Victor said, "Try to read Vanity's fortune. She can tell us if she feels something 'watching' her."
I heard the rustle of cards. Quentin briefly explained the positions in a cross-and-scepter spread, and started depicting a rather gloomy future, with Towers and Moons and the Seven of Swords opposing Vanity's path to happiness.
Vanity said, "Stop. I can feel it. There are some sort of creatures in the upper atmosphere that are looking at me when you do that. And you might want to redraw your magic circle. I wanted to tell you something. Amelia, are you asleep?"
Of course I was not asleep. I could hear them perfectly well.
"Guys, I think Amelia is planning on slipping away. Boggin has her bugged somehow. He can tell where she is. He's not doing it now. I assume that means Colin knocked Boggin out, if he didn't kill him dead.
But if Boggin pulls through… well, you see what I mean? The only way the group can get away is if she's not in it. That's what she's thinking."
Damn her. Sometimes I underestimate Vanity.
Vanity said, "While she was leader, I wasn't going to say anything, because, well, you know how Churchill let Coventry get bombed, so the Axis would not figure out we'd broken their codes? I thought it was like that. But if she's not Churchill anymore, then she doesn't have the right to decide to sacrifice herself… well, you see what I mean?"
Victor said, "I am not sure what we can do to stop her. If Colin were here, he could stop her from walking through walls. But even for that, we'd need a wall. We don't have anything."
Quentin said, "We have the talismans from the safe. Do we have time to examine them? We still haven't decided whether to get into the motorboat now or later."
Victor said, "We ought at least to wait the amount of time it would take a man on foot to walk here from the estate. If Colin is wounded, but can still walk averaging at one mile an hour, he would get here within the next thirty minutes, assuming he set out the moment after he fell. Let's wait at least half an hour, then decide our next step."
Vanity said, "Make it an hour. You know how Colin is with directions and maps and stuff."
Quentin said, "I agree. An hour. Okay, Vanity, let's see what you've got."
"Item number one is this fine necklace. Note the alluring craftsmanship!"
Quentin: "The green stone is the same substance as the table in the Great Hall; the same one we used to summon the Head of Bran. Oh! That reminds me of a very important issue. Bran made us swear to do nothing that would hurt the British Isles. It would not bind you or Colin, but it is very important."
Victor said, "Important, why… ?"
"Um. Let me talk to you about that a little later."
Vanity said, "Item number two is a brown envelope. It has something written on it in Boggin's handwriting. ' Remember Next Time Not to Look.' I can feel there is something the size and shape of a playing card. Should I look?"
Quentin said, "That could be a trick, like the burning key that scalded my hand. Why don't we leave item number two aside for the moment."
Vanity said, "Item number three is this. What is it?"
Victor said, "It is an ampoule for a syringe. Whatever the substance inside is, it gives off electronic signals."
Quentin said, "Nanites? What Amelia calls molecular engines?"
"At a guess, if it is meant for me," said Victor, "it is a library. Programs and codes stored in liquid form, which will change my brain if I inject it, and tell me how to do the things I saw Dr. Fell doing."
Vanity said, "You are not just going to inject yourself, are you?"
"Not at the moment. It might have to reorganize parts of my nervous system, and that might render me incommunicado."
Quentin said, "Or it could just be poison. If Boggin wanted to reactivate your powers, there could be a molecular key or antidote he has which he was going to feed you first."
Victor said, "Let me hang on to it. Who has that hypo we had earlier?"
Vanity said, "And last, but not least, ta da! We have a book, bound in black leather, with metal wires of gold and silver making Celtic knotwork and runes of mystic power on the cover. I have never seen something that is more obviously a grimoire in my life. Unfortunately it is locked shut"
Quentin said, "Hmm. Let me see that."
Vanity said, "Now, unless this is one of those ironic things where the instructions for molecular engine construction are in the book, and Quentin is supposed to inject himself with the nanites, which will engrave all sorts of spells into his brain, I think we know who gets what."
Quentin said, "It's not locked." I heard a rustle of paper.
