by Steven Brust
My left hand froze, and some part of me was aware that it hovered over the rune. My right hand continued to drift without direction; then it, too, stopped. It was directly over the vibrating knife.
Time for one deep breath, which I let out slowly.
I don’t think I’ll ever again see so many corpses in one place. I don’t especially want to, either, And they were all in different and interesting stages of decomposition. I’ll forego the details, if you don’t mind. I’d seen bodies before, and sheer number and variety makes them no more pleasant to look at.
I should mention one odd thing, though: there was no odor of decay. In fact, as I thought about it, I realized that the only smell I could detect was faint and sulfurous and seemed to come from the river, which was now fast and white-capped. The river also provided the only sounds I could hear as it sloshed its way over greyish rocks and up onto sandy banks, doing carvings in slate.
I felt Loiosh shivering inside of my cloak.
“You okay?”
“I’ll live, boss.”
I sat up and looked at Morrolan; he seemed even more exhausted than I. He was also very wet, as I was, and he was shivering as much as I, which I took a perverse pleasure in noting.
Presently he caught me looking at him. I suppose he guessed some of my thoughts, because he scowled at me. He sat up and I noticed his hands twitching as another scowl crossed his features. “Sorcery doesn’t work here,” he remarked. His voice sounded a bit odd, as if he was speaking through a very thin glass. Not really distant, yet not really close either. He said, “It would be nice to dry off.”
“Not much wind, either,” I said. “I guess we stay wet for a while.” My voice sounded the same way, which I liked even less. I still felt cold, but it was warmer here than in the river.
“Let us proceed,” said Morrolan.
“After you,” I said.
We worked our way to our respective feet and looked around. The river behind us, corpses to the sides, and mists ahead.
“This place is weird, boss.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Have you noticed that the corpses don’t stink? “
“Yeah.”
“Maybe it’s the soul that gives off the stink, and since these guys don’t have any soul, there isn’t any smell.”
I didn’t ask Loiosh if he was serious, because I didn’t want to know. Morrolan touched the hilt of his sword and checked to be sure the staff was still with him, reminding me of why we were here. He nodded to a direction off to his right. I girded my loins, so to speak, and we set off.
* * * *
I sat in my favorite slouch-chair at home and considered how I was going to kill Kynn. What I wanted to do was just walk up and nail him, wherever he was; whoever was around. As I’ve said, this is not, in general, a bad policy. The trouble was that he knew there was a war going on, so he was being careful not to be alone.
I don’t know how I got so fixed on Gruff s as the place to nail him, and in thinking about the whole thing later I decided that had been a mistake and made sure to avoid such preconceptions. I knew I could take him in a public setting if I wanted to, because when I was a kid I’d seen someone assassinated in a public place—my father’s restaurant. That was how I first met Kiera, too, but never mind that now.
I chewed the whole thing over for a while, until Loiosh said, “Look, boss, if it’s just a distraction you want, I can help.”
I said, “Like hell you can.”
* * * *
We were walking through swirling fog, which was merely annoying until I realized that there was no perceptible air movement to cause the fog to swirl. I pointed this out to Morrolan, who said, “Shut up.”
I smiled, then smiled a little more as the end of a bare tree branch smacked him in the face. He deepened his scowl and we kept walking, albeit more slowly. Fog was the only thing to look at except the ground, which was soft and sandy and looked as if it couldn’t contain growing things. As I’d reached this conclusion, a sudden shadow appeared before us which turned out to be a tree, as bare as the first.
“Boss, why are the trees bare in the summer?”
“You’re asking me? Besides, if it were summer, it wouldn’t be this chilly.”
“Right.”
More and more trees appeared as if they were sprouting in front of us, and we moved around them, keeping more or less to a single direction. Morrolan stopped shortly thereafter and studied what seemed to be a path running off diagonally to our left. His jaw worked and he said, “I don’t think so. Let’s keep going.”
We did, and I said, “How can you tell?”
“The book.”
“What book?”
“I was given a book to guide me through the Paths. Sethra helped, too.”
“Who gave you the book?”
“It’s a family inheritance.”
“I see. How accurate is it?”
“We will find out, won’t we? You may have been better off without me, for then Sethra would have been able to tell you of safer paths.”
“Why couldn’t she have told you the safer paths?”
“I am Dragaeran. I’m not allowed to know.”
“Oh. Who makes up all these rules, anyway?”
He gave me one of his looks of disdain and no other answer. We came to another path leading off at a slightly different angle.
Morrolan said, “Let’s try this one.”
I said, “You’ve memorized this book?”
He said, “Let us hope so.”
The fog was thinner now, and I asked Morrolan if that was a good sign. He shrugged.
A bit later I said, “I take it there’s a good reason for not bringing the book along.”
He said, “It’s not permitted.”
“This whole trip isn’t permitted, as I understand it.”
“So why make things worse?”
I chewed that over and said, “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen?”
“We will appear before the Lords of Judgment and ask them to restore my cousin.”
