In the Shadow of the Bear

by David Randall

  “You flatter me,” said Snuff. Then he scowled. “They are numbskulls. Without me—” He gazed back at Clovermead. “There were only four silver-bears in Barleymill, and you killed them. The others aren’t any nearer than Bryony Hill. You needn’t worry too much if you let me go.”

  “I’m not entirely reassured,” said Clovermead. “If I let you go, will you swear never to hunt down the slaves we freed, and to let them live their lives in freedom?”

  Snuff laughed, long and low. “No, girlie. Lord Ursus would be most displeased if I made any such agreement. I’ll take my chances here.”

  “Then you can die,” said Clovermead, almost happily. “Suits me.”

  “Lord Ursus will preserve me. I am his loyal servant, and I have faith in him.” Snuff smiled. “His growl is always with me. It is—”

  “A comfort. I remember.” Lord Ursus had possessed her, and she had never wanted him to leave her. She had rejected him, but the desire for his companionship still haunted her. “And you love your bloody master. Even though he cast you aside for me. Do you remember that, Snuff?”

  “I do.” For a moment, there was the most anguished loneliness on Snuff’s face. Then he wiped it away, and put his jaunty smirk back on. “He will not do it again. He has tested me, and found I am not wanting. You failed that test, not me. I am his, and he is with me, until the end of the world.”

  “Why?” asked Clovermead. She turned to look straight at Snuff. “I mean, I know how tempting he can be. I know it in my heart. But he is . . . repulsive. All he offers is killing and blood. Why do you stay with him?”

  “Why?” Snuff’s face spread in a glorious smile of infinite hunger endlessly sated. “Oh, girlie . . . Well, now, there I was, your age, or a little bit more, down in Queensmart. I was in the greatest city in all Our Lady’s lands, glorious even in its decay, and I was what they call ‘a promising lad.’ I was the pride of the rhetoricians—I could make an oration that called a hundred men to the recruiting office, or set a hundred women to tears. I was handy enough with my sword that I was tapped for lieutenant in the First Legion when I came of age. My father had promised me that I would be a member of the Senate by the time I was twenty-five, and high office would be mine as soon as I proved myself worthy of it. I had no doubt that I could achieve it soon enough.

  “Yet somehow all those prospects didn’t glitter so brightly. If Queensmart were the Empire of old, where I could command a legion as it conquered a dozen cities—if I could compose a code of law that would last a thousand years—why, even if I could build temples to Our Lady in strange lands that never knew her, and bring distant peoples to worship her, I thought even that might be something worth doing. But what could I look forward to in Queensmart’s dotage? Petty wars in the Thirty Towns that could at best delay the retreat of our Empire a few years more. Squabbles among Senators, all bribed by our neighbors, about which temporizing policies our child Empress should adopt. What part could I play? At best I could have risen to be the iron man who fights a few vain years to save a dying city—Lucifer Snuff, tyrant, who abolished the Senate, deposed the Empress, and revived the power of Queensmart for a generation, before it vanished forever. Ah, no. I had read enough history books already. Those men are loved or hated while they live, and forgotten, save by scholars, as soon as the earth covers their coffins.”

  “It’s always worth fighting for Our Lady,” said Clovermead. “It doesn’t matter who remembers you on earth. She’ll know.”

  “So the nuns told me,” said Snuff. “It’s a funny thing, girlie. About the same time I realized that I didn’t want to serve a dying Empire, I realized that I’d never believed in Our Lady. I’d mouthed the words the nuns told me, I’d done the things they told me, but I didn’t feel her in my heart. I saw the glitter in her temples, but I knew that glitter was much tarnished since the temples had been built by glorious Empresses three centuries ago. I saw the Abbess in her glorious robes that had grown threadbare of late. I saw the charity of the nuns, and I saw poor men curse the nuns once they had received their bread and soup. I saw them flourish stone bear-teeth when the nuns weren’t looking, and I heard them say, ‘One day we won’t need your charity. One day Ursus will come, and then we’ll take what we want.’ Those words struck a flame in me.” Snuff groaned with pain and he massaged his thigh, right by Boulderbash’s heavy flesh.

