Worlds Without End s-18

by Caroline Spector

  It is dark.

  A blackness so thick and heavy it feels like a weight against her eyes. It is suffocating, this dark- ness. It feels as though she is being swallowed up by it. Being turned into it…

  Caimbeui was late.

  Though I wasn't surprised, I was annoyed. It wasn't as though I were looking forward to seeing him, but if you drop in on someone with "impor- tant" news, you'd bloody well better be on time.

  I'd made tea with all the things Caimbeui liked. Scones, of course, with lemon curd. Those ridicu- lous little sandwiches with the crusts cut off, slices of cake, tarts. He had a sweet tooth. But now the sandwiches had gone hard and the cake was stale.

  I'd switched from tea to sherry, then to scotch. And still no Caimbeui.

  Finally, six hours after he'd said he'd arrive, I heard the crunch of tires across my gravel.

  I waited until I saw him emerge alone from the car before opening the door. Even though I had se- curity sensors, you can't be too cautious.

  "Prompt as usual, I see," I said

  "Ah, Aina, still charming as ever," he replied. "No 'How are you? Why are you late?' You wound me."

  I snorted.

  "Please, spare me the usual dancing," I said. "It's cold out here. Come inside."

  I turned and went into the house. Behind me I could hear him getting his bag and shutting the doors to the car.

  "Lock the door and switch the system back on," I called over my shoulder.

  He muttered something under his breath, but oddly enough he did as I asked. I went into the great room where I'd started a fire earlier that evening. Sometime between the sherry and the scotch.

  "Did you leave that woman at home?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said as he shrugged off his coat and tossed it on the couch. He flopped down into one of the wing chairs in front of the fire. I handed him a snifter of brandy and poured myself another scotch.

  "I'm surprised. I'd've thought you'd bring her along to iron your shirts. Or something."

  "Or something?" he asked. Coy, that one.

  "Whatever it is you do with girls young enough to be your great-great-great-great-great-great-great- great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great- great-great-"

  He held up his hands. "I get the picture."

  "Oh, please, I don't want to hear about your peculiarities in that area."

  "Do you care?" he asked. "What goes on between us is none of your business." 25

  I turned away from him, stung by his remarks. Of course his life wasn't my concern. It hadn't been for centuries. But old habits die hard.

  The silence stretched out between us. Once I en- joyed them. But now it felt awkward and tense. I longed for things to be as they once had, but it was far too late for that. As usual.

  "I had a terrible time getting through UK cus- toms," he said at last.

  "Were you carrying anything?" I asked as I turned and walked toward him. He gestured for me to sit across from him as though this were his house and not mine.

  "No."

  "Made any enemies in the UK lately?"

  He smiled then. I was glad he wasn't wearing his makeup. That awful mask he'd adopted out of some perverse sense of humor. Wicked Caimbeul.

  We chatted then about meaningless things. Things to distract us from the free-floating tensions of a failed romance and too many years of history.

  The fire had begun to die down and we were both a little muzzy.

  "So," I said. But it came out more like "show." "Why all the mystery about your visit?"

  Part of me, foolishly, hoped that his surprise had to do with the sudden realization that he'd been mo- mentarily insane all those years ago when he'd left me.

  "I beat them," he said, his voice dropping into a slightly drunken, conspiratorial tone. "You've been saying that NAN would bring them back with all that blood magic. And you were right, Aina."

  I felt a cold finger touch my heart. Suddenly the alcohol warmth fled and I was wide-awake sober.

  "What are you saying?" I tried to keep my voice from shaking, but I failed. He didn't notice, though.

  "They tried to get back, but I stopped them," he said. "Ah, well, I did have some help. A group of shadowrunners I enlisted. We went and played our little games on the metaplanes. God, it was fantastic. I haven't felt so alive since-I don't know when. Can you imagine it? Just my wits against them.

  "Oh, there was some business with them recently in Maui, but that was easy enough to handle."

