"I'll tell her what needs to be said," Quard said, unfolding and stretching his limbs.
Marithana said, "You were—"
"I slept. I sleep very deeply."
Gorodain said, astonished, "You return—"
"You are a complete fool, Gorodain," Quard said, in a voice that made Gorodain step back from him. "You wished for Death to take the whole world down with you. But Death serves no man's wish, nor does it wear one face. Death is particular to all it touches."
The Magician nodded. Then Quard turned to face him. "And you sigh with relief, Magician, because your guess was right, because the city did not die for your miscalculation? What of my mother, who was tortured for nothing? Of my father, who died for nothing? Of the other five?"
The Magician looked Quard in the eyes, and nodded again. "But Anni and Theleme live," he said, without any force. "And I suppose I shall, too."
"Kind of a shame," Jemuel said, poking at Gorodain with her pistol, "all those other wizards dead, and not this green toad."
Quard said "I am…what I am. Justice is another thing entirely."
Jemuel said, "Fair enough. We'll see to justice," and pointed at Gorodain. "I know a nice little cell just your size."
Gorodain shifted his hands. The Magician said quietly, "Don't trust to luck." Something appeared between his fingers, and was as quickly palmed.
Gorodain smiled grimly, shrugged, lowered his hands. "Do you think," he said to Verdialos as if the others were not there, "that you could provide me with one of those little green skulls the youth are so fascinated with? Think of it as your first task as a Serenity."
"Pharn take that," Jemuel said. "You'll die on Crab Isle."
"True enough," Gorodain said, "for I am old, and once you destroy my magic—as you must—I will be older still. Better that Death come quickly for me."
Quard began to laugh. Gorodain looked at him, and went very pale. Quard threw his head back and laughed from the bottom of his lungs. Gorodain put his hands to his mouth, and his eyes were wide and black. Jemuel looked bewildered, Verdialos turned away, and The Magician was simply gone. Quard just kept laughing as he picked up Arianai in his wiry arms and carried her into the house.
•
Arianai woke damp with sweat, her neck stiff and sore as if she had slept with it twisted, Her scalp prickled, and she struggled to recall what her dream had been, but it had melted and run away.
She rolled over, pulling free of the sweaty sheets. Quard was on the floor across the room, cradling Theleme in his arms. Theleme shifted a bit, giggled in her sleep. Quard didn't move.
Quard didn't stir at all. He just sat, eyes shut, pale limbs wrapped around the child.
Arianai felt a chill touch her eyes, her spine. Draping a sheet over herself, she went to Quard's side, crouched, touched his shoulder. His skin was quite cold. She bit her lip and tightened her grip.
Quard's eyes snapped open. Arianai nearly screamed.
"Hello," Quard said softly. He shivered. Theleme stirred, but Quard rocked her to sleep again, then put her gently down, her head pillowed on the toy camel.
"You scared me," Arianai said.
Quard's face was mostly in shadow, but two little reflections stared her straight in the eyes. "Well. The world is full of possibilities this morning."
He got to his feet, and they went out of the room, with a last look at Theleme asleep and dreaming sweetly.
Arianai turned up the lamp in the office. Quard blinked in the light then said, "Is that really what you want to be doing?" and looked down at the soft, thick carpet.
She chuckled. "Then you've no other appointments."
"Not this midnight," he said, in a different voice, and looked her in the eyes again: in the better light she could see that his eyes, which had been hazel and clear as water, were now the color of green olives.
She turned out the light before she could see anything more. She felt Quard embrace her, felt him stir.
"You're like fire," he said, and pressed his cold lips to hers.
Only mortals look back, she thought, and knew that she was mortal.
He pushed her away to arm's length, said distantly, "How can you love me?"
"Day by day," she said, "until the end of the world," and pulled him close again. She felt Quard's tears, freezing down her cheeks, and prayed she would not wake up counting the days.
Appendix: "A Liavekan Songbook"
1. "City of Luck: The Liavekan National Anthem" by Jane Yolen
"City of Luck," the Liavekan national anthem, was first penned by the Levar Andrazzi the Lucky who said that the words came to her in one of her famous Shift Dreams. The music, however, is based on an old Tichenese herding song, which Andrazzi claimed she listened to endlessly as a child. Her nurse during the 90 and 1, the traditional three-month period in which young nobles are suckled successively by members of the court to "spread the luck around" (a custom no longer honored literally), was the daughter of a Tichenese herdsman.
The song's powerful chorus is a later intrusion, often attributed to an anonymous member of the Dashif family, but denied by the current count. That chorus is often heard in the dirty sinkholes of Ka Zhir, with the first line inverted, so that numerous and—alas—scurrilous rhymes may be made upon the word "luck." We will not rehearse any of those rhymes here.
City of Luck
Come all ye citizens of luck
Who dwell within our walls.
For fortune smiles upon the quick
Who come when magic calls.
From shining strands and tragic shoals,
From docks to Wizard's Row,
The summoned magic works its weal
As Liavekans know.
(chorus)
City of luck, city of light,
Invest in us our magic might
That all our enemies will fear
The luck that reigns from year to year.
Oh, Liavek, thy towers gleam
Unworldly in the sun;
Uncorporeally made
To decompose when day is done.
For day by day and night by night
Thy magicians labor long,
Their mothers' labors echoing
To make the magic strong.