“Do we have any good reasons why they should?”
“Our nerve for asking.”
“Oh.”
Shortly thereafter we came to a flat greyish stone set into the middle of the path. It was irregularly shaped, maybe two feet wide, four feet long, and sticking up about six inches out of the ground. Morrolan stopped and studied it for a moment, chewing his lip. I gave him silence to think for a while, then said, “Want to tell me about it?”
“It indicates a choice. Depending on which way we go around it, we will be taking a different way.”
“What if we walk directly over it?”
He gave me a withering look and no other answer. Then he sighed and passed around the right side of it. I followed. The path continued among the naked trees, with no difference that I could detect.
Shortly thereafter we heard wolves howling. I looked at Morrolan. He shrugged. “I’d rather deal with an external threat than an internal one at this point.”
I decided not to ask what he meant. Loiosh shifted nervously on my shoulder. I said, “I’m getting the impression that these things have been set up deliberately, like a test or something.”
He said, “Me, too.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
More howling, and, “Loiosh, can you tell how far away that was?”
“Around here, boss?Ten feet or ten miles. Everything is weird. I’d feel better if I could smell something. This is scary.”
“Feel like flying around for a look?”
“No. I’d get lost.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
I caught a flicker of movement to my right and, as the adrenaline hit me, I realized that Morrolan had his sword out and that I did, too. Then there were greyish shapes appearing out of the mist and flying through the air at us, and there was a horrible moment of desperate action and i
t was over. I hadn’t touched anything, and nothing had touched me.
Morrolan sighed and nodded. “They couldn’t reach us,” he said. “I’d hoped that was the case.”
I sheathed my blade and wiped the sweat from my hands. I said, “If that’s the worst we have to fear, I’ll be fine.” Loiosh came back out of my cloak.
Morrolan said, “Don’t worry, it isn’t.”
* * * *
Loiosh explained to me that he was now more than a year old. I allowed as to how this was true. He went on to say that he was damn near full grown, and ought to be allowed to help. I wondered in what way he could help. He suggested one. I couldn’t think of a good counterargument, so there we were.
The next day, early, I returned to Gruff s. This time I went inside and found an empty corner. I had a mug of honey-wine and left again. When I left, Loiosh wasn’t with me.
I walked around to the back of the place and found the back door. It was locked. I played with it, then it was unlocked. I entered very carefully. It was a storeroom, filled with casks and barrels and boxes with bottles, and it could have kept me drunk for a year. Light crept past a curtain. So did I, finding myself in a room filled with glasses and plates and things one needs to wash dishes. I decided the area wasn’t arranged very efficiently. I would have put the shelves to the left of the drying racks and ... never mind.
There were no people in this room, either, but the low noise from the inn’s main room came through the brown wool curtain. I remembered that curtain from the other side. I returned to the storeroom, moved two barrels and a large box, and hid myself.
Five aching, stiff, miserable hours later, Loiosh and I decided Kynn wasn’t going to show up. If this continued, I was going to start taking a dislike to him. I massaged my legs until I could walk again, hoping no one would come through the door. Then I let myself out the back way, even managing to get the door locked behind me.
* * * *
We were attacked twice more; once by something small and flying, and once by a tiassa. Neither of them could touch us, and both went away after one pass. We also came across several diverging or crossing paths, which Morrolan chose among with a confidence I hoped was justified.
We came to another grey stone, and Morrolan once more took the right-hand path, once again after some thought. I said, “Is it pretty much the way you remember it?” Morrolan didn’t answer.
Then a thick old tree covered with knots appeared just off to our right, with a branch hanging across the path, about ten feet off the ground. A large brown bird that I recognized as an athyra studied us with one eye.
“You live,” it said.
I said. “How can you tell?”
“You don’t belong here.”
“Oh. Well, I hadn’t known that. We must have made a wrong turn on Undauntra. We’ll just leave, then.”
“You may not leave.”
“Make up your mind. First you say—”
“Let’s go, Vlad,” said Morrolan.
I assume that he was having his own little conversation with the athyra while I was having mine, but maybe not. We ducked under the branch and continued on our way. I looked back, but tree and bird were gone.
A little later Morrolan stood before another grey stone. This time he sighed, looked at me, and led us around to the left. He said, “We are going to have to, sooner or later, or we will never arrive at our destination.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Yes.”
And, a little later, “Can you give me a hint about what to expect?”
“No.”
“Great.”
And then I was falling. I started to scream, stopped, and realized that I was still walking next to Morrolan as before. I turned to him as I stumbled a bit. He stumbled at the same moment and his face turned white. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, looked at me, and continued down the path.
I said, “Were you falling there, just for a moment?”
“Falling? No.”
“Then what happened to you?”
“Nothing I care to discuss.”
I didn’t press the issue.
A little later I took a step into quicksand. For a moment I thought it was going to be a repeat of the same kind of experience, because I was aware that, at the same time, I was still walking, but this time it didn’t let up. Morrolan faltered next to me, then said, “Keep walking.”
