by Holly Lisle
Talleos nodded. “Of course I do. That’s why I’m here.”
Smug bastard. That’s why he’s here, all right. She flexed her knees and watched him; studied his arrogant, amused face and his confident stance. He’s so sure of his ransom — or whatever his game is!
Fury gripped her, and something snapped inside Minerva, and she screamed. She went straight for him — straight for his eyes with her fingers bent into talons; straight for his throat with her lips pulled back from her teeth. “Give them back, you sonuvabitch!” she shrieked. “Give me back my kids.”
Minerva hit him — hard. The creature tumbled backward and Minerva landed on top of him. She gouged at his eyes with her thumbs. She bit at his throat. He howled and grabbed her wrists and managed to pull her hands away from his face. His hooves slashed very close to her head — connected solidly with her ribs. Spurred by pain, she kneed him in the groin, and he screamed and rolled into a little knot.
“Give them back right now!” she screeched. “Right now — or I’ll kill you! So help me God, I will.” She grabbed two fistfuls of hair, crawled up, jammed her knee against his throat and pressed. She was shaking with fury. Her voice quavered and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Right now — or I’ll break your damn neck.”
“I don’t — have them!” he wheezed. His voice squeaked. Tears ran from the corners of his eyes. He lay tucked into a fetal position with his hooves wrapped nearly around his ears. He tried to struggle out from under her knee, and she tightened her grip and pressed harder.
“Who does?”
“Look, I can tell you all of this—” He squirmed and she increased pressure. “But you have to let me go,” he gasped. “I came to help you.”
“The hell you say.”
“It’s — truth. By all the gods — I swear it.” His face turned increasingly dusky.
Truth. Hah! she thought. Terror and adrenaline made her crazy. She wanted to hurt him, wanted with everything in her to rip the strange creature to shreds. But if he was telling the truth, and she hurt him, he might not help her. If she killed him, of course, he couldn’t. If, however, he was lying...
She gritted her teeth until her jaws ached. If he’s lying, I’ll kill him later. She let go of his hair and eased the pressure off his neck.
Her palms sweated, and she panted. She had the horrible urge to burst into tears. Nerves. Or fear. Or shock, she thought. Or all of the above.
“I’m going to let you go,” she told him. “For your sake, you’d better be able to help me.”
He rolled away from her, twisted into a knot, and rocked back and forth.
She wanted answers. “Well—?”
“Let me die in peace, won’t you?” His voice was a hoarse croak.
“No! I have to find my kids!” She could hear the edge of hysteria in her words. She kept going. “Help me now. I have to get them back.”
“Get the bag. Stuff in it’s for you.” He didn’t make any move to get up — just kept rocking back and forth.
She picked up the bulky broadcloth bag from where he’d dropped it and undid the laces. It was full of clothing. She pulled the items out; they were foreign — peasanty-looking stuff in loud primary colors. Vivid grass-green leather pants; cobalt-blue shirt covered with hand-embroidered flowers; lemon-yellow vest; purple boots; a scarlet tam with jaunty feathered cockade. She found white linen bloomers and a rather coarse camisole that, she supposed, would serve as underwear. She also found a utilitarian black leather knife belt, complete with sheathed silver knife.
“What the hell?” she asked him. “Stuff looks like it was designed by Barbarians of Hollywood, with colors by Crayola.” She wasn’t going to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, though. Hastily, she threw the clothes on.
He didn’t look at her — didn’t say anything. He was still writhing.
“You’re honestly here to help me?” Dressed, she felt less vulnerable. She sat crosslegged, elbows propped on her thighs, playing absently with the little silver knife. She watched Talleos rolling in the tall grass sucking air like a carp on land. She began to feel a little sorry for him.
“Much to my regret,” the creature groaned.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were responsible for kidnapping my kids.” She tipped her head to one side and stared off into space. I don’t actually know that he isn’t, even yet. “If you were responsible for it, I’d kill you,” she added, just so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings.
