by Garon Whited
With the bridge in progress, we headed west, crossing the valley at speed with our stealth mode active. No sense in waking everyone. The western fort was coming along surprisingly well. It was mostly a curved wall enclosing an area three times as wide as the tunnel and maybe fifty yards long. The tops of the walls were twenty feet high and still being assembled, but they were more complex than a simple wall. The beginnings of battlements overhung the area—making them machicolations, technically—both to discourage climbing and to allow pouring oil down along the walls. It was a fantastic killing ground.
Leisel was there, waiting for me.
“You’re up late,” I observed.
“I got distracted by the works. Did you lay this out?”
“I did. Why?”
“This is a murder alley.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I can’t imagine what you think is going to come through the tunnel.”
“I don’t know what’s going to come through the tunnel,” I admitted, “but I can imagine some pretty awful things. And, since there are kustoni hordes on the other side of that hole, I thought I should lean toward the side of caution. I figure if there are enough dead bodies to choke the tunnel, we’ll get rest breaks while they clear their dead away for another assault. Hence the need for archers.”
Leisel bit her lip and considered the fortifications. No one else was nearby. Some of the workers chose to pitch tents at the site instead of commuting via transport cart, but they were all bedded down for the night. A couple of sentries stood by the tunnel mouth, keeping a watchful eye on a series of lamps about halfway down. Another pair of sentries walked a beat around the camp.
More buildings, I noted. We would need at least a barracks for a full-time guard contingent.
“You worry me,” Leisel said, at last.
“I worry me,” I countered. “How do I worry you?”
She took me by the arm and steered me toward the steps, up to the top of the wall and away from any possible ears. When I realized this, I took a look around for the telltale signs of scrying sensors. We were safe, at least for the moment. Maybe the wizardly spying corps—or the wizardly voyeurs and their reality-television mirrors—were reconsidering this channel due to technical difficulties.
“Look, I gave you my word. I’ve kept it.”
“I know. I don’t know what’s bothering you.”
“I… I’m not entirely… it’s hard to explain.”
“Take your time. I’ve got all night.”
“Look,” she began again, “this whole thing with the valley.”
“What about it?”
“It’s three villages, three fortresses, and a stone bridge in the middle of nowhere. It’s like it all sprang up out of the ground!”
“Well, technically, a lot of it did spring—”
“Stop. Just… stop.” She paced back and forth along the incomplete battlement for a moment. “It’s just too… too… I don’t know. I’m not a poet. I don’t know what to call it.”
“It’s too fast? Too sudden?”
“Partly. It’s more… I think it’s the way you… you don’t seem to care about anything, not really. It’s like this is just some minor chore to you. It’s like having to dig a latrine before you can use it. Like with the weather magic to do your spying on Sarcana. Or the big pipe in the first mine. You fixed on your objective and carved a hole through anything in the way.” She waved a hand eastward, taking in everything. “This valley… it’s all part of some larger thing you have to do, right?”
“I suppose you’re right. My purpose here isn’t to build a valley of happy farmers and villages. They’re stepping-stones on the way to my objective, though. I’m not so sure it’ll work out anymore, but I might still manage.” I sighed. “I didn’t think anyone would be upset at having new mines, new farms, new territories. I thought people would be delighted, actually. Aren’t they?”
“It’s not all disposable?” she asked, ignoring my question.
“I guess I’d have to know what you mean by disposable,” I admitted. “If things change to the point where I can’t sit down and live quietly in this place, it won’t serve my purposes. I’d have to hand it over to someone who wanted it—you, Naskarl, someone in Sarashda, whoever—and try to find some other spot for myself.”
“That’s your goal?”
“What’s my goal?”
“To have a quiet place to live?”
“As far as the valley is concerned, yes.”
Leisel looked hard at me in the moonlight. She knew my eyes were an illusion, but it’s a really good illusion. She couldn’t help but search my face for some sign.
“You,” she said, finally, “are an entity of enormous power.”
Leisel is a lot of things, but she’s not stupid.
“Guilty,” I admitted. “And?”
“I’m afraid of you. No,” she corrected herself, “I’m afraid of what you will do.”
“You’re still here.”
“I’m also not a coward. I won’t give in to my fear.”
“Maybe I should take lessons from you.”
“Don’t mock me!”
“Who’s mocking? I’m a semi-professional coward. I can think of numerous occasions when my courage was in question.”
Leisel’s expression—and the colors of her spirit—were not the sort to indicate belief.
“What I’m getting at,” she went on, “is I’ve seen you do things.” She hooked a thumb at the western ridge. “That was a hill when we got here. Now it’s a cliff-sized wall with a tunnel through it. I didn’t send ten thousand masons to build it, yet here it is. Not so long ago, you talked about bending the weather to your will. I’ve noticed it’s cooler here than when we arrived. And the rocks we keep dumping across the courtyard of the keep sink into the ground. You have odd ears, strange eyes, and a tongue beyond description. You reach into holes in the world and draw out huge bars of gold! And don’t even get me started on the sword of fire or the metal horse.”
