Oracle

by David Dickie

  Grim said a little sullenly, “That’s not real. You can’t make me a Silver Ring of your Hold by sticking your ring on my finger.”

  “I can,” said Daesal. “My Hold knows something of my skills, of my ability to judge people beyond what is easy to see, beyond the words they use. I have been given the authority to elevate individuals to be Silver Rings for the Hold on my own. I assure you, it is quite real. Do you feel any different?”

  Grim looked down at the ring, thought about it, took it off and held it in the palm of his hand. “That’s not who I am. What would I do as an officer in a Hold?”

  She shrugged. “Does it matter? You know what you can do with it?”

  Grim hesitated. “Yes. Draw funds, from any Hold, debt to your Hold, up to two hundred and fifty thousand rimmi. It’s a crime to pretend you’re a holder, a crime with an automatic death sentence.”

  “It wouldn’t be pretending. The Hold would, of course, try to find you and recover what it could, and you would be expelled from the Hold. If they could catch you, and other Holds would consider it a private issue, so they would have to do it themselves, across all of Kethem. No worries about wardens or the like. The chances of catching you would be very, very close to zero.”

  “But they would know you made me a silver ring, gave me the opportunity to do that.”

  “Of course,” said Daesal.

  “Wouldn’t they punish you?”

  “Of course they would. Possibly expel me from the Hold. Certainly the freedom I currently have to travel on a stipend would be eliminated, and then I would probably have to leave the Hold anyway. I have promises to keep.”

  Grim handed her the ring. “I’m not going to do that to you.”

  Daesal looked at him appraisingly. She said, “I get the chance at a pile of gold, an offer to become a Holder, I take it,” echoing his words.

  Grim winced. “You’ve made your point. So there are some lines I won’t cross. That doesn’t make me a paragon of virtue.”

  Daesal shrugged. “I’ve met many Holders and many commoners. I have as yet to meet one of those.”

  Grim said, “Other than you, perhaps,” completely sincerely. Stegar glanced at Daesal with a grin but said nothing.

  Daesal’s cheeks turned a little red. “We all have our secrets, Grim, things we are not proud of, and that includes me.” She leaned back in her chair. “Someday, we’ll speak of some of them, just to prevent anyone from putting me on a pedestal,” and she gave Stegar a sharp glance as she said it, while he just kept grinning. “But for now, let us eat, drink, and catch up on the last three months. Starting with pleasantries and general how-are-you-doing kinds of things, because this conversation is much too serious for old friends who have just been reunited. You must have had something interesting happen on your way to this place!”

  Grim laughed. “Oh, you could say that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  He, Daesal and Stegar talked for hours at dinner. He’d held nothing back, not even about Pellen Barso and the World Gate under the destroyed temple between Struford and Eleyford. By the time they’d finished and he’d walked back to the dormitories, it was well after sunset. Daesal and Stegar were paying for a small apartment in one of the service buildings near the library, so he was alone. Given how he was feeling and what he was going to do, that was a good thing.

  Five low, two-story buildings made up the dormitories. Each building had a glow disk at the front, but the building in the center also had a small patio with a wooden roof over it. Grim headed for that building. Inside the door was one large open area with a desk manned by an acolyte. Behind her was a door that Grim assumed led to a corridor with rooms on each side and two staircases leading up to a small balcony with a similar door.

  The acolyte smiled at him. “Are you looking for a room? If you want a single, there’s a small fee to pay, or alternately I can put you in a double,” said the acolyte. Her smile widened. “At the moment, we have doubles to spare, so you’d have the room to yourself. Good deal.”

  Grim forced himself to smile back at the woman. “Maybe in a bit. Need to talk to my friends first. We might be able to squeeze three in.”

  The acolyte’s eyebrows went up a notch. “Your friends are?”

  “Alan and Lug.”

  She blinked. “Ah, yes. They did insist on a room together. They are in 257. I can give you 259 or 255 if you want.”

  Grim frowned. “257?”

  “Second floor, building five… that’s the one on the far right if you are facing this building, building one. The even number buildings are to the left. Room 7—9 and 5 are the rooms adjoining them.”

  Grim nodded his thanks. “255 would be fine, thank you.”

  The acolyte made a note on something behind the desk. “All set. The doors are not locked. Please remember others will use the room in the future and be considerate about keeping it clean and tidy.”

  Grim said, “Sure thing. Thank you. Oh, my other friends, Fayyaad, Rotan, and the two Kydaos clerics, Aurora and Tyrgo, are they in building five as well?”

  The acolyte shook her head. “Fayyaad and Rotan are in this building, second floor. Fayyaad is out at the moment. At least, I saw him leave a while ago and haven’t seen him return. The Kydaos priest and priestess are in building three.”

  Grim frowned. “Why is everyone spread out?”

