Power combined is Power multiplied. The Fifth Law.
“Sela, Highness, Sir Kian—help me dampen the blades before the whole cavern comes down on us. Dena, you too—“
Dena’s expression was as wild as that of a trapped animal. “What are you doing? Stop!”
“We have to stop it. We’re all in danger!” Marta said.
“I said stop!!”
Dena invoked First Law. Marta felt it before she heard the crash of a huge stalactite a bare ten yards from where they stood. A sliver of stone grazed Marta’s cheek and drew blood.
“Dena, have you lost your mind?”
“I’ll bring the cavern down myself if anyone touches me or those swords! The Fifth Law is here, isn’t it? The swords are showing the way, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Marta said, because it was true.
“Then nothing touches those blades until I have it. I’ve come too far to lose it now!”
“It wasn’t here for you,” Marta said. “If it was, you would have felt its pull.”
“Rubbish! Where one person can find a Law, so can another. I’m not leaving without it!”
Just for that instant, Marta no longer saw a frightened and angry young woman in front of her. She saw the craja at the hot spring on the road to Shalas. The need and hunger in Dena’s eyes frightened Marta more than the cavern’s immanent collapse, and in that moment it took every ounce of will she possessed to keep from striking out as she had once done to another. The moment passed, but Marta did not forget.
Even without Dena’s invocation of First Law, the cavern was growing more and more unstable by the moment. Marta judged the distance to the exit, realized that there likely wouldn’t be time to get out before the whole cave collapsed on them all. There simply wasn’t time, either to fight or to flee.
“You aren’t giving me any choice,” Marta said.
“I’m not afraid of you!”
“Really? I think you should be,” Marta said. “I certainly am.”
If this doesn’t work, we all die.
Marta invoked First Law on herself. Or rather, on a part of herself that she did not even know for certain could be touched, or quantified, or any of the characteristics that would make the First Law applicable. She reached up and touched her own chest, and she felt something leave her. She could almost see it, floating above her cupped right hand like a wisp.
Second Law. What Can’t Be Taken, Can Be Given.
“Dena, please hold still.”
“I said, don’t touch—“
She didn’t get a chance to finish. Marta’s hand slammed again the girl’s chest with such force that she was thrown two steps back.
“I warned you!”
Marta felt Dena’s surge of power, knew what it meant, and simply waited. Dena froze in place like a fountain in winter.
“Oh,” she said softly, then her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed to the floor.
“Get the swords!” Sela shouted.
Someone rushed past Marta but it wasn’t Sela, it was Kel. As the others rushed to place bundles of cloth or their own bodies against the sword blades to dampen their vibrations, Kel cradled Dena’s head in his lap.
“I swear, if you’ve harmed her—what have you done??” he demanded.
Marta took a long breath. “Less than you fear,” she said, “but more than you know.”
Ω
Epilogue: the way back
“An ending is the seed of a beginning. If not for you, then someone else. Try not to be greedy.” —Black Kath’s Tally Book
Tymon’s home was a chamber off of the main cavern. It was surprisingly well-appointed, with a proper bed, books, facilities for cleaning and hygiene that made use of the constant flow of fresh water. Marta didn’t bother to ask where his food came from—she rather suspected that both his stick golems and Brother and sometimes Abbot Seb had something to do with arranging supplies. Now Dena was recuperating in Tymon’s bed attended by Kel, while the others packed up the swords, being very careful not to let any of them touch. Marta saw that Sela was once more wearing Shave-the-Cat, so there was really no danger of the previous earthshaking harmonies.
“You stopped it in time,” Tymon said. “The cavern is essentially sound.”
Marta’s understanding of the First Law had told her the same thing. “I’m glad of that. I would hate to have destroyed your home.”
“Well, it is convenient here,” Tymon admitted. “Not many visitors, which is best both for them and me. I was never very social. That was Seb. The Monastery suits him much better.”
“You really are him, aren’t you? Tymon the Black.”
Tymon sighed, and for a moment he looked every bit of his five hundred years. “Yes. Amaet cursed me. Twice. So you can understand why I don’t necessarily support her interests.”
“Then why did you help me?”
“Because I didn’t think it was in her interest, despite the fact that the stated goal of an Arrow Path witch is to obtain all Seven Laws. Has anyone ever done it?”
“I don’t know.”
He smiled. “Then perhaps it would be better for both of us to hold off on judgments until that happens. Perhaps it will be you. Then the question might be better answered.”
“Is immortality really a curse?”
“Try it. Or better yet, don’t. I do not recommend it.”
“What, may I ask, was the other curse?”
“Amaet’s first curse was something I called ‘The Long Look.’ I saw into the future…well, selected bits, anyway. Selected, possible futures. I had no control over it, and no way to avoid knowing that something terrible was about to happen.”
“Which you could prevent?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. The cost was always very high. Many of the things I was accused of? I was guilty. Not all, no, but…too many.”
“You’re a gentle soul,” Marta said. “I don’t know how you’ve remained that way.”
“That,” he said, “is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said about Tymon the Black.”
“Even by Seb? I thought he was your friend.”
“He is. That doesn’t mean he says nice things about me. What will you do now?”
“Search for the Sixth Law.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ll help if I can, though perhaps it would be better if I stayed out of your way in future. Guilty by association, as Amaet and I are not on good terms.”
“I didn’t know one had to be,” Marta said.
“I knew of your mother,” Tymon said. “Now I wish I’d known her better. If she was anything like you. So. Do you think his Highness will forgive me for stealing his precious swords?”
“Say rather borrowing,” Dolan said, walking up. “By rights I should probably have you hanged, but honestly I’m thinking you’ve done me a service. Lady Marta, I will need to have a word with you later, but I think Kel needs a word with you now.”