Bronze snorted below. I heard Firebrand chuckle.
“I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve come to the conclusion I was wrong,” she finished.
“Wrong? About what?”
“You’re not a returned soul.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t know what you are,” she admitted, “but you’re… something powerful. I don’t know what you are.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Now, see, that doesn’t help!” she cried, and hushed herself. More quietly, she went on. “I’ve been afraid you were a demon.”
“But you know I’m not?”
“I don’t think you are.”
“I don’t think I am either, if it helps.”
“Not much. A demon wouldn’t admit it. Still, blood runs toward you like rain into the sea. That bothers me. Even so, a demon wouldn’t be so… so… you’re nice. No, I take it back. You are not nice. You’re brutal and ruthless, but you keep trying to be… be… be kind. You’re unpredictable. I don’t know what you are or what your ultimate goals are, and this frightens me.”
“Hmm.”
I walked along the battlement, hands clasped behind me, thinking. What do I say? Do I give her the full briefing on vampires, chaos hybrids, and blood-drinking fiends? Do I explain about nuclear warfare, chaos engulfing a whole world, and traveling in time? Does she need to know any of that? Do I want to admit any of that? And why…
“Answer me something.”
“If I can,” she agreed.
“Why is this bothering you now? Why didn’t you bring this up last night? You had a perfect opportunity to discuss it while we were resting.”
Leisel turned away and looked into the killing ground. The sentries had moved from either side of the tunnel to stand inside it, several paces in. Clearly, they didn’t want to be part of the discussion, despite low voices.
“My problem is I care about you,” she whispered.
“I told you I didn’t d
emand it.”
“I didn’t think I would!”
“Me, either.”
She turned to face me, dark eyes large and sad.
“Why did you have to be… like you are? You’re strange and sometimes incomprehensible. You’re powerful and deadly. You’re also like a child, sometimes so innocent about even the simplest things. And now I have to wonder why.”
“Why now?” I repeated.
“Tomorrow, the Temple is sending a triskarte to ask for our surrender.”
“Oh?”
“And if you’re a demon, they’ll be able to tell. They’re priests, after all.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t want to find out that way,” she said, softly. “I don’t want to have to watch you burn.”
“I promise you, I won’t be the one to burn.”
“Don’t say that! Don’t say it like that!”
“What I mean to say is I’m not a demon. I might be mistaken for a demon—you, yourself, wonder, don’t you?—but I am not a demon. If it looks as though they’re going to point the finger and declare me a demon, they won’t live to finish the sentence. No,” I corrected, “that won’t help. No, if they go down that road, I’ll leave you a valley while I vanish forever. Either way, I won’t stand still and give them a free shot at me.”
“I’m not sure I want the valley.”
“If I have to go, you can have whatever is here. I’ll start over somewhere else.”
“I…” she trailed off. She turned to face the western ridge. “There’s a wall between us and the barbarians.”
“Uh… yes?”
“Then there’s a fort, and a valley, and another fort, and a bridge, between the barbarians and the Empire.”
“Yes.”
“There’s the Sea of Shoals beyond the eastern coast, which no ship has crossed since the days before the Empire.”
“If you say so.”
“It is easier to walk from the barbarian lands to the middle of the sea than it is for me to explain my feelings to you.”
“Ah. Well, that’s probably my fault.”
“Is it?” she asked, sadly.
“Feelings are usually either obvious to me or completely confusing—not much of a middle ground.”
“Maybe we should hire a poet, next.”
“Let me know how much to allocate and I’ll add it to the budget.”
“Right there. That’s an example.”
“Of?”
“How you talk. How it’s all wrong.”
“How am I wrong?”
“You act as though the most difficult things are casual. Money? Have all you want, like it doesn’t matter. Raise a ridge into a wall? Grow a tower of stone? Ignore a vendetta? Conquer a great House? Cure the sick, heal the broken, give life to the dead? For all I know, you make fire rain from the sky and make mountains walk.”
I kept my mouth shut.
“Everything is… simple,” she went on. “Well, no, not simple. It’s like nothing is beyond you. That’s what frightens me.”
I thought about it for a bit. From her perspective, given what she knew, maybe I do give that impression. I know I have some rather sharp limitations, and I avoid pushing the envelope because I hate paper cuts. Everything she mentioned as examples of me being all super-powerful and such are less impressive to me. I know how they’re done. I also know how drastic the difference is between walking over a bridge and leaping a gorge. The western wall of the valley didn’t spring up with a rumble of earth and stone in a matter of seconds. It took quite a while with gradual, almost imperceptible changes. The changes added up.
In other ways, I’m even more limited. I don’t have anything to do with the Temple because I don’t want to burst into flames. I wear cloaking spells so wizards don’t find out what I am. I try not to drink blood around survivors so as not to give away clues—with the exception of Leisel, of course. My whole trip into the world of Tauta is me avoiding angels and similar celestial entities in the Earth realms because I’m not equipped to deal with them effectively. At least, not yet. They’re on my list, the bastards.