A moment of silence.
Vanity said, "Well?"
Quentin said, "Unfortunately, this is written in the language of dreams. I cannot read it while I am awake.
But I am pretty sure this is not molecular engineering 101. That picture is showing the Sephiroth. These diagrams are astrological charts. And that… I think this is the organizational table for the pre-Adamite kings and dukes, along with their telluric and mesoaetheric correspondences. Wish I could read the captions…"
Vanity said, "So we have four objects we either can't use right now, or aren't willing to inject or look at.
And a necklace. Hey! I have a question! I wish Amelia were awake. Where is my boundary? Obviously my powers came back on, at least a little bit. And I guess this green stone is supposed to wake up more powers. But what turned on my first little bit?"
Morpheus said, "It is the boundary of dreams. The Lords of Cosmos cannot keep the powers of Night at bay. We are as close as sleep itself."
Victor said, "If that is true, Boggin could not keep Vanity's power turned off for more than one night."
Morpheus said, "It is not in the thought of the Olympians that Dream should aid the children of Phaea-cia, who were, of old, our bitter foes. Yet she is beloved by you, and we work her aid. The Lords of Utmost Night shall spare her for your sake, when we uproot the world-tree, and feed creation to the final flame.
She alone of all her race shall be spared."
I had the feeling I had lost track of part of the conversation. Who had just spoken?
Vanity said, "Something just became aware of Amelia…"
Quentin said, "Just her… ?"
Victor said, "How does your power work? Can you detect distance or direction?"
"Or who it is?"
Morpheus said, "It is Grendel. His desire for you maddens him. He sees you with his heart. Yet he comes alone, for he seeks you only to be his own. But there is cunning even in his madness, for he had taken a ring of Gyges from the finger of Erichtho, which will turn the curses of Eidotheia and confound his grammary; there is no power among you which can withstand his coming. Dream no more, for Dream cannot help you. My brother Death is near. I grant you shall not forget. Wake now."
"Wake up, Amelia! We think there is someone coming."
1.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "I wasn't asleep. Who was it who spoke just now?"
Vanity said, "That was me. I sense someone is looking for you."
I said, "It's Grendel. Grendel Glum. He is all by himself, but someone just told me he had the ring of Gyges, which he took from the finger of Mrs. Wren. Quentin, you are our expert on myths. Is Gyges a name we came across in Greek literature?"
He suppressed a smile. "No, Amelia, but we read about him in philosophy. Socrates mentions the myth of Gyges in the Republic, A shepherd found a gold ring in the grave of some being greater than man.
When he turned the collet in toward his palm, it made him invisible. He raped the queen and killed the king of Lydia. He could do whatever he wanted and no one could stop him. It is used as a symbol and example of how men act when corrupted by absolute power."
"What's a collet?" asked Victor.
Vanity answered him. "The setting. The thing that holds the stone of the ring. What do we do? Colin won't be able to find us if we run away."
Quentin said, "You said Glum was alone. If he is
bound by the psionics paradigm, doesn't that mean I can automatically overcome his powers?"
I answered, "That other guy just told me the ring of Gyges will protect him from your magic, and that nothing we have can withstand his coming."
Victor said, "What guy?"
"The long-haired guy dressed in the black robes with stars circling his head. He had a silver goblet full of sand. Colin's dad."
Victor said, "You were asleep."
"He was here! I heard you talking to him."
Vanity said, "It was a dream."
I said, "I know who it was! Didn't I just say who it was?"
Vanity said to Victor, "We have to run away. Grendel is here. He is looking at us from somewhere. I think he can hear our voices."
We all looked back and forth across the waterfront. There was no one on the boardwalk, no one on the stone wall, no one in sight on the street.
Victor was saying, "We stay. I will neutralize the magnetic anomalies in the ring to kill its magic, and that will let Quentin cast a spell on him. Quentin, I assume an assault against us is enough of a moral error to let your powers work?"
I said, "There is no time to debate the issue! We have to leave. He's too strong for us. We can come back to look for Colin later."
