Any moment now, he decided. I hope the Borshin does not follow him.
The remains of his thirty-first meal in that place, a breakfast, occupied the table. The air about him was cooler than he found comfortable. The Borshin had visited him on three occasions since his arrival, plumping into sudden existence, drooling and snatching at him. Each time, he had fended it off with a chair, while screaming as loudly as he could manage; and the Lord of Bats always followed after a few moments and drove the creature away, apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. Jack had been unable to sleep well since the first such visit, knowing that it could happen again at any time.
The meals appeared regularly, quite undistinguished repasts, and he ate them automatically while thinking of other matters. Afterward, he was never able to recall what they had featured, nor did he wish to.
Soon now he reflected.
He had exercised to keep from growing soft. He had gained back some of the weight he had lost. He had fought boredom by planning and rejecting many plots for escape and vengeance. Then Rosalie's words had returned to him, and he determined his course of action.
The air seemed to shimmer. There came a lone, not unlike the snapping of a fingernail against a goblet, somewhere near at hand.
Then the Lord of Bats was beside him, and this time he was not smiling.
"Jack," he began immediately, "you disappoint me. What were you attempting to establish?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You just completed some sort of weak spell a few moments ago. Did you really think I would
be unaware of a working of the Art here in High Dudgeon?"
"Only if it succeeded," said Jack.
"Which it obviously did not. You are still here."
"Obviously."
"You cannot shatter these walls, nor pass through them."
"So I've learned."
"Do you find time's weight increasing upon you?"
"Somewhat."
"Then perhaps it is time to introduce some additional element into your environment."
"You did not tell me there was another Borshin."
The other chuckled, and a bat emerged from somewhere, circled his head several times, suspended itself from the chain he wore.
"No, that is not what I had in mind," he said. "I wonder how much longer your sense of humor will hold up?"
Jack shrugged, rubbed idly at a smudge of soot on his right forefinger.
"Let me know when you find out," he said.
"I promise you will be among the first."
Jack nodded.
"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from further endeavors along magical lines," said the Lord of Bats. "In this highly charged atmosphere they could produce severe repercussions."
"I'll bear that in mind," said Jack.
"Capital. Sorry to have interrupted. I'll let you get back to your normal activities now Adieu."
Jack did not reply, for he was alone.
It was some time later that the additional element appeared within his environment.
Realizing that he was not alone, Jack looked up suddenly. At the sight of her coppery hair and her half-smile he was, for a moment, almost startled into believing.
Then he rose, moved toward her, moved to the side, studied her from several angles.
Finally, "It is a very good job," he said. "Give my compliments to your creator. You are an exceedingly fine simulacrum of my Lady Evene, of the Fortress Holding."
"I am neither a simulacrum nor am I your Lady," she said with a smile, curtseying.
"Whatever, you have brought me brightness," he said. "May I offer you a seat?"
"Thank you."
Seating her, he drew up another chair and set it to her left. Leaning back in it, he regarded her obliquely.
"Now will you riddle me your words?" he said. "If you are not my Evene nor a simulacrum
composed by my enemy to trouble me, then what are you? Or-to be more delicate-who are you?"
"I am Evene of the Fortress Holding, daughter of Loret and the Colonel Who Never Died," she said, still smiling; and it was only then he noticed that from the silver chain she wore depended the strange gemstone that was shaped in semblance of his chamber. "But I am not your Lady," she finished.
"He did a very good job," said Jack. "Even the voice is perfect."
"I can almost feel sorry for the vagabond Lord of nonexistent Shadow Guard," she said, "Jack of Liars. Being familiar with all forms of baseness, it has become difficult for you to recognize the truth."
"There is a Shadow Guard!" he said.
"Then there is no need for you to grow agitated at its mention, is there?"
"He taught you well, creature. To mock my home is to mock me."
"That was my intention. But I am not a creature of he whom you call the Lord of Bats. I am his woman. I know him by his secret name. He has shown me the world in a sphere. I have seen all places and things from the halls of High Dudgeon. I know that nowhere is there such a place as Shadow Guard."
"No eyes but mine have ever looked upon it," he said, "for it is always hidden by shadows. It is a great, sprawling place, of high, torch-lit halls, underground labyrinths and many towers. On the one hand it faces some light, and on the other the darkness. It is furnished with many mementos of the greatest thefts ever committed. There are things of great beauty there, and things of incalculable worth. The shadows dance in its corridors, and the facets of countless gems gleam brighter than the sun of the one-half world. That is the place you mock: Shadow Guard, next to which your master's keep is but a pigsty. It is sometimes, true, a lonely place; but the real Evene will brighten it with her laughter, touch it with her grace, so that it will endure in splendor long after your master has entered the final darkness as a result of my vengeance."
She applauded softly.
