Song of the Serpent

by Hugh Matthews

  What hasn't? Krunzle asked inwardly. What is it? But he received no answer. After a moment, he said, Now what do you want me to do? Again, he heard no response, but he had by now enough experience hosting the creature in his mind that he could sense some of its moods. Chirk was waiting.

  Gyllana had put her finger to the hidden hole. "I think I know what's in there," she said.

  If she tries to open it, Chirk said to Krunzle, kill her. The same goes for any of them.

  Krunzle relayed the information to the others. Gyllana and Brond reacted as their natures dictated, both of them showing more affront than fear. Chirk spoke in Krunzle's mind again, and again the man passed on the information received: "Chirk says that to interfere with the personage in the tomb would bring an instant and horrific death. Worse, it would unleash widespread destruction. We should look for the talisman."

  Brond weighed this news and put a hand on Gyllana's arm when she expressed a disregard for the reliability of the messenger. "The snake knew about the lock. It may well know about what's under the floor."

  Raimeau clucked his tongue against his teeth thoughtfully, then crawled closer to where the thief knelt above the hidden sarcophagus. Holding his slit-goggles to his eyes, the thin man bent his head to examine the bronze snake closely and from several angles. "Ah," he said, settling back on his heels.

  "Ah?" said Krunzle. "What kind of ‘ah' was that?"

  "I have a hypothesis."

  Gyllana had gone over to the cabinet of gold objects. She held up the golden beaker, examined it for a moment, then replaced it and looked at something she held concealed in her other hand. Then she held the hidden object out where they could all see it. "Does your scheme include this?"

  In the glare it was difficult to see what dangled from her fingers, even with the anti-glare goggles. Brond spoke for them all: "What is that?"

  "The item we were supposed to be looking for," she said, "before we were distracted by diamonds and..."—she fluttered her other hand—"snake magic."

  Krunzle stood up and went to her, his anti-glare device before his eyes. Hanging from her fingertips on a thread of braided gold was what appeared to be a pendant of some dark metal, shaped like a flower rising from a coiled basket—a flower whose head was slit into several sharp petals. He found it hard to focus on the object because of the surrounding glare.

  "It was under the orc's body," she said. "It must have been hung around his neck and you didn't notice when you cut off his head." She held it higher. "Look."

  Krunzle peered closer. The thing swung in a circle at the end of its plaited thread, like a diviner's bead circling over a map. The longer she held it, the faster it spun. She reached with her other hand and stopped it. "Here," she said, pointing with one fingertip to a line of sinuous characters that ran in a raised relief along the back of the pendant. "What does that look like?"

  Krunzle looked and saw, but it was Raimeau who answered. "That is the same script as is graven into the things in the cabinet."

  "And the shape of the thing," the woman said, "is it one of those creatures you talked about, the ones with bodies like snakes and heads like lilies?"

  "I think it must be," said the thin man.

  "Indeed," said Brond. "So this is the object that led Wolsh Berbackian and the orcs—and after them, all of us—to this chamber." The bald dwarf looked around. "The question is: why?"

  Chirk? Krunzle tried again, but no answer came from the snake in his mind. He was thrown back onto his own powers of deduction. "I have been thinking," he said, "that Thang-Sha, the wizard who put this snake around my neck, is behind all of this."

  "That would make him an exceptionally powerful wizard," said Raimeau.

  "What does your snake say?" said Gyllana.

  "Nothing," said the thief. "Now that it is assured that the sarcophagus is untouched, it seems to have lost interest. I suspect that it is waiting for something to happen." Inwardly, he said, Is that the way it is, Chirk? but again he received no answer.

  "I am concerned about something," said Raimeau. "What happened to Berbackian? Something sucked the life out of him. Was it the talisman?"

  Gyllana looked sharply at the object in her hand and quickly placed it on top of the cabinet. "I want to leave this place," she said.

  "In one way or another, we have all been led here by dreams and magic," said Raimeau. "In Berbackian's case, the lure was fatal. I would like to study the place, and especially the creature entombed below the floor, but I'm beginning to think that we should leave before what happened to Berbackian happens to the rest of us."