“I figured that out.” He sat up with apparent difficulty, wincing as he did. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
She shrugged. “I have a brother.”
He raised an eyebrow — the only part of him that still seemed to be working. “Have? Lucky fellow — I’m surprised he survived childhood.”
Minerva laughed in spite of herself. “That’s where I learned most of it. I also took a self-defense course my freshman year of college, but I never used that. It all came back, though, when I thought you were hiding Jamie and Carol and Barney.”
“Thus proving the oldest law of survival.” He didn’t say anything else.
Curious, Minerva asked, “Which is—?”
“Never screw with the mommy.”
She grinned. She was amazed how calm she was beginning to feel. She could think clearly again — even plan. Clobbering Talleos had proven therapeutic. She felt in control of the situation for the moment — though she suspected the feeling was illusory.
“You’re a satyr, aren’t you?” she asked Talleos. He’d finally struggled to his feet and was hobbling around groaning. He was taller and thinner than the statues of satyrs the ancient Greeks had carved, and he didn’t have horns — but the similarities were pronounced.
He gave her a dark look. “Certainly not. I’m a cheymat.”
“What’s the difference?”
He posed, displaying his... attributes... to their most obvious advantage. “The differences are immense.”
She rolled her eyes. “Never mind.” Satyrs — ugh! He could call himself a cheymat if he wanted to, but he was blood kin to those randy party gods, whether he wanted to admit the relationship or not. She stood, sheathed the knife, and picked the red tarn off the grass. “What do I have to do to get the kids back?”
“Your kids are safe for the time being. The person you need to be concerned about is you. I’m here to keep the Weirds from destroying you.”
And I took you out in one round? Oh, great. How reassuring. She didn’t voice her doubts, though.
“Somebody wants to destroy me?” she asked
“You and your husband, actually. The Weirds stole your children so you and your husband would go charging after them. I suppose they expected you to call the police on your telephone. Very bright of you to stay away from those, by the way. The Weirds planted their gate on your home phones. If either of you had touched one, you would have both been sucked straight into the Conclave chambers, and the Weirds would have annihilated you.”
Talleos stopped talking. He cocked an ear in the direction of the path, and his head snapped around. He stared down the base of the next hill over, where the path wound around out of sight.
“Shit,” he whispered and snatched up the empty duffle bag. “Up. Start skipping around the stones,” he ordered “And laugh like hell. Act like you’re having a wonderful time.” He put the wood flute to his lips and began to dance around the stones as well, piping a wild alien jig.
Minerva’s fear returned in an overwhelming rush. She didn’t ask questions. She pasted a phony smile on her face and leapt to her feet and began skipping and dancing.
“Laugh,” Talleos whispered tersely as he passed her. He glared at her and kept piping.
Minerva laughed and stamped and whirled As she came around one of the stones, she saw a handful of dark shapes on the path at the base of the hill, staring up at her. Her stomach knotted in fear. She skipped faster, and laughed more merrily, though her laughter rang falsely in her own ears.
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Talleos circled her again. He muttered, “On the far side of the henge, skip straight down over the hill — and giggle. Soon as we’re out of sight, run like hell.”
Minerva, still laughing with phony wild abandon, nodded.
She and Talleos slapped another daisy chain around the stones. On the far side, Talleos yelled, “Ho, wench! Let us sport us while we may! Ho! Ho! Ho!”
He bounded in her direction, and she squealed and giggled loudly and skipped down out of sight. When they dropped below the crest of the hill, Talleos passed her, springing at a tremendous pace. Those goat legs could move. She fled after him.
They ran through scrubby brush and tall grasses, racing as if devils were riding fiery horses in their wake.
Never know, Minerva thought. Maybe they are.
They ran until they were gasping for breath. Finally Talleos flung himself flat in the tall grass.
Minerva followed suit. “What — was all — that about?”
“Later—” he wheezed. “It’s — complicated.”
