by Peter David
Eventually the mechanism had run down or broken or whatever happened to mechanisms when there was no one around to attend to them, and the bells had gone silent. God had lost his voice. That was fine by the Colonel. There wasn’t a damned thing that arrogant, useless prig on high could have to say that would be of the slightest interest to him.
But when the bells began chiming for no reason, the Colonel considered that to be a bit disconcerting.
He left the back of the library straight away and strode down 42nd over to 5th. Once he hit 5th, he started to run. The armor was extremely useful in that score, allowing him to do pretty much anything that occurred to him physically, short of flying. He considered that to be a damned inconvenient oversight, but one that he was willing to live with.
The armor wasn’t clanking. It never did when he ran. He didn’t know why that was, because it could make a hell of a racket when he walked. When running, though, it was as if the ground absorbed all the noise. Years ago he had found it odd. Now he didn’t notice it.
The strangest thing about the sounding of the bells was that it was not happening in any sort of pattern. Back in the days when the bell sounded, they did so in a particular order that he had come to recognize. This wasn’t in any order. It was as if something was just banging around in there.
Even at the speed with which he was moving, the bells ceased ringing by the time he was halfway there. So when he arrived in front of Saint Patrick’s, he stood there and looked upward toward the bell towers without actually knowing what he was looking for. The last of the bells’ echoes had vanished into the air, leaving him staring up at gargoyles.
He frowned. Was there something off about one of the gargoyles?
He looked down. There was a dead pigeon on the sidewalk. He picked it up and studied it. It looked as if it had been crushed. That could, of course, be due to the fact that it had hit the ground. It could have had some manner of pigeon heart attack, plummeted from on high, and the damage he was seeing was a result of the impact. Still, it seemed…
At that moment, a dog started barking furiously from the doors. The Colonel glanced toward it and the dog, as if anticipating an attack, continue to bark as if warning the Colonel not to even think about coming in.
“Dogs,” he muttered.
“What about them?”
A Traveler was at his elbow. The Colonel had not heard him coming. In the old days, he’d been disconcerted by their random appearances. At this point he was used to it. Nothing fazed him.
“Had a dog as a child,” said the Colonel. “When I was a child, I mean. It was the only creature on earth that I could ever count on, and that included both my parents and my younger brother. When the animal—Mickey, is what I named him—ran out in front of a truck and got himself struck and killed, I cried for a week. On some level, though, I admired him for the death he chose. I didn’t see it, but according to the people who did, he didn’t just get clipped while trying to cross a street. No, Mickey darted in front of an oncoming truck, turned to face it, and barked defiantly like he was challenging the truck to take its best shot. Which, of course, it did, and that was the end of Mickey. Point is: Once I dried my tears, I decided that when I went, I wanted to go like that. Lot to be said for that.”
“Is that not what you did?”
He glanced at the Traveler. “What do you mean?” But then he paused and frowned and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right at that. Facing off against the thundering hoards, telling them to get off my world, leaping to the attack…I thought I was going to die that day. And I was going to die on my own terms.”
“Yet you did not.”
“No. I didn’t. Maybe I should have. Because if I had, I wouldn’t be going so crazy with loneliness and boredom that I’d be contemplating statuary and dead pigeons.” With a grunt of disgust, he threw the deceased bird toward the barking dog. The dog snapped it up on the fly and darted back to the recesses of the cathedral.
There was probably a pack of them in there. And they’d gotten up into the bell tower, and pulled on some of the ropes, and that’s where the ringing came from.
That’s what it has come down to, has it? God with his voice gone, depending upon stray dogs to speak on his behalf. Then again, that’s the way it’s always been, hasn’t it. God on high, the pitiless, uncaring, master. And humanity serving as nothing but his whipped dogs, to bark and scrape and beg for some measure of His mercy when there was none to give. Children dying of disease before they had a chance to live, and people congregating to worship in churches that are destroyed by earthquakes, and that wasn’t enough for us to realize that He doesn’t give a damn about us. And so we were invaded and damned near wiped out. And how much you want to bet that somewhere out there, there are still humans bowing down and worshipping and waiting for Him to rescue us, as if all this is just some sort of huge test of mankind’s resilience.
He was disgusted with his race. He was disgusted with himself.
He looked up once more. “Does something look off with the gargoyles to you?”
“Off?” the Traveler faintly echoed.
The Colonel was about to pursue it and then thought better of it. “Never mind. It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.” He turned away and began walking. The Traveler fell into step alongside him. “What do you want?”
“What do you want?” said the Traveler.
“Oh, it’s one of these deals, is it?” said the Colonel with a groan. “Where one of you types simply shows up because you feel
a summoning…”
“Calling,” the Traveler corrected him. He continued to make no noise at all as he moved.
“Right, right. A ‘calling’ that somehow something is going to be required of you. That you have to be at a specific place at a specific time although you don’t always know why or what purpose your involvement is going to serve. That about right?”
