by Steven Brust
—the interrupted pace, the walk, the step, which in turn permitted—
—enter into and go through and be changed by—
—tried not to think about it, but trust in him and me, and just do—
—a junction of thought and a resonance of experience, that I managed, or thought I managed, or almost managed—
—spinning corridors of gold that were within and without, and then through once more, leaving me—
—and I guess it worked because what was before me became behind me, and here became there, which was all right because I—
—to make contact, once more, with my familiar familiar.
—somewhere real at last.
—was back.
“Well,” I said or thought, lying against the cold stone floor. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”
“Are you all right, Vlad?” It took me a moment to realize the voice belonged to Teldra, and even longer to understand that the question begged an answer. What the answer ought to be was beyond me.
“Vlad?”
I turned my head and made eye contact with her, looking up at her impossibly tall form, hoping she would see that I was at least somewhat sensible.
“You okay, Boss?”
“Ask something easier, it’ll take me some time to figure that out.”
“Where did you go?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you.”
Around then, I realized that we hadn’t actually gone anywhere—we were still in the Jenoine’s prison.
“Vlad?” This was Morrolan’s voice. I managed to turn my head and see that he and Aliera were still there, as well. So nothing had changed, but everything had.
Story of my life.
I found my voice and managed, “How long?” In my own ears, my voice sounded weaker than I actually felt.
“How do you feel?” asked Aliera. Why can’t anyone just answer a Verra-be-damned question?
I started to say something snappy, but it was too much work, so I said, “Dry.”
Morrolan held a flask to my lips, and I drank some water. Damn, but it was good. I was going to ask him where he found it. Water. Wonderful stuff. Who knew?
“What happened, Vlad?” asked Morrolan. Yeah, like I was the right guy to ask.
“How long has it been?” I repeated. It was easier to talk now. I opened my eyes, not sure when I had closed them. Aliera and Morrolan were directly over me, staring down. Teldra was out of sight. Loiosh stood on the floor next to my left ear. Being the center of so much interest wasn’t as pleasant as I would have expected.
“As far as I can tell, you’ve been unconscious for around nine hours.”
“More like ten,” said Aliera.
Morrolan said, “My judgment—”
“Doing what in the meantime,” I said.
“Failing to reopen the gate,” said Aliera, with a look at Morrolan that the latter ignored.
“Okay,” I said. “Would someone like to help me up?”
Morrolan reached a hand out. With his help, I was able to stand up, and after a moment I was able to remain standing on my own. The room spun, then settled out, and—
“What the—?”
“What is it, Vlad?”
“Where are we?”
Silence greeted the question, which meant the answer couldn’t be anything I wanted to hear.
Aliera said, “Vlad, we’re in the same room we’ve been in all along.”
Yeah, that was one of the things I hadn’t wanted to hear.
Teldra was now looking at me, too. “What is it?” said Morrolan.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Where to begin.
“There is more to this place than used to meet the eye,” I said. “Either we’ve all been taken in by an illusion, or I’m being taken in by one now.”
Aliera closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them. “I detect no illusion,” she said. I shrugged.
“Perhaps,” said Morrolan, “you could describe what you are now seeing.”
“There is a large rock, or stone, in the middle of the floor right there.” I walked over to it, but didn’t touch it. “It’s about three feet high, maybe five feet long, and a foot and half wide at its widest point, but very irregular and jagged; it is mostly a dark shiny grey, with pink veins running through it.”
I glanced over at them, they were looking at me, not the rock.
“I don’t see it, Boss.”
“Figures.”
“That way,” I said, “against the wall, are four large jugs or vats, pottery of some kind, green with black geometrical patterns near the neck. They’re just a bit under five feet high and—” I walked over to them. “One seems to be filled with sand, another with ash, this one with, I don’t know, looks like water but I wouldn’t count on it, and this last one with something that looks like very tiny seashells.”
I turned my head. “Over this way—right here—is the doorway that Teldra and I found earlier; it is now plainly visible.”
Morrolan and Aliera looked at her; she shrugged and said, “Yes, we did find a doorway there.”
They turned back to me. “What else?” said Morrolan.
“The shelves are all filled.”
“With?”
“That one,” I said, gesturing, “has weapons. I mean, things that are obviously weapons—that look like weapons even to me. Swords, knives, daggers, lances, pikes. Things like that. There must be a hundred of them, all in all. The one over there has—I wish you could see it—it’s full of crystals. Some of them the size of the end of my finger, some of them fist size, a few of them the size of a lormelon. They’re a bit scary. And the colors vary from a mild pink to a deep purple, almost black. The big ones are both of the black color. Like I said, they’re a bit scary.”
I cleared my throat. “The shelf over at the far end has things I don’t recognize. Mostly metal, and peculiar shapes—some wheels, some devices made of several pieces riveted together, some partly made of leather or something else. Some that remind me of that strange object Sethra has. I would assume they are sorcerous devices of some kind, but I don’t know. I don’t feel like touching any of them. And the last shelf, this one, has more odd contraptions, but I recognize manacles among them.
