by Julian May
The room was very dark and cool and the awful old woman only a shadow waiting. Free of the golden suit, floating in the air, he came to her and was devoured. But there was no fear in him or cringing—not after the first time had shown him what lay beyond the repellent husk.
O amazing Hag with your hidden cauldron of near-deadly rapture! You'd take the entire measure of life-force if I'd let you—snuff me after I'd fed your ancient nerve-fires and stoked them to youth again! But I won't die, Hag. I won't burn out. I'm up to you, old Mayvar, and beyond and above you, drawing you along with me while you scream. Come along and don't falter, Mayvar! Cry to die, Mayvar! Then burst and tumble down when you've had your surfeit of the Shining One who meets your test again and laughs...
The golliwog put on his golden boots and gave her ugliness a touch of pure affection. "You know, you're pretty good yourself, Witch."
"Once the Thagdal said the same." She uttered a long sigh. "And my darling Lugonn, that I had such hopes for before he died." She showed him the way it had been, back at the Ship's Grave, when all of them had first arrived in the Many-Colored Land.
"What a funny race you are," Aiken said. "Not civilized at all. You'd be in a fine mess by now if humans hadn't come through the time-gate and organized things for you. You should be grateful instead of resenting us!"
"I don't resent you," Mayvar said complacently. "Come close, my bonny boy." She took it from under the pillow and held it out to him.
"Do I need it?" he asked her, mouth quirking with the old mischief. "Would you have even more of me, glutton Mayvar?"
But this time she was serious. "You've still a way to go and a way to grow before you're a match for the greatest of the Host, Aiken Drum. There are those who can kill you—make no mistake. If you're wise, you'll go about this prudently and follow my counsel. Take it."
He settled the twisted golden ring around his neck and snapped the ends shut. Mayvar's gnarled fingers unfastened the old silver torc and dropped it beside the bed.
"I'll do as you say, Witch dear. And savor the fun to the fullest every step along the way."
She got up from the bed and he helped her to don the purple robe. Then they went out into her sitting room, where he combed her white hair and called for refreshment, which they both stood in need of.
"You've proved yourself to me," Mayvar said at length, "but you must also prove yourself to them. They must freely accept you. This is our way."
A tinkling fanfare came from the golden clock on the shelf. Once again the dragon slithered forth and the knight came stalking him; and this time, the bejeweled prey was hewn into four sections to mark the striking of the hour.
"You want me to go and do likewise," Aiken observed. "Show all the folks what a grand barbarian warrior I am by making good on my monster-killing boast."
"It'll be a significant proof, the slaying of Delbaeth." She began to rock back and forth, chortling, hands clasping bony knees through the fabric of her gown. "Oh—you caught their attention with that offer, lad! Tana herself must have put the notion into your mind."
His response was laconic. "Your High King was so loud broadcasting his anxiety about the spook that it was impossible to resist."
"Ah! But, you see, there'd been talk of how the Thagdal himself should deal with Delbaeth! And since he's really too old, he'd have to ask Nodonn to do it. And that would obligate him to the Host, and—ah, you'll know about the politics soon enough. But as for Delbaeth—this Firvulag is one of the most powerful sort. He's a giant, not one of the little kind. He's been rampaging around burning up plantations outside of Afaliah, on what you'd call the Spanish mainland, for nearly a year now. Much of our provisioning here at the capital comes from the Afaliah region, and we also count on those farms for the extra supplies needed during Grand Combat time. Now, Afaliah's Lord is Celadeyr. He's a First Comer and a feisty old shitkicker of a Creator-Coercer—but no match for Delbaeth. None of us are—if you match power for power. Old Celo's tried to Hunt down the Shape of Fire, but he gets outwitted every time when the Firvulag runs off and hides in the caves of the Gibraltar Isthmus. Things are getting serious, with the Grand Combat nearly on us, and Celo has demanded the assistance of the High King. The Thagdal is obliged to respond."
Aiken nodded. "I get it. But the King is getting a bit long in the tooth for that kind of adventure. Rogering maidens is more his style these days."
