by Frank Tuttle
Mallara bit her lip and studied the apparently sleeping Troll. It weighs more than ten dray horses, she thought. I could conjure my double and she could stand on my shoulders and we might -- might -- touch the blunt top of the Troll's furry head. And if the two of me held hands and stretched, we might just reach all the way around the Troll's waist.
The Troll's fur was long and straight and black. Only the hands and the face were bare of fur; there, instead, was leathery, wrinkled skin of a reddish-brown hue. The eyes were closed beneath long, black lashes.
Wolf's ears and tiger's claws and feet with hooks for toes.
We fought two wars with these creatures, mused Mallara. That we survived at all is phenomenal. That we won is simply miraculous.
With an audible snap, the Troll's eyes opened, yellow and slitted and narrowing as they sought out Mallara's gaze.
"Greetings, Wise One," said the Troll, in a voice like grumbling thunder."Greetings, and peace."
The Troll spread its arms level with its waist. Mallara looked for extended claws, saw none, and took a deep breath.
"I bid you welcome," she said."Welcome, and peace."
The Troll chuckled with a noise like rocks breaking."And who is this who floats unseen at your side?"
Mallara blanched. Burn's blurred form swelled.
"I hight Burn," said Burn."Burn, of the shimmering folk. May I present to you Mallara of Sovern, Sorceress to the Crown, Bearer of the Staff and Wielder of the Word?"
The Troll smiled, revealing wet white canines as long as Mallara's hands.
Mallara dipped her head and staff in a formal bow.
"Then we are met," said the Troll."Met, and at peace."
Thus far, thought Mallara."Yes," she said.
The Troll took a half-step forward, bringing it barely out of the shadow of the Square clock-tower. Yellow eyes glowed below black fur, more alive in the shadows than in the light.
"The day has come, Mallara of Sovern," said the Troll."An Asking was made. A Vow was spoken."
"An Asking was made," echoed Burn."A Vow was spoken."
"Now is the day to set deeds to words," said the Troll."Are you come to fulfill the Vow, Mallara of Sovern?"
Mallara's mouth went dry.
"I ask," said the Troll."Speak."
Mallara licked her lips."I came to set things right," she said."I'll do whatever is required."
The Troll smiled. Mallara willed away a shiver."Courage," said the Troll."Bravery. Honesty. We admire these things, Staff-bearer."
"So do we," said Burn, darting up close to the Troll's wide muzzle."We also admire words, well-spoken and plain. For the sake of ceremony, could we perhaps hear a brief re-telling of the asking and the vow?"
The Troll halted in mid-step."A re-telling?"
"A brief one," said Burn, before Mallara could interrupt."Just the high points, if you please."
The Troll chuckled."This one jests."
Mallara shook her head."The shimmering folk hold humor in high regard," she said."Pray take no offense."
"I shall not," said the Troll."But again I ask you, Mallara Staff-bearer -- are you come to fulfill the vow?"
In that instant, Tillith fell utterly silent. No horses neighed, no shouts arose, no doors slammed. Mallara felt as if the land itself was holding its breath in anticipation of her next few words.
Her staff whispered. It has asked twice, the staff said. It will only ask once more.
The Troll's eyes narrowed further, and tiny hints of bone-white claw began to show at finger-tips.
The Troll word for enemy, Mallara recalled, translated roughly as "oath-breaker."
"Yes," said Mallara, her voice surprising her with its calm."I am come to fulfill the vow."
"Mistress!" hissed Burn."Stall. Delay. Wait for the Book--"
"Hush, Burn," said Mallara. She soothed her staff with a caress and wiped sweat from her brow."A vow is a vow. You know that."
The Troll smiled again. Mallara wondered if it could hear her heart racing."Take my hand, Mallara of Sovern," said the Troll. It took a step and towered over Mallara."Take my hand and let us make good the bargain our folk struck long ago."
The Troll lifted its hand, palm up, fingers spread.
"Burn," said Mallara.
"Here, Mistress," said Burn.
"You've been a good friend." Mallara took a long deep breath. The air still smelled of horses. Horses and wood-smoke and food cooking.
I'm so glad, thought Mallara, that I had that second slice of apple pie, last night.
