He recalled, with a growing apprehension, that when he had bargained with the King for eternal fame, the King had sworn that Garth's name would be known "as long as there is life upon this earth." When the King had offered him immortality-or so he had understood the offer-the old man had said that Garth might live until "the end of time" if he aided the King's magic. The King had said that his magic would cause many deaths, including those of the entire cult of Aghad. And perhaps most important of all, the priest of The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken in Dыsarra had told Garth that the Forgotten King was bound to live until the end of time. The King sought to perform a feat that would allow him to die.
It appeared very much as if the Forgotten King meant to bring about the end of time and the death of everything. He had meant to assure that Garth might live and be known until the end of time, not by extending the overman's life, but by destroying the world and time itself.
CHAPTER TEN
After a moment of silence in which Garth absorbed the basic concept that he might be aiding in the utter destruction of the world, he began to consider the possible ramifications and permutations of his situation.
One question came to mind immediately. It seemed reasonable to assume that the world could not end, and the King could not die, until the end of the Age of Death. Yet the old man had implied that his death would be immediately achieved by his conjuring. When Garth had believed that the method involved summoning The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken and renouncing his bargain, he had seen no contradiction there. He had thought that the King's offer of eternal life was based on substituting Garth for himself in the Death-God's power, but that no longer seemed reasonable. The offer had not been of eternal life at all.
"How long," he asked, "would the Age of Death last?"
Shandiph shrugged. "I told you," he said, "I am no theurgist, nor am I an astrologer or a seer. I don't know. I have heard philosophers say that the length of an age is subjective and cannot always be predicted or measured. Perhaps it will last a million years, until the sun grows cold and the seas run dry, or perhaps it will be over in an instant, and the world will vanish in a puff of smoke."
That was a very unsatisfactory answer, in Garth's opinion. "Wizard," he said, "I was told by Bheleu, in a vision he sent while I held the sword and he sought to dominate me, that his reign would last thirty years. Now you speak as if it might be over in just three. How can that be? Could the god have been wrong? That was not part of my understanding of the nature of a god. Might my refusal to serve him have altered that, when the god himself had once said it? I had thought that the ages were fixed in the stars, and that only failures of interpretation caused the uncertainty and disagreement among astrologers."
"I don't know," Shandiph admitted. "Perhaps the stars offer a choice; perhaps the god lied. My friend Miloshir told me that Bheleu's reign would last for either three years or thirty, but could not say which; it may be that his knowledge was lacking, or it may be that it had not yet been determined. Your refusal might in truth have been the crucial event; perhaps you ameliorated the Age of Destruction only to hasten the Age of Death."
Garth remembered the smoking battlefields and charred wastelands he had seen in his journey south through Eramma. If these were the scenes of a mild Age of Destruction, what would it have been had he not refused his role? That was a depressing line of thought.
The possibility that by limiting the destruction he had brought the end of the world half a generation earlier-or a full generation for humans-was even more disheartening. It appeared that he had faced a situation in which he would cause disaster, whatever course he might choose.
"You say that my actions might bring the Age of Death; how could that be prevented, if that is to be the next age? Must there be an Age of Death? Need it be the Fifteenth Age, and not the Hundredth?"
"Again, Garth, I cannot say with any certainty. Miloshir spoke as if there were to be fifteen ages to complete the current cycle, the first seven dedicated to the Lords of Eir and the last to the Lords of Dыs, while the Eighth Age was an era when light and darkness were in balance. Whether this scheme of being is truly fixed and immutable I do not know. If it is unalterable, then there will be a Fifteenth Age, a final age, an Age of Death, and it will occur immediately after our current Age of Destruction."
"It seems little to choose, between destruction and death." Shandiph shrugged. Chalkara, who had been following the conversation closely, said, "I would prefer to live, however terrible the times in which I live, than to perish."
"Do you think that by stopping me from performing my errand you might avert this Fifteenth Age?"
"We feel we must try. It may be that it can be delayed for another twenty-seven years, or perhaps it can be weakened, as Bheleu's reign was, so that some might survive where they otherwise would not."
