by Peter David
I wanted to deny it, to continue to reject the notion out of hand. I clutched my chest and stayed where I was upon the floor, wanting to force myself to disbelieve, certain it was false, knowing it was true.
She nodded serenely. “Yes, Apropos,” and she drew herself up. All she was clad in was a sheet, and yet it looked like majestic robes upon her. She did not speak so much as intone her identity. “Hecate. Mistress Ruler of all mankind, all-dreadful one, bursting out of the Earth. Hecate, of the first gods, spat out from the primordial soup of the universe, before any of the others crawled from the muck and mire of creation to claw out their own regions in the hearts and minds of humanity. Hecate, the far-darting one, she who works her will. Hecate, goddess of dark sorcery, and beloved of angry young girls with vengeance in their hearts … a description that certainly fit the Princess Entipy, did it not?”
“It did,” I whispered hollowly.
“She has called upon me three times in her life … and three garners serious attention. The last time she did was several years ago, sitting in the window of her castle with a votive candle burning before her. She spoke of you in her prayers to me … spoke of you very prominently, and not very highly. Spoke of you with such fury, such ire … that she piqued my interest. Having experienced you now for a time, I admit I can see why she did. You certainly have a knack for provoking emotions, I’ll credit you that much. So I decided to look into you … so to speak. See just what it was about you that prompted such combination of ire and frustrated love. Imagine my surprise when I liked what I saw.”
She rubbed her throat as she walked toward me, and then eased herself onto the bed. She had a rueful smile as she said, “You gave me a bit of a scare there, though. I suppose I should, on some level, be grateful. It has been quite a few centuries since I’ve had any sort of scare whatsoever … and considering the darkness within which I dwell, you would think I, of all who walk the skies, would appreciate a good scare.”
I wanted to flee. I wanted to run screaming into the night, to put as much distance between myself and this … this … whatever she was … as quickly as humanly possible. I felt my head swimming. I felt as if it were going to explode. I’d encountered phoenixes, unicorns, weavers … perhaps even ghosts, it seemed … all manner of beings and creatures in my life. But to find myself staring into the face of a goddess … to think that I had been the lover of such a being as that … it was overwhelming. It was getting hard to breathe, and I steadied myself, not wanting to give into the weakness of spirit which threatened to render me unconscious simply from having gotten the answer to the question I had so brutally pressed.
It’s impossible … impossible … My mind was screaming at me, trying to assure me that this was just some sort of grand jest.
“It … it …” My voice was scarcely above a whisper.
“It what?”
“It … makes no sense,” I finally managed to get out. “You … say you’re Hecate. A goddess. But you … you don’t seem … godlike entirely … I mean, your strength … your strength was extraordinary, but I see …” I squinted. “Bruises … bruises upon your throat from my hands … they’re already fading, but still … and you say you were scared …”
” ‘Scared’ may have been overstating it. Startled, I suppose, is more accurate.” She examined her hands, her arms, as if she’d never seen them before, which of course was an affectation on her part. But I said nothing. I could think of nothing to say … a rarity in my life, I readily admit. Kate … no, Hecate, as I realized I should now be calling her … said, “You may have read myths describing gods walking abroad on earth. Well, they are just that, Apropos. Myths. Treading the world of man is not something we do lightly. Fashioning a body to inhabit is not an easy thing, and we expend great energy to maintain it.”
“Great … energy … ?”
“Your little weaver friend … certainly she must have spoken to you of a loss of power? Something that has affected any weaver who draws upon the mystic threads of this world in order to work their magiks?” She shrugged. “That would be because of me.”
“You?”
“Tragic, isn’t it?” Obviously she was looking for some sort of commiseration. I managed a nod. “Gods and men … we’re not truly meant to mix. When we walk the skies, our power is boundless, for we draw them from the stars in the heavens. But upon this sphere, we can only draw strength from the earth. Very, very limiting. And you know … that’s the tragedy of it.”