"He may properly designate any champion as his agent to deal with Delbaeth. But you forced him to send you! Do you see how galling it must be? An outsider—a human!—taking on a job that's defeated Tanu stalwarts. And all by accident, you've put one up Nodonn, too, since he was too wily to volunteer before the King asked him! If you succeed in killing Delbaeth, wearing the gold and all, you tell the world that you think you're as good as any of them."
"Just as Gomnol did?"
She half-closed her pouched eyes, simultaneously projecting a vision of the long-ago triumph of the human Lord Coercer for Aiken's study. She looked out over the White Silver Plain where it had happened. "Gomnol would have aspired higher," she said softly, "but I spurned him, even though he could have sated me. Sterile! Or more correctly, so riddled with lethal genes that even the science of your Galactic Milieu had been powerless to correct his faulty plasm. The Kingmaker rejects such offal ... Needless to say, I've already determined that you have no such deficiency."
Hands on hips, he threw back his head and laughed. "What a cold-blooded witch you are! And I thought it was all for sweet passion's sake."
Destiny rules passion in us both ShiningOne.
"You weird old crone!" he cried. "Meddling old bag of bones! Power-hungry ballbreaker! Get your stringy old ass to Redact House and crawl into the Skin and have them make you young again. We'll go and screw 'em all together, Lovie!"
Grasping one of her hands, he spun her tall figure around—then stopped short at the expression on her face and the vision that accompanied it.
"I've been lucky, Aiken. Most of my kind are only able to choose once. But I picked the Thagdal, and I chose his successor as well—although Tana's will took dear Lugonn before my choice could be made manifest. After he was gone, I waited these thousand years, weighing the hopefuls as it's my duty to do. But all of them fell short in one way or another. And so I had settled on the best of the rejected, Nodonn Battlemaster of the Host. His mind is stupendous and his heritage is acceptable—but ah, what a meager flame he kindles, for all his jealous pride! What a poor stick to aspire to the engendering of a race of heroes! But he was the best we had until..."
"Silly Hag."
The knotted fingers stroked his golden torc, sending sweet fever rushing through him.
She crooned, "Lucky Mayvar! To see the third one come after all. Ah, but I've reached my limit with you, bright laddie. Three thousand three hundred and fifty-two of your years I've lived and done the love testing for the Tanu. You'll be the death of me, Aiken Drum. But not, please Tana, until I've seen you safely installed."
"First things first," he said, divesting himself of her mental caress with some reluctance. "This Delbaeth. You realize that I don't have the faintest idea how to go about killing him? I talk a good game, but when push comes to shove, the spook might just burn the fewkin' gold britches off me! Wouldn't that be a nice end to our schemes?"
Mayvar gave a gay titter. "Would I send my own Initiate away unprepared? You'll be taught to use your powers properly before you go on the Delbaeth Quest. Two weeks under my tutelage—and that of mighty Bleyn, and Alberonn Mindeater, and the mistress of illusion, Katlinel the Darkeyed—and you'll be more than a match for this Firvulag ... And to be on the safe side, I'll give you something else as well. What you would call an ace in the hole."
"Witch!" He sniggered. "What is it?"
"You'll never guess! No true Tanu would dare to use it because of the mortal danger to himself. But it'll be harmless to you, my bonny boy, and it'll dispose of Delbaeth if you but track him down. You must keep it secret from the
others if you love your life—but with you as clever as I know you are, it should be no problem."
"What is it, for God's sake?" He grasped her by her bony shoulders and shook her as she continued to tantalize him, dangling a small mental image just out of reach.
At last she sobered. "Come along to the cellar, then, and I'll show it to you."
***
Stein was in an uneasy and dangerous mood, his great hands white-knuckled as he gripped the railing and pretended to watch the apprentice fighters larruping each other out in the arena. The upper level of his mind listened obediently to the running commentary of the Lord of Swords, who pointed out the technique—or lack of it—displayed by the young gray-torcs. Beneath the veneer, however, Stein was raging. Bluff Tagan, preoccupied with his exposition of martial arts, never noticed; but the gold-torc human woman who had been delegated by Mayvar to shepherd Stein on a tour of Muriah was all too aware of the giant's growing impatience. With a farspeaker's tact, she insinuated herself.