  He gave a pleased laugh. Full and rich. I hadn't heard that tone in his voice in so long I'd almost for- gotten he could sound that way. Had it been any- thing else to bring this joy about I would have been delighted, but all I wanted to do was shake him. Hard. Laughing and enjoying this… this catastro- phe.

  It was just like him to think he'd finished them off. What hubris. What ego.

  "… And then I told them the story about Thayla," he was saying. "And I sent them on a quest to find her voice."

  "Did it work?"

  "Of course it did," he said, indignantly. "What do you take me for? A dilettante? I know we've had our disagreements, but even you can see what a feat this is.

  "What I see is your ego is out of bounds again. In your endless fascination with being involved in the machinations behind things, you've missed the point. As usual."

  "You're jealous," he said.

  "What?"

  "You're jealous."

  "Of what?" I was baffled at this sudden turn in the conversation.

  "Of me. Of my power. You couldn't stand it when I surpassed your abilities."

  "Don't be asinine."

  "Oh, do you deny it?" he asked. He had a compet- itive, smirky expression on his face that I wanted to slap off.

  "I won't even dignify that with an answer. The things which you pursue, Caimbeui, are vainglorious and, ultimately, irrelevant."

  "That's something else you do," he said. "You al- ways call me Caimbeui. I haven't been called by that name in three hundred years."

  "Very well. Harlequin," I said. "But this is all be- side the point. The point is you think the Horrors have returned and that you have beaten them single- handedly, don't you? Or at least once. I have no idea what actually happened in Maui because you always leave things out when it's not all about you."

  He gave me an annoyed look.

  "Very well, Aina," he said sullenly. "There was a group of kahunas using blood magic on Haleakala. They managed to open a portal-some of the Enemy even managed to get through. But they were stopped in time. They were sent back into the void. 28

  "See, nothing to worry about."

  "Let's see. First, you encounter them on the metaplanes. You manage to 'defeat' them there. Next, some of them manage to breach this plane. And you think they've been dealt with?

  "Well, I've been having dreams lately and I think you're wrong. I think you failed."

  He laughed.

  "Aina has a dream and we're all supposed to tremble in our boots. Is that it?"

  "I had forgotten this charming side to your per- sonality, Caimbeui. I've been right before."

  "And you've been wrong."

  "Not often."

  He didn't have an answer for that.

  "I thought you would be thrilled at this news," he said at last. "You're the only one who still under- stands what it was like. Back then. During the Scourge."

  I shrugged. "There's always Alachia," I said. "And Ehran. Oh, but I forgot about your tiff with him. Surely they remember."

  "Alachia sees it differently than we do. She al- ways has. And Ehran isn't worth a pimple on a troll's butt. As for the others-"

  "Don't hold back, Caimbeui, how do you really feel?"

  After giving me a nasty look, he went and refilled his glass.

  "Bring me some water," I said.

  In a moment, he placed a tumbler in my hand and settled himself opposite me again. Another long silence played out between us. The water was cool and washed the strong taste of the whi
skey out of my mouth.

  "Tell me what happened," I said at last. "The first time."

  He didn't answer me for a moment. Then he spoke.

  "They were constructing a bridge, of sorts, using the energy spike from the Ghost Dance as a locator. They are as foul as I remembered, Aina. No, perhaps worse, for it has been so long since I'd seen them that they'd begun to blur in my memory.

  "I had to test the runners to be sure they had what it took to stand against the Enemy. For the most part they succeeded. One fell during the trials, but they accomplished what I set them to do. They retrieved the Voice, but didn't make it back to the bridge be- fore a man named Darke captured me. The bastard was working with the Enemy and had been follow- ing me across the metaplanes the whole time. And I'd thought I was tracking him.

  "He was performing blood magic to corrupt the site. How many children were sacrificed I'll never know. But Thayla sang and the enemy fell back, and now we're safe."

  I almost choked on my water.

  "Wait a minute," I said. "That all ties up a little too neatly. Thayla may be able to keep them at bay, but who will protect her from people like Darke?"

  "Oh, some of the runners stayed with her," he said casually.