"Goodbye, Burn." Mallara put her hand in the Troll's.
The Troll's shadow rose up, and Mallara vanished.
Burn dived. The Troll disappeared.
"Mistress!" Burn shouted."Staff! Answer me, you overcarved shoe-horn!"
Silence.
"Mistress! Mallara, answer me!"
Boots scuffed on the street. Voices rose up in whispers, then words, then shouts."She did it!" hooted a youngster."She took the Troll away!"
The Tillithers, cautious at first, poked heads through doors and peeked around corners. Waves and shouts filled the street, and in a few moments a crowd converged on Tillith's Square.
The Mayor and half a dozen town guards trotted into the shadow of the court-house clock."Sir Burn!" shouted the Mayor."Sir Burn! Are you near?"
Burn spiraled down to hang before the Mayor."I'm here," said the shimmer."The book. Where is it?
"Old Norrit had it last," said the Mayor."He owns the mill west of town. We've sent a lad -- "
"Then send another," snapped Burn."A fast lad, this time. I want that book within the hour, Mayor. Is that clear?"
"Why?" asked the Mayor."Did the Sorceress not just spirit the Troll away?"
Burn shrank and flew deep inside the Mayor's right ear. "I asked you to send another lad," said Burn, with as much volume as he dared."Why are you still standing here?"
The Mayor clapped hands to ears and fled.
Burn rose above the growing crowd, searching the air for faint traces of unbound spell-works.
He found none. Whatever door the Troll opened was well and truly shut.
Burn cursed, long and loud, and then sailed buzzing after the Mayor.
Mallara opened her eyes.
She stood alone on a wide, flat plain of sand that glistened and twinkled in the silver day-light. There was no sun in the grey sky above, nor any clouds -- just heavens the color of old weathered lead that made Mallara think of caves and box-lids.
"Hello," she called. Her voice died quickly, and she was alone in utter silence once again.
Her staff began to whisper."This place is not a place," it said."It was not, and soon will not be once more."
Mallara sighed."Plain talk, please. Pretend Burn is here. You meant what?"
"Hurry," said the staff.
"Hurry and what?" asked Mallara.
"Surely you have not forgotten," said the Troll.
Mallara whirled. Glistening pale sand and a dead grey sky surrounded her, but the Troll was nowhere in sight.
"Where are you?" said Mallara."What is this place?"
"I am near," said the Troll."But nearer still I may not come. I may look upon you, and hear your words, and speak my own, but nothing else. Not yet."
Mallara looked away from the sky."I came to fulfill this vow," she said."And I mean to. But I must confess this, Troll. To my shame, my folk have forgotten the vow. You must tell what we promised."
The Troll laughed, softly."There is no shame, Staff-bearer. You sought me out at the place of the Asking. You are here in the Place Between. You have done what is necessary. Only one task remains."
Mallara bowed."Tell me."
The Troll's voice fell, as though the Troll were aboard a ship slowly but surely drifting away."My folk are old," said the Troll."We knew the moon before it was scarred; we knew the empty sky, before the moon. The forests, the seas, the bright cold places -- all were ours, once."
The dead sky darkened, as though t
hickening -- or falling. Mallara shivered.
"Go on," she said, her knuckles white around her staff.
"Then your folk came," said the Troll."Soon the world was full of you. Roads pierced our forests, farms crept across our lands. And then you found the Words, and the power behind them, and the world was changed, and ours no longer."
"Our folk have lived in peace for hundreds of years," said Mallara."Surely--"
"The peace began with the Asking," said the Troll, gently."Our Asking and your Vow."
Mallara frowned and fought back an urge to look up and watch the sky fall."The peace?" she said."Five hundred years -- all because of the vow you want me to fulfill?"
"Yes," said the Troll."Are you frightened?"
Despite herself, Mallara laughed."If Burn were here, he'd claim we do this sort of thing so often we're bored by it," she said."And I'd deny it. Of course I'm frightened. And I still don't know what you asked, or what was promised."
And please tell me quickly, she thought. The sky is so close.
"We came to one of your folk many years ago," the Troll said."We told this person that we would fight no more. We told this person that we would ask your folk to take our place as caretakers. We gave this world to your folk, Staff-bearer, in the hope that your magic will carry on what our hands and hearts began so long ago."