(chorus)
2. "The Ballad of the Quick Levars" by Jane Yolen
Translator's Note: This scurrilous Zhir ballad is usually sung by a drunken song-rhymer accompanying himself on the seven-stringed peg-boxed gittern and the ample bosom of a local slattern. The bitter wines of Ka Zhir, mixed with the resins of the barrels in which the drink ferments, serve to coarsen vocal chords, which is why it is a tradition in the taverns of Ka Zhir to sing-shout. This is one of the more popular tunes, with the usual anti-Liavekan sentiment.
The Ballad of the Quick Levars
'Twas the season of Buds, when the Cat overran
All her banks with a horrible miaou,
That the infamous year of Quick Levars began—
Though to this day no one knows how.
Number one was Azozo the Ancient-of-Days
Who became a Levar as a crone,
And she died the first moment that her antique bum
Touched that cold and implacable throne.
Next Bukko the Baby, still toothless and small,
Whose drools were considered so wise
That even before he had learned how to crawl,
He'd conspired in his own demise
Then Cruski the Crabby whom nobody liked,
Her unfortunate death no one mourned.
And Denzzi the Deadhead who nonetheless hiked
To a wood against which he'd been warned.
And just a day after, Emmazi the Eager
Was caught in a bedroom that caved
In, and Froz-Factual died of a meager
Supply of the trivia he craved.
Gondo the Ghastly was popped in an oast
As the joke of a baker who drank,
And Hazli Half-hearted choked on the toast
When she tried the same baker to thank.
Oh, the rota is endless; it took a whole year
Of quick deaths and destruction and doom,
Till nary a niche remained empty, I hear,
In the fabulous Levar's Great Tomb.
The bright line of succession by now was quite gray
So the nobles who ruled such affairs
Passed a law that no Levars of less than a day
Could pass on the Great Throne to their heirs.
3. "Eel Island Shoals" by John M. Ford
Translator's Note: It is doubtful that the Eel Island Shoals deserve the terrifying reputation this song gives them. However, ships are still wrecked there, despite harbor charts and warning lights; and there is something dramatic and poignant in a ship being lost within sight of safe harbor. And "Eel Island Shoals," while its lyrics are hardly inspired, can be made by a talented singer into a compelling performance piece.
Eel Island Shoals
The Fin Castle light is a thrice-blessed sight
To the sailor come finally home,
But keep a sharp eye with Eel Island hard by
For the breakers hide teeth 'neath the foam.
Now Liavek's lee of the terrible sea
Safe harbor, fair landing, home port—
But the Sea of Luck rolls past the Eel Island Shoals
And shatters the ships there for sport.
Keep a hand to the oar where the sea eagles soar,
And steer wide of Eel Island Head,
For the waves and the stones don't spare timbers or bones
And the sea does not give up its dead.
Hold fast to your lines till the Baymouth's behind
And Eel Island lies in your wake,
For the Sea of Luck rolls past the Eel Island Shoals
And reaches for bodies to break.
Watch tiller and tide, for the shallows are wide
And the ships and their sailors are small.
And the spray-shrouded rocks where the sea vultures flock
Know nothing of mercy at all.
So bear toward Fin Castle as you are bound past,
Mind the sails, keep the glass to your eye
Where the Sea of Luck rolls past the Eel Island Shoals
And sometimes the lucky sail by.
4. "Pot-boil Blues" by John M. Ford
Translator's Note: While the pot-boil is often considered to be the highest achievement of Liavekan cuisine, it is useful to remember that it is also the lowest common denominator, as, er, celebrated in this song.
"Pot-boil Blues" has numerous variations and extra choruses. Often performed as a "show-stopper" in the best places in the City, it is popular at all levels of Liavekan society.
Pot-boil Blues
They got a lot of fancy places on the Merchant's Row
That you can visit when it's time to dine
And if your pocket's full of silver, you're a man to know
Then all the people there will treat you fine
But if your ship's not in the harbor and your good suit's sold
And it's a while until your birthday's due
You better step up to the stockpot with your spoon and bowl
And join the potluck on the pot-boil blues.
We got a couple of potatoes with the evil eye
We got an onion that would make a granite statue cry
We got a fish a starvin' alleycat would pass right by
We toss 'em all into the pot-boil blues.
They got a bunch of fancy overeaters called gourmets
Who say the Liavekan pot's an art
They talk about how you can season it five hundred ways
But on this side of town we ain't so smart
Now if you're newly on the bum and you're not used to fare
Like stringy carcasses and worn-out shoes
You know it really ain't polite to ask just what's in there
When takin' potluck on the pot-boil blues.
We got a little hump of camel, not the choicest cut
We got a strip of bacon stolen from a sleeping mutt
We got a marrowbone from something, but I don't know what
They'll be delicious in the pot-boil blues.
You've got to boil it till whatever's in there disappears
And keep it stirrin' so the grease don't set
Up in the mountains they've been boilin' one two thousand years
And rumor has it that it ain't done yet!
It's true the taste is pretty grisly and the portion's small
But though this surely ain't the life we'd choose
If it's a choice between the pot-boil and no pot at all
Give us the potluck on the pot-boil blues.
We got an artichoke looks like it's had a heart attack
We got some cheese that wouldn't make a mouse a decent snack
We got a couple bites of somethin' that I think bites back
It all goes right into the pot-boil
Every night's a pot-boil
When you're taking potluck on the pot-boil blues.
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