Silverthorn

by Raymond Feist

  “Now, if all this is true, it seeks to manipulate and employ guile rather than direct force. Why? Either it is too weak to act, and must employ others, or it is biding its time until it is able to reveal its true nature and come to the fore.”

  “Which all means we still must discover the identity and nature of this thing, this power.”

  “True. Now, we also have done some speculation predicated upon the assumption that what we face is not of Kelewan.”

  Pug interrupted. “Do not waste time with that, Kulgan. We must proceed on the assumption that what we face is from Kelewan, for that, at least, provides us with a possible avenue of approach. If Murmandamus is simply some moredhel witch-king come into his own, one who just happens to speak a long-dead Tsurani tongue, we can counter that. But an invasion by some dark power from Kelewan…that is the assumption we must make.”

  Kulgan sighed loudly and relit his cold pipe. “I wish we had more time, and more idea of how to proceed. I wish we could examine some aspect of this phenomenon without risk. I wish a hundred things, but most of all I wish for one work by one reliable witness to this thing.”

  “There is a place where such a work may exist.”

  Dominic said, “Where? I would gladly accompany you or anyone else to such a place, no matter what the risk.”

  Kulgan barked a bitter laugh. “Not likely, good brother. My former student speaks of a place upon another world.” Kulgan looked hard at Pug. “The library of the Assembly.”

  Kasumi said, “The Assembly?”

  Pug saw Katala stiffen. “In that place there may be answers that would aid our coming battle,” he said.

  Katala never took her eyes from her work. In controlled tones she said, “It is good the rift is closed and cannot be reopened save by chance. Your life may already be ordered forfeit. Remember that your status as a Great One was called into question before the attack on the Emperor. Who can doubt you are now named outlaw? No, it is good there is no way you might return.”

  Pug said, “There is a way.”

  Instantly Katala’s eyes were ablaze as she looked hard at him. “No! You cannot return!”

  Kulgan said, “How can there be a way back?”

  “When I studied for the black robe, I was given a final task,” Pug explained. “Standing upon the Tower of Testing, I saw a vision of the time of the Stranger, a wandering star that imperiled Kelewan. It was Macros who intervened at the last to save Kelewan. Macros was again on Kelewan on the day I nearly destroyed the Imperial Arena. It was obvious all the time and only this week did I understand.”

  “Macros could travel between the worlds at will!” said Kulgan, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “Macros had the means to fashion controllable rifts!”

  “And I have found it. Clear instructions are in one of his books.”

  Katala whispered, “You cannot go.”

  He reached over and took her white-knuckled hands in his own. “I must.” He faced Kulgan and Dominic. “I have the means of returning to the Assembly, and I must use it. Otherwise, should Murmandamus be a servant of some dark Kelewanese power, or simply a diversion while such a power comes into its own, we will be lost without hope. If we are to find a way of dealing with such a one, we must first identify it, discover its true nature, and to do that I must go to Kelewan.” He looked at his wife, then at Kulgan. “I will return to Tsuranuanni.”

  —

  It was Meecham who spoke first. “Well then. When do we leave?”

  Pug said, “We? I must go alone.”

  The tall franklin said, “You can’t go alone,” as if that thought was the sheerest absurdity. “When shall we leave?”

  Pug looked up at Meecham. “You don’t speak the language. You’re too tall to be a Tsurani.”

  “I’ll be your slave. There are Midkemian slaves there, you’ve said often enough.” His tone indicated the argument was over. He looked from Katala to Kulgan and said, “There wouldn’t be a moment’s peace around here should anything happen to you.”

  William came over, Gamina behind him. “Papa, please take Meecham with you.”

  Please.

  Pug put his hands in the air. “Very well. We’ll establish some charade.”

  Kulgan said, “I feel a little better, which is a relative statement not to be taken as approval.”

  “Your objection is duly noted.”

  Dominic said, “Now the issue has been broached, I, too, wish to again offer to accompany you.”