"You make it easy to recall how your words and your passion once persuaded me, Jack. I see now, though, that when you speak of Shadow Guard you speak too well to be describing a real place. I waited for you for a long while, and then I learned of your beheading at Igles. Still, I was determined to await your return. But my father decided otherwise. At first, I believed his lust for the Hellflame ruled him. I was wrong, however. He realized from the first that you were a vagrant, a braggart, a liar. I wept when he bartered me for the Hellflame, but I came to love the one to whom I was given. My Lord is kind where you are thoughtless, intelligent where you are merely shrewd. His fortress really exists and is one of the mightiest in the land. He is all things that you are not. I love him."
Jack studied her now unsmiling face for a moment, then asked, "How did he come to possess the Hellflame?"
"His man won it for him in Igles."
"What was that man's name?"
"Quazer," she said. "Quazer was champion of the Hellgames."
"A moderately useless piece of information for a simulacrum to possess," Jack observed, "if true. Yet, my enemy is of the fussy, thorough sort. I am sorry, but I do not believe you are real."
"It is an example of the egotism that blinds one to the obvious."
"No. I know that you are not the real Evene, but rather a thing sent to torment me, because the real Evene, my Evene, would have refrained from judging me in my absence. She would have waited for my answer to whatever was said against me."
She looked away then.
"More of your clever words," she finally said. "They mean nothing."
"You may go now," he said, "and tell your master you did not succeed."
"He is not my master! He is my Lord and lover!"
"...Or you may stay, if you do not wish to go. It matters not at all."
He rose then, crossed to the bed, stretched out upon it, closed his eyes.
When he looked again, she was gone.
He had seen, however, that which she had not wished him to see.
...But I'll not give them anything, he decided. No matter what evidence they offer, I will explain it as a trick. I will keep my know
ledge where I keep my feelings, for now.
After a time, he retreated into sleep, dreaming in bright colors of the future as he would have it.
He was left alone for a long while after that, which suited him perfectly.
He felt that he had held the Lord of Bats at bay, that he had defeated his first design upon his sanity. He occasionally chuckled as he paced the walls, ceilings, floors, surfaces of his chamber. He meditated upon his plan and its dangers, on the years that might be involved in achieving it. He ate his meals. He slept.
It occurred to him then that while at any given moment the Lord of Bats might be observing him, he could possibly be under observation at all times. He immediately had visions of the strange gemstone being passed from hand to hand by shifts of his enemy's servitors. The thought persisted. No matter what the action in which he was engaged, there came the nagging feeling that someone might be watching. He took to sitting for long spells glaring at possible watchers behind the mirrors. He would turn suddenly and gesture obscenely at invisible companions.
Gods! It's working! he decided one time, on awakening and looking quickly about the chamber. He is reaching! I suspect his presence everywhere, and it is beginning to unbalance me. But I've laid the groundwork. If he will just give me the opening I need and all other things remain as they are, I may have a chance. The best way to insure the opening, though, is to remain as untroubled-seeming as possible. I will have to stop pacing and watching, stop mumbling.
He lay there and opened his being and felt the sobering chill of the heights.
After that, he took to silence and slow movement. It was more difficult than he had thought to suppress his smaller reactions. But he suppressed them, sometimes seating himself, clasping his hands and counting through the thousands. The mirrors showed him that he wore a good-sized beard. His jester's garb grew worn and soiled. Often he would awaken in a cold sweat, unable to recall what nightmare had been tormenting him. Though his mind sometimes darkened, he now maintained the semblance of normalcy within his ever-lit prison of mirrors.
Is there a spell involved? he wondered. Or is it just the effects of prolonged monotony? Probably the latter. I think I'd sense his spell, though he's a better magician than 1. Soon now, soon. Soon he will be coming to me. He will feel that it is taking too long to distress me. There will come a counter-effect. He will be troubled. Soon, now. Soon he will come.
When he did, Jack had had advance notice.
He awakened to find a drawn bath-his second since his arrival, how many ages ago?- and a fresh costume. He scrubbed himself and donned the green-and-white garb. This time, he let the bells remain above his toes and he adjusted the cap to a rakish angle.
He seated himself then, clasped his hands behind his head and smiled faintly. He would not allow his appearance to betray the nervousness he felt.
When the air began to shimmer and he heard the note, he glanced in that direction and nodded slightly.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello," said the other. "How are you?"
"Quite recovered. I'd say. I should like to be taking my leave soon."
"In matters of health one cannot be too careful. I would say that you still require rest. But we shall discuss that matter at a later time.
"I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you," he went on. "I have been occupied by matters which required my full attention."
"That is all right," said Jack. "All efforts will shortly come to nothing."
The Lord of Bats studied his face, as though seeking some sign of madness upon it. Then he seated himself and, "What do you mean?" he inquired.
Jack turned his left palm upward, and, "If all things end," he said, "then all efforts will come to nothing."
"Why should all things end?"
"Have you paid heed to the temperature recently, good my Lord?"
"No," said the other, perplexed, "I have not stirred physically from my keep for a long while."
"It might prove instructive for you to do so. Or, better yet, open your being to the emanations from the Shield."
"I shall-in private.-But there is always some leakage. The seven whose presences are required to dam it will learn of it and act. There is no cause for concern or foreboding."