FriendStein are you weary of viewing fighterschool? Had hoped it would amusedistract.
Something wrong Sukeywife. WhatWHAT Lady Dedra I will know!
"...and observe that young ox in the rust-colored kilt, Stein. Kurdish stock. Splendid musculature and as game as they make 'em, but he won't last five minutes in a Low Mêlée if he doesn't learn to stop telegraphing his ripostes. You don't need a torc to read that one's mind! Now, if you want a real study in finesse, keep a close eye on those two Maasai types sparring with vitredur lances. That's the kind of work that makes an old fighter's blood sing..."
Calmcalm relax Stein. Remember VenerableMayvar's directive-promise + that AikenDrum: no harm to Sukey.
Disbelief! FURY. I hear her she is crying afraid bellspun falling reach out Lady Dedra to her find her tell me why she cries!
Verywell I will look but do not betray yourself TaganCoercer freshaware your inattention.
Aloud, Stein said, "Those fellows have the moves, Lord Tagan. I'm no expert, but they look damn impressive. But I don't see how they'd have much of a chance in a contest against one of your Tanu brain benders."
"Most of this lot will only fight in the Contest of Humans—against one another. It's only the best who get to fight side by side with the metapsychic warriors in the High Mêlée against the Firvulag. Brave and strong-minded grays have managed to give a good account of themselves in the High. It's a matter of resisting the fear-provoking illusions of the Little Folks and keeping your mind on business. Of course, ultimately most of the grays..." The vision winked out almost as soon as it formed in Tagan's telepathic projection; but it had been clear enough to Stein.
The Lord of Swords peered obliquely at the Viking. Tagan looked more weather-beaten than most of the other Tanu, with a drooping gold mustache, and shaggy brows hedging sunken green eyes. "There have been exceptions to the usual fate of the gray fighter. A really superlative gladiator can expect a reprieve. And not just until the next year's Combat, either. Permanently. To serve on my staff here at the school."
Dedra said, "You know, Coercive Brother, that Stein's assignment must come ultimately from the Lady Mayvar, who has taken to kin the Candidate Aiken Drum." Putative master of this perhapsbriefliving gray.
The blue-armored Tanu gave a mental sneer, dismissing both Mayvar and her upstart protégé. "We'll see you in the Combat one way or another, Stein. You're a natural, boy! I saw you at the supper. Just a few weeks of work here..." The coercer reached out: comradeship, adrenalin, challenge, release, gore, sweet shattering fatigue! "How about it, lad?"
Stein opened his mouth to curse the Lord of Swords. But what he said was, "I thank you, Lord Tagan, for thinking that I might be worthy to study under a great champion such as you. After my master and I dispose of the loathsome Delbaeth, we'll be free to think of the upcoming Combat. My master will confer with you in good time."
I didn't speak you spoke damnedDedra let me go let me go let me—
"We will leave you now, Coercive Brother," Dedra said, bowing and drawing her lavender chiffon cloak about her slender body. The sun had gone down behind the rim of the arena, which might have explained why she had begun to shiver. "You may be sure that Stein and his master, Aiken Drum, will consider your generous offer most seriously." Stop it! Stop fighting me you great blockhead!
Tagan smote his armored breast with a sapphire gauntlet. "I salute you, Farspeaking Sister, Exalted Lady Mary-Dedra. Remember me to your President ... And you, valiant Stein. We hold the City Games thrice weekly here and at the Plain of Sports. Join us! Tomorrow our top wrestlers will test the first of the giant apes that were recently captured in the North African hills. It promises a bit of excitement."
Stein was forced to remove his horned helmet and abase himself before the Lord of Swords. And then he had to hurry along after the gold-torc woman through cold, echoing passages that led beneath the arena to the carriage-yard where their calèche waited. The corridors were dark and deserted. Stein called for Dedra to wait for him, but she threw a glance over her shoulder and began to run instead. Her mind, operating on the coercive mode, reiterated:
You will submit to me you will be calm you will submit—
"Something's happened to Sukey, hasn't it?" he cried out.
You will submit to me you will be calm—
"You're afraid to tell me!" His stride lengthened. "I can't hear her calling me any more!"
