Nightlord: Shadows

by Garon Whited

  “There’s a big, fancy fountain in the courtyard. It’s got four arches on the lowest level of it that are almost exactly the right size and shape.”

  He grunted, meaning that it was a good thing. I got another mirror and we prepared for my final jaunt of the evening. The gate opened and I stepped through and down again, this time into the palace courtyard.

  The guard by the front door, leaning against the wall, out of the wind, straightened up with a startled oath.

  “Evening,” I greeted him. “Delivering a gift to Prince Palays of Formia. Are you authorized to accept it for him?”

  “I… that is, my captain... I’ll have to get someone…”

  I leaned the mirror on the edge of the fountain, placing it carefully. I sat down on the rim of the fountain.

  “Well, go on, then,” I encouraged him. “I haven’t got all night.”

  He pounded on the door and someone inside unbolted it. He went in and closed it behind himself. There was a wait of several minutes, then the door opened again and a dozen guards came out, followed by a man in much fancier armor. The captain stopped just outside the door while the guards formed a line between us.

  “Who are you?” he asked, without so much as a word of greeting.

  “Just delivering this mirror to Formia,” I said. “I was going to explain how it works and what it’s for, but I’m sure your court wizard can figure that out. I’m in no mood to talk to a lowborn fool who doesn’t understand the first thing about courtesy.”

  On cue, Tort and T’yl opened the gate behind me. I sat down on the edge of the fountain and rolled backward through the archway. The gate snapped closed and I stood up.

  “Temper,” T’yl cautioned.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him. “I just don’t like idiots, and the captain was being one.”

  “He did not know who you were,” Tort soothed. T’yl snorted.

  “A magic portal opens in his courtyard and a man steps through,” he said. “It would strike me as wise to exercise more tact.”

  “That was my thought,” I admitted. “Well, at least we’re done for the night. That was my last diplomatic mission. Hopefully, we’ll hear from them tomorrow.”

  “Good,” T’yl said. “I’m off to bed.” He pushed the door open and headed off to his quarters. Tort shook her head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Do you have any other plans for tonight?”

  “Actually, I do. I want to get some preliminary work done for enchanting the small mirrors.”

  “I thought as much. You mentioned that they were to have an enchantment much like the ones on the large mirrors, but connecting each of the hundred to every other one.”

  “Yep.”

  “I already have Loret and Reena—wizards of the guild—at work on that.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “I’m not even sure how I’m going to do it, yet.”

  “Come. Let me show you.”

  So we went up to another room, this one large and mostly circular. A hundred small mirrors, complete with clamshell-style wooden cases, were sitting on the edge of a giant circle that took up most of the floor. No one was in there at the moment, but I could see what they had been doing. Lines were painted on the floor, running from one mirror to each of the others. Each mirror was being treated this way, symbolic lines of power connecting it to each of the others.

  “Why paint?” was my first question. “Why not chalk?”

  “Chalk rubs off,” Tort said. “Also, a line of paint can be painted over the same line in the opposite direction, corresponding to the way the mirrors will all work to and from each other.”

  “Good thinking. I probably would have used the brute-force visualization method, myself. This is better.”

  “I am pleased, my angel,” she replied, smiling.

  “It’s a lot of work, though.”

  “Is there a special hurry?”

  “Nope. But it is a pleasant surprise to see that it’s coming along faster than I expected.”

  “Good. Now, have you any other plans for tonight?”

  “Plans?” I frowned. Was there anything else I needed to do tonight? Well, it would be nice to have some sort of spell prepared to give Bronze a larger magical charge if we were ever going to go through the arch again. Maybe a variation on the Ascension Sphere. Or a gemstone to act as a battery. And, of course, I needed to find some volunteers to go with me into the Warrior Crystal. Bob was in good shape, for now, so nothing there… Byrne, yes; I needed to start a sand-table scrying of Byrne and see if—

  Tort took my arm and moved up close to me while I was thinking. Very close.

  “Come to think of it,” I said, “no, I don’t actually have any plans.”

  “Good,” she purred.

  Several hours later, with Tort snuggled comfortably at my side, I realized I didn’t have anything more pressing to do. There were lots of things that needed doing, but so what? This was a good place to be. And, while I don’t need to sleep—I slept for eighty-seven years; I haven’t bothered since—I am capable of sleeping. This seemed like a good time.

  Of course, just as I was settling in for a nap, I heard a voice from under the bed.

  “Hey.”

  “Shh. One minute.”

  “Okay.”

  I gently disengaged from Tort, who woke up enough to kiss me before snuggling down again. I lay down on the floor and slid into the alcove under the bed. It was much larger than it should have been, but I expected that.

  “Hey, Fred. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m done with your guys,” he told me. “They’ve all had a chance to get scared out of their wits. Nobody’s really been too bad, but a couple of them get all aggressive.” Fred sounded a little miffed.

  “I recall you mentioning it. I’m really just looking for people who can’t control their fear.”

  “They can do that,” he assured me. “I got a corner of the blanket and started chewing it, gradually pulling it under. They don’t see me, ’cause they’re too old to believe in me. But the blanket doesn’t care. They get really worried when they yank the thing up and see it chewed on,” he finished, chuckling. I chuckled with him.