Vanity said, "He smells us. He's that close."
There was no one on the pier. There was no noise but the wash and crash of the waves against the piles underfoot.
Victor said, "Make a circle. Stand back to back. If he's invisible…"
I said, "No! Get into the boat! Let's take off! Visible or not, he won't be able to get at us, unless he can outswim an outboard motor…"
Quentin and Victor turned so that Quentin was looking out to sea, and Victor was facing the shore.
Quentin hefted his axe-handle as if to ready it. Vanity hesitated, but stepped between them and turned her back so that she was facing the motorboat.
I did not join the formation. "Wait a minute… !"
Quentin did not turn his head, but said to me, rather sharply, "You resigned. Stop giving orders. We don't have time to talk."
I said, "But Victor is telling us the wrong thing to do! And who says Victor's in charge anyway? Colin's dad warned us that…"
Victor said in a maddeningly calm voice, "I'd be willing to abide by the outcome of a vote. Fight or flee?"
Vanity said, "Flee!" at the same time Quentin said, "Fight. If Victor can stop the ring…"
Vanity shrieked, "He's listening! He knows what you are planning to do! He's right here! He's here!"
Quentin said, puzzled, "We should be able to hear his wooden leg on the boards."
Victor, still in a voice of exasperating calmness, as if we had all the time in the world, said, "It's a tie. I guess we need Colin after all…"
I took a few steps toward the boat, saying, "Vanity, if we run for the boat, the boys will have to come."
There was a note of panic in my voice, a shrill sound I did not like hearing.
Victor said patiently, "Of course, by that logic, if Quentin and I were to stand our ground, you would have to get out of the boat and come back. All that will do is split us into two bite-size pieces."
Vanity said to me in a quivering voice, "I'm not moving! He could be standing between me and the boat."
Her wide green eyes rolled this way and that, seeing nothing but empty docks.
Victor said, "Does that mean you change your vote… ?" To me, he said, "Get in the circle and put your back to us. We have a majority."
1
I put my hand on the ladder to get down into the mo-torboat. The others were standing in a triangle, their backs to each other, about ten feet away.
I stopped. There was something wrong, all wrong.
Quentin said in a loud, clear voice, "Mr. Glum! Are you waiting for something? Why haven't you done anything yet… ?"
He wasn't after them.
He was after me.
He was waiting for me to get farther away from them.
I turned and ran back toward the group. I had taken two steps when the boards underneath the feet of Victor, Vanity, and Quentin exploded upward with a noise that stunned my ears.
Surrounded by flying splinters and snapping boards, a translucent column of water, a hooded cloak made of glass rose up in the midst of the explosion, with droplets like shining gems flying in each direction from it.
Not a cloak of glass. It was shivering seawater, sluicing in rivulets from an unseen form that was thrusting up through the docks. These boards were at least an inch thick, hardened by years, but they shattered like balsa before irresistible strength.
Victor did not have time to turn around. A blow tore the back of his coat and sent him stumbling over the edge of the pier. Into the waters he went. I saw the hilt of a knife sticking in the back of his coat. He rotated his head as he fell, and he opened his third eye. A blue spark flashed across the pier, and struck.
Then the gray waters closed over Victor's calm face, and he was gone. He sank like a stone. He had still been wearing the chain-mail jerkin, pounds upon pounds of metal.
The blue spark struck home. Grendel Glum flickered and became visible. His face was painted, and he had a necklace of teeth rattling at his throat. A baggy gray shirt and baggy pants hung in sopping folds on his body. One pants leg had been tied off around the top of his peg leg. In one hand he held the axe-handle he had just torn from the grip of little Quentin.
Quentin had no time to cast spells or do anything but try to raise his arms. Glum clubbed him with the axe-handle. There was a sickening noise, and Quentin fell to the boards, bleeding from his face.
I tried to move into the fourth dimension. Nothing happened. I saw nothing. Even my hypersphere, my light the ghost said would not fail, was not shining.