  "Yes," said the dwarf. "I will send a guard and some of my best minds to investigate."

  "I agree," said Krunzle, "though I think we should take the gold with us. For safekeeping," he added, when the suggestion brought him hard looks from the other three. Meanwhile, he asked the snake, Chirk, may we leave now?

  "I don't think so," was the answer, but it came aloud and they all heard it. It was a new voice that spoke from the side of the chamber where stood the dais and the throne, a subtle voice that the thief had heard on one other occasion.

  The four of them turned toward the sound and saw, seated upon the throne, a diminutive figure whose face was as wrinkled as a winter crabapple, and whose long, sparse whiskers touched a robe of silk figured in arcane designs and Tien characters.

  "Because," Thang-Sha continued, "we've only just begun."

  The wizard moved one hand in a sharp gesture then struck the heels of both palms together while uttering a single syllable. The door of the chamber swung silently shut and they all heard a discreet click as it locked.

  "Now," said the wizard, "we may begin."

  "You may begin," said Brond, striding to the base of the steps, his piece of slitted wood across his eyes, "by giving an account of yourself. You are within the territory of the Regulate of Grimsburrow, and I am—"

  Thang-Sha made another complex gesture and muttered something. Brond's voice disappeared, and the dwarf choked and put a hand to his throat as he tried to speak again.

  "The harder you try," said the wizard, "the more it will hurt."

  "Leave him be!" said Gyllana, stepping forward. "My father will hear of this, and you can be assured—"

  The wizard's hands made the same motions and the woman was silenced. "This will all go much more smoothly," he said, "if you keep quiet and do as you are told. Is that clear?"

  Four heads nodded. The spellcaster made another gesture and said, "Your voices are restored. But only on sufferance." He pointed at Gyllana, then to the cabinet. "Bring me the finder."

  She crossed the room and retrieved the talisman. Thang-Sha would not take it directly from her, but produced a glass rod from within his robe and bade her slip the talisman's thong over it. He brought it close to his face, studying the design on one side and the script on the other. A thin smile of satisfaction played around his lips, then he set both objects on the floor beside the throne. "And Berbackian?" he said.

  Raimeau gestured with a thumb toward the door. "Dead and dried as last year's corn husk."

  The wizard nodded as if this news confirmed his expectations. His eyes went to the floor. "Did he make it inside?"

  "No," said the thin man.

  That news caused Thang-Sha to stroke the half-dozen long whiskers that sprouted from his chin. His small, dark eyes went to the floor. "So he did not open the tomb?"

  "None of us did."

  "Good." The wizard said nothing more, but sat with his chin in his hand and regarded the dark shape beneath the floor of brilliant gemstone. After a while he said, "Good," again.

  Chirk, Krunzle thought, what is going on?

  The snake did not answer. Instead, the question drew Thang-Sha's gaze to the thief. "Struck up a relationship, have you?" the wizard said.

  "I would not object to ending it," said Krunzle, "now that I have done what you wanted."

  "Your mission," said the wizard, "was to recover that"—he indicated the tali
sman—"and return it and the daughter to Ippolite Eponion."

  "That," said the thief, "was Eponion's understanding of the task. I don't think it was yours."

  The wizened face rearranged its wrinkles into a smile that revealed small, yellow teeth. "You are more perceptive than I took you for," said Thang-Sha.

  "So may I be relieved of the neckpiece and allowed to leave?"

  "No. I require an assistant." The spellcaster rose from the throne and stepped down to the floor, his eyes on the dark shape faintly visible through the diamond. "You others, go and sit on the steps. I want no distractions."

  "Raimeau, here," said Krunzle, indicating the gray-haired man, "is knowledgeable in many disciplines. He would make you a better assistant. I feel myself to be in the way, and would be pleased to withdraw."

  Thang-Sha sent the thief an eloquent look and raised one finger—a symbol incised into its lacquered fingernail glowed a deep red. Krunzle hurried to the wizard's side and said, "I am at your service."