  After a moment he continued. “Garum isn’t far from Queensmart. I slipped out of the city, and I rode to my master’s capital. I saw his armies spreading out and conquering. I saw his temples rising, huge and black. I saw the slave codes read out to new gangs of laborers, and I knew they would last for centuries. Oh, there was scope for glory in Lord Ursus’ service. And I saw sacrifice and murder. I knew it should horrify me, but it didn’t. I hungered to join the killers. And then I did.” He smiled. “Lord Ursus came into my soul. He was my friend, my guide, my master, everything terrible and everything I could ever want to love. He said, ‘We will kill together, and you will live a glorious life. You will be great in my service, and your name will ring down the centuries.’ I did not return to Queensmart. I filed my teeth, and I put on the furs of a bear-priest. I gave all my talents, all my service, all my heart to Lord Ursus.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Clovermead said in a low voice. “Ursus came to me, too. He said all the same things. But I was in despair. I’d learned that Father wasn’t really my father, and that he had lied to me all my life. It was such a treachery that I couldn’t bear it. I wouldn’t have turned to Ursus for anything less than that. And you were just ambitious?”

  It was dark now. Snuff’s eyes glittered. “I prayed to Our Lady, girlie. I sat there in Garum, watching the sacrifices, and I felt the urge to join the bear-priests come over me. I said, ‘Save me, Lady. You know what I want. You know it is evil. Just give me a word. Show me your light. I’ve heard tell of it all my life, I’ve seen it painted on the walls of your temples, but you’ve never let me see it myself. Show your glory to me, and I won’t commit these sins. One speck of light, and I’ll fight against Ursus all my life.’” Snuff laughed, and there was a hint of old and terrible sorrow in his laugh. “I saw no light. I was left to myself and left to Lord Ursus. I knew then that the nuns were liars. Our Lady never was—or if she was, she was long gone. I was happy to join Lord Ursus after that. I’m glad to extirpate that lie.”

  “I’ve seen her light,” said Clovermead. “She’s talked to me—”

  “Lies,” hissed Snuff. “Hallucinations and dreams. There is only darkness. There is only Ursus. If she’s there, why did she abandon me?” He clacked his teeth at Clovermead. “Shut up, or I’ll bite out your lying tongue.” He coughed. “Is your curiosity satisfied, girlie? Then be quiet. Let me sleep. Ah, Ursus’ teeth, my leg hurts.”

  They both lapsed into silence, and then Snuff fell into labored, moaning sleep. In the silent night Boulderbash’s thoughts grew louder. Ambrosius, she cried. Ambrosius, where are you? I’m dying, Ambrosius.

  He’s dead, said Clovermead. I’m here. Me, Clovermead, his daughter. Please, tell me what I can do to ease your pain.

  Clovermead? She abandoned me to darkness. Boulderbash growled. I don’t want her. I want Ambrosius.

  He’s dead! Clovermead repeated. There’s only me.

  Then I want to die, said Boulderbash. Her breathing was shallower than ever. I want to be with Ambrosius. This world is so dark and there is no hope. Let me die and be with him. He was kind to me.

  “Don’t die, Boulderbash,” said Clovermead out loud. She was weeping now. “Oh, Lady, don’t let her die. I’ve abandoned her so often. Let her live.”

  And there was only terrible silence and terrible darkness.

  “You see?” said Snuff. He was awake again. “You call, and she doesn’t come.”

  “We’re not just supposed to wait for her all the time,” said Clovermead angrily, desperately. “Sometimes we’re supposed to do something.”

  “What?” asked Snuff. “What are
you going to do, girlie?” He laughed. “Use your father’s precious sword? Lord Ursus told me about that little trick of yours. Free her from Lord Ursus, for all the good that’ll do. Then she’ll be free and dead.”

  “The sword just helps me think how to use the power properly,” said Clovermead. “I can free bears from Ursus by myself.” She drew Firefly from its scabbard, and looked at the medallions her father had carved. There the boy Ambrosius freed Boulderbash from the steel trap. There the man lifted his sword up to the moon.

