‘Travellers,’ answered Miranda. She glanced at Nakor who grinned at her statement of the obvious. ‘Who seek shelter.’
‘The gates are to stay shut. Commander’s orders.’
‘We’re hardly an invading force from Kesh,’ said Miranda.
‘He looks Keshian,’ said the owner of the high-pitched voice, now obviously a boy wearing an ill-fitting helm as he leaned out between two merlons to point at Nakor.
‘I travel a lot!’ shouted Nakor, his grin widening.
Miranda said, ‘This may prove difficult.’
‘You want to just leap up there?’ asked the short gambler.
Miranda looked dubious. ‘I might be able to, but could you?’
‘I’m more nimble than I look,’ said Nakor, his grin fading as if she had hurt his feelings. Then the smile returned. ‘Besides, it would terrify the boy.’
Looking up at the downturned face above them, Miranda shouted, ‘When will the commander order the gates open to travellers?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered the boy. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to arrive and tell him what to do.
‘Why don’t you run off and find someone to ask?’ said Miranda, and the boy nodded and vanished from sight.
‘I was about to say that,’ said Nakor with a relieved expression.
Glancing around, Miranda wrapped her arms around her as if chilled, though the air was balmy. ‘It’s so difficult at times.’
Nakor nodded. ‘I think the longer we abide in this realm, the more these memories will begin to feel like our true ones, and the memories we have of our home realm will fade to nothing.’
Miranda nodded. ‘I sometimes struggle to remember being Child.’ She looked for a moment at Nakor, once Belog the Archivist of King Dahun, Demon Lord of one of the five most powerful realms in the Fifth Plane of existence. ‘My earliest recollections of my mother, and even those of meeting you, are fading and becoming dream-like.’
Nakor grinned. ‘One thing remains constant: no matter the realm in which we find ourselves, or what manner of being we become, life will be a struggle.’ He shrugged. ‘That, in its own way at least, is reassuring.’
‘What you told me—’ She shook her head as if struggling to find the correct context. ‘What Nakor’s memories . . .’ She sighed in resignation. ‘What you told me in the Dasati realm about Miranda’s father, do you think that will happen to us?’
Nakor cocked his head slightly as if pondering the thought for a moment, then said, ‘If you mean do I think we shall die once our purpose here is over . . . ?’ Again he shrugged. ‘I can only speculate. There are differences. From what Pug and I surmised, Macros’s memories were overlaid on a dying Dasati, and his life extended through the Trickster God’s intercession, but the Dasati was verging on death already. We on the other hand, despite our appearances, are still demons in the prime of our power, thanks to your generosity in our home realm.’
‘You mean in not devouring you?’
‘Among other things,’ said Nakor with a widening grin. ‘It is the nature of our race to view most things as a struggle, combat or a transaction, but now that we have all these human memories and emotions . . . I remember . . . The last thing Nakor thought was how interesting his life was.’ The grin broadened. ‘And that, I must say, was an understatement.’ For an instant the grin faded. ‘If only all of these humans understood how wondrous their lives could be . . . This being that I’m becoming, this Nakor, had amazing travels and experiences. The people he knew and . . . loved.’ He was silent for a moment, then said, ‘What a powerful thing that is: love. I think Dahun attempted to engender that in our people; I think that is why your mother gladly gave her life for yours.’
Miranda’s head tilted to one side slightly, the one remaining gesture that was purely Child’s.
‘From my – Belog’s – point of view, I have been given the gift of another’s lifetime, the feelings, experiences, knowledge . . . From Nakor’s point of view, his life just got more interesting. I’m sure we have a purpose.’ He narrowed his gaze and said, ‘Kalkin may be many things, but even the gods have their limits, and for him to take the trouble to “cheat”, as he called it, and play hob with what is and is not permitted across the realms . . .’ He nodded once emphatically. ‘No, we are not here because of a whim. We are here to do something vital.’
‘Love is one of the reasons I must find Pug,’ said Miranda. ‘Just to see him . . .’ Her eyes welled up with tears and she wiped them away. ‘Damn, I know these aren’t my memories, but they feel like they are.’