Mallara shook her head.
"Us?" she asked."My folk?"
"That is what we asked," said the Troll.
"And what did we vow?"
"Your folk swore that, on a day to come, a Bearer of the Staff would meet my folk here, in this place between. Your folk swore that the Bearer would make a way from our world -- your world, now -- into another. A world like we once had, Bearer. A place cool and wild and green."
The sky fell, but Mallara no longer noticed.
"We give you the old lands," said the Troll."And you give us new ones. That is fair," said the Troll."You will grow wise, and we will grow young. That we asked, and that you vowed. It is time, Bearer. Open the way, and give my folk a new world to raise. Such was asked. Such was vowed. It is time."
The Troll's voice faded, and Mallara knew he was gone. Gone to collect his kin.
All of his kin.
Mallara kicked at the sand and threw back her robes and spared a single precious moment cursing the idiot who, five hundred years ago, babbled a vow they almost certainly didn't understand and couldn't possibly fulfill.
"This is the place between," whispered her staff."Our world lies on one side. What lies on the other?"
"I don't know," said Mallara, through clenched teeth."But every Troll in the world is about to come here and ask us. I guess we'd better find out."
Mallara lifted her staff, stared into the sunless, plummeting sky, and spoke a long, loud Word.
Far away, along every horizon, the world grew dark and quietly began to end.
"Turn the page," snapped Burn. The shimmer read.
"Oh, no."
"What is amiss, Sir Burn?" asked the Mayor."What does it say?"
Burn buzzed."It says your First Mayor made a deal with the Trolls," said Burn."It's written in flowery mayor-speak, but in essence you people promised you'd give the Trolls a shiny new world of their own if the Trolls would just go away for a long time and leave First Mayor Hohan breathing and in one piece."
Mayor Frick brushed the right end of his drooping moustache out of the corner of his mouth."Are you sure?"
Burn's buzzing sharpened."I'm sure," he said."I wish I wasn't. I wish I had the slightest doubt. I wish your First Mayor had promised the Trolls a slice of the Moon or ice from the Sun, because my Mistress would have a better chance of producing either than she has of handing the Trolls a new world."
The Mayor stared."What do we do?" he said.
"Elect smarter Mayors," said Burn.
"But--"
"You're on your own," said Burn."Good luck."
Burn vanished. The Mayor looked down, saw a drawing of a Troll tossing handfuls of armored knights into a moat, and slammed the Book of First Mayors firmly shut.
Burn hovered in the clock-tower's shadow, probing the air for hint of magic or musk of Troll. Hours passed, each marked by the brassy clang of the clock and the slow descent of the sun.
"I'm a fine one, I am," muttered Burn in disgust."Just hung here and ogled while the Sorceress held hands with a Troll and stepped off to who knows where."
A pair of tipsy apple-farmers passing by below stopped and squinted, faces toward the sky.
"Who said that?" said one farmer.
Burn was about to reply when the air about him went cold. A sparkling, like fireflies arranged in a neat sphere, filled the air, expanding in a heartbeat to fill the space between the clock-tower and the stables across the street.
The apple farmers squawked and fled. Burn dived for the heart of the chill and, just for an instant, he saw Mallara. She stood alone on a far, high hill, a hill that fell away from beneath her, flowing like fine sand into a cold black void. Mallara's staff was aloft, and fire flashed about it.
Something like lightning broke the sky, and Burn was back above Tillith's Square, and beneath him Mallara was falling, robes fuming, down to the dirty cobblestones.
Mallara crumpled. Smoke and the stench of burning hair rose up. Burn dove to Mallara's side, drew his being into a single tiny point, and spoke a Word.
The flames on Mallara's cloak died, and her hair stopped hissing and crackling.
Her long black staff fell from a hole in the air and clattered on the stones. The staff ends glowed dull red, and the shaft radiated heat Burn felt from six long human steps away.
Hesitant at first, passers-by began to rush toward Mallara. The black staff rolled to her feet and stood suddenly on end. A ring of knee-high flames sprang up from the street around the Sorceress, and the crowd pulled back.
"She's hurt," said Burn, his voice so small and weak only the staff could hear it."Healing words. Now. Say them yourself; I've said one too many already."