  The acolyte shrugged. “By request. Fayyaad said you’d all been cooped up on barges together, and it would be good to have a little separation during your stay. The buildings are close enough together that it won’t keep you from gathering together.”

  Grim nodded, but he felt a sense of unease. They’d been on barges, but separate barges. In fact, Fayyaad and Rotan had been on the same barge and they were the ones in the same building. But he had bigger things to worry about at the moment. He went out, turned left and walked down two buildings. The building had a large brass “5” over the door. Inside was an open area similar to the one in the first building, but without desk or acolyte, just some simple furniture where a group could sit. He went up the stairs onto the balcony, then through the door. Inside a long corridor stretched in front of him, a line of doors on both sides, each with a number in brass, odd numbers on the right. It only took a minute to find 257.

  Grim knocked on the door. There was a muffled “Come in!” and he entered, closing the door carefully behind him. The room was much larger than he expected, large enough for two beds, a table with chairs, and some basic furniture, and more than enough space to move around. Alan and Lug were sitting in the chairs near the back of the room. Grim looked at Alan.

  Alan raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Grim?”

  Grim took a few more steps into the room. “We need to talk. And by that, I mean you need to start telling me the truth, right now, or there will be blood on the ground, and it’s not going to be mine.”

  Lug had stood from where he was seated before Grim spoke, reading something in Grim’s expression. After Grim’s statement he put both hands on the hilt of the short-sword and moved to get between Grim and Alan. His expression was as unreadable as always, but he wasn’t moving casually.

  “Keyword lockdown,” said Grim. Lug froze, which is what Grim expected, thanks to Ziwa’s gate-charged belt buckle that was on the belt with the long- and short-sword sheaths he had given Lug back in Eleyford. “Paralysis spell on the sword belt. Beware of gifts and all that sort of thing,” said Grim. He looked Alan in the eyes. “Why did you hire me?”

  Alan clasped his hands together. “You know why. If you could elaborate on the reasons you ask, I may be able to help more.”

  Grim twisted his shoulder a bit, stretched his arm out, and a dagger dropped into his hand from his cloak. He looked at it, put the point against one of the fingers on his other hand. “Sharp.” He looked back at Alan. “You know, Alan, truthsayers are all over the place these days, but it’s a complicated spell that takes a long time to memorize, a long time and someone smart enough to do it.
That makes it expensive, so you only see them where there’s money involved. Outside the price range for commoners like me for anything day to day. But there’s an older way of knowing if someone is lying, and that’s tells. It’s really, really hard for people not to have some little sign of tension when they’re lying, even people who are good at it.” Grim clasped his hands together in a parody of Alan’s movement. “You aren’t good at it. I’m going to ask you again, why…”

  Grim stopped. Lug was hissing like a teakettle that was about to boil, but it wasn’t a hiss of anger. Lug’s teeth were clenched together, his eyes open as wide as they could possibly go, the pupils dilated. Grim saw panic in those eyes; not just panic—terror, uncontrolled fear that obliterated rational thought. Lug’s entire body was trembling, something that should have been impossible under the paralysis spell. As Grim stared, a trickle of blood ran down Lug’s face from one of his nostrils, creating a red line across his lips and down his chin.

  Alan looked at Lug and said, “Please. You have to release him, or he will die,” his voice flat and brittle.

  “It’s just a paralysis spell. It can’t…”

  “It can. Please, Grim. He has to protect me, or his life is forfeit.”

  Grim turned back to Alan and said in a hard voice, “What are you?”

  Alan said softly, “I am your friend, Grim.”

  Grim hesitated. Ziwa’s words about her sword, Facinalethvree, echoed in his head. He tells me who I can trust, and that’s perhaps the greatest gift of them all.

  Blood started leaking from the corner of Lug’s mouth. Grim put the dagger on the table, held up his hands, and said “Keyword release.”

  With a groan, Lug fell to his knees, then fell forward onto his hands. He coughed, and there was a spray of blood on the floor. He gasped deeply once, twice, and then he was on his feet with the short-sword in his hand standing between Alan and Grim. He was still bleeding from his mouth and nose and breathing heavily, but he did not make any threatening motions, just held his short-sword at the ready.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” said Grim.

  Lug nodded. “I understand. Next time, please just kill me.” He didn’t seem to be kidding. Grim didn’t know how to respond to that.

  Alan said, “Please, Grim, sit down. I swear to you I will answer your questions as best I can.”

  Grim slowly lowered his hands and sat in a chair. Alan did the same. Lug moved to the side, no longer between them, but he stood and didn’t sheath the sword. Alan glanced at Lug. “Lug, please stand down.” Lug hesitated a moment, then slid the sword back in the sheath. He unbuckled the sheath and put it on a table near him with the handle of the short-sword in easy reach.

  Grim said, “It’s a one-shot spell. Nothing to worry about now.” To Lug’s credit, he barely paused before he picked up the sheath and buckled it back on.