“Tragedy?” I echoed.
She strolled toward me, the sheet swishing about her, and then gathering the sheet around herself she sat next to me on the floor. She reached out to me, and I flinched automatically, but she simply draped her arm around me as if we were two old chums having a chat. “There is a great gulf between gods and men, Apropos, in case you haven’t noticed. The fundamental difference in our natures, the risks entailed in our actually coming down to this sphere … these have only served to widen the distance. That … is why I am here.”
“Is it?” I said feebly.
“Because I had to do something.”
“You did?”
She sighed. “It’s going to get worse.”
“It is?”
She nodded. “I’ve seen it. Right now, Apropos, the world is filled with people who believe in us. Who trust in us. Who have faith that we’re there. People who are—”
“Are terrified of you,” I said, rallying some of the old insouciance, which was quite an accomplishment considering the churning of my guts within. “Who live in fear of offending you lest you strike them down or inflict some sort of … of horrible punishment on them. People who don’t know how to live their own lives because they’re waiting for you to live it for them.”
Hecate shrugged her slim shoulders. “That’s as may be,” she said casually. “But it’s a small price to pay for what we give them in return: a lush, clean world. A world with magic, and creatures of magic. A world of hope.” Then she frowned, and when she spoke again it was with a mixture of dread and sadness. “But it’s not going to stay that way. I, of all the gods, have foreseen that the most clearly.”
“Why …” My voice choked a moment as I sought to overcome my trepidation over the notion of addressing a goddess in the copious flesh. “Why … won’t it stay that way?”
“Do you know what entropy is, Apropos?”
“Entipy?”
She shook her head. “Entropy. No?” I shook my head. “Not surprising … the word doesn’t exist yet. It is the tendency for systems to fall apart. It is what brings decay, death, and destruction to the world, and eventually sends it all spiraling into chaos.”
“Sounds like Entipy to me,” I said, trying to make a small joke when I wasn’t feeling especially funny.
Hecate ignored it, although she did pat my shoulder in what seemed sympathy for my lame attempt at humor. “It starts with an abandonment of us, Apropos. It starts with humanity losing touch with the beings who were there at the beginning of it all. If the tree severs ties with its roots, then the tree itself will wither and die. Oh, it will begin slowly. First there will be a gradual loss of magic in the world. Unicorns, phoenixes, dragons and drabits, gryphons, manticores … all the creatures you’ve heard of, and creatures you’ve never heard of, will disappear. Magic lines upon the earth, so beloved by weavers, will become fewer and fewer and eventually disappear entirely. And humanity …” She hesitated.
“What?”
“Well … in the absence of magic, men will become even more aggressive in fighting in the belief of their gods. Religious wars will be fought, more and more barbaric, and hundreds upon thousands will die as different groups try to prove to the other that their god is the right one, the best one … all the time not realizing …” She took a deep breath, clearly about to say the hardest thing of all. “Not realizing … that the gods will be long gone. That no one is right, that you’re all wrong, that there will be nothing out there, simply nothing, and the final death
rattles of humanity as you all die in your own poisons of toxic hatred will be heard by nothing. You will live alone, and die alone, and that will be all. That, Apropos, is entropy. That is what you have to look forward to … or would have had … if not for me.”
Slowly, as she spoke, I had gathered my scattered wits about me. I managed to stand up, attaining some minuscule amount of confidence and superiority by being taller than she. “You took them. You took the Eyes of the Beholder from the place of the gods, and you brought them here to earth.”
She sighed heavily. “Yes. Brought them to this world, to the state of Isteria … but I was still weak, my body not fully up to strength. And at that point a sorcerer who …” Then she stopped, paused, and looked up at me. “You don’t like to hear long, epic stories about heroics, adventures, and great feats of valor, do you?”
“Not as a rule, no,” I said.
“Because I could tell you, but it would take a while.”
“Not interested.”
