The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha)

by Steven Brust

  There are many entrances to Dzur Mountain, some open, some concealed, and some (many, perhaps) known to the Enchantress and never discovered by anyone else. The one the traveler came to was as much of a “front door” as Dzur Mountain boasted; that is, it was a large, plainly visible—that is to say, undisguised—door, facing west and near the northern edge of what, seen from a distance, would appear to be the left ear. The traveler climbed up easily, without any apparent difficulty, even where she was required to pull herself up using only rocks as handholds. To an observer, it would have appeared that she only touched the rocks, and then, with the least effort, floated up until, in a very short time, she stood before the doorway we have just had occasion to mention.

  The door itself was solid iron, which iron was wrought with the symbol of a dzur. Upon reaching it, the traveler stopped, considering, as if for the first time uncertain how to proceed. Her dilemma, if, indeed, she had one, was solved by the door itself opening inward to reveal a Teckla whom we have already met, and whom we know as Tukko. This worthy poked his head out of the door, gave the traveler a quick look, and said, “Go away,” upon which he shut the door. Or, to be more precise, he endeavored to shut the door; the intention being foiled by the traveler, who prevented him from carrying out his plan in the simplest possible way—by placing a hand upon the door, stopping it, and then pushing it back with a strength that caused Tukko to be propelled backward at a great speed and to land unceremoniously on his back a considerable distance down the hallway.

  After taking a moment to regain his feet, his composure, and his memory of his duties, by which time the traveler had fully entered the hallway, Tukko turned and pulled upon a bell-rope that was hanging a few feet behind him. Having accomplished this, he backed away, as if afraid he was about to be attacked. The traveler, however, made no hostile move, but, on the contrary, raised up both of her hands, palm out, as if to show that she was unarmed. And, indeed, it was only at this point that Tukko realized that the strange visitor did not, in fact, appear to be carrying a weapon of any sort. Now, as this was unusual, even to say unprecedented in Tukko’s experience—particularly from someone who, by countenance and garb, appeared to be a Dragonlord—he suddenly became unsure of how to proceed. He looked at the visitor, his head tilted to the side like a bewildered dog’s.

  The visitor, now that she was inside, stood still, as if waitingfor something or someone. If she was, in fact, waiting for the Enchantress, she was not disappointed; Sethra Lavode appeared in two minutes, looked over the situation, spoke briefly with Tukko, and frowned.

  “Who are you?” she said.

  “A friend.”

  “A friend? Well, that is good. Were you aware that it is not usual for a friend to enter a friend’s home by force?”

  “No.”

  “No? You were not aware of this fact?”

  “I was not.”

  “You pretend you did not know that you should not force your way into the home of someone you call a friend?”

  “I give you my word, I was never informed of this circumstance.”

  At this moment, the Enchantress was joined by Sethra the Younger, who appeared in response to the alarm Tukko had raised, and now rested her hand upon her sword, which was a heavy weapon of tolerable length. She said, “Who is this?”

  “I am uncertain,” said the Enchantress. “Yet, she claims to be a friend.”

  “If she is a friend, why did Tukko raise the alarm?”

  “There may have been a misunderstanding on some level.”

  “Ah,” said Sethra the Younger, continuing to gaze upon the stranger with a suspicious eye.

  “What is your name?” said the Enchantress.

  “Name?” said the stranger. “Oh, as to my name, well, what do you wish it to be?”

  The Enchantress frowned. “You are a demon,” she stated. The visitor bowed.

  “Who sent you to me?”

  “The gods.”

  “How, the gods?”

  The demon bowed once more.

  The Enchantress looked at her apprentice. “We have been sent a demon,” she said.

  “So it seems. But to aid us, or to hinder us?”

  “Oh, to aid us.”

  “You think so?”

  “I am convinced of it.” Then, turning back to the demon, she said, “Please come in. Follow me, we will sit and speak, one with the other.”

  “Very well,” said the demon.

  The Enchantress led them within, and, when they were all seated (the author cannot, in all honestly, say comfortably seated, because the demon did not appear comfortable, but, rather, appeared stiff and even rigid as she sat), she offered wine, which was politely refused.

  “Well then,” said the Enchantress, “let us have conversation.”

  “Very well,” said the demon. “To this I agree. We will have conversation.”

  “Good. Then tell me, if you will—”

  “Oh, I will, I assure you. You need have no fear that I will not answer any question you do me the honor to ask to the best of my ability.”

  “—why have the gods sent you to me?”

  “As to that, well, I cannot speak for the gods, because they are ineffable.”

  Sethra the Younger made a sort of sound, earning her a glance from the Enchantress, who then cleared her throat and said, “I do not mean their motives, my dear.”

  “You do not?”

  “Not the least in the world. I mean, what have you been sent to do?”

  “Ah. Well, you perceive that is a different question entirely.”

  “And one that you can answer, I hope.”

  “Certainly, and the proof is that I am about to do so.”

  “And this instant, I hope.”