  “You offered before you knew where I was going. One Midkemian I can look after, two would prove too burdensome.”

  “I have my uses,” replied Dominic. “I know the healer’s arts and can perform my own brands of magic. And I have a good arm and can wield a mace.”

  Pug studied the monk. “You are taller than I by only a little. You might pass as a Tsurani, but there’s the problem of language.”

  “In Ishap’s order we have magic means to learn languages. While you prepare your rift spells, I can learn the Tsurani tongue and aid Meecham in learning it as well, if the Lady Katala or Earl Kasumi will help.”

  William said, “I can help. I speak Tsurani.”

  Katala didn’t look pleased, but agreed. Kasumi said, “I also.” He looked troubled.

  Kulgan said, “Of all here, Kasumi, I expected you would be the most likely to wish a return, yet you’ve said nothing.”

  “When the last rift closed, my life on Kelewan ended. I am now Earl of LaMut. My tenure within the Empire of Tsuranuanni is but a memory. Even if it is possible to return, I would not, for I have taken oath to the King. But,” he said to Pug, “will you carry messages for me to my father and brother? They have no way to know I live, let alone prosper.”

  “Of course. It is only right.” He said to Katala, “Beloved, can you fashion two robes of the Order of Hantukama?” She nodded. He explained to the others, “It is a missionary order; its members are commonly seen traveling about. Disguised as such, we shall attract little attention as we wander. Meecham can be our begging slave.”

  Kulgan said, “I still don’t like this idea. I am not happy.”

  Meecham looked at Kulgan. “When you worry, you’re happy.”

  Pug laughed at this. Katala put her arms around her husband and held him closely. She also was not happy.

  —

  Katala held up the robe and said, “Try this.”

  Pug found it a perfect fit. She had carefully chosen fabrics that would most closely resemble those used upon Kelewan.

  Pug had been meeting daily with others in the community, delegating authority for his absence--and, as was understood but not spoken, against the probability that he would not return. Dominic had been learning Tsurani from Kasumi and William and aiding in Meecham’s mastery of that language. Kulgan had been given Macros’s works on rifts to study so he could aid Pug in the formation of one.

  Kulgan entered Pug’s private quarters as Katala was inspecting her handiwork. “You’ll freeze in that.”

  Katala said, “My homeworld is a hot place, Kulgan. These light robes are what is commonly worn.”

  “By women as well?” When she said yes, he said, “Positively indecent,” as he pulled out a chair.

  William and Gamina ran into the room. The little girl was a changed child now that Rogen’s recovery was assured. She was William’s constant companion, playing, competing, and arguing as if she were a sister. Katala had kept her in the family’s quarters while the old man healed, in a room next to William’s.

  The boy shouted, “Meecham’s coming!” and broke out in gleeful laughter as he spun in a circle of delight. Gamina laughed aloud as well, imitating William’s spin, and Kulgan and Pug exchanged glances, for it was the first audible sound the child had ever made. Meecham entered the room, and the adults’ laughter joined with the children’s. The burly forester’s hairy legs and arms stuck out from the short robe, and he stood awkwardly in the imitation Tsurani sandals.

  He looked around the room. �
�So what’s funny?”

  Kulgan said, “I’ve grown so used to seeing you in hunter’s togs, I couldn’t imagine what you’d look like.”

  Pug said, “You just look a little different than I had expected,” and tried to stifle a laugh.

  The franklin shook his head in disgust. “If you’re done? When do we leave?”

  Pug said, “Tomorrow morning, just after dawn.” Instantly all laughter in the room died.

  —

  They waited quietly around the hill with the large tree, on the north side of Stardock Island. The rain had stopped, but a damp, cold wind blew, promising more rain shortly. Most of the community had come to see Pug, Dominic, and Meecham on their way. Katala stood next to Kulgan with her hands upon William’s shoulders. Gamina clutched tightly to Katala’s skirt, looking nervous and a little frightened.