Youwillsubmit youwillsubmit YOUWILLSUBMIT!
The pressure of his rage built into a great igneous flood, undermining her restraints, melting them. "They've killed her—haven't they?" the berserker roared. Dedra dodged away from him, almost falling on the damp stone floor. "Answer me, you stupid bitch! Answer me!"
YOU WILL...
Stein gave a shout, mingling pain and triumph, as the last of the mental shackles dissolved. A single leap brought him up to Dedra and he snatched the human woman into the air, spinning her around so that the panic-stricken, lovely face stared up helplessly. He bent her spine backwards and drew her into a dark niche, clammy and odorous, at one side of the corridor.
"I'm going to break your back if you make one sound! And don't call out in the farspeak mode, either, because I'll hear you. Understand? Answer me, dammit!"
Stein O Stein you misapprehend we wish no harm we would help—
"You listen to me," he hissed, relaxing the tension slightly. "There's no one down here but you and me. No one to come and save you. Mayvar should have given me a stronger keeper than you, Dedra. She should have known you'd never be able to hold me."
"But Mayvar would—"
He gave her a brutal shake. "Stop trying to get back into my mind, bitch!" She moaned and her head lolled sideways. "I want to know what's happened to my wife! You know and you'll tell me—"
"She's alive, Stein." Jesus God man you're crushingbreaking me ease up the spinalnerve bruising ahhhh...
He relaxed, propping her sagging body against the rough stone wall. She hung there like a cut-string marionette, belly swelling against her rucked-up lilac gown, lavender-and-gold headdress awry. Her mental explanation came rushing out.
As with all silvertorchumanwomen yourSukey gone to Bybar for fertility restoration.
"They promised she wouldn't be harmed! Mayvar promised—and that bloody little gold grannybanger. They promised!"
Tears white arms reaching compassionbalm..."She hasn't been hurt, Stein. Can't you understand? We had to treat Sukey like an ordinary candidate. If an exception had been made before Aiken's position among the battle-company was affirmed— don't! Don't hurt me again! Can't you see I'm telling you the truth? Mayvar and Dionket must move cautiously at this stage or all the planning goes for nothing. There's more at stake here than you and your wife!"
Stein let her go. She sank to the dirty floor. Her mind was numb, shallowly adrift. The violet human eyes looked at him from amidst runnels of tears. "We never meant Sukey to go to the Thagdal. There's time. At least a month before her female cycle is reestablish
ed."
"When will your Tanu bastard be born, bitch? To hell with Mayvar and Dionket and their schemes! To hell with all of you! I could hear Sukey calling me, dammit, and now she's stopped. You prove to me that she's alive and unharmed or—"
Take him to her.
Stein gave a start. His hand dropped to his sword hilt and he looked wildly about. The corridor was empty.
"I warned you, Dedra!" His face clouded again with fury.
She raised one shaking finger to her golden torc. "It's Mayvar. She's seen and heard. I'm to take you to Sukey. Now will you believe that we're on your side?"
He pulled her to her feet. Her gown was snagged and stained. Swiftly, he unpinned the brooch of his own short green cape and flung the covering garment about her shoulders. "Can you walk?"
"As far as the carriage. But give me your hand."
Outside, the bareneck gaffer who waited with their calèche was dozing as the cicadas tuned up for their evening performance. Ramas were going about with short ladders and slow-matches, lighting the streetlamps. The broad promenade that skirted this side of the stadium had only a few cabs rolling along and no pedestrians except for the busy little apes.
Respectfully, Stein handed the Lady Dedra into the carriage before going around to the other side and climbing in.
"Where to, marm?" the driver croaked, coming to life with reluctance.
"Redact House. And quickly."
The driver whipped up the hellad and they trotted off. The carriage drove through the central city and its western suburbs before reaching the road that led to the heights. Muriah had no city wall. The natural isolation of the Aven Peninsula was deemed protection enough here in the southland where the Tanu were most powerful. Dedra did not speak and Stein sat stiffly at her side, not looking at her. Finally, when they were well above the city, the woman said, "There's a fountain ahead. Will you let me stop to clean up? If I enter the precincts of the redactors looking like this, there are bound to be questions."