Nakor said, ‘So many questions.’
‘You seem delighted about that,’ she said regaining her composure.
‘Always. Learn a simple answer and, well, it’s over; but a really good question,’ he winked, ‘now, that’s worth something.’ Then his expression darkened. ‘We need to find out why Kalkin did this to us, changed us and gave us those memories.’
Miranda looked surprised. ‘I thought that was obvious.’
‘Few things really are.’
‘We need to warn Pug about the Dread.’
‘Pug is very smart. He should have figured that out by now. There is something else.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know. But Pug will know of the Dread by now. He’s the smartest man I ever met.’
Miranda smiled slightly. ‘He used to say you were the smartest man he’d ever met.’
With an evil twinkle in his eye, Nakor said, ‘That’s why I know he’s the smartest man I ever met.’
Miranda was about to say something arch, when the small door set into the large city gate opened and a man wearing an old, ill-fitting tabard over simple work clothes appeared. ‘Who might you be, then?’ he asked.
Miranda said, ‘Two travellers trying to find a safe place to rest.’
The old man said, ‘This city is hardly that, or did you miss the blaze to the south? We’re at war.’
‘Which is why we wish to get inside,’ she said.
The old man looked tired and his expression revealed his unhappiness at being roused from his rest by the boy who had fetched him to the gate. If he wanted to know why this unlikely pair was on the road alone after dark, he put the question aside and said, ‘Well, you two don’t look like a Keshian assault brigade, so I guess there’s no harm letting you come in. There’s an inn a bit further down this boulevard, the Black Ram. Travellers are being housed there until we can sort out who’s who.’ He hiked his thumb at the boy who stood behind him at the door. ‘Teddy will see you there.’ He moved aside, motioning for them to enter.
They passed through the gate and followed the eager boy down the street. This portion of the city was shuttered and for the most part had been abandoned, though signs of a few determined souls lingered: a blacksmith’s furious hammering echoed from a nearby street, and one family had obviously kept their home; the windows were open to the warm afternoon air, despite the acrid smoke which gave a bitter tang to the air. A wagon rolled down towards the city’s southern wall in the distance, but otherwise most of this quarter of the city was still. The boy moved at a good pace and soon he indicated an inn on their right. They nodded their thanks and entered the great room.
As inns went, it was one of the biggest either Nakor or Miranda had seen, and they had seen quite a few. ‘I don’t remember this inn being so large,’ said Miranda as Nakor peered around the room for someone in charge.
‘When was the last time you stayed at an inn in Ylith?’ he asked, spying a serving woman bringing ale to a table in the back room.
She calculated. ‘About thirty, to thirty-five years ago.’
‘Things change,’ he said with his usual grin and motioned for her to accompany him through the crowd. ‘Lots of travellers from the Free Cities, Krondor, and Queg must come through here on business in LaMut and Yabon. It was already pretty prosperous when we . . . left.’ He waved around the room. ‘Lots of business for an enterprising
innkeeper.’
About thirty people cluttered the hall, occupying every seat and every table; they even stood along the walls, which were blessed with a series of waist-high shelves. At the rear of the room they found a servant who looked cheerful despite being nearly overwhelmed by the demand for her services. A plump woman of middle years, she turned and said, ‘I’ll be with you good folks in a moment.’ Then she returned her attention to the four young men she had just served. ‘That’s a silver for four,’ she said.
‘Why don’t you wait until we’re done?’ asked one of the young men sitting at the tiny corner table. He was obviously a labourer of some kind, a stonemason’s apprentice, given his large arms and shoulders and the covering of stone dust on the apron he wore over his heavy woollen shirt. His three companions were likewise scruffy and ill-kempt; none of them appeared to have shaved in a week.
The woman laughed. ‘As crowded as it is, I might not get back here until an hour after you left.’
‘Where would we go?’ He waved towards the door. ‘We step outside and one of those watchmen will fetch us back.’
Trying to keep the tone light, the woman laughed again. ‘Those silly boys?’ Her expression turned serious. ‘I’m sorry, lads, but I have my instructions. Pay as you go.’