  Pug stood alone, consulting the scroll he had fashioned. A short way off, Meecham and Dominic waited, shivering against the cold, while they listened to Kasumi. He was intensively speaking of every detail of Tsurani custom and life he could recall that might prove important. He was constantly remembering details he had almost forgotten. The franklin held the travel bag Pug had prepared, containing the usual items a priest would carry. Also inside, under those items, were a few things uncommon to a priest on Kelewan, weapons and coins of metal, a fortune by Kelewanese standards.

  Kulgan came to where Pug indicated, holding a staff fashioned by a woodcarver in the village. He planted it firmly in the soil, then took another handed to him and placed it four feet away. He stepped back as Pug began to read aloud from the scroll.

  Between the staves a field of light grew, rainbow colors dancing up and down. A crackling noise could be heard, and the air began to smell as it did after a lightning strike, acrid and pungent.

  The light began to expand and change in color, moving faster through the spectrum until it gleamed whitely. It grew in intensity until it was too bright to look upon. Still Pug’s voice droned on. Then came a loud explosion of noise, as if a thunderclap had pealed between the staves, and a short gust of wind toward the gap between them, as if a sudden drawing in of air had occurred.

  Pug put away his scroll and all looked at what he had fashioned. A shimmering square of grey “nothingness” stood between the upright staves. Pug motioned to Dominic and said, “I’ll go through first. The rift is targeted to a glade behind my old estate, but it might have appeared elsewhere.”

  If the environment proved hostile, he would have to step around the pole, entering it from the same side again, appearing back on Midkemia as if he had passed through a hoop. If he was able.

  He turned and smiled at Katala and William. His son jiggled around nervously, but Katala’s reassuring pressure on the boy’s shoulders quieted him. She only nodded, her face composed.

  Pug stepped into the rift and vanished. There was an audible intaking of breath at the sight, for only a few there knew what to expect. The following moments dragged on, and many unconsciously held their breath.

  Suddenly Pug appeared from the other side of the rift and an audible sigh of relief came from those who waited. He came back to the others and said, “It opens exactly where I had hoped it would. Macros’s spellcraft was flawless.” He took Katala’s hands. “It is next to the reflecting pool in the meditation glade.”

  Katala fought back the tears. She had tended flowers around that pool, where a solitary bench looked over calm waters, when she had been mistress of that great estate. She nodded understanding, and Pug embraced her, then William. As Pug knelt before William, Gamina suddenly threw her arms around his neck. Be careful.

  He hugged her in return. “I will, little one.”

  Pug motioned Dominic and Meecham to follow and walked through the rift. They hesitated the barest instant and followed him into the greyness.

  The others stood watching for long minutes after the three had vanished, and the rain began again. No one wished to leave. Finally, as the rain took on a more insistent quality, Kulgan said, “Those set to watch, remain. The rest, back to work.” Everyone slowly moved off, no one resenting Kulgan’s sharp tone. They all shared his concern.

  —

  Yagu, chief gardener on the estate of Netoha, near the city of Ontoset, turned to find three strangers walking the path from the meditation glade to the great house. Two were priests of Hantukama, the Bringer of Blessed Health, though both were unusually tall for priests. Behind walked their begging slave, a captive barbarian giant from the late war. Yagu shuddered, for he was an ugly sort, with a horrible scar down his left cheek. In a culture of warriors, Yagu was a gentle man, preferring the company of his flowers and plants to that of men who spoke only of warfare and honor. Still, he had a duty to his master’s house and approached the three strangers.

  When they saw him coming, they halted, and Yagu bowed first, as he was initiating the conversation—common courtesy until rank was established. “Greetings, honored priests. It is Yagu the gardener who presumes to interrupt your journey.”

  Pug and Dominic bowed. Meecham waited to the rear, ignored, as was the custom. Pug said, “Greetings, Yagu. For two humble priests of Hantukama your presence is no interruption. Are you well?”

