by Dennis Foon
“THE OVERSHADOWER LIES IN THE PIT BENEATH THAT DARKNESS. AS YOUR DESTINY WILL BE DETERMINED IN YOUR STRUGGLE WITH DARIUS, MINE FALLS TO THE ENEMY CONCEALED THERE.” THE FRIEND TURNS HIS LACERATED EYES TOWARD ROAN. “SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME THE GODS HAVE DISCOVERED THEIR PURPOSE AT THE WELL OF OBLIVION. YOUR GREAT-GRANDFATHER STOOD IN THE WATER THAT ONCE RAN INTO IT AND UNDERSTOOD THAT THE ESSENCE OF ALL LIFE IS CARRIED TO THIS ONE GREAT HEART. BUT DARIUS SAW IT ONLY AS A RESOURCE TO BE BENT TO HIS WILL, DIVERTING ALL OF ITS WATERS INTO THE WHORL. ONE AFTER ANOTHER HE SUBVERTED THE PLACES OF POWER. AND AS HE DID SO, THE FABRIC OF THE DREAMFIELD WAS RIPPED AND THE OVERSHADOWER EXPOSED. IT WAS NOT LONG BEFORE HE FELL UNDER ITS THRALL. NOW ALL THE DREAMS AND MEMORIES OF PEOPLE BOTH ALIVE AND DEAD ARE NOTHING MORE THAN FODDER FOR THE HUNGER OF THIS BEAST.” THE MINOTAUR WHISPERS, “DARIUS HAS ROBBED US OF OUR VISION AND OUR PURPOSE. WE MEAN TO GET IT BACK. SINCE HE PLAYED A LARGE PART IN MY RESURGENCE, THE TASK IS MADE MINE.”
THE FRIEND BLINKS AND THEY ARE TRANSPORTED TO A GIGANTIC OPEN PALM IDENTICAL TO THE ONE SAINT SHOWED ROAN. WRITHING SHAPES APPEAR OUT OF NOWHERE TO TOPPLE INTO IT. THE SHADES DIM SLIGHTLY AS THE THRONE ABSORBS THEM, THEN SLIDE THROUGH A NARROW VEIN THAT DRAWS THEM INEXORABLY TOWARD THE SPIRACAL.
“WE WILL MEET AGAIN WHEN YOU COME TO DESTROY DARIUS. AT THAT TIME, ROAN OF LONGLIGHT, YOU WILL FIND ME AND OBEY MY REQUEST.” THE BASE OF A TORCH APPEARS IN THE MINOTAUR’S HAND. “TAKE THIS AND SWEAR.”
ROAN GRASPS IT AND THE BASE BURSTS INTO FLAME.
“GOOD,” SAYS THE FRIEND. “WE ARE AGREED.”
The darkness is more overwhelming than any he’s ever experienced. But gradually, as he’s wreathed by pinpoints of light, Roan realizes that he’s in the earth’s atmosphere, floating over clouds, surrounded by the night sky’s countless shimmering stars.
Do you see the bull?
Roan gazes at the brightest star, Aldebaran, shining orange. There is its face, made by the Hyades. The stars Elnath and Zeta Tauri mark its horns. They form the constellation Taurus.
I survive because I am written in the stars in the shape of a bull. Every generation that sets its eye upon me names me anew, and gives me life.
But if humanity dies, so will you.
And what gives life to humanity?
Roan thinks of Stowe, Alandra, Lumpy, Mabatan, of the Novakin, of everyone he has ever known, has ever loved. He thinks of the scent of one flower, of his cricket’s song. That’s a difficult question to answer.
Difficult enough for an eternity. If we are lucky.
Roan wakes to find himself back in the center of the Friend’s labyrinth. Parched and famished, he reaches into his bag. His encounter with the Friend had not been what he’d expected. Instead of answers, he has even more questions. What does it mean to kill a god? What has he agreed to? Why did he agree? Maybe somewhere deep down he just didn’t believe it was possible. Or maybe he thought a world without the Friend was a safer place.
Still, he feels bound to the god somehow and though much of what the Friend said to him is a mystery, he knows it’s vital for him to unravel it.
Roan winces as he puts some jerky to his mouth; his lips are swollen and hot to the touch. As he chews, he places a cooling hand over them and thinks on the Friend’s final words.
My offer is a gift, Roan of Longlight, though you may not guess now what it is.