They lay hidden in the field, catching their breath. Minerva thought Talleos was remarkably out of shape for a woodland creature, but she didn’t comment on that.
“We’re going to stay here for a while,” Talleos whispered. “If we don’t move, they’ll never spot us.”
The dry grass beneath her made her itch, but she was too scared even to move enough to scratch. She desperately wanted to understand what was happening. She wanted to believe there was something she could do to make things right. “You started to tell me about the... um, Weirds?”
“Weirds. Most powerful magicians on Eyrith.”
“Right. Magicians.” She remembered those dark shapes at the base of the hill and shivered. “Why would the... Weirds... cross universes or dimensions or whatever to try to kill Darryl and me? We aren’t anybody special.”
Lying beside her, Talleos nodded vigorously. “That’s why.”
“What?” Minerva frowned, not understanding.
“You’re supposed to be the Weavers of the universes. When you and your fiancé bought your wedding rings, you got them from an old guy at a festival, right?”
Minerva closed her eyes. Events from so long ago, she thought. “Ren Faire. Right. He told us this fairy tale about the rings being magical — he said they would ‘bind us across the... universes... and through... time…’” She ground to a stop and stared over at the cheymat. “Oh, God. It wasn’t a fairy tale, though, was it?”
“No — it was real.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I always thought there was something I was supposed to do, you know? I always believed my life was supposed to be more than a boring nine-to-five job and kids and a house in the suburbs.” She nodded “A quest. Saving the universe.” She held her hands in front of her and stared at the woven gold ring that gleamed in the morning sunlight.
She pursed her lips and nodded again, sharply. “Yeah. That’s all right, then. Whatever it is, I can handle it.” She looked over at Talleos and gave him a brave smile. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is what I was born for.”
Talleos stared at her, disbelief written on his face. “That’s quite commendable,” he said in a faint voice. “Really, I am amazed — and quite impressed. Especially considering the circumstances.”
She didn’t like the sound of his voice when he said that. “Circumstances?”
“Yeah.” Talleos took a deep breath. “You see, the old guy sold the rings to the wrong two people.”
It hit her like a slap in the face. “The wrong people?” Her voice sounded petulant to her own ears. “How can that be?”
Talleos shrugged. “Shit happens.” He pulled a long stem of grass and shredded it absently. “The old guy was in a hurry — the Unweaver was after him. You two showed up at about the right time, you looked about right — so he gave you the rings and ran like hell. Half an hour later the right people showed up at the appointed place—”
“That seems like a sloppy way to determine the fate of the universe,” Minerva interrupted.
“We all can potentially live forever. Knowing that, how would you feel about your own immediate and eternal annihilation?”
Minerva didn’t even have to ponder that. “Not good,” she said.
“The idea didn’t thrill the old guy, either. And that was what would have happened if the Unweaver caught him.”
“How do you know we’re the wrong people?”
“The universes are falling apart. You’ve gotta be.”
“I see,” Minerva said. “What about Darryl and me, then? Can’t we do whatever it was the real Weavers were supposed to have done?”
Talleos sighed. He rolled over on his side and propped himself on one elbow. His right hoof tapped out a regular pattern on the grass. “That’s the heart of the matter. You aren’t cut out for the part. If you were, everyone is pretty sure you would have shown some sign of it by now. And as far as the Weirds are concerned, the universes can’t wait any longer to find out. You are a nice lady, I’m sure — and damned attractive — but you’re ordinary. There is nothing special about you — nothing that anyone can see as potential. The Weirds of the Conclave want to destroy you and your husband so that they can give the rings to someone with a chance of repairing the damage. An infinite number of universes are at stake. If someone isn’t found who can keep the Unweaver in check, he’ll unravel everything back to chaos.”
“So they made a mistake, and they’re going to destroy us? That’s not fair.”
“And life is?”