  Yagu said, “Yes, I am well,” finishing off the formal greeting of strangers. Then he took on a lofty stance, crossing his arms and sticking his chest out. “What brings the priests of Hantukama to the house of my master?”

  Pug said, “We travel from Seran to the City of the Plains. As we passed by, we saw this estate and hoped to beg a meal for poor missionaries. Is this possible?” Pug knew it was not Yagu’s prerogative to say, but he let the scrawny gardener play out the role of deciding.

  The gardener stroked his chin for a moment. “It is permitted for you to beg, though I cannot say if you will be turned away or fed. Come, I will show you the kitchen.”

  As they walked toward the house, Pug said, “May I inquire who lives in this wondrous abode?”

  Showing pride in the reflected glory of his master, Yagu said, “This is the house of Netoha, called ‘He Who Rises Quickly.’ ”

  Pug feigned ignorance, though he was pleased to know his former servant was still in possession of the estate. “Perhaps,” said Pug, “it would not be too offensive for humble priests to pay respects to so august a personage.”

  Yagu frowned. His master was a busy man, but he also made time for such as these. He would not be pleased to find the gardener had presumed to fend them off, though they were little more than beggars, not being from a powerful sect, such as the servants of Chochocan or Juran. “I will ask. It may be my master will have a moment for you. If not, then perhaps a meal may be had.”

  The gardener led them to a door Pug knew led into the kitchen area. The afternoon sun beat down upon them as the gardener disappeared inside. The house was a strange design of interconnecting buildings Pug had built nearly two years before. It had started something of a revolution in Tsurani architecture, but Pug doubted the trend had continued, given the Tsurani sensitivity to political fortune.

  The door slid open and a woman stepped out, followed by Yagu. Pug bowed before she could get a look at his face. It was Almorella, a former slave Pug had freed, now wed to Netoha. She had been Katala’s closest friend.

  Yagu said, “My mistress graciously agrees to speak with the priests of Hantukama.”

  From his bowing position Pug said, “Are you well, mistress?”

  Hearing his voice, Almorella gripped the doorframe as she fought for breath. When Pug straightened, she forced herself to breathe and said, “I…am well.” Her eyes widened and she began to speak his Tsurani name.

  Pug shook his head. “I have met your honored husband. I hoped he might spare a moment for an old acquaintance.”

  Almost inaudibly Almorella said, “My husband always has time for…old friends.”

  She bade them enter and closed the door behind. Yagu stood outside a moment, perplexed at his mistress’s behavior. But as the doo
r slid shut, he shrugged and returned to his beloved plants. Who could understand the rich?

  —

  Almorella led them quickly and silently through the kitchen. She struggled to maintain her composure, barely concealing her shaking hands as she brushed past three startled slaves. They never noticed their mistress’s agitated state, for their eyes were riveted on Meecham, the biggest barbarian slave they had ever seen, truly a giant among giants.

  Reaching Pug’s former workroom, she slid aside the door and whispered, “I will get my husband.”

  They entered and sat, Meecham awkwardly, upon plump cushions on the floor. Pug looked about the room and saw that little had changed. He felt a strange sense of being in two places at the same time, for he could almost imagine opening the door to find Katala and William outside in the garden. But he wore the saffron-colored robe of a priest of Hantukama, not the black of a Great One, and a terrible peril was possibly about to descend upon the two worlds with which his fate seemed forever intertwined. Since beginning the search for a return to Kelewan, a faint nagging had started at the back of Pug’s mind. He sensed that his unconscious mind was operating as it often did, working on a problem while his attention was elsewhere. Something about all that had occurred on Midkemia had a faintly familiar quality to it, and he knew the time was soon coming when he would intuit what that quality was.

  The door slid open and a man entered, Almorella behind. She closed the door, while the man bowed low. “You honor my home, Great One.”

  “Honors to your house, Netoha. Are you well?”

  “I am well, Great One. How may I serve?”