  "But you didn't volunteer for that duty," I said. 30

  "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I'm far too valu- able to be tied to one spot like that. Besides, as long as she's there, they can't get through."

  "Not there, at any rate," I said. "And you're sure the creatures were driven back in Maui?"

  "Of course," he said.

  And how I wanted to believe him.

  I stared into the fire. Long ago, according to our legends, Thayla's voice had driven the Horrors off. She had sacrificed herself for her people, like any great monarch would. Perhaps Caimbeui was right. Maybe he had accomplished it. Maybe he had driven them back. For now.

  I relaxed a little. Maybe now there would be time to plan. To prepare. To warn those who needed to know.

  The telecom beeped, startling me out of my thoughts.

  "Who could be calling at this hour?" I wondered aloud.

  "It might be for me," he said. "I left this number."

  Oh, splendid, I thought. Just what I need, Caimbeul's little friends with my restricted number.

  "Hello," I said into the old-fashioned videoless re- ceiver I'd had installed in this room.

  There was a long pause, then a loud burst of static. I jerked back, dropping the receiver onto the floor.

  "Aina," I heard. The sound filled the room. An impossibility. And, oh sweet mother, I knew that voice.

  "Aina," it said. "I have come back. I have come for you."

  Then the line went dead.

  "What was that?" Caimbeui demanded.

  The room was cold. Colder than the dead of win- ter. Colder than the grave. For I knew from long ex- perience that there were things worse than death.

  "That," I said, my voice shaking, "was the past come back to haunt us. Harlequin. You didn't stop them from coming through on Maui, my dear. One of them is here. Now. And he's coming for me."

  She is standing on a cliff overlooking the sea. The gulls dive for fish, crying with their broken voices. Below on the beach, a boy and girl play. They chase each other, leaving footprints in the sand that are washed away by the incoming tide.

  The children's high-pitched voices float up to her, but she can't make out what they're saying. Then, as she watches, the sea turns red and bleeds onto the beach.

  "Don't be ridiculous," Caimbeui said.

  "Are you deaf?" I asked. "You were here. You heard it."

  "A prank, perhaps," he said.

  "That was no prank and you know it," I said. "I know 'that voice."

  I turned away, running my hands over my arms to warm them. It had been so long. A time out of mind. Even so, I would never forget that sound. The sound of Ysrthgrathe's voice.

  Like chalk on a blackboard. Like the whisper of a child. Like breaking glass. Like the dear departed. Whatever would be most effective.

  A fine, cold sweat broke out on my back. No, I 33

  thought, I'll not give way to that so fast. I clamped down on the panic. He'd be expecting that. No, I'd have to be careful and deliberate.

  "It's only one," Caimbeui said. "We can deal with one."

  "It's not just one," I said angrily. "Don't you re- member anything I told you then about him? I seem to recall that we did spend some time talking all those years ago. Or is your memory as convenient as it ever was?"

  "I thought we agreed not to discuss that time," he said. "But you keep bringing it up."

  "I'm not discussing that time. I'm asking you if you remember what I told you then about Ysrth- grathe."

  "That's a roundabout way of doing it."

  "Will you shut up and listen? Frag it, you are so oblivious to everything but yourself. Didn't you hear a word I said then? Oh, I give up."

  I spun about and strode from the room. I had to get to my grimoire. There were preparations to be made.

  When the last of my defenses was in place, I be- gan to relax a little. It concerned me that I might be making even more of a target of myself. Strong magic stuck out like a sore thumb these days. But it didn't really matter, he'd already found me.

  Caimbeui knocked on the door to my study.

  "Go away," I said.

  "Don't be difficult, Aina," he said. "Let me in." 34

  "No, no, dear Harlequin," I replied. "I don't wish to trouble you."

  I heard him sigh. Loudly and dramatically so I would hear.

  "Let me in," he said.

  I walked over to the door and opened it.

  "Oh, it's the great Harlequin come to pay a visit to the poor unenlightened masses. Oh, please show us your bountiful insight. We are honored by your presence. May we kiss your hem?"