Miranda could smell trouble coming and glanced around the room. The bartender looked burly enough to handle two, even three of these boys, but he was on the other side of the room. She glanced at Nakor, who nodded. The room was packed with people who were tired, bored, irritable and drunk. It was ripe for a brawl or a full-on riot.
Miranda gently pushed the serving woman aside, leaned over and said, ‘Pay up, that’s a good fellow.’
‘I am not your good fellow, woman,’ said the young man with a defiant sneer. ‘I’m a mason from Natal trying to get home after a long job away. I’m a man whose ship was heading south before we reached this miserable city.’ His voice rose. ‘I’m a man who has been shut up in this inn since then, with no way to get home, and I’m in no mood to argue with whores!’ He took a drunken backhanded swing at the serving woman who nimbly stepped aside.
Her eyes widened and she shouted, ‘Whores!’
The man was half-out of his seat when Miranda reached out, put her hand on his shoulder, and shoved him back into his seat so hard he cried out in pain, the pop of his shoulder joint loud enough to be heard. She continued to squeeze and the effect was instant: his eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but was unable to make a sound save a slight whimper. Colour drained from his face and tears started streaming down his cheeks.
She released him and turned to the serving woman. ‘You all right?’
The dumbfounded woman could only nod, and the mason’s three companions backed their chairs against the walls in a futile attempt to put more space between themselves and this insane, but obviously powerful, woman.
Miranda stared at them, ‘Where do you idiots sleep?’
One of the gasping man’s companions said in a terrified whisper, ‘Basement.’
Miranda simply said, ‘Go!’
All four men struggled quickly to get out of their seats, two of them helping the injured man away. Nakor laughed as they vanished into the crowd. ‘Well, now we can sit down,’ he said.
As they did so, the serving woman said, ‘Thank you.’ She blinked for a moment like a barn owl caught in lantern-light, then her happy expression returned. ‘What can I get you?’
‘What have you to eat?’ asked Miranda as the famished Nakor nodded enthusiastically.
‘I’ve some mutton on the spit that’s edible. We’ve almost been eaten bare by this lot. It’s lovely to make coin, but when there’s nothing to buy . . .’
Miranda beckoned her closer, then spoke softly, ‘There’s a wagon train from LaMut parked outside the city walls waiting for someone to let them in. Good, fresh food, flour, butter, everything you need. You might want to tell your employer and have him send someone down there to make a deal before the other innkeepers in town find out.’
The woman brightened and said, ‘Thank you, I’ll tell him straight away!’ Then she leaned over. ‘Got some stew about to finish, and there are a few hot loaves of bread left.’ She gestured over her shoulder. ‘My dad is trying to keep ’em drunk enough to be happy, but not so drunk we can’t keep them in line. Those four from the Free Cities have been complaining all day and most of yesterday, like no one else here is suffering.’ Her smile returned. ‘Drink?’
‘Two of whatever you think is best,’ said Nakor.
‘Two dwarven ales it is, then,’ she said. ‘Back in a moment.’
As the serving woman vanished into the crowd a tall figure made his way through the press until he stood before their table. He was blond with pointed ears and broad shoulders and was clad in a dark brown leather tunic, trousers, and boots. He held a long bow which he now placed butt end on the floor in front of them. Smiling quizzically, he said, ‘You always did know how to make an entrance.’
Both Miranda and Nakor glanced up and then broke into broad smiles. Miranda said, ‘Calis!’
The son of the Elf Queen and Warleader Tomas of Elvandar leaned forward slightly and said in a lower voice. ‘Aren’t you two supposed to be dead?’
Nakor laughed, and Miranda motioned for Calis to sit. The blond half-elf, half-human, part-Valheru had been a close friend of both Nakor and Miranda, and for a time much more than friends with her. Nakor had sailed with Calis on a voyage to Novindus in the early stages of the Serpent War, the invasion of the Kingdom by the demon possessing the body of the Emerald Queen. In an odd twist of fate, the Emerald Queen had once been married to Nakor and later became Miranda’s mother.