  “Is that it, Lady?” asked Clovermead. She got onto one knee and lifted up the naked blade. “You showed me how it happened. You gave Father and me the power to turn into bears, the power to free all the bears, because Boulderbash asked you to reward him for saving her from the trap. Oh, Lady, I love being a bear, and I want so much to free all the other bears, but I’d give up all the power you’ve ever given me if she could just live. Sorrel said I keep on choosing to let people suffer for the greater good, and he’s right, I have. Not this time, Lady. I offer you my father’s sword. I offer you back the gifts you’ve given me. Lady, maybe the bears will be enslaved to Ursus forever, but I can’t ask Boulderbash to pay that price again. Take my power and let her live.”

  Nothing happened. The moon shone on, the stars twinkled, and Boulderbash was still dying. There was a deafening silence from the sky.

  “I told you,” said Snuff. Clovermead looked up, and he was crying. “Hallucinations and dreams. There is only darkness.”

  Clovermead cried too, as pity for Snuff swept through her. “I hate you so,” she said. “Why are you weeping?” She pounded her fist against the ground, and she let her sword fall. “I loathe you. I despise you.” She took a great, shuddering breath, and yelled up to the sky. “Heal him, too, Lady! Let him live. He’s evil, and he’ll destroy the world for Lord Ursus if he can, but let him live.” She sobbed. “Take my power for him. Show him there’s something more than darkness and make him stop crying.”

  A great roar echoed through the gorge, and Clovermead felt light burst from her. It streamed from her, streamed from Firefly, and flew to Boulderbash and Snuff. Boulderbash jerked, and her eyes flew open. The gash along her stomach closed, and became a faded scar in seconds. Her bones reknit. With a glad roar she surged to her feet. Beneath her, Snuff screamed as light straightened his leg and uncrushed his flesh. Both of them were healthy and whole, and Clovermead’s light was drained from her.

  She tried to turn large and furry, but she couldn’t. She was small and human and nothing more, and she was very tired. She couldn’t lift Firefly if her life depended on it.

  You saved me, Boulderbash rumbled incredulously. She ran a claw lightly over her healed flesh. After all the times you’ve abandoned me, you rescue me now. The white bear was laughing, crying, and furious, all at once. Am I supposed to thank you? She shook her head uncertainly, and slowly she padded a few feet toward Clovermead. Am I supposed to forgive—And she couldn’t finish the question. The uncertainty, the shadow of gentleness, drained from her face. Boulderbash snarled at Clovermead with uncontrollable hostility. I don’t care if I owe you my life. I’ll kill you anyway.

  “No,” said Snuff. His face was pale in the firelight. Slowly he got to his feet and put his weight on his once-crushed leg. It supported him easily. “Don’t you do that, steed of mine. You be grateful to the girlie. And I’ve still got your son’s blood-net, don’t you forget that. Try to bite her, and I’ll rein you in.”

  Let me kill her, Boulderbash roared. We are healthy now. We are cured. Kill the treacherous girl. She deserves it. Please, Snuff. Why are you being merciful now?

  “I have a sense of honor, she-bear,” he said. “I did not abandon it when I entered Lord Ursus’ service.” Boulderbash growled unhappily, and drew back from Clovermead. Snuff swallowed hard. “Such light. Why wasn’t there such light for me?”

  “I don’t know,” said Clovermead numbly. “I don’t understand Our Lady either. She wouldn’t take my power for Boulderbash, but she took it for you. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “She is a fool,” said Snuff. He looked at Clovermead, and his hands shook. “She depends on my gratitude. I can feel that dribbling out of me already. I could wring your neck so easily. Lord Ursus would be grateful to me.”

  “Do what you like,” Clovermead whispered. “But do it quickly. I want to sleep.”

  Kill her, Boulderbash repeated. Nothing can make up for the evil she’s done me.

  “I should,” said Snuff. “I owe Lord Ursus her death.” He strode toward Clovermead with his hands out, long nails by her throat—and then he trembled, and his hands moved. He seized her shoulder, and he wrenched it. Clovermead screamed as it popped back into its socket. “I owe you my life,” he said. “Now we’re quits. You should be able to clamber out of the gorge now.”

  Snuff lifted up his head to the dark sky. “Sky-Crone!” he called out. “I’ve seen your light at last, but it’s too late. I’m one of your enemy’s servants, now and forever. I will die for Lord Ursus, whatever happens, and my soul will follow his for all eternity. You know what I am, and I ask a boon of you. Give the girlie her powers back. I won’t give you anything if you do. Nothing at all.” He swallowed hard. “Just the satisfaction that you know I asked.”