Burn didn't hear the Word, but the glow at the staff's ends died and the ring of flames guttered and shrank.
"Mistress!" shrieked Burn."Mistress!"
Mallara groaned, sat up, and threw back her smoldering hood. Burn fell nearly to the cobblestones, relieved that the Sorceress might have lost some of the hair-stuff she was so fond of, but none of the flesh her folk could not grow anew.
"Burn," croaked the sorceress."You spoke a Word."
Burn made a faint buzzing nod."Had too," he said."The boss was on fire. I'll live. Will you?"
Mallara tried to grin, but coughed instead."I'll live," she said."We all will."
Burn searched in vain for a bug-sized thermal to ride."I read the Book, Mistress," he said, wearily."It claimed the Vow involved giving the Trolls a new world to scold and lecture. You're here and trying to smile, so how did you do it?"
"The Trolls just needed a bridge," said Mallara."They'd already found their new home. I just helped them get there, Burn. That's all." Mallara wiped soot and sweat from her face."So we kept the Vow. There'll be no Troll war tonight, or any night. They're gone, Burn. All the Trolls, gone forever."
Burn struggled to expand himself enough to force a few more audible words."All gone?" he said."Really?"
Mallara coughed and nodded."The Trolls spoke of raising a world like humans speak of raising a child," she said. "I suppose that makes us parents, now, of a sort. We won't have the wise old Trolls looking over our shoulders, anymore."
Burn lifted himself up to Mallara's face."Why did they need us, Mistress? Why you?"
Mallara smiled and cupped her hand so that Burn might rest."Trolls are magic, Burn. They don't do magic." The sorceress chuckled."Shimmers share the same quality, to a lesser extent. You spoke a single minor fire-ward, and now you're no bigger than a firefly. Imagine speaking a dozen dire Words."
Burn shuddered."I'd rather not."
"The Trolls found a door to another world," said Mallara."They could see
it, and feel it, and even peep through the key-hole. But they couldn't open it. Not without help." Mallara lowered her hand, whispered. The black staff vanished, and her iron-shod traveling staff fell into her grasp.
Mallara rose slowly to her feet. The crowd, much larger now, scrambled suddenly back.
"I'm going to miss them, Burn," said Mallara. The Mayor and a dozen of Tillith's part-time soldiers appeared and began to elbow their way through the onlookers.
Mallara pulled her blackened hood back over her singed hair."We're the caretakers now," she said, surveying the crowd."You and I and good Mayor Frick."
Burn frowned the shimmer frown."All in all, Mistress, I think the world was better served by the Trolls."
Mayor Frick emerged from the crowd and stamped to the edge of the dying ring of fire."Sorceress," he said."What happened?"
Mallara waved, and the small flames vanished."We have a new chapter to add to your Book, Mayor Frick," she said."In fact, I believe we might want to start a new Book entirely."
The Mayor shook his head."The Troll -- is it gone?"
Mallara smiled a wide, sooty smile."Oh, no," she said."I'm right here, Mayor. Right here." Mallara straightened. "Walk with me, Mayor," said the Sorceress."We must talk."
The Mayor's expression went from perplexed to panicked.
"Better do as the Troll says, Mayor," whispered Burn from just beside the Mayor's right ear."She's not as patient as the fuzzy ones were. Did I mention she has a sorcerer's staff?"
The Mayor trotted toward the Sorceress.
"That's better," muttered Burn."And if you make any promises, see that you don't forget them this time."
"They won't," said Mallara."I'll see to that."
"I'll bet you will," said Burn. He shrank to the size of a gnat, exhausted. Mallara and the Mayor started slowly down the street through a hastily parting crowd.
Burn sailed after, buzzing too faintly for anyone to hear.
THE HELPERS
by Frank Tuttle
Mallara danced. She danced well, and she knew it, even sneaking glances at herself in the full-length ballroom mirrors just to watch her gown twirl and flow. The music was Old Kestrian, all violins and harps and sad, lilting melodies; the ballroom was the Imperial Gala in Vo Sinte, with its floors of frozen moonlight and glittering chandeliers fashioned from luminous fountains of ensorcelled mountain snowmelt.