by Peter David
It might be that they’d never notice my absence. That the intention was that I would remain in the cell, never to be seen again by the eyes of man. On the other hand, what if the king changed his mind, or the queen implored him, or whatever, and my disappearance was discovered? Best to be far away when and if that happened.
I made my way into the woods and kept going until I found a pleasant-looking glen. I settled against a large rock, getting off my feet, allowing my rapidly pounding heart to settle into a rhythm that was a bit less frantic.
I thought about all that I had experienced and realized that: I had learned who my father was; I had made my enemies’ lives miserable, at least for a time; I had avenged myself on Astel; I might have an idea as to who had killed poor Madelyne, and could explore that in the future; I’d had my share of rolls with females, and even though most of them—all right, all of them—had ended in total debacles, at least there had been entertainment in the doing; I’d slept in a fine bed for a couple of nights; and, most of all, I had a small fortune upon me. That was the most important thing of all, the most lasting. The riches which were safely in my belt and staff …
I patted the belt.
It felt odd. The weight was correct, but something appeared to be … wrong.
I pulled the belt out and opened the pouches.
Pebbles. Pebbles and rocks.
And a note. I opened it, my fingers numb.
Where do you think I got the money to grease the palms to get you out? And the remainder, of course, is in my pocket. My taking risks, after all, has its own price. Best of luck, son. Yours in laughter.—Odclay.
Quickly I unscrewed the top of the staff. That money was still in there … except it was sovs from the Outer Lawless regions, useless for the area in which I was.
I screeched in outrage. I moaned. I sobbed. And finally, finally …
… I laughed. Laughed long and hard, and kept on laughing at this final joke which had been made upon me.
“Would you mind telling me what’s so funny?”
I turned.
Sharee, the weaver, was standing there, as if she’d just materialized out of nowhere.
“I should have known,” I sighed. “After all the times you spoke to me in my dreams, I should have known you’d show up now … .”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “You’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: I did not speak to you in your dreams. Now would you mind telling me what is so damned funny?”
“I am,” I sighed. “I am destiny’s joke. I was so close, Sharee … so close to having it all. Instead, it slipped through my fingers and I’m left with nothing. Sir Apropos of Nothing, just like the king said.”
“You’re better off,” she harrumphed. “If you had something, you wouldn’t know what to do with it. Better that you have nothing.”
“Not necessarily.” I managed a smile as I stood, adjusting my cloak. “I have you.”
“You don’t have me,” she said tartly. “I’m simply journeying in the same direction you are, by coincidence.”
“Really. We’ve met in a glen. You don’t know which way I’m going.”
“Of course.” She hesitated and pointed west. “You’re heading that way.”
The truth was, I was heading east. Then again, the truth and I had always had a testy relationship.
“Amazing,” I said. “It’s amazing that you knew that. Well … let’s be off, then.”
We started off west, Sharee matching my stride.
“There’s something you should know,” I told her after a time.
“And what would that be?”
“This is my story.”
She looked at me with open curiosity. “I beg your pardon?”
“We’re going to have adventures. And they’re my adventures. You’re here to provide support for me.”
She snorted disdainfully. “I think not. I’m a weaver. I’m magic. You’re a lame fool with a staff. You are obviously accompanying me in order to provide amusing comic relief for my adventures.”
I stopped where I was. “Then it’s not going to work,” I said flatly. “I refuse to exist as a side issue to someone else’s epic again. That’s no way to live.”
“My sympathies, but that’s the way it’s going to be,” Sharee said flatly.
“Then it’s best that we part company.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We stood there, waiting for each other to turn away. Neither of us moved. To this day, I’ve no idea how long we stood there.
“We’ll alternate,” Sharee said abruptly.
My eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”
“Monday, Wednesday, Friday, it’s my story. Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, it’s your story. Best offer I’m going to give you.”
I thought about it a moment and then nodded. “All right. That sounds fair.”
“All right, then.”
“All right.”
We started off. And as we walked, I said, “Wait a minute … what day is today?”
“Sunday.”
I moaned.
“We can switch off Sundays,” she suggested.
“Fine. That’ll be fine. So today is my Sunday.”
“The hell it is,” she replied. “Today’s my Sunday. I need it more.”
“The hell you do. You’ve no idea of the day I had yesterday.”
“It can’t compare to mine, I guarantee it,” she said.
I stopped walking again. “Tell you what … you tell me about your day, I’ll tell you about mine, we’ll see whose was worse, and the worst story gets today.”
“Fine.” There were two stumps facing each other. We each sat on one. She pushed back her hood and said, “It all started in the Screaming Gorge of Eternal Madness …”
I stood up. “Next Sunday will be fine for me.”
And we headed off into the west.