  There was another great roar, and Clovermead felt strength return to her. For a moment her hands became paws, her mouth a snout, her ears long and tufted, and then she was human again. But she could change into a bear again, she could free bears again, and she would have wept with gratitude if she were strong enough.

  “Let’s go, Boulderbash,” said Snuff. He patted the white bear companionably, and he grabbed a burning stick from the fire, to become a torch in his hand. “Let’s climb out of this gorge. Back to Barleymill to gather the bear-priests and send for silver-bears from Bryony Hill, and then we’ll come after the slaves and butcher them all for Lord Ursus. There’ll be no defiance of him if I have anything to say about it.”

  Kill her, said Boulderbash implacably.

  “I will the next time I see her,” said Snuff amiably. His glittering eyes caught Clovermead’s. “I shan’t chase you too quickly, girlie. Leave the slaves and run. I’ll give you time to get away.” He smiled, so his teeth gleamed. “We’re quits now, debts all paid, so this is a small kindness from your old friend Snuff. Take advantage. I don’t plan on making a habit of mercy.”

  “I won’t run,” said Clovermead. “You know that.”

  Snuff shrugged. “Maybe you’ll change your mind. Run before I meet you again in battle, girlie. I’ll have no mercy for you then.”

  Clovermead laughed softly and bemusedly. “Will Lord Ursus forgive you?”

  “He doesn’t have a better servant than me,” said Snuff, with a bubbling laugh. “He knows that well enough. And he knows I won’t slack in his service again.”

  “Thank you,” said Clovermead.

  Snuff shrugged. “It’s amusing,” he said. “Whatever happiness you get out of being a bear from now on—whatever you do with that bear-strength of yours, however many bears you free—that’ll be thanks to me. And whatever I do will be thanks to you. What do you think of that, girlie?” He turned up to the dark sky. “What about you, Sky-Crone? What do you say to that?”

  He beckoned Boulderbash, and turned away from the fire. Laughing, brand in hand, he stalked off with the white bear into the darkness, back toward Barleymill. Clovermead could hear his laughter long after he had disappeared from sight.

  Then Clovermead slept.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Consequences

  Clovermead had been asleep, but now she walked in a barren, flat land under a scorching, brazen sun. The burned skeletons of trees dotted the landscape, and dry streambeds cracked the land. Rubble that once had been houses sprouted here and there. Rats scurried behind walls, and cawing crows hopped from tree to tree. Far off, vultures were eating the carcass of some carrion that Clovermead didn’t want to look at too closely.<
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  Lucifer Snuff walked by her side. He whistled happily as he walked, and he mopped sweat from his bald forehead with a handkerchief. His sweat was blood, and it stained the thin cloth a brilliant crimson. “Isn’t this a fine place?” asked Snuff. “It took me a long time to perfect it, but a garden has to be made just right. Do you like it?” He grinned at Clovermead, and blinding sunlight glinted off his bronzed teeth.

  “It’s loathsome,” said Clovermead. “Where are we? Garum?”

  “No, no, this is Chandlefort. Don’t you know your own home?” Snuff leaned down, picked up a chunk of masonry, and tossed it to Clovermead. It was rose-pink, and Clovermead recognized a piece of Chandlefort’s walls with horror. She looked around again, and now she could see the trace of Chandlefort’s streets under the blowing dust. “Ah, I see you do! It took a long time to uproot the trees and get rid of the people, but my garden’s done at last. It is lovely, girlie. I’m so glad you could help me make it.”

  “I never did,” said Clovermead. “I never would. What do you mean?”

  “You helped me out of the gorge,” said Lucifer amiably. “That made all the difference. After that I led the bear-priests into battle, we drove the Tansyards from the Steppes, and then it was on to Chandlefort! Really, the war was won that summer, and there was nothing much left to do. Except for the killing. You don’t want to hurry that too much.” He giggled. “Thank you, girlie. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I’m not responsible,” said Clovermead, horrified. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

  “But it did,” said Snuff tranquilly. “Will you come with me to the Castle? I have such a lovely collection of skeletons there. You’ll recognize some of them.”