Minerva twisted the ring on her finger and stared off into space. People were trying to kill her and her husband. They had kidnapped her children. She was stuck in some alternate world where dragons and cheymats belonged — a world where she didn’t belong. And it was all for nothing. She wasn’t anyone special. She really didn’t matter. All her secret desires and grand dreams of making a difference came down, at last, to the simple fact that, whoever it was that the universe needed to save it, it wasn’t her.
She pulled the ring off her finger. She held it in the palm of her hand, offering it to Talleos. “Take this,” she said. “Tell me how to get back to my own world, and I’ll get the other ring from Darryl — you can have that, too. We won’t fight over this,” she told him softly. “No one has to kill us. If we aren’t good enough, take these, and find someone who is. All I want is to get my kids back before I go.”
Talleos took the ring, then carefully placed it back on her finger. “I couldn’t take it even if I wanted to. The metal ring is only an outward symbol of the power you now contain. That power is linked to you for eternity and binds your soul to your husband’s, making the two of you halves of one greater being, until time ceases to exist. If you only had whatever rare spark of greatness it takes to use that power, Minerva, you could create a galaxy with the flick of your fingers, form planets out of nothing, create life.”
Talleos pulled several grass stalks and twisted them together so tightly the crushed stalks stained his fingers. His eyebrows lowered. “Only one way exists to separate a Weaver from a Weaver’s ring — and that is to destroy the Weaver. Not to kill — for dying is only moving from one plane of existence to another, after all — but to annihilate. To take the Weaver’s power from you, you would have to be Unwoven, and the very matter of your soul destroyed so that not even the smallest particle of that matter remained.”
“Oh.” Minerva clasped her hands in front of her. She looked up at Talleos and chewed nervously on the side of her lip. “So the situation is thus—” She held up her hand, fingers spread. “The guys in white hats want Darryl and me out of the way because we’re the reason the universes are falling apart. The guy in the black hat doesn’t care, because we’re no threat to him, but he’s the one who’s trying to destroy everything in the first place — so what he wants, I don’t want. Darryl and I can’t just give the rings to someone who can use them — they’re stuck to us. And we’re not able to use
them.” She ticked the points off on her fingers, then stared at her hand with distaste. “Not good. Not good at all. I don’t see where there’s a happy ending in this for me, that’s for sure.”
She sighed. “So, where do you fit in all of this? If you don’t want me dead, you must be working with the black hats.”
He frowned at her. “Where is it written that there can only be two sides to any issue?” He flopped back in the grass. “In rescuing the two of you, my dear, Birkwelch and I are merely displaying enlightened self-interest. We don’t want to see the universe end — not a chance. And we’re going to do everything we can to teach the two of you to use whatever puny talents you possess.”
“Birkwelch?”
“Big blue dragon. You met him?”
“Oh. Yes. We met. Sonovabitch took my Wheaties.” Minerva was surprised at how angry she still was about that. “Why are you willing to help us?”
His eyes widened and he gave her an ingenuous smile. “Because we’re great guys.”
The warning bell started ringing wildly in her mind. She didn’t believe that line for a minute. “What happens if we fail?” she asked, and studied him with narrowed eyes.
He arched one eyebrow and shrugged. “Then we go back to the first two options. The good guys win, and you die — or the bad guy wins... and you die. So you don’t have a lot of options, huh?”
He sat up and peeked over the waving grasses, and said brightly, “Enough of that. We’re all clear — so let’s move.”
He took off toward a narrow copse of dark and twisted trees at the edge of the field. Afraid to be left behind, she jumped up and ran after him.
* * *
The Unweaver stepped out of swirling mists and green-lit fog — black-cloaked, tremendously tall, his robe billowing around him like the spreading wings of night. His face, if he had a face, was hidden within the deep recesses of his hood. He spoke, and his tones were unearthly — menacing — sepulchral. “Why have you called me forth, puny human?”
Minerva faced him — short, unimposing, and definitely outclassed. Who, me? Call you? Definitely a wrong number, fella, she thought.