Garth sat back and thought for a moment. He was not happy about this new information. The possibility that the wizards were making it all up for reasons of their own did not escape him, but that seemed unlikely; it all fitted far too well with what he knew. The blue-clad man had suggested the end of the world as just one of several possibilities, which did not jibe with a lying attempt to frighten anyone; it was Garth's own knowledge of the Forgotten King that convinced him that that was exactly what was fated to occur.
The Fourteenth Age had lasted almost three years thus far; before it, the Age of P'hul had been three centuries, and the Twelfth Age was old when the first overmen were created a millennium ago, as he understood it, so it had lasted at least seven hundred years. The ages appeared to be getting shorter. The Fifteenth might be three days, or three hours. The end of the world, and his own death, might be only a few days in the future.
This assumed, however, that the Fifteenth Age would really begin when the Forgotten King received the Book of Silence. Garth knew of a serious flaw in that theory.
"Would it lessen your concern," he asked, "if I told you that the Book of Silence is not the device of The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken?"
Shandiph considered for a moment, and then said, "Not really. If it is not, then what is? And you, Bheleu's chosen, will still be doing the King in Yellow a service if you bring him the book, even should it be the totem of another god. Miloshir told me that it might be the device of Dagha himself, god of time, the father of all the higher gods. But in that case, what is the totem of Death? He thought it might be the basilisk that dwelt beneath Mormoreth, but that seems unlikely; the creature died, did it not? And bringing the King in Yellow Dagha's totem might easily be as devastating as bringing him his own, whatever it might be."
Garth had to admit the logic in this speech; after all, he had taken the Sword of Bheleu from Bheleu's altar, and not from the followers of P'hul.
"Still," he said, "the Age of Death, as I understand it, cannot begin until two conditions are met; I must do the King a service, yes, but more importantly, he must acquire the totem of his god. Is that not correct?"
Shandiph nodded. "I would ask, though, how you know that the Book of Silence is not that totem, when you profess to know nothing about it."
"The King told me," the overman replied; almost immediately, he realized how feeble that sounded. Still, he believed the old man. He knew that the King was a schemer, adept at speaking half-truths and implying falsehoods without actually stating them, yet he had never heard him tell a direct and definite lie. The old man had said, in effect, that the Book of Silence was the totem of Dagha, not of Death. At the time, it had seemed odd that he had wasted so many words, rather than letting Garth believe what he chose, but now it appeared the King had foreseen a moment such as this, when Garth might be reluctant to fetch the book if he believed it to be the device of the Final God.
The Final God-that name suddenly seemed more appropriate, if his age was to end the world.
"You may have reason to accept his word," Shandiph said, "but we do not. Furthermore, how do you know that he does not already possess the symbol of the Unnamed God, whatsoever i
t may be?"
"He did possess it once, but left it here, in this city, with the Book of Silence."
"He told you this?"
"Yes." Garth remembered that the old man had said also that he was not wholly free of the Pallid Mask even when apart from it, but Garth suppressed the thought. He wanted to bring the Book of Silence to the King so that he might trade it for the Sword of Bheleu and kill Aghadites with the sword.
The thought of killing Aghadites, of watching them bleed and die, was so appealing that he let himself linger over it for a moment, and Chalkara's next question did not register at first.
"I said, what is the totem of Death?" she repeated.
Garth recalled himself and shrugged. "He called it the Pallid Mask."
The two wizards glanced at each other, then at the archivist.
"I never heard of it," Chalkara said.
"Nor I," Shandiph declared.
"I am not sure," Silda said. "It might have been mentioned in the tales of the fallen moons."
"That doesn't matter," Garth said. "I have no intention of bringing anything to the King but the Book of Silence. You have my word."
"I would rather have your word that you would give up this quest entirely," Shandiph said.
"I cannot do that. I need magic for my revenge, a magic that the cult of Aghad cannot counter."
There was a moment of silence. It was Chalkara who said at last, "You want the Book of Silence for that?"