  “I imagine so. Anyone actually dive under the bed to find out what was going on?”

  “Not without a light. They can’t get in when they look. A couple did try reaching over the edge and waving a sword without looking,” Fred said. I wondered which ones were sleeping with their swords.

  “I bet that didn’t go well. Did you take any of them?”

  I heard Firebrand’s psychic chuckle.

  “Yeah,” Fred admitted. “I gave ’em back, though. I pretended to spit them out.”

  “Good thinking. By the way, I’d like you to meet Firebrand, my sword.”

  Fred eyed Firebrand.

  “Um. I see you have a new one…”

  “Firebrand, say hello to Fred.”

  Hello.

  Fred’s eyes widened. All of them. Well, all the ones that had eyelids.

  “Hi.”

  So, you’re the monster under the bed?

  “Yup. And you are…?”

  I’m the monster living in a sword.

  “Lot of monsters, these days,” Fred observed.

  I’ve noticed.

  “So, uh…” he trailed off.

  “I just thought I should introduce you,” I said. “If Firebrand ever finds itself under a bed, it’ll have someone to talk to.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s fair, I guess.”

  Is that why you wanted me to meet Fred?

  Hush. It’s polite to introduce people.

  Am I people?

  Do you think you’re not?

  Good point.

  “Someday,” I said, aloud, “I’m going to try and figure out why I can see you and nobody else can.”

  “I thought it was because you’re a monster,” Fred said.

  “That may be it. But I’d like to know more about it. I�
��m weird that way.”

  “Eh. I guess everybody needs a hobby.”

  “Really? Do you have a hobby?” I asked, interested. What does a monster under the bed do with his free time?

  “Sure. I collect stuff from under beds.”

  That explained so much.

  “I see. Shoes? Toys?”

  “All sorts of stuff. I’ve got shoes, yeah, and toys. Some books, a lot of rope, boxes of all sorts, some shoes, jewelry, combs, coins—”

  “Hey, that reminds me. We’re minting coins, but we don’t have anything good to stamp on them. Could you let me look at your collection? I’d like to find something good that I can just copy.”

  “Yeah, I can do that. I get ’em all back, right?”

  “Of course! I can even throw in one of every denomination we wind up pounding out.”

  “Oh, that would be good. Sure. Wait here; I’ll go get it.”

  And I was lying in an alcove under the bed.

  If he had invited me along, could I have gone with him? Where would we have gone? Someplace outside all time and space, or just somewhere under an enormous bed? A warehouse full of beds, all jammed up, side by side?

  Come to that, what about bunk beds? Could Fred show up on the lower bunk to scare someone in the upper? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

  Tort looked over the side of the bed.

  “My angel?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is something the matter?”

  “Not at all. Just talking to Fred.”

  She frowned.

  “You have mentioned someone by that name,” she said, “but I have not met him.”

  “Well, not recently, no. He’s the monster under the bed. Not like me; I just happen to be under this one. He’s the one that children always talk about.”

  “Nonsense. There is no such thing.”

  “Take my word for it.”

  “Very well.”

  I waited a bit, hands folded on my stomach as I lay there. Tort just looked at me with a moderately bemused expression.

  “Could you not look?” I asked. “I don’t think he can show up if you’re watching.”

  “Oh, of course,” she said, and moved out of sight.

  Suddenly, the niche was much larger and there was a multi-armed monster.

  “Got a grownup in the room?” he asked.

  “Yeah. It’s okay, though. She’s not watching, now.”

  “Got those coins you wanted. Here.” Fred thumped down a chest; it clinked meaningfully. I hefted it, pushed it out into the room proper.

  “Thanks, Fred. I appreciate this. We’ll go through the coins as quick as we can. When we’ve looked at them all, should I just put the chest back under the bed?”

  “That’ll do fine,” he agreed. “Um. I dunno how you feel about it, but someone is scared.”

  “Ah. Okay. Would you like to meet her?”

  “Meet her?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not sure that’s going to work.”

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Well… okay.”

  “Wait here.”

  I slid out into the room, shoved the chest out of the way, and stood up by the bed.

  “Hey, Tort?” I asked. She looked at me with an expression of, if not fright, at least deep worry.

  “My angel… I could hear you speaking with someone, but…”

  “Yeah, I call him ‘Fred’. He’s a pretty decent guy, all things considered. I’d like you to meet him.”

  “You say he is a monster under the bed?”

  “The monster under the bed, as far as we can tell. Here, throw on some clothes,” I said, handing them to her. “He doesn’t get to meet many people socially.”

  Tort wriggled into lounging pants and a tunic, then stood up next to the bed.

  “Now,” I said, “close your eyes.”

  “Close my eyes?”

  “You’re too old to see him, I think. I’m hoping that if you can’t see him, you won’t make him disappear.”

  Tort closed her eyes. I helped her to sit down, then lie down. I lay down with her and slid us both sideways under the bed. It was very spacious.

  “Fred, this is Tort. Tort, this is Fred, the monster under the bed.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Fred said, and held out a relatively human-like hand. I guided her to shake hands and she shivered at the touch.