THE LIEUTENANT’S DILEMMAS
EYES ON THE SKY
FEET FIRM ON THE GROUND
HEART WARM AS THE SUN
HIS SURVIVAL RENOWNED
LOYAL TO THE END
THE BEST OF ALL FRIENDS
THAT IS THE TRUTH
OF OUR LIEUTENANT.
—LORE OF THE STORYTELLERS
“IS IT WORKING?”
The insertion of the enablers, which finally took place yesterday after two weeks of testing, seems to be a success. Ende, Lumpy, and the doctors are all excited, clearly impressed; and Algernon’s face is so hopeful that, despite all her apprehensions, Mabatan smiles. “Yes. Kira is looking at a book. It has a picture on it.”
“What is the picture, Mabatan?” asks Ende.
“A girl with long blonde hair and a rabbit holding a clock.”
Rushing to the door, Imin calls out, “Othard! Bring the book!”
After a moment, Othard appears, breathlessly holding it up. “You see? It’s called Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”
Mabatan feels the Gunther’s dry papery hand pat hers. “Is it tolerable, my dear? Seeing through two sets of eyes, hearing through two sets of ears, I know it must be difficult.”
The wound in her neck is throbbing, and her discomfort doubled, because she’s experiencing Kira’s pain as well as her own, but it is tolerable, a small price to pay.
“Yes. It is difficult but it will get easier, I think.” Mabatan gently squeezes the Gunther’s long fingers. “Thank you.”
“That completes the visual and aural testing,” says Imin.
“Pity that the communication’s only one way,” says Othard. “A few more weeks and we might’ve been able to sort something out.”
As if it has nothing to do with your natural talents as compared to mine. By the way, can you hear all my thoughts?
Feeling Kira’s smirk, Mabatan grins.
I wish I could hear your answer.
“You can come in now,” Imin calls out.
Kira strides past the bookshelves and stands near the door, looking directly at Lumpy. “In some ways it’s better that it’s one-way. If I’m captured, the last thing we need is for them to be able to hook into Mabatan. If it’s alright with you, Lumpy, I’ll make my arrangements to go.”
“We still have more tests—” says Othard, but Kira cuts him off with a glare.
“There will always be more tests, my good doctors,” she says, softening the blow, “but who says you need me for them?” Not pausing to wait for an answer, she turns to Mabatan. “As long as you’re sure it’s alright?”
Mabatan nods, but as she looks into Kira’s eyes, she simultaneously experiences Kira seeing her. The image doubles and triples until there are more Kiras than she can count, all sandwiched between images of herself, seen through Kira’s eyes. The room starts to spin and she jerks back, falling to the floor.
“Mabatan!” Lumpy cries out, rushing to her.
In a moment, she’s surrounded. The doctors take her pulses, while Ende puts a hand to her forehead.
“What happened?” the Apsara matriarch asks.
“When…I looked into Kira’s eyes…there were so many of us…”
“She was caught in a feedback loop,” Algernon explains. “Like the effect of looking into two angled mirrors, and seeing a multiplicity of images of yourself.”
“I see,” Imin says, stroking his chin.
“Only much more intense…” surmises Othard.
“Is this safe?” Lumpy asks, clearly disturbed.
“As safe as we could make it,” Algernon says, patting Lumpy on the back, “given the time at hand and the equipment available.”
But Mabatan can see that her friend is not going to be easy to comfort. “I know the risks, Lumpy. It only happened when I looked into Kira’s eyes. She is leaving and it will cease to be a problem.”
“What if there are other complications?” asks Ende. “Something life-threatening.”
Othard gasps, indignant. “But that’s highly unlikely!”
“An exceedingly low probability!” Imin adds.
“Still, it is possible,” snaps Ende. “Lumpy, as Roan’s Lieutenant, you must bear responsibility for the decision.”
Lumpy takes in all the expectant faces around him. But in the end, his gaze falls on Mabatan. “Are you sure you want to continue?”
I don’t feel any ill effects at all, Mabatan, but I’ll understand if you want to back out.
Mabatan, resisting the urge to turn and look at Kira, keeps her eyes on Lumpy. She can read in his face the hope that she’ll give him a reason to stop what they
are doing, so she states her decision as definitely as she can: “Yes. I am sure.”
Seeing that her lips are firmly sealed, Lumpy reluctantly pulls himself away. “Go ahead, Kira. That smuggler’s been nothing but a nuisance since he was brought here; I’ll be glad to see his back. Just don’t show him yours; he’ll do business with whoever fattens his purse.”