"No," Garth replied. "I want the King's aid, which he has promised in exchange for the book." It seemed impolitic to mention that he meant to take up the Sword of Bheleu again; the wizards would surely oppose that as strongly as they opposed the Age of Death. The Fifteenth Age was a theory, but they had seen the sword's power and suffered under it.
"You would risk the lives of every man, woman, and child, every overman and overwoman, every bird and beast in the world, to avenge your wife's murder?" Shandiph asked.
Garth answered simply, "Yes." He did not think it worth pointing out that the cult of Aghad was a menace to all and had threatened further deaths, or that destroying it would be both an act of vengeance and one of prevention. Kyrith's death was reason enough.
Chalkara glanced at each of the others in turn, then whispered to Shandiph, "He's mad!"
She had not allowed for the keen ears of overmen; Garth heard what she said, but ignored it.
"Garth," Shandiph said, "please reconsider. We will aid your vengeance in every way we can, if you will not bring the King either the book or this mask, or serve him in any manner."
That was a tempting offer, but Garth reluctantly knew he had to refuse it. These wizards had little real power; much of what they had turned against him before, they had lost, either destroyed by the Sword of Bheleu or sealed away by the Forgotten King. They might be a match for an Aghadite magician in a fair contest, one against one, but the cult was clearly widespread and did not trouble itself with fairness; rather, it made a point of being unfair, treacherous, and hateful, in keeping with the nature of its deity. Furthermore, the full party of wizards that had fought him-and surely they had summoned their greatest strength for that combat-could not have exceeded two dozen, and at least one in four had died, perhaps half or more. That meant that far less than a score could have survived, while the cult might well number in the hundreds or even the thousands.
More importantly, he had sworn an oath. For two and a half years, the knowledge that he had made a false vow had eaten away at him, and that pain had finally been alleviated slightly when he undertook this journey. He did not care to let it return. He had regained some trace of honor, tarnished though it might be, and preferred to keep it for as long as he could.
"No," he said. "I am sorry." He rose, before any protest could be made. "I came to this chamber hoping that you might aid me in my search for the Book of Silence, perhaps tell me more of its nature. You have told me much, but it was not what I wished to hear. This conversation has been most enlightening, and I thank you for it, but still, I must pursue my original intention. I do promise you that I do not want to see the Age of Death begin and that I do not intend to aid in bringing it about, if I can avoid it and still meet my sworn obligations. It is plain that none of you would willingly help me in my search for the Book of Silence, and I will not compel you to do so; you act as you see best, as do I. For that reason, I believe there is no point in continuing this discussion." He nodded politely to each, then turned and marched out through the door they had entered by.
The paneled corridor was almost empty, but, half-hidden in a neighboring doorway, Garth saw a red-clad figure. "Ho, there," he called. "Can you show me the way out?"
In the Rose Chamber, the wizards watched him go and then turned to each other.
"We have to stop him, Shandi," Chalkara said.
"I know that, but what method would you suggest? I have no magic left that can kill from afar, and I see no other way of stopping him. And even if I had some, it might not work; true, he no longer carries the sword, but he is still the chosen of Bheleu."
"Is he really?" Silda asked. "You two and the overman seem to know a great deal more than I do about all this."
"Yes, he is. Everything we have said here is true."
Silda glanced at the door Garth had closed behind himself. "We should tell the overlord," she said.
Chalkara agreed. "She's right, Shandi. Garth hasn't got the Sword of Bheleu; ordinary soldiers should be able to kill him if necessary. At the very least, the overlord might insist that he leave the city; that would make it harder for him to find the Book of Silence, if it really is here."
Shandiph nodded. "I think you're right. If we act quickly, we might be in time to prevent the return of his weapons; even an overman would not be likely to put up too much of an argument at sword point when he's armed with nothing but a dagger."
Chalkara asked, "Who will speak to the overlord?"
"Speed is important, and we must impress upon him how urgent this is. We must all go, at once."
He rose, and Chalkara did the same. Silda got to her feet more hesitantly, then followed the wizards out of the room.