“As you wish,” she said. “The point is, I had the Eyes, but then I lost them, others got them … and here you are, on the verge of greatness.”
“On the verge? I thought I was already great.”
She made a dismissive noise that I had to admit made me feel somewhat pathetic. “You’re a conqueror, Apropos, but there are any number of those. There have been before you, long forgotten now, and there will be others after you when you yourself are a barely remembered footnote in history. But it need not be that way. Because the remaining Eye has chosen you, Apropos, for good or ill. And with my help, the Eye of the Beholder …”
“Can be used to reshape the world. Beliquose told me as much … and said that someone such as you had rather unpleasant plans.”
“Beliquose was a fool,” she said in annoyance, and I had to admit that it was an opinion I shared. “He had one of the Eyes in his possession and fought it. Fought the destiny to which it tried to guide him. In doing so, it made him insane. You, Apropos … you know better. Admittedly, you’ve had some help …”
“Help … ?”
There came a more insistent knocking on the door. “Peacelord,” came Slake’s voice, “we are all assembled! The men grow restless! The city holds no further pleasures for them, and they are anxious to dispose of Meander and return to Dreadnaught! What shall I tell them?”
“We will be there within moments!” Hecate informed him, and then turned her focus back to me even as she rose from the floor and crossed quickly to her wardrobe. “It’s all been building to this, Apropos. It must be attended to. Even entropy tends to work on a sort of cosmic timetable, and once matters are set into motion, they must be resolved within a defined period or everything is put out of whack.”
“What … do you want of me?” I had not yet started to dress. Noticing that, Hecate picked up my fallen clothing and tossed it at me. I caught it reflexively but still simply stood there.
“The people of this world are blind to what will happen if something is not done to salvage the situation,” she said briskly. She pulled on her clothing with swift efficiency, which was consistent considering how expert she had been at removing them. “You have the opportunity to do so. The Eye of the Beholder comes from a realm of perfection, Apropos. For it to function to its full potential in this sphere, it must have perfection once again. It must have perfect darkness. I will be blunt, Apropos … you were not my first choice for this responsibility. But for a variety of reasons that I won’t go into, because I know you despise lengthy discussions of that sort, you have been chosen to be the vehicle of perfect darkness.”
“I’m … perfect darkness?”
“Not yet,” she told me. Fully dressed in a gown of red crushed velvet, she saw that I was still standing there, unmoving. With a faint whistle of annoyance, she came over to me and started pulling my clothes on me. “There is one aspect left unfinished. You should have figured out by now what that is.”
Frighteningly enough, I had. “Meander.”
“Yes.”
“I need to kill him.”
“Yes, you do.” She fastened the tunic around me. “To be a vessel of perfect darkness, there must be no uncertainty within you. No hesitation. No … unfinished business, as it were, that will connect you to the life you once knew. By disposing of Meander, you will have put paid to the last remaining tie to your old life as Apropos of Nothing.”
“Would I? What of Entipy? What of her?”
“What of her?” asked Hecate. “Do you have anything left to say to her? To do with her?”
I racked my brains on that one, and realized that the answer to that was no. Everything that could be said, had been said. When I thought of Entipy, there was simply emptiness within me. A distant emptiness, as if I was aware that there should be something there in the cavity left in my soul, but I had no idea what it was and even less interest in filling it.
Hecate seemed to know the response even though I didn’t articulate it, because she just nodded in approval. She picked up my sword and said, “Here. Hopefully I need not do everything for you.”
I took my sword from her …
… and suddenly there was a stabbing pain in my chest from the gem.
I gasped, staggered, and barely caught myself on the edge of the bed, narrowly avoiding tumbling to the floor. The burning of the gem had returned, and if possible it was stronger than before. “Wh … what … ?” I managed to gasp out.
“Beliquose just hit bottom,” said Hecate without hesitation, but with obvious regret.
