The Way Between the Worlds

by Ian Irvine

  “I don’t want to know if gates still work,” Shand snapped. “The secret will die with me! There are some things we are better off without.”

  “What about you, Yggur?”

  “If I had a hundred gates at my disposal I wouldn’t make one to help her,” he said coldly. He blamed the loss of Maigraith on Karan too.

  The road was steep and long, and the nights hard, especially on the windswept track beside the Garr. Karan was hideously uncomfortable, for every careful step by her bearers sent such a jolt of pain through her that she wept, and at night it was still cold enough for the tears to freeze on her cheeks. She lay awake, remembering how hrux had taken the pain away, and wanting it now. It wasn’t a desperate longing, no more than an itch, but always there.

  On the way Llian took Shand aside. “Some time back, you said you would make up for what you did to me.”

  “I did,” said Shand indifferently. “What do you ask of me?”

  “Karan had an old silver chain that we found in Katazza. You pawned it for her when I was in Yggur’s cells in Thurkad. The chain is very precious to her. If you can get it back…”

  Shand jerked like a pair of frog’s legs on an alchemist’s battery. “It might be… difficult to recover. Because of the war, I mean.”

  “Will you try?”

  “I will,” Shand spoke to the other side of the road, and strode on ahead.

  At their pace it took five days to travel out of the high mountains and onto the ridge path that led down past Carcharon to Gothryme Forest. Late on the sixth day they passed the bleak ruin, standing on its ridge like a broken bottle. Karan’s eyes misted over, thinking about her father. Her yearning for the solace of hrux grew stronger.

  They kept going that night, unwilling to camp on the path, and at the bottom crossed over the stone bridge. The gullies she had walked across after hythe were running now and soon would be impassable torrents. Spring was on the way at last.

  They broke their fast in the pavilion by Black Lake, rested for an hour and then headed on. The stretcher-bearers trod carefully down the cliff path. The steps were wet with melt. Llian, taking his turn at the back of Karan’s stretcher, was lost in memories.

  “What’s the matter?” Karan asked.

  “Oh, I was just thinking. Last time I came down I was on the stretcher. And then, just here the thranx appeared.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that—it’s long dead.”

  “But how many more are at large now?”

  The last part of the journey seemed interminable, but finally they were down, splashing through mud among the granite tors where the first green shoots of spring had begun to appear, and along the well-worn track to Gothryme Manor. Karan had a momentary fear that some disaster had befallen her home, but its stone chimneys and green slate roofs appeared over the top of the hill. Gothryme stood before them just as it always had looked, a little, old place, rather shabby, with the weathered scaffolding extending down one wing and the gardens drab and bare.

  “It looks deserted,” said Karan, fretting.

  They turned around between the two wings and saw half a dozen children chasing one another across the garden beds, and in and out through the half-built walls. One of the cherry trees in the orchard was just coming into bloom. The children shouted and ran to stare at the strangers. People appeared at the back door, and among them Karan saw the white hair and tall stooped figure of old Rachis, the mainstay of Gothryme and of her life since her father’s death. She let out a great sigh. Everything was going to be all right after all.

  They wanted to carry her up to her bedroom and put her in the great square bed, but, although in considerable pain, Karan was having none of that. “Put me down just there,” she said, indicating the space between the fire and the window in the old keep. “I’m sleeping there until my plaster comes off. I want to see everything.”

  That night they had a banquet, feasting on surplus Aachim food carried down from Shazmak (though more than one of the Gothryme folk complained about the weird foreign stuff), and wine from Karan’s cellar. A whole stack of wood was burned, so that everyone could bathe away the mud of the past week. Karan itched unbearably under her plaster but had to be content with a wet cloth.

  At Gothryme they heard news for the first time in weeks, and it was not good news. Strange creatures had appeared from nowhere, all over Meldorin. Creatures out of mythology: intelligent ones like lorrsk and thranx, but wild beasts too, large and small, in every form imaginable. Elludore Forest was especially thick with them.