Calis sat down and Miranda leaned over to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek; then Nakor shook his hand.
The serving woman returned with two flagons of ale. ‘Sir?’ she asked Calis who shook his head.
When she had departed, Calis said, ‘A story, then?’
Miranda reached out and put her hand on his. ‘I am not who I appear to be.’ She felt a strong sense of affection for this being, and remembered that Miranda and Calis had been lovers for a time before she had met Pug.
She could feel his fingers tense ever so slightly under her hand, and pressed down lightly in a gesture of reassurance. ‘It is not deceit, nor trickery, but a strange twist of fate which brings us here.’ She glanced at Nakor who nodded.
‘If you are not two of my oldest and dearest friends, returned to me, then . . . ?’
‘It’s a long story and hard to believe,’ said Nakor. Grinning, he added, ‘Then again our little band of desperate men saw some things terrible and wondrous to behold on our travels, didn’t we?’
Calis nodded. He gave Miranda a pointed look. She returned a sad smile and said, ‘I remember everything.’ She gave his hand another slight squeeze. ‘But those memories are not mine.’
Calis said nothing.
Nakor asked, ‘When was the last time you saw Pug?’
‘A year or so ago. He came to visit my mother and Tomas.’ He looked at Miranda. ‘He was still saddened by your loss, as well as Caleb and Marie.’
Miranda couldn’t help but gasp, and tears gathered in her eyes. ‘Caleb? Marie?’ She tightened her grip on his hand; a lesser being would have endured broken fingers. Caleb had been Miranda’s youngest child and Marie, his wife.
Calis softly said, ‘In the attack that took you.’
Miranda looked away for a second, then finally she composed herself and asked, ‘The boys?’
Calis squeezed her hand in return and said, ‘Tad, Zane, and Jommy are well. There were other losses when the demons attacked your island, students and two of Pug’s teachers, but given the severity . . .’
‘I remember.’ She said nothing for a long moment, and then lowered her eyes. ‘I will tell you everything, but not now.’ A sad sound, barely a whisper of a breath, was followed by silence.
Nakor said, ‘Not that I’m unhappy to see you,
old friend, but what coincidence brings you here on the very day we arrive?’
‘Not such a coincidence, I’m on an errand for my mother. I carry word to young Lord Martin that those sent to us from Crydee to care for are safe in Elvandar.’
Composing herself, Miranda asked, ‘Why come this way? Why not take the straighter course south across the River Boundary to Crydee?’
‘Because Martin is not in Crydee, he’s here in Ylith.’
‘They have kept you waiting here?’ She indicated the inn with a quick wave of her hand.
‘They haven’t,’ said Calis. ‘I saw Martin yesterday and paused here on my way north.’
Miranda said, ‘Because you had never spent a night in an overcrowded ale house with too many strangers who haven’t bathed in weeks?’
Calis grinned and Nakor laughed. The Prince of Elvandar said, ‘Whatever you may be now, some things about you are exactly as I remember them.’ He looked across the room to the far corner. Where the bar ended, a small additional room had once been added; there was a step leading down to a pair of tables that had been placed together for a large group. All of the chairs had been moved to allow a band of workers to sit together, save one. A figure wearing a dark cloak sat in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, surveying the room. He was staring directly at Calis.
‘Ah,’ said Miranda taking in the figure’s hair and ears. ‘One of yours?’
‘Hardly,’ said Nakor. ‘So, you were curious about that dark elf and decided to linger?’
Calis nodded. ‘I was curious to see what a moredhel was doing in Ylith.’
‘And no doubt he’s curious to know what a prince of Elvandar is doing in Ylith,’ said Nakor.
Miranda glanced at the figure half-hidden in shadows and said, ‘How did you know he was moredhel?’
‘It’s in our nature to recognize our own kind, and those who are not. He travels as an ocedhel, one of the elves from across the sea, but his disguise is flawed.’
Nakor peered at the figure for a bit and sat back. ‘I can see nothing.’ He squinted, then shook his head. ‘Under the table?’
Calis nodded. ‘The boots.’
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