"There is if one of the seven is confined and unable to respond."
The other's eyes widened.
"I don't believe you," he said.
Jack shrugged.
"I was seeking a safe place from which I might disembark when you offered me your- uh, hospitality. It is certainly easy enough to verify."
"Then why did you not speak of it sooner?"
"Why?" asked Jack. "If my sanity is to be destroyed, what is it to me whether the rest of the world goes on existing or is destroyed?"
''That is a very selfish attitude," said the Lord of Bats.
"It is my attitude," said Jack, and he jingled his bells.
"I suppose I must go check your story." The other sighed, rising.
"I'll wait here." said Jack.
The Lord of Bats led him into the high hall that lay beyond the iron door, and there he cut his bonds.
Jack looked about him. There were familiar designs worked in mosaics on the floor, heaps of rushes in the corners, dark hangings upon the walls, a small central altar with a table of instruments beside it, an odor of incense in the air.
Jack took a step forward.
"Your name was strangely entered in the book of Ells," said the Lord of Bats, "for that of another was blotted out above it."
"Perhaps the tutelary deity had second thoughts on the matter."
"To my knowledge, this has never occurred before. But if you are one of the seven chosen, so be it. Hear me, though, before you move to essay your part of the Shield duty."
He clapped his hands and a hanging stirred. Evene entered the room. She went and stood at her Lord's side.
"While your powers may be necessary for this thing," he said to Jack, "do not think that they approach my own here in High Dudgeon. Soon we must strike lights, and there will be shadows. Even if I have underestimated you, know that my Lady has had years in which to study the Art and that she is uniquely gifted in its employment. She will add her skills to my own, should you attempt anything save that for which I brought you here. No matter what you believe, she is not a simulacrum."
"I know that," said Jack, "for simulacra do not weep."
"When did you see Evene weep?"
"You must ask her about it sometime."
She dropped her eyes as he turned his toward the altar and moved forward.
"I'd best begin. Please stand in the lesser circle," he said.
One by one, he ignited the charcoal within ten braziers, which stood in three rows of three, four and three each. He added aromatic powders, causing each to flame and cast smokes of different colors. Then he moved to the far side of the altar and traced a pattern upon the floor with the blade of an iron knife. He spoke softly and his shadow multiplied, recombined into one, swayed, grew still, darkened, and then stretched across the hall like an endless roadway to the
east. It did not move thereafter, despite the flickering light, and grew so dark that it seemed to possess the quality of depth.
Jack heard the Lord of Bats' whispered, "I like this not!" to Evene, and he glanced in their direction.
Through the rolling smoke, by the flickering lights, within the circle, he seemed to take on a darker, more sinister appearance and to move with greater and greater assurance and efficiency. When he raised the small bell from the altar and rang it, the Lord of Bats cried, "Stop!" but he did not break the lesser circle as the sense of another presence, tense, watching, filled the hall.
"You are correct with respect to one thing," Jack said. "You are my master when it comes to the Art. I am not so addled as to cross swords with you, yet. Especially not in your place of power. Rather, I seek merely to occupy you for a time, to assure my safety. It will take even the two of you some minutes to ban
ish the force I have summoned here-and then you will have other things to think about. Here's one!"
He seized a leg of the nearest brazier and buried it across the hall. Its charcoal was scattered among rushes. They began to burn, and flames touched the fringes of a tapestry as Jack continued:
"I have not been summoned for Shield duty. With splinters from the table, charred in the
flame of our dinner candle, I altered the entry in the Book of Ells. Its opening unto me was the spell you detected."
"You dared break the Great Compact and tamper with the fate of the world?"
"Just so," said Jack. "The world is of little use to a madman, which is what you would have had me; and I spit on the Compact."
"You are henceforth and forever an outcast, Jack. Count no darksider as friend."
"I never have."
"The Compact and its agent, the Book of Ells, is the one thing we all respect-always have respected-despite all other differences. Jack. You will be bounded now to your ultimate destruction."
"I almost was, here, by you. This way, I am able to bid you good-bye."
"I will banish the presence you have summoned and extinguish the fire you have caused. Then I will raise half a world against you. Never again will you know a moment's rest. Your ending will not be a happy one."
"You slew me once, you took my woman and warped her will, you made me your prisoner, wore me around your neck, set your Borshin upon me. Know that when we meet again, I will not be the one who is tortured and bounded into madness. I have a long list, and you head it."
"We will meet again, Shadowjack-perhaps even in a matter of moments. Then you can forget about your list."
"Oh, your mention of lists reminded me of something. Are you not curious as to whose name I effaced when I entered my own into the Book of Ells?"
"What name was it?"
"Strangely enough, it was your name. You should really get out more often, you know. If you had, you would have noticed the chill, inspected the Shield and read in the Book. Then you would have been on Shield duty and I would not have become your prisoner. All of this unpleasantness could have been avoided. There is a moral there somewhere. Get more exercise and fresh air-that may be it."
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