  "I was a bit… difficult," he began.

  "No, you were an ass," I said.

  "Very well, an ass. You always did get sarcastic when you were upset."

  "How insightful of you," I said. "But you've got it a little wrong. I'm not upset. I'm scared. And if you had a bit of sense, you'd be frightened too."

  He began to circle my study slowly, gently touch- ing the books, totems, scrolls, and other bits of ar- cana I'd carefully catalogued. Some was only theory, some was practical. I knew he had an im- pressive accumulation of his own, but I also knew that I had been at this longer.

  "What's this?" he asked, pulling a thick tome from a shelf.

  "That," I said as I walked over and plucked it from his hand arid stuck it back on its shelf, "is none of your concern. I'm certain you have five or six just like it at home."

  An annoyed and interested expression crossed his face.

  "I don't understand why you're so worried," he 35

  said. "You've dealt with him in the past. As I recall, Vistrosh told me the most amazing story about how you vanquished him."

  Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, I sighed.

  "Did he tell what really happened?" I asked. "Or was it turned into some of kind of ridiculous tale? Let me see if I can recount his version: 'And then Aina threw her arms wide to the skies and caused a blast of heavenly fire to consume the monster. The creature gave one last wail of angry despair and van- ished into the void.' "

  Caimbeui dropped into my heavy leather wing- back chair and put his feet up on my desk.

  "Yes," he said. "It was something like that."

  "Well, you know as well as I that that's not exactly how these things happen. Oh, certainly I managed to overcome Ysrthgrathe, but it wasn't the simple matter Vistrosh would have had you believe. It almost killed me and I sacrificed more than you can possibly imagine."

  "Like your grimoire?" he asked.

  "Yes," I replied. "I unmade myself. You remem- ber what I'd done. All those scars. The years and years of blood magic. Everything. I gave it all up to send him back. To imprison him. And now he's re- turned.

  "Then I had so much power.
Look at me now. What are you doing?"

  He had picked up my grimoire and was leafing through it, making interested noises every few pages. I grabbed it from his hands, shocked at such a breach of etiquette.

  "And I don't expect you to be any help," I said. "You're too damn selfish."

  "The Enemy was stopped or we'd be dealing with more than one of them now. You're letting some- thing that happened millennia ago affect you now."

  "Don't tell me the past has no hold over you, Caimbeui. We both know what a lie that is."

  "This is precisely the reason I left you," he snapped. "You pick and pick and pick."

  "That's right," I said. "I'm no Sally, or Susan, or whatever-her-name-is-this-decade who fawns over you like you were some sort of demi-god. Doesn't fragging a sycophant lose its appeal after a while?"

  He pushed himself up from the table in an angry rush.

  "This bickering isn't getting us anywhere," he said. "What are you planning to do?"

  Hugging my grimoire close to my body, I walked to the window and pulled back the drapes. It had be- gun to rain, and every so often the craggy land was lit by lightning. Bare country, wild and untamed.

  "I've put up some protections, but I'm not sure how effective they'll be. I wish… Well, I might as well wish for the sun to rise in the west. What's that old adage? 'If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.' "

  Caimbeui came up behind me. I could see him re- flected in the window. A flash of lightning; the des- olate land outside. The darkness; Caimbeul's image in the glass.

  "I think you should tell the others," he said.

  "Why don't you tell them? Your relations with them have always been better than mine."

  "Because, Aina, I'm not convinced. You are. You will be more effective. Tell them."

  "Tell them what?" I asked. "That I've had dreams and there has been one very strange telecom call?"

  "Don't dodge it," he replied. "They'll have to lis- ten to you. The ones who matter will know what it means."

  I dropped the curtains and skirted around him. He was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body.

  "Why do you want me to do this?" I asked. "What have you got up your sleeve?"

  He shrugged.

  "I suppose your reaction has something to do with it," he said. "In all the time I've known you, I've never seen anything unnerve you so much as that call. Your hands are shaking even now. And when you heard that voice I thought you might faint. And, Aina, you're not the fainting type."