Marta nodded, and turned to Tymon. “I’d better go. I have the feeling that we won’t have as much time to talk as I’d like. I’d love to know how that golem trick is done.”
“One never knows. Until we speak again.”
Marta found Kel standing by the entrance to Tymon’s quarters.
“Lady Dena wishes to speak with you. She’s very weak, and I still don’t know what you did to her, but she seems to be recovering.”
“I didn’t do anything but give her something that she wanted a great deal. She will recover. After that…well, I think that’s up to her.”
“In matters of magicians and witches I’ve learned that it’s best not to ask too many questions, or talk about things I don’t know about. Yet I want you to understand that I will protect her, from anyone I have to.”
“I do understand, though I wonder if she does. Regardless, I won’t be long.”
Dena was propped up on cushions. Some of the color had returned to her cheeks, which Marta was pleased to see. She smiled faintly as Marta entered.
/>
“I wanted to thank you,” Dena said. “But I don’t know how you did it.”
“You do feel it now, don’t you?”
Dena’s fingers rested lightly on her chest for a moment, in the place that Marta had struck her. “The pull of the next Law. It’s not here…at least, not for me. I’m sorry that I didn’t understand. Perhaps I would have felt it already if I hadn’t been so focused on you, rather than the Law.”
“That’s not a question I know the answer to, but for what it’s worth—you’re welcome. By the way, you have a fine servant.”
“Kel? He is…adequate, I suppose.”
“He cares about you. Almost like a father. That is rare for someone with a debt bond.”
“No one should care about me,” Dena said. “Least of all him, after all I’ve put him through.”
“It’s the same as with a Law of Power, I think,” Marta said. “You can’t control where you find it, just know it when you’ve found it. Otherwise…well, you miss out.”
“Goodbye, Lady Marta. I think we will meet again.”
“I can all but guarantee it.”
Back in the main cavern, there was no sign of Tymon, but Kian and Prince Dolan and Sela were almost finished securing the swords, with Bonetapper supervising from the top of a stalagmite. Sunlight-on-Water was to be returned to the monastery, but the other five were for the king’s armory in Borasur-Morushe, with Sela and Marta’s blessing. All save Shave-the-Cat, of course. That was and would remain Sela’s.
“Once we’ve concluded our business at the monastery, Lady Marta? With your permission, we’ll divert south through Three Rivers pass. I’d like to get these swords secured as soon as possible…especially now that I have seen what they can do.”
“No thoughts of bringing them all together again?”
He shuddered delicately. “Oh, I’m a prince—I thought of it. Then I thought of what would happen. No. I consider keeping that one sword locked away in the Kuldun Monastery to be a really good idea.”
“Wise man,” Marta said.
“On that…well, once we’re back in Mataria I’ll arrange for your passage back to Shalas, whenever you’re ready.”
“I imagine I’ll be ready very soon.”
The singularity of his phrasing hadn’t escaped Marta. “Sela, will you be staying in Mataria for a while?”
Sela turned as red as a beet. “Well, that’s why we wanted to talk to you. Prince Dolan needs an expert in Master Solthyr’s work…and I seem to be the only option. Once I have him trained well enough….”
“That will take some time,” Marta said.
Now Dolan himself was blushing. “Yes. Likely. I am a slow study at times, I confess it.”
“It’s for the best,” Marta said simply. “We both know that.”
“I will always be your friend,” Sela said. “I hope you know that, too.”
“I do. I always did.”
§
In a very private room somewhere deep inside the Kuldun Monastery, three old friends were having a chat.
Alanthea was working on her second glass of a very special vintage. "I was saving it. Now I'm wondering why I waited so long. You're sure about this? Both of you? Amaet knows what you did?"
"There's no doubt in mind that I'm mortal again," Seb said. "I felt it when it happened. What I don't yet understand is 'why?' Am I to understand that Amaet wanted Marta to find the Fifth Law?"
"Of course she did," Tymon said, examining his own goblet with something like satisfaction. "Marta is Arrow Path, and Amaet controls the Arrow Path. No one learns a Law without her co-operation. It's rather the whole point of her new…well, relatively new, system. Lovely tail on this one." Tymon took a sip from his goblet and gave a contented sigh.
The prioress frowned. "And that's why your curses have been lifted? I mean, assuming you're correct about that. I expected two little piles of dust and bone, if that happened. I mean, I’m pleased, but puzzled."
Seb shrugged. "If Amaet knows anything, she knows curses. Apparently two sad piles of human remains does not suit her purpose, whatever that may be…though apparently we served her will?"
Tymon nodded. "I think so. That's why Seb's curse was lifted. As for mine…well, I'm still unclear on her reasoning. See, I was trying to annoy her. I think I succeeded."
"By doing what she wanted?"
"By sticking my nose in. By interfering. That's what I did. Seb was, fortunately for him, not directly involved with that part."
"But she lifted your curse of immortality?"
"Oh, yes. I feel time again. Haven't felt that particular burden for over five hundred years, but I do recognize it. Now, if she had stopped there…."
The chill in the room was sudden and complete. "Tymon, what are you talking about?" Seb asked.
Tymon drained his goblet. "The Long Look,” he said. “It's back."
-The End-
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Parks has been writing and publishing fantasy and science fiction longer than he cares to remember…or probably can remember. His work has appeared in Asimov’s SF, Realms of Fantasy, Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, and several “Year’s Best” anthologies. His first collection, The Ogre’s Wife, was a World Fantasy Award Finalist in 2002 and his work has also been a finalist for the Mythopoeic Award for Adult Literature and the WSFS Small Press Award. He blogs at “Den of Ego and Iniquity Annex #3”, also known as: www.richard-parks.com
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