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she offered. I didn’t believe her. I’m pretty sure Fred didn’t, either. He was good about it, though.

  “Wow,” he observed. “You’re terrified.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. Fred let go of her hand.

  “I’m guessing he doesn’t like that,” Fred continued. “Nice to have met you, and thank you for being scared, but maybe you better go.”

  Tort needed no encouraging; she scrambled sideways, stood up, and hopped back into bed.

  “Sorry about that,” I told Fred. “I didn’t know how frightening you were.”

  “It’s what I do,” Fred said, shrugging. “I’m just glad you’re not getting all fussy about it.”

  “It was my idea; my fault.”

  “You’re awfully understanding, for a monster.”

  “I get that a lot. Well, thanks for the loan of the coins.”

  “No problem. Anyone else you want scared?”

  If inspiration was a lightning bolt, I’d have been electrocuted.

  “Actually, do you think you could find someone for me?”

  “That depends. I don’t really find people, as such. I just find beds.”

  “I’m not sure if they’re in beds or not,” I admitted. “I’m looking for some girls, the daughters of a prince, probably kept as prisoners somewhere in Byrne.”

  “I could check the beds,” Fred offered. “If they aren’t in one, though, I’m not going to find them.”

  “Fair enough. If they aren’t in a bed, then they’re probably in a cell. That would tell me something, anyway. But if they are in a bed… I see you can bring things with you. Could you bring a person?”

  “I don’t see why not. Children generally don’t get under the bed with the monster, though.”

  “I can’t imagine why not,” I said. “But could you take me with you to them?”

  “Huh. I guess. Yes, I’m sure I could. If I can find them, anyway.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Okay. I’ll ask around and see if anybody admits to being a princess.”

  “Thanks, Fred.”

  “Pleasant dreams.”

  I climbed up into the bed again and found Tort wide-eyed.

  “Something the matter?” I asked. She whumped into me and held me like I was in danger of blowing away.

  “I’m guessing that’s a ‘yes,’” I said, putting my arms around her. She was shivering, possibly trembling. I’ve never been too clear on the difference. We stayed like that for a while. In fact, we stayed like that not only until she fell asleep in my arms, but until she woke up in the morning.

  It seemed to reassure her that I never let her go.

  Wednesday, July 14th

  To some degree or another, each of the princes of Tolcaren, Maran, and Formia was open to the idea of not having hostilities. They didn’t like the ultimatum their retreating troops conveyed, but I promised not to follow through with it now that I understood the situation. Being caught between Byrne and Karvalen wasn’t a good thing for them; whichever side they went for, the other would do terrible things.

  Oh, yes; Byrne had gone to some effort to get a grip on those three cities. Prince Drannis of Maran had two daughters missing, for example. Prince Palays of Formia didn’t want to talk about whatever Byrne had on him. Prince Rogis of Tolcaren simply admitted that he didn’t have enough buffer states between himself and Byrne territory to feel safe, nor sufficient defenses. Tolcaren provided transport, not armies.

  If Byrne wasn’t a problem, however, they each assured me they would be more th
an happy to discuss the possibility of trade with a thriving kingdom beyond the Eastrange. In the meantime, however, Byrne was a problem, so, if Byrne said to go give me problems, they would have to weigh that very seriously.

  I can’t say I was overly thrilled to be on the receiving end of all that, but I was certainly sympathetic to Drannis’ problem; his kids were at stake. It gave the other two more tolerance than they really deserved.

  I’ve done a survey of the cities under Byrne’s control. It’s done a good job of conquering most of the northeastern portion of Rethven. It’s current borders are the Averill river to the north, the Quaen river to the west, the Eastrange on the east, and it holds lands as far south as Shaen—or about four days’ ride south of the former village of Delvedale, or six days’ ride north of Vathula. Well, assuming it hasn’t rained in forever and the dirt tracks they call roads are dry.

  While it held those lands, it effectively threatened everybody along the eastern edge of Rethven. It could come straight south along the Caladar river to hit Verthyn, Tegron, Philemon, Wexbry, and Baret. Other cities were less worried; to go any farther west would involve crossing the Quaen river. Bildar was the only real crossing-point near Byrne’s current holdings so it was pretty nervous about the future. The other option was to go all the way south to the rivermouth and cross the bridges in the city of Formia.

  I suppose one might ferry troops across at Loret, but that was inconveniently far north. Or they could ferry across at Telen, I suppose, between Bildar and Loret. Ferrying troops would take time, though. I’d like to think Byrne wouldn’t do that for fear the army would be attacked while divided.

  There was also a small bridge—if you can call it that—in the very far north, in the rocky mountain-hills where the Quaen split off from the Averill and started southward. It was a rickety thing that Raeth and Bouger and I once crossed, very carefully, one at a time. I doubted it was still there. Although, come to think of it, there was a town not too far south of that. Clariet, I believe. It didn’t make much of an impression on me when we went through it, but I suppose they might have maintained the bridge. It still wasn’t something you marched an army across, and it certainly wasn’t wide enough for wagons. It was barely wide enough for a horse. I doubted they could roll a cannon over it.