  Alan looked at the trick sheath Grim had given Lug and then looked back at Grim. “So, Grim, given you clearly prepared for this moment some time ago, can I ask what precipitated acting now?”

  Grim said, “I ran into Daesal and Stegar.”

  “Ahhhhh. I see. I had hoped that you would think it a coincidence, but clearly you expected something like this.”

  Grim laughed, but it had an edge to it. “No, no I didn’t. Not this. Not them.”

  Alan cocked his head. “Then why did you…” and Alan waved vaguely at the sheath.

  “Back when we were traveling with the caravan, you expressed surprise that I knew Elvish.” Alan nodded, face uncomprehending. “Well, the first question is, why would it be a surprise? I could write that off. It was a bit unusual. I could see that you might find it startling. But then you asked me if I had studied it after Tawhiem. Why?”

  “Because…” started Alan, then stopped.

  “Because you knew Beldaer was part of that expedition, that I’d spent some time with an elf. That’s something only a handful of people know. Four, to be exact, and a few more on the Kethem Naval Intelligence team. None of them would have said anything about it. I knew at that point you had hired me because you wanted to know more about what happened there, and it put a lot of your probing about my past on the Venture in a new light. But what I couldn’t figure was, why this elaborate ruse of a mission to Pranan? You have money. You could have tried to buy me. You could have hired muscle to beat it out of me. You could have bought spells to pick it out of my brain. So I decided I would wait and see, and to be honest, I’d almost decided it had been some kind of fluke. Now…”

  “Now you know there is more to it,” said Alan.

  “Yes. What do you want with Daesal and Stegar? Why did you involve me?”

  Alan sighed. “Daesal and Stegar are digging into things that certain parties…”

  “Certain parties?” broke in Grim.

  Alan paused, then said, “The elves. That the elves find disconcerting. The thought was that you would provide an opening for establishing a cordial relationship with them, enough so that I could ascertain something about their motivations. On the trip, I had hoped that I might get some glimmering of what happened on your trip with them that caused them to start down this path in the first place, but you were… recalcitrant about discussing your past.”

  Grim smiled. “Always. So, what if they are digging into the wrong things? What were you going to do about it? The D’Shar?”

  Alan looked at him blankly. “The what?”

  “D’Shar. The night squad. The Elvish assassination team?”

  Alan shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  Grim frowned. “Ok, I’m making a bit of a leap here. If it’s the elves, they have spells. And they have salsenahain, their human servants who are magicked up to protected them at any cost, which seems to fit what just happened to Lug. Aren’t you an elf, disguised via enchantment? Isn’t Lug your salsenahain?”

  Alan was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Yes.”

  Grim shook his head. “So how do you not know about the D’Shar?” Grim though for a moment. Daesal and Stegar where looking into the Great Swords because of the expedition to Tawhiem. They had all learned what happened during the fall of the old empire, things about how humans had made the Great Swords, about how they had been used. But that wasn’t something the elves would care about. Then it dawned on him.

  The elves didn’t care whether humans learned how the Great Swords had been made. It was how they’d been destroyed.

  “What is this big secret that Daesal and Stegar might find?” he continued. “Maybe that the elves were the cause of the war of the two houses that destroyed the Old Empire?”

  Alan close his eyes. “Yes,” he said.

  “Old news,” said Grim. Alan’s eyes popped open again. “And if you felt like they were on the verge of making that discovery, what exactly where you going to do about it?”

  Alan sighed. “Mind probe. Possible extraction for longer-term interrogation. I… we have assets in the area to assist as needed.”

  “Assets,” said Grim. “You sound like Kethem Naval Intelligence. You and them and your games. Well, let’s put this one to bed, and let’s do it without punishing a couple of people who did nothing wrong. What do you know about the twelve Great Swords?”

  Alan frowned. “Eleven human swords of great power, one Elvish one. They were there at the gathering of friends, where human, troll and elf met to peacefully work out differences. They were there when the island hosting the gathering, the then-seat of the old human empire, was destroyed in a massive explosion, and they were consumed by those fires.”

  “And you know that explosion was caused by the elves? That it was because the human swords were gate-forged with unwilling hosts?”

  Alan was still. “I know some of that.”

  Grim looked at him carefully. “What’s wrong with you? The D’Shar, the explosion. I thought what one elf knew, all elves knew? Your racial mind matrix?”

  “My memories and my link have been tampered with. Bloc
ked, except for enough information to pass as a human and determine if these two friends of yours present a threat. A precaution in case things did not go as planned. I have some information on the topic of the Great Swords and the beginning of what you call the fall, what we call the great war, enough to judge whether Daesal and Stegar are getting too close to information the elves want to remain buried.”

  Grim thought about that for a moment. “And the rest of your memories are gone? Permanently?”

  Alan shook his head. “They will be restored when I return.”

  “Why erase them in the first place?”