“But … it was supposed … to be bottomless …”
“It wasn’t. Sooner or later, one hits a molten core … even in a bottomless pit. The gem still exists … nothing can destroy it … but the core dispatched its vessel quickly enough. Beliquose is no more … and the Eye upon you now demands satisfaction. You must provide it, Apropos. You must give yourself over to it completely … and, frankly, that should not be difficult for you. Disposing of Meander is but a small matter, and once that’s done, the Eye of the Beholder will be fully empowered. Then you and I can use it to make certain that magic, that the supernatural, that the gods themselves, will never vanish from this sphere. All will be well. You can save the world, Apropos … and then have it all for yourself.”
“You mean for you,” I said tightly, gritting my teeth against the pain.
Again she shrugged. “For us, then.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Don’t what?” She seemed puzzled over the question as she picked up the fallen sword, still in its scabbard, and handed it to me once more.
“Don’t kill Meander.”
Hecate laughed at that, as if the very notion was utterly absurd. “Why, then … the Eye of the Beholder will consume you. It will eat your soul; you will become trapped within it, howling defiance and frustration and surrounded by eternal darkness, while the world is left to spiral into mundanity. Why on earth would you wish for that to happen?”
Slowly I stood, and strapped my sword across my back. But my glare upon her was pure fury. “Because perhaps a world without gods … would be preferable … to what we’ve got now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. A world of cynicism and lost faith? Of pain and misery and no magic? What sort of world would that be?”
“The kind I live in every day.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” she told me. “There’s no choice here, Apropos. You saw what Beliquose was prepared to do … and did. Are you prepared to sacrifice yourself for some … some ephemeral ideal? For that matter, are you prepared to sacrifice yourself in any circumstance?” Once again she did not need for me to reply. “No. No, I thought not. Now come. Dispose of Meander, fulfill your destiny, and claim your power …” And she spread wide her arms enticingly, ” … and your prize … once and for all.”
“Why not both eyes?” I said suddenly.
She looked at me blankly. “What?”
“Why did you not require both eyes to accomplish your ta
sk.”
“Oh. Well … both would certainly have been preferable. Easier. Less strain. But it does not matter. As I told you before, this is the kingdom of the blind … and in it, the man who has even one eye,” and she tapped my chest, “is still king. Now let us go … and attend your coronation.”
Chapter 9
Small Sacrifices
There was quite a crowd waiting to see the death of King Meander.
There was no moon that night. Instead there was just the barest hints of it, if one looked very, very carefully. It was a new moon … a black moon. A black moon had risen, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that might portend. Since there was no natural light being provided us, the courtyard was illuminated by torches set in holders upon the walls.
Hecate—the goddess who walked like a woman—and I stepped into the main courtyard where the execution was to take place. The moment we drew within sight, there was a deafening roar. The place was packed with my men, and they in turn were festooned with clothes, ornaments, and trinkets they had taken from throughout the city.
“Peacelord! Peacelord! Peacelord!” they shouted over and over. I raised my hands, trying to quiet them, but Hecate encouraged it. She even thrived on it. Well, of course. She was a goddess, after all. Who else would most delight in the adulation of worshippers? I, who had worshipped at her altar, so to speak, knew this better than any.
Meander was waiting for me, not voluntarily; he had been removed from the Crow’s Cage and instead was standing there, hands bound behind him. He did not seem the least bit concerned over what was to happen. For all I knew, he wasn’t even aware of where he was, despite the seeming lucidity he’d displayed during our earlier “chat.” Mordant was perched atop the now-empty Crow’s Cage, watching the proceedings with obvious interest. Perhaps he was hoping that he would be able to snag a tasty treat once the business was done.
Boar Tooth was standing there at the ready, and Slake was doing his usual technique of getting the crowd even more agitated than they already were. He pumped the air with his fists, he jumped about, and he would shout things such as, “Is that all the noise you can make?” Which, of course, it wasn’t, as the men were more than happy to prove.