  From the folds of his robe, Thang-Sha drew out a black bag, which the thief thought resembled closely the one from which he had originally produced Krunzle's boots and sword and Chirk. The wizard undid the cord that closed the sack's neck and reached in, bringing out a rod of what appeared to be gold, as thick as two fingers. The rod's length, as he drew it out, was far greater than the depth of the bag; by the time it was all out, it was a golden pole. He handed it to Krunzle and said, "Hold that," then reached in and brought out another, then still one more, passing each to the thief. Finally, he drew out a large, conical piece of gold whose base was pierced by three holes.

  Working quickly, with the thief's assistance, the wizard fitted one end of each of the poles into one of the holes, creating a tripod. This he erected over the smudge beneath the floor, adjusting it until it was positioned to his satisfaction. Then he brought a golden cord from the bag and attached it to a hook in the base of the cone.

  "The finder," he said to Krunzle.

  "The what?"

  "The thing,"—his fingers brusquely indicated the talisman—"that I hung from the glass rod. And you'd be wise not to let your flesh come into contact with it now."

  The thief retrieved the object, being careful not to touch it, and when instructed, held it so that Thang-Sha could contrive to tie it to the golden cord without letting his flesh encounter the dark metal.

  "Good," said the wizard. He stepped back and regarded the object, which had begun to spin of its own accord. As they watched, it rotated faster and faster. Now the wizard took a tube of what appeared to be carved ivory from his bag. He studied the thing he had called "the finder" through the tube from several angles. "Very good," he said.

  Krunzle was aware of a sense of expectation, not just from the wizard, but from the entity that he had carried about with him since the night in the Kalistocrat's mansion. "What is about to happen?" he said.

  Thang-Sha put down the ivory spyglass and turned on him an expression that mingled unrestrained glee with boundless cruelty. "For me," said the spellcaster, "something wonderful and long sought after. For you..."—his gaze slid over all of them—"some necessary sacrifice."

  The bald dwarf was first to his feet, reaching for the black-headed mace at his belt. But Thang-Sha gestured with a flick of his bony fingers and spat two syllables. Brond stopped and stood where he was.

  Thang-Sha said, "Release the weapon and sit down. You two, also." The mace fell with a clang from the dwarf's nerveless grip, and the dwarf staggered back to sprawl across the steps. Krunzle could see him struggle to move, but the wizard's incantation had robbed the Noble Head of all his strength.

  Raimeau and Gyllana had also made to rise, but never even got their feet properly under them before their limbs lost all vigor. They sat on the steps like puppets whose strings have been cut.

  "Izmar's Directed Thralldom," said the wizard. "A most useful spell, though of only intermediate duration. Still, it will last long enough for today's purposes."

  Krunzle had made no move. The wizard looked him over and said, "Wise. You will, at least, outlive them."

  "You need no spell to constrain me," said the thief. "I am fond of existence and would like to continue it."

  The wizard smiled. "Besides," he said, "there is still Chirk." He spoke to the snake. "Keep the man obedient to my every command," he said.

  At the back of Krunzle's mind, the thief sensed something like a confirmatory grunt. The snake also constricted the man's neck for a worrying moment, a small flexing that Thang-Sha apparently perceived, for he nodded in satisfaction and returned to his work.

  Krunzle felt a brief sense of warm contentment at the place where his thoughts and the snake's interwove. You truly are your master's creature, the thief said, inwardly, aren't you?

  Thang-Sha looked up. "Do not be harsh to Chirk," he said. "I told you, his loyalty is unshakeable. He has been mine since I found him in the sorcerers' bazaar at Sothis, many years ago." He resumed inspecting the talisman and its supports through the ivory tube, then after a while said, "All seems as it should."

  He returned to the black bag he had left by the steps and drew from it a small, thick book bound in age-cracked leather. He sat on the topmost step and opened the tome, flicked through a few pages, then became immersed in what he was reading.

  Chirk, Krunzle said, you said that disturbing the contents of the tomb would bring widespread destruction. Yet it seems that is what your master intends.