  The following afternoon Karan was back on her stretcher, checking on the condition of the gardens and the rebuilding work, when a stranger rode up to the front door with an escort of two soldiers. “Who can that be?” she wondered idly, making pencil marks on her garden plan.

  “One of Yggur’s lieutenants with dispatches, I suppose,” said Llian.

  “I’d better go and make him welcome. Carry me in, please.”

  Entering the hall she saw a rather thickset man with black eyes and a crooked nose, talking to Yggur. His legs were long and spindly, making him look top-heavy. “He doesn’t look like a soldier,” she said. “He looks like a clerk.”

  “Or a tax collector!”

  She stared at Llian. Karan had forgotten about that problem.

  Yggur gestured in her direction, whereupon spindleshanks headed across to her. “Karan Elienor Melluselde Fyrn?”

  “That is my name.”

  “I am Garlish Tunk, tax collector for the district called the Hills of Bannador. Here is my warrant.” Opening a leather case he displayed a document inscribed on parchment with black ink. It bore Yggur’s seal at the bottom.

  Karan did not even glance at it. It was hardly likely that he was an impostor. “I know who you are.”

  “Your remit,” said Tunk, “is assessed at 540 tars. Here is the audit.” He handed her a paper scroll tied with a black ribbon.

  “An appropriate decoration,” she said, not looking at it either.

  “Please check the audit,” said the tax man. “The rule of law applies in Yggur’s realm, and he requires everything to be done regular.”

  Karan read the paper. So many tars for her house; so many for the land, the road and the bridges; a head tax on her tenants and workers; the tax on her fishing rights to part of the River Ryme; another tax on the forest of Gothryme.

  “What’s this? A tax on the forest?”

  “It contains much valuable timber.”

  “It’s worthless. There’s no way to get it down.”

  “Do you relinquish the title then?”

  Karan said nothing. Give up the title to land! It was unthinkable.

  “I cannot pay your 540 tars,” she said.

  He frowned. “How much are you unable to pay?”

  “Any of it! I have no money at all.”

  “Cannot pay!” He wrote that down. “Then what steps are you prepared to take to discharge your obligation?”

  “I have no obligation!” she said furiously. “Bannador is a sovereign realm. Why should I pay to repair the damage of the war your master brought against my country, destroying the land and ruining me? Damn you! I refuse!”

  “I will take that as being an appeal to Lord Yggur,” he said, and called him across.

  Karan glared at Yggur, scarcely able to believe that he required such a sum of her after all that had happened. “A quarter of that sum would bankrupt me.”

  “The realm is in ruins and has to be rebuilt,” he replied with icy calm. His rage against her was as strong as ever.

  “It was you who ruined it!” she snapped.

  “That’s history! Everyone must contribute.”

  “You had no trouble raising money for your stupid wars!”

  “You have more than most, Karan. Surely you have ways of paying the debt.”

  “I have none,” she said. “All my resources are used up. There is only one possibility.”

  “And what is that?
”

  “Faelamor owed me a debt of some hundreds of tars.”

  “Really?” said Yggur. “How so?” His eyes glinted dangerously.

  She hesitated. “Payment for my trip to Fiz Gorgo to steal your Mirror.”

  Yggur almost had a fit. “You’re not improving your case!” he snapped.

  “What she left in Elludore is mine, if I can get it.” Karan fingered the ebony bracelet that would dissolve the illusions there.

  “What good is that to me? The roads and bridges must be repaired now. Elludore is rife with beasts. It may never be safe to go there.”

  Shand came up behind Yggur and put a hand on his shoulder. If anyone had influence over the man it was he. “In this particular case there are mitigating circumstances,” Shand said. “I think that an argument can be made for an extension.”