I did, though to one part of my mind it seemed that every step took me deeper. I also felt panic coming from Loiosh, which didn’t help matters, as I wondered what he was seeing.
It occurred to me that Loiosh could feel my fear, too, so I tried to force myself to stay calm for his sake, telling myself that the quicksand was only an illusion. It must have worked, because I felt him calm down, and that helped me, and the image let up just as it was covering my mouth.
Morrolan and I stopped for a moment then, took a couple of deep breaths, and looked at each other. He shook his head once more.
I said, “Aren’t there any clear paths to the Halls of Judgment?”
He said, “Some books have better paths than others.”
I said, “When we get back, I’ll steal one of the better ones and go into business selling copies.”
“They can’t be copied,” said Morrolan. “There are those who have tried.”
“How can that be? Words are words.”
“I don’t know. Let’s continue.”
We did, and I was quite relieved when we came to another grey stone and Morrolan took the right-hand path. This time it was a wild boar who couldn’t touch us, and later a dzur.
Morrolan chose among more paths, and we came to another stone. He looked at me and said, “Well?”
I said, “If we have to.”
He nodded and we went around it to the left.
* * * *
I returned to my flat, my legs feeling better, my disposition sour. I decided I never wanted to see Gruff’s again. I was beginning to get positively irritated at Kynn, who kept refusing to let himself be set up. I poured myself a glass of brandy and relaxed in my favorite chair, trying to think.
“So much for that idea, Loiosh.”
“We could try it again tomorrow. “
“My legs won’t take it.”
“Oh. What next, then?”
“Dunno. Let me think about it.”
I paced my flat and considered options. I could purchase a sorcery spell of some sort, say, something that worked from a distance. But then someone would know I’d done it, and, furthermore, there are too many defenses against such things; I was even then wearing a ring that would block most attempts to use sorcery against me, and it had cost less than a week’s pay. Witchcraft was too chancy and haphazard.
Poison?Once again, unreliable unless you’re an expert. It was like dropping a rock on his head: It would probably work, but if it didn’t he’d be alerted and it would be that much harder to kill him.
No, I was best off with a sword thrust; I could be certain what was going on. That meant I’d have to get close up behind him, or come on him unexpectedly. I drew my dagger from my belt and studied it. It was a knife-fighter’s weapon; well made, heavy, with a reasonably good point and an edge that had been sharpened at about eight degrees. A chopping, slicing weapon that would work well against the back of a neck. My rapier was mostly point, suitable for coming up under the chin, and thus into the brain. Either would work.
I put the knife away again, squeezed my hands into fists, and paced a little more.
“Got something, boss? “
“I think so. Give me a minute to think about it.”
“Okay.”
And, a little later, “All right, Loiosh, we’re going to make this idiot-simple. Here’s what I’ll want you to do...”
* * * *
There were times when we were howling maniacs, times when we were hysterical with laughter.
Keep walking.
We were dying of hunger or thirst, with
food or drink just to the side, off the path.
Keep walking.
Chasms opened before us, and the monsters of our nightmares bedeviled us, our friends turned against us, our enemies laughed in our faces. I guess I shouldn’t speak for Morrolan, but the strained look of his back, the set of his jaw, and the paleness of his features spoke volumes.
Keep walking. If you stop, you’ll never get out of it. If you leave the path you’ll become lost. Walk into the wind, through the snowstorm, into the landslide. Keep walking.
Paths crisscrossing, Morrolan choosing, gritting our teeth and going on. Hours? Minutes? Years? I dunno. And this despite the fact that anytime we took a right-hand path we were safe from the purely physical attacks. Once we were attacked by a phantom sjo-bear. I have a clear memory of it taking a swipe through my head and being amazed that I didn’t feel it, but I still don’t know if that was the product of a right-hand or a left-hand choice.
Frankly, I don’t see how dead people manage it.
There came a point when we had to stop and rest and we did, taking food and drink, directly before another grey stone. I’d given up asking stupid questions. For one thing, I knew Morrolan wouldn’t answer, and for another, I had the feeling that the next time he shrugged I was going to put a knife in his back. I suppose by that time he was feeling equally fond of me.
After a rest, then, we stood up again and Morrolan chose a left-hand path. I gritted my teeth.
“You holding up all right, Loiosh?”
“Just barely, boss. You?”
“About the same. I wish I knew how long this was going to go on. Or maybe I’m glad I don’t.”
“Yeah.”
But, subjectively speaking, it wasn’t long after that when the path before us suddenly widened. Morrolan stopped, looked up at me, and a faint smile lightened his features. He strode forward with renewed energy, and soon the trees were swallowed in mist, which cleared to reveal a high stone arch with a massive dragon’s head carved into it. Our path led directly under the arch.
As we walked through it, Morrolan said, “The land of the dead.”
I said, “I thought that’s where we’ve been all along.”
“No. That was the outlying area. Now things are likely to get strange.”
Chapter 12