“Yes.”
“Terrific.”
The Traveler stopped walking so abruptly and so silently that it was several steps before the Colonel realized that the Traveler was no longer at his side. He turned back to the Traveler, who bowed slightly and said, “If I am wrong and you have no need of me, then I will depart.”
“I didn’t say that.” The Colonel scratched the underside of his chin and then, for some reason, felt self-conscious. He raised his helmet up over his head and then lowered it. It clicked into place and automatically snapped shut tightly. When he spoke, his voice boomed. He wished there were some manner of volume control, but if there was, he had yet to discover it.
The fact was that there was something on his mind. He had been considering what Nicrominus had told him, and his own feelings on the subject. He was ancient by this point, older than any human had a right to be, but that didn’t mean he was too old to develop some manner of payback that would work on more than one level. Perhaps there was something to be said for this entire business of Travelers and their receiving the Calling after all. “But since you’ve brought it up…there is something that I have been giving thought to of late.”
“Yes, Overseer?”
“Humanity. What there is left of it, I mean.”
“Yes, Overseer?”
“I believe it is time to attend to it. Matters should not be left where they are.”
“They should not? Your people are all but extinct, Overseer.”
“I do not think of them as my people. They have not been for a very long time. Truthfully, I felt very little attachment even before…this,” and he rapped on the armor, causing a faint echo.
“Understood, Overseer. But it is still unclear what you are saying.”
“Is it? I am saying that something needs to be done about the situation.”
“Are you saying that breeding needs to be encouraged—perhaps even organized—for the purpose of growing the population?”
“Good lord, no. I was thinking about having the remainder of them rounded up and executed. Do you think you and your fellows cou
ld arrange that?”
The Traveler did not hesitate. “Easily, Overseer.”
“Good. Keep me apprised of how that goes, would you?”
Without waiting for an answer, the Overseer walked away with a gentle clanking of his metal booted feet. He did not glance again over his shoulder, and so did not notice that the Traveler was instead looking behind him. Behind him and up toward the row of gargoyles atop the cathedral.
“Yes, Overseer,” said the Traveler almost as an afterthought, even though the Overseer was already walking away. “I will indeed keep you apprised of everything that transpires. Just as I always have.” Then he turned away from the gargoyles with no further comment.
off the coast of the city/state of venets
I.
Karsen Foux rode his whores slowly along the coast, with Eutok directly behind him. The waters were lapping against the shores, and he stared out upon the seas without the slightest hope of seeing anything useful.
The whores was gasping tiredly, as was Eutok’s. It wasn’t surprising since they had been riding their whores rather hard and there was only so much riding even the sturdiest of whores could withstand. Finally deciding to take pity on the poor thing, Karsen dismounted and strode over to the shoreline. Eutok did likewise.
He moved to the edge of the water and stared out onto the horizon. Some distance away the coastline of Venets was visible. Karsen knew a bit about Venets and its residents, but had never had the opportunity to visit there since it had not been the source of any major wars. Bottom Feeders tended to stay in the areas of land wars since those tended to provide the most opportunity for enrichments. On the other hand the Sirene, the denizens of Venets, held unquestioned superiority over the waters and thus were generally left alone since the various races were not exactly equipped to fight a water battle.
There was a long silence, and finally Karsen said, “Now what?”
“This was the direction they came. This was as far as they went. At least as far as I can track them that they went.”
“And that’s it?” He spun to face Eutok, towering over him, fist cocked as if he desperately wanted to slam it into Eutok’s face and needed but the slightest excuse to do so. “This is as far as you can track them?”
“What would you have of me?” demanded Eutok. “I told you I’d lead you in the direction that I saw them transporting her. We’ve managed to find enough traces of their subsequent tracks to verify that I was right. So what now?”
“That’s what I’m asking you! What now?”
“I don’t know what now!” Eutok said with exasperation. “It’s not as if I have a grand scheme for all of this! I was simply trying to get myself healed, and you were the only one who seemed capable of attending to it! And I did everything I promised I would do! More!”
“You’re right.”
“So if you think that—”
“I said,” Karsen said, putting up his hands in a calming manner, “that you’re right. You did what you said you would do. And you’re healed. At least as much as what arts I possess can manage.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This isn’t your fault. You brought me as far as you could go. We’re done, you and I.”
He took a few steps away from the Trull, trying to determine which direction to go or what his next move would be. He wound up dropping down to the ground and sitting on the shoreline, with the water lapping up to just around his hooves. He wondered if the best thing to do at that point wasn’t to just let the water wash over him and carry him away.
There was a noise from nearby and he realized that Eutok was standing near him. “What do you want?” he said.
“I was just wondering what you were going to do now?”