  One side of Yggur’s face twitched, then he nodded coldly. “Very well! In view of your situation, Karan, and what you have done for us, which I acknowledge, I will give you grace until the end of autumn. But if it is not paid then, your lands and possessions to the value of your taxes are forfeit.”

  The problem was only postponed. The sum would hardly be more affordable in the autumn even after the best of seasons.

  The next morning the company continued on to Thurkad, for there was Santhenar to be ordered, and all sorts of creatures to be hunted down. The world had to be remade.

  “And someone must make it,” said Yggur as he dragged himself onto his horse. “Though what is the point I cannot imagine.”

  Karan waved them off through the doorway. Llian came back inside.

  “Well, it’s all over. At last!” He wandered aimlessly around the hall and went out in the direction of the kitchen.

  It’s not all over, Karan thought. Nothing ever is. She lay back on her bed, staring up at the blackened beams. The manor was completely quiet.

  Her healing bones ached, and again she felt that desire for hrux. She pushed it away, as she was used to doing, but this time it came back stronger than ever. Karan turned her head so she could see the fire, but that also reminded her of the drug, and how she had burned it that night up in Gothryme Forest. Right now she would have scratched through the burning coals to get it, to feel that rush of power and invincibility. To escape the pain and despair.

  “Are you going to leave me too?” Karan said that afternoon.

  “I suppose you’ll be off to the college any day now. I dare say you’re getting bored with me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” Llian said, and tickled her feet just to annoy her, and to see her helpless laughter.

  “I am reckoning up every one of your unkind deeds,” Karan said, rather more irritably than usual, for the discomfort was unbearable and she had not had a good night’s sleep since Shazmak. “Don’t think that I won’t exact a price when I’m better.”

  Llian was not intimidated. He pulled the blankets up, tucked her in, then sat beside her on a cushion. “What are you doing?” she asked, suspicious, but when he held out his hand she slipped hers in it.

  “What’s the matter, Karan?”

  She burst into tears.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this day for nearly two years,” she wept. “But it’s all gone wrong. Look at me! I’m a useless cripple and Yggur’s going to take Gothryme away. And… and…”

  “And what, Karan?”

  She turned her head away. “It’s too awful. I’m no good. I want you to go away. Go back to the college and find someone else.”

  Llian was taken aback, but decided to put her to the test. “Actually,” he said thoughtfully, “I do have a friend at the college. She’s not at all like you though. She’s tall and elegant, with beautiful dark hair and she has big—”

  Karan gasped, punched him in the belly, then tried to scrunch her upper half into a ball.

  “I was teasing you,” he said softly. He untangled her arms from around her head. “So, you don’t want me to go away after all.”

  “No!” she whispered.

  “Let’s see if I can work out what the problem is,” said Llian. “Do you think, because you can’t have children, that I don’t want you?”

  She sat up painfully. “How did you know I can’t have children?”

  “You’re triune!” He hugged her tightly. “I’ve known for ages.”

  “And… you still want me?” she said as if she couldn’t believe him. “Don’t you like children?” She sounded suspicious.

  “I’d love to have children. But I want you more.”

  They lay together for some time. It was awkward because of her casts. Karan was still as tense as wire.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?” he said.

  “Isn’t that enough?” she cried.

  “Tell me, Karan!”

  “It’s hrux! I want it all the time now. I thought the longing would go away but it’s stronger every day. I can hardly think of anything else.”

  Llian sat silently. Hrux addiction was something that only she could overcome. All he could do was support her as best he could. But how? Then he saw the way. In fact it had been on his mind all the way home from Shazmak.

  “I wonder, would you like to hear a little tale?” he said.

  “A tale?” she said irritably.

  “A bedtime story.” He put on his best teller’s voice.

  “It’s not bedtime!”

  “Nonetheless! It begins like this: Once upon a time—”

  “Is it romantic? I like romantic tales best.”

  “It could be,” Llian said.

  “But not sad, like the one about Jenulka and Hengist. I couldn’t bear a sad tale today.”