“I see why you believe that,” I told her. “I think I see. Don’t mistake me. I am a powerful entity. I admit it. I hope I’m generally a kind one, too. I do try to be nice. I have my limits, though.” I chuckled. “I’m an avenger, not a guardian. Have you ever heard of a guardian… uh…” I struggled for a moment. The Tautan language didn’t have a word for “angel.” They have one for “demon,” but not for “angel.” Interesting. “Nevermind. My point is, I’m as fallible as the next guy. And you don’t need to be afraid of me. I mean you no harm, and I’m actively interested in your welfare—and your advice. I want your guidance in using my powers for the good of the people in the valley.”
“I think you’re scaring me even more.”
“What? Why?”
“The idea I’m partly responsible for how such power is used.”
“Imagine how terrified I am.”
Leisel cocked her head and looked at me.
“Why does that make me feel better?”
“Maybe because if I’m scared of the responsibility, I must be taking it seriously.”
“Yes. Yes, I think that’s it. I still have this terrible feeling, though.”
“What can I do to make it go away?”
“Tell me it’s not all building up only to come crashing down?” She crossed her arms and clutched at her shoulders, as though cold. “I’ve never had my life… it’s never gone so well. Even with Sarcana camped on the road, things… things look good in the valley. I’m important and powerful and I have—” She broke off, swallowed, continued. “Things are going better than I could have dreamed. I have never been so… so… things are so good right now.”
“You finally have something to lose.”
“Exactly.” She stepped close and whispered. “What price am I going to pay? This can’t be my luck. There’s some sort of bill coming due and I’m afraid of what it will be. I’m afraid I’ll pay it, regardless of the cost. Or will everything crumble beneath me?”
I wondered how many other people have had the same feeling, and how many of them had it while hanging around with me. Lissette sprang to mind, as did Tamara.
“I can’t promise the future,” I admitted. “I don’t think anyone can. But I will promise to do the best I can for you.”
“You already have.”
“And that’s why you’re afraid.”
“You do understand.”
“Oh, yes. I understand.”
Leisel rode back to the keep. I rode westward through the tunnel, thinking.
Is this place going to be calm enough for me? All I want—all I need—is someplace outside the Earth timelines so I can do some research. I need to be unbothered by extraneous things, like ruling a kingdom or out-thinking gods or negotiating with terrorists. Have I already ruined this place for my plans?
I have the idea to simply pack up and leave, but… well… I also have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Maybe this will all work out and I can settle down into a quiet life for a decade or three. That’s when I can get serious work done on all my larger problems.
As we headed into kustoni lands, Firebrand attracted my attention.
Boss?
“What?”
I have a question.
“Shoot.”
This Leisel—she’s really weirded out by your demonic attributes.
“First, they’re not demonic attributes. They’re characteristics caused by maintaining a homeostatic balance between living flesh and a chaos infestation. Second, that’s not a question.”
Yeah, but it relates. While you two were busy doing the feelings thing, I got the impression she was mostly worried about the Temple.
“To be fair, I’m worried about the Temple.”
Say what?
“Look, they have priests and gods and who knows what else in this world. I’ve barely scratched the surface. Up to now, I’v
e been avoiding anything involving religion as best I can. I have some basic, latent knowledge of the Temples, obviously, but I was hoping to keep a nice hands-off policy and stay far enough away to avoid contact. Now they’re coming here to stick their noses in. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like an inspection. I’d almost call it an inquisition, but I’m expecting them. I’m wondering if they’re on to me, somehow, and if they’ve manipulated events to give them the perfect excuse to show up with an anti-demon hit squad without arousing my suspicions.”
Paranoid much, Boss?
“Yes!”
Fair enough. I don’t think Leisel is worried about that, though.
“No?”
Well, some, yeah, but she’s more concerned about how the Temple will treat the valley. I don’t know why.
“I seem to have the idea the Temple has a lot of authority in some sort of indirect fashion. They have to approve some of the things the secular rulers do. Adoptions across caste lines. Inheritance. Stuff like that. They probably have to pass on any new territories being opened up, new Houses established, and the like. Maybe this is more than a surrender negotiation. Maybe it’s a full-on evaluation of our fitness as a community.”
Too complicated for me, Boss. All I got was a lot of free-floating anxiety from her.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got enough of that on my own. Thanks for telling me, though.”
No sweat.
I raided the nearest kustoni village, it being handy. I brought restraints, mostly because I planned to grab at least two of their women. I wasn’t sure if their society placed more value on younger, breeding females or on older, wise-woman types. Whichever, I’d get one of each and find out while they were subjected to civilized trade goods.
Bronze waited in the woods. I crept forward, tendrils stretched wide, draining the life out of everything bigger than a mouse as I approached. I didn’t kill anyone, but a lot of people would wake up tired in the morning. It made stealing my targets pretty simple. Hauling them back was even easier.
The guard on watch in the keep dungeon took custody and I went upstairs to make more non-flammable lamps for the mines.