In the corridor, they caught a glimpse of the overman vanishing into a side passage. Chalkara hesitated. "Should we pursue him? One of us, perhaps?"
"No," Shandiph said. "I'm sure that the overlord will have him followed as a precaution, and by someone less recognizable than we are. Let him go for now."
"He'll get his sword and axe back," Silda pointed out.
"He may be delayed, if he chooses to take advantage of the overlord's hospitality by accepting a meal or a drink, and we have no authority to prevent the return of his weapons without the overlord's word. You know that we are all three distrusted here, as wizards always are."
"I'm no wizard," Silda protested.
"You're a scholar, which is close enough for most people. You know things they don't. If we try to interfere without the prince's support, we'll be accused of conspiracy and treason, most likely. Better to risk Garth's arming himself while we talk to the overlord."
"We have no choice now," Chalkara said. "While we've been standing here debating, he's undoubtedly gotten that much farther away."
"True enough," Shandiph replied. "Let us waste no more time, then." He turned and led the way down the corridor toward the audience chamber.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The overlord did not pay much attention when the archivist and the two wizards re-entered the hall; he assumed that they had finished their discussion with the overman and had come back to the audience chamber in case their prince might require their services. He was rather startled, therefore, when, instead of resuming their accustomed places, they stood before him and made the accepted ritual obeisance.
He had been chatting with his treasurer while the doorkeepers selected the next petitioner to be granted a hearing; during the time that the overman had been talking in the Rose Chamber, he had settled a property dispute and refused to hear the
appeal of a convicted thief, turning the man back over to the jailer for flogging. The day had been going well, and except for the arrival of the overman from Skelleth and his unorthodox requests, it had been routine.
There was nothing routine, however, in having three of the prince's advisers appear before him, uninvited, while he was holding court. They knew better, he told himself. If they had public business, it could go through the regular channels-though, of course, they would have fewer delays than outsiders would face-and if it was private, it could be handled informally after the day's work was finished.
He paused for a few seconds, letting the trio perceive his annoyance and grow a bit more nervous, then demanded, "Why have you come here? Speak, if you have any excuse for your action!"
With his head politely bowed, as protocol required in a petitioner, the male wizard said, "O Prince, we beg your forgiveness, but we have urgent business, very urgent indeed, and must speak with you immediately."
The overlord considered for a moment. The formalities and rituals of his life served a definite purpose, in that they made it easier for him to deal with the unending demands made upon him. Each piece of business, whatever its nature, was categorized and run through the appropriate ceremonies, delays, and sortings, so that only a tiny fraction of the whole ever needed to reach him at all; when it did, it was stripped down to the essentials, his choices laid out for him and awaiting a quick decision. Cutting through the rituals was a dangerous precedent; if he permitted the formal structure to weaken, he might be deluged in trivia. Only foreigners, who must be assumed to be ignorant of the usual procedures, were ever allowed to deviate from the pattern, and then only if it seemed a diplomatic necessity-as it had appeared with the overman.
On the other hand, he faced here not a single unknown individual, but three of his most learned counselors. He had not yet had time to become truly familiar with either of the wizards in the months since their arrival, but Chalkara had been the chosen magician of the High King at Kholis, despite her youth-if she was as young as she appeared, which was not something one could be sure of with wizards. She, in turn, deferred to Shandiph, so that he, too, must be considered worthy of respect-unless it was his age that engendered her deference. The vanished Deriam, the overlord's previous wizardly adviser, had spoken well of Shandiph; these two said that Deriam was dead, and the possibility of a magical feud had occurred to the overlord, but that did not detract from the pair's apparent worth. The archivist Silda had lived all her life as a member of the court, under first his father and then himself, but the prince knew less about her than he knew about the wizards; she seemed to care little for his company, or for that of any of his friends or informers. She was given to long historical discussions full of obscure references whenever he consulted her professionally; he suspected that she hoped to impress him with her erudition. He was not easily impressed, but he had to admit that she knew her job well.
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