“I won’t hesitate to squash the bug if I have to,” Kira assures Lumpy. Then, eyes shut tight, she turns and opens her arms. “Take care, Mabatan.”
Mabatan walks into the embrace, the feeling of warmth pleasantly amplified. With a whispered goodbye, Kira strides to the doorway, where Ende waits.
Ende’s forehead grazes her granddaughter’s. “I will always hear you with my heart.” The emotion that wells up in Kira brings tears to Mabatan’s eyes. But Kira, always the warrior, shows nothing outwardly. She grips her grandmother’s shoulders, hugs her quickly, and leaves the world of the library behind.
Over the next few days, Mabatan’s efforts to balance Kira’s consciousness with her own are not entirely successful. Any powerful emotion or physical experience brings Kira to the forefront of her awareness, momentarily blinding Mabatan to her own surroundings. She’s had a few painful collisions and is covered in bruises. After she’d crashed into Kamyar, she ended up in the infirmary.
He’d arrived yesterday with four Gunthers from the City, none too happy, and it appears to Mabatan, as she sits in the library’s vast atrium, that things are going from bad to worse.
Gunther Number Fifty-One, the tallest of the four Gunthers, is on his tiptoes squinting at Kamyar, so outraged his entire body is quaking. “We are Gunthers, not warmongers!”
“You know, those contact lenses Willum provided you with are making you a little touchy. After all the trouble I went to rescuing you, one would think you’d give me the benefit of the doubt.” Kamyar’s tongue is in his cheek, but Mabatan can tell he is not completely insincere.
“You did not rescue us!” Fifty-One snorts. “We would have survived quite well without you.” His three companions crowd behind him, heads bobbing.
Kamyar laughs. “Really. I seem to remember that when I found you in the Devastation you were all face-down on the ground.”
“We were resting.”
“Don’t try to pretend you aren’t ecstatic to be here. The least you can do is help research some battle strategies.”
“That is not within our moral parameters,” Fifty-One states flatly.
“Oh? And designing enablers is?” Kamyar’s face is almost purple with frustration.
Lumpy steps out from the shadows and, with a wink at Mabatan, rushes over to the angry Gunthers. “Hello! Are you feeling any better?”
“This Storyteller,” says Fifty-One, pointing an accusing finger at Kamyar’s chest, “this Storyteller is insisting we turn into warmongers.”
Lumpy glowers, quite impressively, at Kamyar. “Is this possible? You’ve asked them to carry weapons? Kill Clerics? Fandor? Marauders?”
“Hmm, that’s an idea!” Kamyar turns dramatically to face the irate Gunther. “How are you with a crossbow?”
“Kamyar, I’m surprised! A stray arrow might puncture one of these books.”
Seventy-Nine puts a hand to her mouth, but Mabatan can see her eyes twinkling. She has a great curiosity, Mabatan recalls, in the ways of the world—outside the boundaries set by her people. And, obviously, an uncharacteristic sense of humor.
“You are right, Fifty-One. Our friend should never have asked you to take up arms. He will apologize.”
Lumpy lifts an eyebrow at Kamyar. Kamyar inhales grandly and bows to them. “Profound apologies for my miscreant behavior. May my eyebrows be plucked and my tongue flogged.”
“Your apology is accepted,” says Fifty-One.
Seventy-Nine vigorously shakes her finger in her ear. “But he never offered us weapons.”
“No one asked your opinion, Seventy-Nine.”
“But—”
“The discussion has been agreeably terminated. Do not interrupt again.”
“But—”
“Have you been taken through the library?” Lumpy jumps in before the argument can distract them any further. “And the laboratory may be of interest to you as well. Algie said he mentioned—”
“Excuse me, you mean Gunther Number One Hundred and Twenty-Six. Please use the correct appellation when referring to him.”
“Come, come,” says Kamyar. “The fellow was alone for forty years, surely he’s entitled to a name.”
Gunther Number Thirty-Three is clearly mortified by this thought. “His absence may have deteriorated his memory, but this does not excuse a lapse in Gunther tradition.”
Kamyar guffaws. “I’m sure helping him regain a sense of propriety will keep you quite busy.”
“Perhaps my friend is right,” interjects Lumpy. Sighing wistfully, he looks at each Gunther in turn. “Though I have to confess I was hoping…well…No. Never mind, I don’t want to burden you. I’ll just borrow Kamyar. I’m sure he’ll be of assistance with these puzzles.”
All of the Gunthers immediately crowd Lumpy. “Puzzles? What kind of puzzles?”
