twilight was darkened by a clot of dust clouds, whirling in thick spirals. Hezekiah tumbled into those clouds and out of sight, accompanied by a gnome-shaped silhouette that briefly broke through the dust.

  At that moment, something went click in my mind. Sensates call it the «once-in-a-lifetime» instinct: an opportunity arises and you're struck by some premonition that says this chance will never come again. You see a cheesecake and your nose tells you that this is the peak, the pinnacle, that if you pass this one by, you'll never come close to such perfection ever again… or you meet a woman at some gathering, and the flames inside you say, «It has to be her, it has to be tonight, or my soul will shrivel to ashes.» Our Sensate leaders teach that your once-in-a-lifetime instinct is almost always wrong – there will be other cheesecakes, other encounters with this woman or someone equally fascinating – but they also say who cares? Pike common sense and leap in with both feet.

  Once-in-a-lifetime instinct: see a portal, dive through it.

  I dove.

  I dove, throwing caution to the wind. More precisely, I dove throwing my sketchbook and charcoal wherever they might fall, because the portal would close within seconds and I didn't want to miss it. One moment, I was traveling through the soot-laden air of Sigil; and the next, I struck the dust-choked atmosphere of the other side.

  Dust enveloped me, as thick as a blanket. There was no way to tell when I actually hit the ground – the dust in the air blended so directly into the dust underfoot that it was all a continuum, clogging, raspy piles of dust. I sank up to my elbows before I finally stopped, and it took all my strength to struggle to my feet. Breathing was impossible, and visibility reached less than an arm's length; a faint gray light barely managed to penetrate the continually swirling cloud.

  How long could I hold my breath? Thirty seconds? A minute? How long before I had to fill my lungs with dust?

  Something loomed in front of me, a slight darkening in the grayness. I grabbed at it and pulled it close enough to see; as I expected, the shadow was Hezekiah, blundering about blindly. Another moment and he might have been lost forever in the dust storm.

  Leatherheaded Clueless – any citizen of Sigil knows, when you come through a portal into a hostile environment, you never stumble away from your entry point. Portals have to anchor themselves in some kind of archway; figure out what the arch belongs to, and maybe you've found shelter.

  Carefully I looked up, keeping a firm grip on the boy's arm. Sure enough, my eyes blearily made out that we were standing in the mouth of an open tube, high enough and wide enough that the walls were only slightly darker blurs in the gray wash of dust. I staggered forward along the tube with Hezekiah in tow, both of us pushing against a strong wind that roared into our faces. The dust dragged heavily at my feet; and then suddenly, there was solid floor beneath us. Moments later, a door shut behind us with a sigh, closing off the wind and the sifting sound of dust.

  Silence. We stood in a small chamber, its walls a dome-like patchwork made from triangles of glass. Outside, the dust continued to swirl in constant motion, dancing close to the glass but never settling down. Gray light filtered through the crystal panes, a light as frail as the thinnest dawn.

  «Britlin!» Hezekiah whispered sharply. I turned and saw the boy standing above a huddled mass that lay in front of a second door. A few steps closer and I recognized the shadowy bundle as a body, lying in a slick of its own blood – a hobgoblin in chain mail, its lifeless hand still clutching a short sword.

  «It's some kind of monster,» the boy said.

  «The dead kind,» I told him. «Probably stationed as a guard on this door when Yasmin, Oonah, and Kiripao showed up. Poor berk never knew what hit him.»

  «Now let us rejoice that his journey is done,» said a third voice in the room. «He has shed the burden of life and found the purity that awaits all creatures in the cup of oblivion.»

  «Hello, Wheezle,» I sighed. «Cheerful as ever.»

  «Indeed, sir,» the invisible gnome said. «The other Dustmen often remark on my high spirits.»

  Hezekiah looked like he was going to ask a stupid question. I covered his mout
h with my hand.

  * * *

  «Now,» I said, «the original plan still stands. Hezekiah goes back to Sigil, while Wheezle and I stay to rescue the others. Don't argue, there isn't time.»

  «But how do I get back to Sigil?» Hezekiah asked.

  «You go back to the portal and you…» I stopped. To open the portal, he needed a picture of himself; and I no longer had my sketchbook. «Wheezle, I don't suppose you still have that paper I gave you?»

  «In the confusion of falling through the portal, I fear I let the paper go.»

  And now it was blowing out there in the storm, or buried under a couple feet of dust. «Blast!» I muttered, trying to think of anything else I could use to draw a picture of the boy. Nothing came to mind, and time was passing quickly. «All right,» I told Hezekiah, «you're on the rescue team for now. But the second we find some way to draw a picture of you, you're going back to Sigil to report.»

  «Once we rescue the others,» the boy answered, «we can all report.»

  «Pray that you're right,» I nodded. «Just remember we're in unknown territory. Be careful, be quiet, and don't touch anything!»

  «Yes, sir,» he saluted. And he immediately pushed the button that opened the door the hobgoblin had been guarding.

  Under other circumstances, that would have earned him a couple arrows in the chest – two archers had been stationed on the other side of the door, crossbows ready and waiting. Fortunately for the boy, Yasmin and the others had come through ahead of us; the bow strings had been cut, along with the throats of the two men.

  «Are you completely addle-coved?» I snapped at Hezekiah. «You don't just barge through doors like that! Wheezle, you take the lead… and keep a sharp eye out for traps.»

  «Yes, honored Cavendish.»

  Something invisible nudged the boy out of the doorway, and he stepped aside. A corridor extended for more than a hundred paces ahead of us, its floor ramping gradually upward. Like the first room, this corridor's roof and walls were made from triangles of glass fitted snugly together in a metal framework. Wan gray light filtered in from outside, so feeble it seemed the light itself had somehow become disheartened.