  “Yes, indeed, this very instant.”

  “Then I am listening.”

  “Here it is, then: I have been sent to aid you.”

  “To aid us?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But, to aid us in what particular?”

  “Oh, against the Jenoine, of course.”

  “Ah. Then the gods believe we could have trouble on that score?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That is well, because I am of the same opinion. And you have some skill that could be useful against them?”

  “I believe so.”

  “But tell me, what skill is this?”

  “I know something of how to open and shut the holes that exist between the worlds.”

  “You are, then, a necromancer?”

  “Exactly. That is the very word the gods used in describing my skills when they did me the honor to teach me your language.”

  “I begin to understand,” said the Sethra the Younger.

  “As do I,” said the Enchantress.

  “It is good that you understand,” said the necromancer.

  “So then,” said Sethra the Younger, “the gods believe, as do you, that the Jenoine are liable to interfere with Zerika’s effort to retrieve the Orb.”

  “It is good,” said the Enchantress, “to find one’s self in agreement with the gods.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. It shows that the gods have some wisdom.”

  “Well.”

  The Enchantress addressed the necromancer, saying, “What then, do you require in the way of preparation or material?”

  “As to that, I am here to aid you in any way you require.”

  “So then, I am to make my own preparations, and you will assist?”

  “You have understood me exactly.”

  “Well, I am, unfortunately, in a position that no general ever wishes to be in.”

  “What position is that?” asked Sethra the Younger.

  “Conceding the initiative. That is, I am unable to act, but am forced to respond.”

  “But,” said Sethra the Younger, “have you not often said that you prefer the defensive?”

  “I prefer the tactical defensive but the strategic offensive.”

&nb
sp; “Well, I understand that. But then, what are we to do?”

  “We have no choice about what we do: we must wait.”

  “I mislike waiting,” said Sethra the Younger.

  “I know,” said the Enchantress.

  “For myself, I don’t mind,” said the necromancer.

  “How, do you not?”

  “Not the least in the world, I assure you.”

  “You do not grow impatient?”

  “Well, but to wait is to hold one’s self still in a place.”

  “And then?”

  “There are other places, where one need not hold one’s self still.”

  “Other places?”

  “One place is the same as another. You perceive, the mind moves where it will, and if the body is to wait in one place, well, the mind can be busy in another.”

  “By the Mountain,” said the Enchantress. “You are a necromancer.”

  “Well.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Sethra the Younger.

  “I mean that our friend,” here she indicated the necromancer, “treats as matters of simple practicality what others consider as most abstruse theory.”

  “I do not understand what you do me the honor to tell me, Sethra.”

  “Well then, Sethra, permit me to explain.”

  “I will be delighted if you would do so.”

  “I am about to.”

  “I am listening.”

  The Enchantress then turned to the necromancer and said, “Have you observed that I am undead?”

  The necromancer shrugged as if it was of no importance, and said, “Of course.”

  “Well, what then is your opinion of death?”

  “It is the limitation of one’s ability to reach certain phases of reality.”

  “And then?”

  “It can sometimes be inconvenient.”

  The Enchantress nodded, and turned to her apprentice, saying, “Well?”

  Sethra the Younger nodded. “I comprehend.”

  “And then?”

  She bowed to their guest saying, “My friend, for so I hope I may call you, you are not simply a necromancer. As far as I am concerned, you are the necromancer. If I have the chance, well, I hope to learn a great deal from you.”

  The necromancer bowed.

  “And then?” said the Enchantress.

  “Well,” said Sethra the Younger, “it is my hope that I will learn at least enough so that—”

  “Yes? So that?”

  “The Gods! So that I won’t mind waiting so much!”

  Chapter the Thirty-Second

  How Röaana and Ibronka Arrived

  In Adrilankha, and the

  Greetings They Received There.

  Ibronka, Röaana, and their servant, guided by maps and information supplied by the worthy Clari, arrived in Adrilankha early in the morning, as the port city was just beginning to stir. None of them had ever been in a city of such size, and so a great deal of time was spent doing nothing more than looking around: In one direction was the West Market, that large circle filled with stalls and places for carts and even a few brick buildings, as well as the Port Exchange Building, which market, by itself, was the size of any of the villages they had passed through (if the reader will remember that they did not actually pass through Hartre, rather stopping on its edge). In the other, they observed the majesty of the Six Domes along Cliff Road, sparkling of silver, and looming over them the Imperial Customs House, its distinctive red paint having long ago faded to a sort of pale orange, but still impressive for its octagonal shape and its magnificent bell tower. Then, the Pavilions of the Gods, the tops of which, red, green, yellow, and blue, could be seen in all their elegant sweep over the more humble dwellings—which dwellings themselves were of greater grandeur than any the Tiassa or the Dzur had seen upon their journey. And then the Port Authority, all of white, with its watchtower like a golden needle looking out over the sea, the port, and the city.