“Okay,” I continued. “So much for the shelves. The walls are all painted with designs—black paint against a background that doesn’t look like I thought it did—more like a greyish blue. And the designs are, well, probably sorcerous. All geometrical shapes. The walls are covered with them, top to bottom, and there are various symbols scrawled in amongst them. I can draw them for you, if you’d like.”
“Yes,” said Aliera, at the same time Morrolan said, “Perhaps later.”
I grunted. “There is also a table at each end of the room, and chairs around it. All metal, all much larger than any furniture for either you or me. Go figure, huh? Oh, and the ceiling looks the same as it did before, except that there are more lighting devices than I’d thought.
“So, that’s about it. It’s obvious that they’ve done something to my head during this last—how long? eight hours?—or I wouldn’t be seeing this stuff. I’ll leave it up to you clever people whether I’m now being taken in by illusion, or all the rest of you are. If we go by majority, I’d guess it’s me that’s seeing things. And there’s also the fact that Teldra and I never tripped over any of that stuff earlier. And the fact that I can’t imagine why they would have messed with my head to allow me to see what’s really here. Chances are, while I was gone, they did other things as well, to make sure I’d carry out whatever plan they have. But I do want all of you to admire how calm, cool, and collected I am while discussing the fact that my head has been messed with. Okay, your turns.”
Aliera addressed Morrolan. “It’s the rock that interests me most.”
“Yes,” said Morrolan. “Does it sound familiar?”
Aliera nodded. I felt ignored. Loiosh nuzzled my ear. Teldra came over and stoo
d next to me, not saying anything or even looking at me, but it was nice of her.
“I think,” I told her quietly after a moment, “that you ought to leave me out of your plans.”
“Do you feel as if your mind has been tampered with?”
“No.”
“Or probed?”
“No. But it seems likely, doesn’t it?”
“It is possible. But it seems more likely that a glamour has been removed from your eyes than one placed there.”
“Sure. But why? And how, for that matter?”
She shook her head. Meanwhile, Morrolan and Aliera had finished their conference. Morrolan said, “Vlad, we will not be telling you of our plans until we can ascertain whether your mind has been tampered with.”
“Hey,” I said. “Good idea. I should have thought of that myself.”
He answered me with a Morrolan look. I went over and sat down against the wall; I didn’t feel like using the Jenoine’s furniture.
“Okay, Loiosh. You know how we do this.”
“Right now, Boss?”
“Right now.”
Aliera approached. “Vlad, I’m wondering if that rock you describe has any—”
“Not now, Aliera. I’m busy.”
She raised an eyebrow, I suppose wondering if I were kidding.
“I’m having my brain examined. It should only take a few minutes.”
She glanced quickly at Loiosh, then nodded and walked away to continue her conference with Morrolan. I let my head rest against the wall, closed my eyes, and tried to think of nothing. I’ve never been good at thinking of nothing. Loiosh had done this maybe half a dozen times, and he was starting to get good at it; I felt the invasion, but there was less of that rattling, jangling sensation, like being hit on the numbing point of the elbow except in the brain. I sat still and waited it out, thinking of nothing but what was going on inside my head. Thinking about what is going on inside your head is a good way to make yourself miserable, if you haven’t any other methods handy, but there was no way around it. As he sniffed and poked through the nooks and crannies of my thinking gear, I’d get flashes, unbidden, of moments of my past. I remembered the descent into Deathgate, the sight of my hands gripping the ropes, their feel against my palms, and sometimes I’d look down and see the top of Morrolan’s head below my feet, the roar of the falls in my ears. I remembered the feel of Cawti’s breath, fast in my ear, my hand in the small of her back as we explored each other. I remembered the feel of a ship’s deck beneath my feet, the creaking of the sails, and the endless blue-green of the sea. I remembered the Necromancer’s cold, cold fingers on my soul, the edge of Blackwand against my throat, the voice of the Imperial Inquisitor as the Orb circled my head and the Empress looked on, and the laugh of the Serioli who led me by circuitous routes to the Wall of Baritt’s Tomb.
It indicated how much better Loiosh was getting that so few of these memories were unpleasant.
Presently he said, “All right, Boss.”
“All right?”
“All right.”
“What do you mean, ‘all right’?”
“I mean ‘all right.’”
“All right, as in, all is right?”
“That’s the all right I meant, Boss.”
“Okay, I think I got that part. Now the tough one: How certain are you?”
He hesitated. “Pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“What do you mean, ‘pretty sure’?”
“I mean ‘pretty sure.’
That wasn’t exactly the answer I wanted. I’ve found I often don’t get exactly the answers I want, but I keep asking questions anyway.
“And, Boss—”
“Yes?”
“Now I’m seeing it, too.”
“Well, that’s something then. Either I’m not under a glamour, or you are as well.”
“Heh. I’m a jhereg, Boss. The being hasn’t been spawned that could put a glamour on me.”
“Cocky little son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”
“Damn right.”
“I’m back,” I announced to the room in general. No one cheered immediately, but I got a smile from Teldra. I said, “Loiosh believes my brain has probably not been tampered with, for whatever that’s worth.”