“I have no further information on that,” he said drily, “than the last time we discussed that. Why do you care? What are you still doing here? You’re healed. You’ve fulfilled your rather self-serving obligations to me. Why are you still here? Why don’t you go—?”
“Go where? Where would you suggest I go? Back to the Hub? So I can stand trial and be executed, presuming it even gets that far? Wander the lands until my feet bleed? What do you envision me doing with my life?”
“How the hell would I know, Eutok? I don’t know what I’m going to be doing with my life, so I certainly haven’t given the particulars of your situation any thought.”
Eutok grunted acknowledgment.
Karsen ran his fingers through his wiry hair as he tried to determine what his next move would be. Nothing was coming to mind. Instead all he could do was chide himself over having charged headlong into this mess so precipitously, and not leaving himself any options beyond—
“You know…”
“What?” said Karsen, his frustration boiling over. He was seriously considering unslinging the hammer and trying to use it to stave in Eutok’s skull.
Karsen’s tone did not seem to bother Eutok in the slightest. “Perhaps someone else saw where they went.”
“Someone else?”
“Yes.”
Karsen simply shook his head in slow disbelief. “Are you serious?”
Eutok shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because there’s no reason for it to happen! No reason for anyone to pay attention and take notice of Jepp being taken to…to wherever it was they took her!”
“No reason for them not to have either.”
“That’s ridiculous. That makes no sense.”
“What does make sense to you?” said Eutok, pointing a meaty finger at him. “Sitting here like a pathetic sop, helpless in the face of events? Admitting defeat? Doing nothing?”
“Why do you care?”
“Well…” Eutok looked frustrated. “Because everybody’s got to care about something.”
“And this is it for you? I’m it? I’m what you’ve chosen to care about? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? Have you never cared about anything else?”
“Only that which can destroy me.”
There was something in the way he said it that caught Karsen’s attention. “What are you talking about?”
The Trull stared at him, various emotions playing across his face, and then he said gruffly, “Never mind. Do as you will.”
He started to walk away with that typical Trull side-to-side swagger, but for some reason it struck Karsen less like a biological necessity of the way the Trull was built and instead a show of empty bravado.
There was no reason for him to have Eutok there. No reason at all.
“Wait,” he called out.
Eutok stopped and faced him.
Karsen looked out toward the water, and then back to Eutok. “Find someone, you say?”
“Someone. Anyone. You never know.”
“No. No, I don’t suppose that you do.”
He got to his hooves, went back to the whores, took his by the rope that was hanging around its neck and held out the other to Eutok. The Trull took it in his thick hand and they started walking.
For a time they said nothing. Finally:
“Tell me about her.”
Eutok looked at him. “Her? What do you—?” Then he understood and scowled as fiercely as only a Trull could. “Oh. Her.”
“You said I knew nothing about her. Tell me, then. I mean, who am I to judge? I’m in love with a human.” He considered the words that he had just spoken. “Still sounds odd for me to say that aloud. Anyway, my mother treated me with nothing but contempt for feeling anything for Jepp. So I don’t quite see where I have the moral authority to condemn you for choices that others might deem…” He paused. “…questionable.”
“That’s very open minded of you,” said Eutok, his voice dripping with sarcasm. At the same time, though, there was something in his tone that conveyed he was pleased to hear Karsen say that.
“How did you meet her?”
“I was hunting her in order to kill her and present her head as a trophy to my mother.”
“Oh. How…sweet,” said Karsen, the
last word just sort of falling out of his mouth and lying on the ground.
“I wasn’t looking for it to happen!” Eutok said defensively. “And even when it was happening, I didn’t want it to happen!”
“Well…these things happen.”
“Yes. They do.”
“Where is she now?”
“With her people.”
“Well, then…” His voice trailed off.
Eutok stopped walking and looked at him with irritation. “What? Well then what?”
“Why don’t you go to her? You obviously have no place with your people any more. Perhaps her people will accept you…”
“No. They won’t. If I know anything of a certainty, it’s that. I can’t see her again.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t.”
“That’s not a reason—”
“Shut up!”
Karsen rolled his eyes but said nothing further.
They trudged along for a while longer and then out of nowhere, Eutok said, “I made a promise to her and I can’t keep it.”
“You can’t?”
“No. I mean, I could…but I cannot bring myself to.”
“Can I ask...?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Perhaps you can explain it to me using small words.”
At first Eutok glared at him, but then his expression softened ever so slightly and he even allowed for a gruff chuckle. Then he grew serious, as if embarrassed that he had permitted himself to be amused by anything. “The Piri have a sort of queen. They call her the Mistress. It is the job of the Mistress to represent all of the Piri.”
“All right,” said Karsen, not quite understanding the significance.
“Her name is Sunara. The Piri I am involved with—was involved with—is her daughter, Clarinda.”
“And you are likewise the son of a queen, even if you did want to kill her.”
“And Clarinda would eagerly see Sunara destroyed as well.”