  “Not particularly sad.”

  Karan sighed and snuggled her head against his shoulder. “Well, at least it begins in the right way,” she said grudgingly. “The traditional way.”

  “Once upon a time there was a small girl with red curly hair and eyes as green as bottles. She was a cheerful child, even when it was hard to be cheerful, and that was most of the time. Her father was dead, and her mother too, and she lived with her mother’s elderly cousins who treated her very badly. The only hope in the poor girl’s life was a dream she kept having. Then, after she grew up, her life was so miserable that she completely lost the dream.”

  “What dream?” Karan asked suspiciously.

  y:Jan_200927_01_2009_Xml_KeyingCompare-CompletedmergedThe Way between The worlds_332-370.txt

  “Well,” said Llian with a sly grin, “she knew that, of all men, tellers were the handsomest, the boldest and the best lovers.”

  Karan gave a derisive snort. “Poor fool!”

  It’s working! Llian thought. “And since she was little, she had dreamed about wedding a teller.”

  “Oh really?”

  “And not just any teller. She had her eye on a master chronicler of the College of the Histories, and he the handsomest and boldest of them all.”

  “I look forward to you introducing me to him,” Karan said with mock sarcasm.

  “Ah, what a man he was, for his was an inner beauty that made her sing inside.”

  “That’s what all the ugly ones say!”

  “Hush!” said Llian. “When the teller smiled at her it was like the sun coming out after a week of rain. And when she heard him tell his tales it made her dissolve inside.

  “Now comes the bad bit,” said Karan.

  “Unfortunately, this teller had one or two character defects, though of the teensiest kind–”

  “I think I know this story,” murmured Karan, squeezing his hand. “He was vain beyond all vanity and proud of his art to the point of arrogance! He knew nothing but thought he knew everything. He was so curious that he pried into everyone’s business—he just couldn’t stop himself. What’s more, at every single other thing he was so useless that it’s a wonder he managed to feed himself. He could never walk down a step without falling on his face. The wonder is—”

  “You’ve heard it already
,” Llian said sorrowfully. “And the wonder is—?”

  She practiced fluttering her eyelashes a couple of times. “The wonder is that she, who was so beautiful that the moon hid its face when she went outside, who was clever and resourceful and brave and kind—”

  “Yes?” said Llian impatiently. “What is this wonder?”

  She smiled enigmatically, looking up from under lowered eyelashes. “The wonder is that she loved him so,” she said softly. “Go on with the tale, Llian. What did this paragon of a teller do?”

  “It happens that, not long after fate threw them together, he fell upon hard times. No fault of his own, you understand—”

  “Of course not.”

  “They were hunted across the world and had many adventures together. Horrible, gruesome adventures, which is good. That kind make the best telling—”

  “Don’t bother with all the tedious details,” said Karan. “What happens at the end? That’s all I want to know.”

  “It’s bad manners to interrupt the teller. I’m sure I’ve told you that before.” He sighed loudly. “Very well. Though they had traveled the world together, sharing everything, there was one thing he had never been able to say to her—”

  “What?” cried Karan, shaking him. “What couldn’t he tell her?”

  Llian smiled. She had forgotten all about the pain, and her longing for hrux had vanished.

  “Stop grinning like a loon and finish the story!” she shouted. Rachis put his white head around the door briefly, smiled and went away again.

  “He loved her more than the moon and the stars—”

  “What about his college and his books?” she interrupted, but now there was a shining light in her eyes.

  Llian pressed her hand to his lips. “He loved her more than his college, his books, his pens and paper, his writing desk, his ink bottle—”

  “Get on with it!” Karan cried in a frenzy. “She knew all that long ago.” She tried to sit up. Llian helped her, very gently.

  “But…” he paused deliberately.

  “Quick, quick!”

  “This great teller, this master of all the words in the dictionary, could not find the courage to say those four little words that had been in his heart for more than a year. Poor man, he was terrified.”