“Probably?” said Aliera, frowning.
I shrugged. “Best I can do; take it for what’s it’s worth. And he’s now seeing the same thing I am.”
“Which means,” said Aliera, shrugging, “that perhaps he is under a glamour as well.”
I said, “He’s a jhereg. The creature hasn’t been spawned that could put a glamour on him.”
Aliera frowned, looked over at Morrolan as if to see if he was convinced, then shrugged.
Loiosh said, “Thanks, Boss.”
“No problem, chum.”
I said, “Now, Morrolan, can you tell me what happened?”
“What happened?” asked Morrolan. He was leaning against the wall near where we’d been chained up, arms folded, looking cool and imperturbable.
“The attempt to get us home.”
“Oh. Nothing happened. They sealed the gate.”
“Then we’re stuck here?”
“For the moment, yes.”
“I see. Is sealing your gate, uh, easy to do?”
“No.”
“Why would they want to keep us here now, when they could have kept us here the first time?”
“I don’t know,” said Morrolan. “And I should very much like to. Is this all part of a plan of theirs, or are they improvising as much as we are? You perceive it is a rather important question.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only paranoid in the room,” I said.
“It isn’t paranoia, Vlad, if they really are—”
“So I’ve heard. Okay, so we can spend all our time wondering if they have all this planned and every step we take is according to their wishes, and when they have us good and ready, they’ll crush us like bugs. Or, alternately, we can stop worrying about what moves they’re going to pull on us, and start thinking about what moves we’re going to pull on them.”
Morrolan sniffed and said, “Good idea, Vlad. How do you plan to go about it?”
“Nothing fancy,” I said. “I had just planned to kill them, and go from there.”
Aliera shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt,” she said.
10
Courtesy Toward Inanimate Objects
“Tell me about this rock,” said Aliera.
“All right,” I said. I walked over and stood in front of it. “The edges are all jagged. It looks like a large piece of something that was once even larger, if that gives you any idea. I told you about the colors, but there’s also a very thin sort of purplish vein running along one side.”
Aliera said, “Does it seem at all crystalline?”
“No, not... well, yes, I guess sort of, if you look at it right.”
Morrolan nodded. “Well, Aliera?”
She nodded and said, “Trellanstone.”
Morrolan nodded.
I said, “If you don’t mind—”
“Trellanstone,” said Aliera, “is what the Imperial Orb was fashioned from.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well. And here I thought it might be something interesting.”
About then I caught something in Aliera’s eyes, and then in Morrolan’s, and realized that they were both a lot more excited about this than they were willing to let on.
“I don’t suppose,” I said, “that either of you have studied Orb-making? I can see where having an Orb might be useful right around now.”
“Certainly,” said Aliera. “Then all we’d need would be a source of amorphia.”
“Oh, we have that,” I said, enjoying dropping it into the middle of the conversation, like, “Oh, the Easterner? Yes, he’s the Empress’s consort.”
I certainly got Morrolan and Aliera’s attention quickly enough. “What are you talking about?” said
Morrolan.
“Lady Teldra and I went for a walk while we were waiting for you. It’s a lovely place, really, except for the air and how heavy you feel. There is a river of amorphia just outside of that door.”
They both glanced over at Teldra. You could see them thinking, “That’s it. Poor Vlad’s mind has snapped at last.” But Teldra nodded and said, “He is quite correct.”
“A river of amorphia,” repeated Morrolan, almost reverently.
“Impossible,” said Aliera. She turned to Morrolan. “Isn’t it?”
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine how such a thing could be. We need to look at this.”
“Yes,” said Aliera.
“I’ll wait here,” I told him. “If the Jenoine emerge, shall I ask them to wait, or suggest they return when it is more convenient?”
Aliera snorted. There was a lot of that going around. Having made her statement, she turned and headed toward where I told her the door was, stopped, and turned back.
“Where is the bloody door?” she said.
I managed not to chuckle, started to answer, but Morrolan said, “One thing at a time, please. I, too, wish to observe this thing, but I wish first to address the issue of why Vlad can see what we cannot, and what, if anything, we can do about it.”
I could see that Aliera wanted to argue with him, but apparently couldn’t find any good pretext, so she clamped her jaw shut, and returned. I found I was enjoying this: two sorcerers, who had to be dying to investigate one of the most remarkable discoveries in the history of magical philosophy, and they were just going to have to wait.
To add some more confusion into the mix, I said, “Excuse me. This rock-that-turns-into-Orbs. Would you mind telling me about it?”
“It’s magical,” said Aliera dryly.
I glanced over at Teldra, but she was just standing, near the wall, the epitome of patience. I turned back to Aliera and said, “Thanks loads.” She started to speak, but I cut her off. “Look, there’s too much I don’t understand here, and neither do you. If we’re going to work this together, I’d like to have some idea of what this stuff is we’re talking about. We’re paralyzed until we have at least a reasonable guess about what is real and what isn’t.”
“I have never,” said Aliera, “had any particular problem knowing what is real.”