Grendel tossed the axe-handle away, put one huge arm around Vanity's waist and, with one huge thrust of his single leg, came flying in a low tackle across the pier toward me.
I could not move. I was paralyzed with fear. Grendel didn't want me to move.
He caught me around the legs. He, Vanity, and I hung in the air for a moment as the world toppled end over end. The shockingly cold waters of the midwinter sea struck us with the force of a falling wall. It was like being stunned with a club; I could not feel my hands or feet.
I had no control. Grendel had knocked the wind out of me with his tackle. Icy salt water flooded my lungs before I could stop myself.
Swirling green-brown gloom was around us. I saw the dark pillars from the pier, reaching down to further darkness. Down we went.
Vanity was struggling and writhing, and silver bubbles came from her lips, and then stopped. Maybe Grendel had squeezed the air out of her by tightening his arm. My hands, of their own accord, clawed and struck at Gren-del's face and arms. I tried to dig my fingers into his eyes; I kicked between his legs.
My blows were slow and weak. Or landed wrong. Or Grendel did not desire any blows to hurt him.
The bottom was much, much farther down than I would have believed possible. My vision was turning red around the edges. Was it possible to die so quickly?
There was rubbish here, rusted barrel-hoops, a broken anchor, coral, bottles, a net weighted with balls of stone.
I saw a blue light. Victor slid into view, swift and quiet as a submarine, and the third eye in his head was sweeping through the murk of the bottom like a searchlight. He was not moving his arms or legs, and his coat was streaming back, revealing the chain-mail jerkin beneath. The knife was still hanging through the back of the fabric of his jacket, but whether the coat of rings had turned the blade or not, I could not see.
When the blue light swept over us, Grendel held Vanity overhead, where Victor could clearly see her.
Then, with a huge thrust of his arm, Grendel shoved her down into the mud and sand of the bottom, and threw the net over her. Her struggles grew feebler, and then stopped.
Grendel kicked off the bottom and soared through the murk. Like Mestor, like V
ictor, he had some ability to propel himself through the water by thought alone. I do not know whether his method was faster or slower than Victor's. Victor dived down to haul the net off Vanity.
I lost sight of Victor as he was carrying Vanity quickly to the surface, behind us and growing farther behind, at about the same time I lost consciousness.
2.
Dimly, I sensed a sensation of warmth, of motion. My breathing was slow, heavy, and full. Someone was carrying me. Someone who loved me. Was it Victor… ?
I came more awake. I drew a deep breath. No, not a breath. Something heavier.
I opened my eyes and sat up. My movements were dream-slow.
I was lying in the shell of a giant clam, on a soft surface made of some sort of sea moss or red-gold seaweed.
It was beautiful to the eye, but repellent to the touch, cold and rubbery. The gold weeds were half-weightless, and they floated and stirred as I sat up.
I was in a palace with a floor of gold. The ceiling was ribbed like the skeleton of a whale. Between the ribs were shingles of mother-of-pearl, nacre, and strands of hammered gold. The ribs themselves were crusted with pearl. It was more beautiful than a jewelry box, finer than a photo of a Faberge egg I once saw. And yet it was the belly of a whale. I had been swallowed.
The walls were crusts of living coral, which had been sculpted with fantastic scenes of mermaids and storms, whales and dolphins and strange leviathans. But the carvings had a crude, rough look to them, and I realized that the coral out of which the walls were carved was still alive, rough and knobbed, so that, each month, a little bit of the carvings must be blotted out and grown over.
Even as I looked, blushes like blood appeared and disappeared across the intricately carven surface, as thousands of tiny red worms stuck their heads out into the floating dirt, or yanked them back in.
On the lintel of a distant door, there were bottles of various designs and sizes, fantasy-shapes of crystal and glass. In each one was a transparent fish, with huge blind eyes, nightmare things whose faces were clusters of teeth. Their skins glowed pale, or they held little dots of light on the end of antennae. These dim lamps lit the wide, shadowy space of the gold-floored chamber.
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