  The snake made no reply, but Thang-Sha looked up from his reading, placing a finger to mark where he had left off. "It said that? I applaud its perspicacity. But I suppose even a simple being like Chirk can sense the power inherent in the being beneath our feet." He went back to his reading, then broke off after a few more lines. "By the way, do not think to suborn Chirk against me. It is mine."

  "I was only seeking to understand," said Krunzle.

  "No, you were seeking advantage," said the wizard. "But since you will be the only audience for the most consequential act of the age, I will tell you what is to happen."

  He set down the book and rose, coming to stand near the tripod and the rapidly spinning object suspended from it. "Beneath us is an entity of vast though as yet ill-defined power. It is left over from a bygone age, from long before the gods created humankind, from before dwarves and orcs and all the modern world's panoply.

  "No one, not even I, knows the entity's true nature. It may have been a great wonder-worker of its kind. It may even have been a kind of god. What is known is that it commanded immense powers—old magic, deep-earth magic, the dark primeval stuff whose spells and incantations no human voice could ever speak."

  "Then what use are such powers to you?" Krunzle said. He idled closer to the tripod and its small, spinning burden, peering at the latter through his slit-goggles.

  "The spells themselves?" said Thang-Sha. "Useless. But the power behind the spells, the entity's great will, remains, still attached to its earthly remains."

  Thang-Sha pointed at the spinning talisman. "And this object is connected to its will, so that power passes between them. Exactly how, I need to study further. But I do know that it casts the talisman out into the world, like a fisherman tossing a baited hook, then reels in whatever takes the bait. It brings the catch as close as possible, then drains them of their life force. Thus it lives, after a fashion."

  "We found Berbackian, drained of all his substance."

  "Again," said Thang-Sha, "I find you more knowledgeable than I expect. I may keep you and see what use I can make of you." He gave the thief a considering look. "Of course, I would have to modify you, to keep you tractable."

  "I prefer my present personality," said Krunzle. "It is my life's work."

  The wizard's expression promised little. "We shall see. Remove your sword and scabbard and put them behind the throne." When the thief had done so, Thang-Sha said, "Now, back to my preparations."

  "One other question," said the thief. "The entity, whatever it was,
called Berbackian to it. But what about the rest of us? And the orcs?"

  Thang-Sha's face showed modesty clashing with pride; the latter won. "The orcs were my doing," he said. He offered Krunzle the ivory spyglass and said, "Look through that."

  The man took the tube and put it to one eye, closing the other. Immediately the blue glare in the chamber faded to a mild background glow. His three traveling companions, seated to one side against the wall, were revealed to be tightly wound about with what appeared to be smoke-gray ropes. Thang-Sha himself was much changed in appearance—taller, smoother of complexion, and far more imposing—so that Krunzle realized that his wizened, diminutive aspect was merely a facade.

  But the thing that drew the thief's attention was the tripod and the object hanging from it—or, rather, what passed between the suspended, spinning talisman and the floor beneath it: a column of multicolored light, as thick as a strong man's wrist, up and down whose length flashed a constant sparking, surging flow of bright energy.

  Krunzle took his eye from the ivory tube and looked through the glare-suppressor: nothing. He looked again through the spyglass and saw saffron and alizarin crimson alternating with azure, silver transmuting to gold then evolving into purest white. "What is it?" he said.

  "Power," said Thang-Sha, "purest power. The undiluted, sheer force of will of an entity to which space, time, energy, matter, and existence itself were once as mutable as clay in a potter's hands.

  "The connection between the talisman and the entity in the tomb is constant. It grows in strength as the talisman brings its catch closer to this chamber. Once I knew where the talisman was, by scrying the whereabouts of Wolsh Berbackian, I was able to isolate the frequency of that connection—think of it as the note produced when a taut string vibrates—and once I had identified it, I could adapt some of its power to my own purposes."

  The wizard spread his arms. "With such power, I summoned a legion of orcs to the environs of Mount Sinatuk, crushed their primitive minds and made them my slaves." He turned and smiled bleakly at the Noble Head. "I could not let your dwarves prevent the carrier of the talisman from reaching the heart of the mountain."