  Soon, in fact, they found themselves standing still in the middle of Lower Kieron Road, simply looking around in awe, and pointing out sights to each other while Clari, equally awestruck, looked about with her eyes wide and her mouth open. Fortunately for the three girls, it was as yet early in the morning, for otherwise they would have been easy prey for the monstrous horse-carts and buggies which prowled the streets once business began.

  Eventually they noticed, high up on the cliff, a large manor house, constructed all of white stone. As they studied it, they asked a passing Chreotha what it might be.

  “That is Whitecrest Manor, where lives the Countess of Whitecrest” was the reply.

  “How, the Countess lives there?” said Röaana.

  The Chreotha bowed.

  “Well then, that is my destination. Somewhere will be a road that leads up to those heights which, I have no doubt, look upon the sea.”

  “It is good you have found it,” said Ibronka.

  “Well, but what of your own destination?”

  “As to that, well, I think it will be somewhat harder to find.”

  “Then let us search.”

  “You will, then, help me?”

  “Naturally.”

  “It is kind of you.”

  “It is nothing.”

  “I beg your pardon, but it is a great deal.”

  “Well, if you insist upon it.”

  “I do.”

  “Then, who is it you are to see?”

  “A certain Lord Shellar, Baron of Alban.”

  “A Dzurlord, I presume?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “A kinsman?”

  “I know nothing about it. My mother directed me to him, and that is all I know.”

  “Do you think she contemplates marriage for you?”

  “Not the least in the world. She pretends I am too young to think of such things, and that, moreover—”

  “Yes, moreover?”

  “—that I will be unable to find a proper husband before I have proven myself in a score or so of good fights.”

  “And yet, where are there good fights to be found in this day and age?”

  “Well, I hope here in Adrilankha!”

  “For your sake, I hope that is true.”

  “Thank you, Röaana.”

  “You are welcome, my dear Ibronka. But, as to this Shellar—”

  “Yes?”

  “If you also know he lives in Adrilankha, well, that is a good start in finding him, I think.”

  “Well then, how do we begin looking?”

  “We could ask the Chreotha who was so knowledgeable about Whitecrest Manor.”

  “But, you perceive, he went on his way after answering our question.”

  “Ah, did he? I had not made this observation.”

  “But perhaps there is someone else to ask.”

  “That is a good thought.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I am convinced of it.”

  “Well, but then, let us find someone.”

  “Yes, let us do so. Come along, Clari.”

  This being agreed upon, they took but a moment to find someone of whom to ask directions. This individual, an elderly lady of the House of the Vallista, had, by chance, heard of Lord Shellar, and spoke of his home being in the hills on the north side of the city, though she was unable to be more precise than this.

  After they had thanked her and bid her a good day, Röaana remarked, “Do you know, it is possible that we ought to have asked her how to get there.”

  “Well, that is true. But, in the meantime, let us go north and see what we find.”

  “Very well.”

  As the reader has perhaps guessed, or even expected following such a decision, our friends became quite lost in the confusion of streets that ended unexpectedly, or became other streets without warning, or changed direction for no apparent reason. Even the clever Clari was unable to help them make sense of the geography of Adrilankha. In fact, it took them less than an hour to discover that they were
utterly bewildered, and were not only unable to find the north side of the city, but were also unable to return to where they had been. In all of this confusion, however, they were fortunate to discover an open-air market that included seafood that was not only brought directly from the boats, but, moreover, prepared “on the spot” by quickly searing it in a light oil with ginger and certain vegetables and seasoning it in a particularly pleasing way, so that, although lost, they were at least able to enjoy a pleasant meal while considering their dilemma. Now this market was supplied with benches that permitted them to sit while eating, and it was while they were thus engaged that they spoke of their predicament, Ibronka being the first to state it clearly, by saying, “You perceive, do you not, that we are lost?”

  “Oh yes,” said Röaana, “I am perfectly aware of that.”

  “That is good,” said Ibronka, “for it is best to be aware of one’s situation in exact and precise terms so that there can be no confusion.”

  “My dear, I agree entirely.”

  “In that case, the next step is to see if we can learn where we are.”

  “Once again, my dear Ibronka, you show wisdom beyond your years.”

  “As to how—but to whom is Clari speaking?”

  “It seems to be a Teckla.”

  “Well, that is but natural.”

  “True, and yet I am curious about their conversation.”

  “Are you? Well, let us then listen and see if we can determine the subject upon which they discourse.”

  “With this plan I agree.”

  In fact, Clari, after finishing the leavings from Röaana’s and Ibronka’s meals, had observed a Teckla walking through the crowd as if he knew where he was going, and made the deduction that a man who knew where he was going probably knew where he was, and that, knowing where he was, he might be able to communicate it Acting at once upon this chain of logic, she had hailed the Teckla, and, arresting his progress, was proceeding to question him.

  “All of this,” the worthy Clari was saying, “is entirely clear, and I thank you for taking the trouble to explain it to me. And yet, I fail to see how we can arrive in the north part of the city, which, as I have said, is our destination, by proceeding first east, and then south.”