“Well, for one, Number One Hundred and Twenty-Six, due to his lapse, no doubt, is struggling with the encryption in the journal he’s deciphering.”
Number Thirty-Three shoots an accusing glance at Kamyar. “It’s in code? You didn’t mention a code.”
Kamyar throws his arms up in mock apology.
“It’s excruciatingly difficult,” Lumpy sighs. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested.”
“I would!” yells Seventy-Nine. The other Gunthers glare at her, and she quickly shifts her attention to the floor.
“You know, I suppose, that the Clerics have a new weapon,” continues Lumpy, “I think it’s called…the Apogee.”
“Yes,” says Fifty-One. “We unwittingly created some of its components. Extremely complex and deadly. We will not be fooled into such complicity again.”
“Of course not,” Lumpy concedes. “And I would never ask it of you. I was thinking more along the lines of a device I remember from when we visited you in the City. It disabled a Cleric’s stun stick.”
“Oh, yes,” Fifty-One sniffs, bobbing his head proudly. “The Allayer. It’s a simple device. In fact, Number Thirty-Three here invented it.”
“I suppose it would be useless against an Apogee.”
“Completely useless,” agrees Thirty-Three. “To create a device to allay the Apogee would be extremely challenging.”
“You’d have to reverse the magnetic field,” says Fifty-One.
“Then amplify it,” Thirty-Three adds.
After conferring excitedly with his fellow Gunthers, Number Fifty-One addresses Lumpy with an air of great importance. “An Allayer to counteract the Apogee’s effects would be an appropriate project. We will begin work immediately.”
Utterly shocking the Gunther, Lumpy takes his hand and shakes it heartily. “Kamyar, will you show our friends the way to the laboratory?”
Mabatan struggles not to laugh as the Storyteller, his nose in the air, sighs deeply. “Very well, if you insist. Come this way.”
Only Gunther Number Seventy-Nine stays behind. Smiling shyly at Lumpy, she asks, “May I work on the decryption?”
“Number One Hundred Twenty-Six—”
“You can use his chosen name with me if you would like,” she says quietly. “I do not mind.”
“Alright,” Lumpy replies with a grin. “Algie would be really grateful for the help. Do you know where to find him?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve been there already.” Seventy-Nine pauses when she sees Mabatan. “Mabatan of the Wazya, greetings. As you know, I conducted tests on the cricket belonging to Roan of Longlight when I saw you last. With your cricket’s permission, might I add its measurements to my data…and perhaps ask you some questions? Not right now, of course…”
Sensing no objection from the white cricket on her shoulder,
Mabatan smiles. “I believe that will be acceptable.”
As the beaming Seventy-Nine rushes away to Algie, Lumpy collapses beside Mabatan. “I wish Roan would get back. It’s been a couple of weeks now, and I’m starting to get worried.”
“I worry about him too, but—” Mabatan breathes deeply, trying to still her heart.
“What’s wrong?”
“Clerics.”
“Kira? Is she safe?”
“For the moment, yes.”
“Good. Then how come…you look so...”
“When Kira gets agitated, her experiences overwhelm me. I’m not used to it yet, that’s all.”
Lumpy places his hands on Mabatan’s shoulders, turning her toward him. “Mabatan. You’ll tell me, won’t you, if it gets worse? It’s not worth harming yourself. We’ll find another way.”
“I promise.”
Lumpy grimaces, still troubled. “Has Kira had any problems with that smuggler?”
“Not yet. Have you—”
“Yeah, I’ve contacted Mhyzah. The Hhroxhi have agreed to let us use the thrusalls. I just hope Mhyzah will get to Kira before that thug pulls something.”
“Kira does not trust him either. She is always on her guard.”
Lumpy nods but Mabatan can feel the weight of his concern. She hates to add to his load but right now he’s the only one she feels comfortable enough with to share her burden. “There is something I must speak with you about, Lumpy,” she says, keeping her voice level and firm.
“What is it?”
“If something should happen—” Lumpy tenses, but Mabatan grips his hands as she meets his eyes. “Do not misunderstand me. I believe this connection with Kira is the right thing to do. The need is great and the sacrifice very small. Still, I would not do it if I felt that I would come to great harm. I am to be the Carrier of the stories of my people; and you must trust that I do not take unnecessary risks. But…if something should happen...”
“Mabatan.” Tears pool in the corners of Lumpy’s eyes.
“You must not bury me. You must not burn me. Take my body to my father. To Khutumi.”
