by Garon Whited
“What’s up, Seldar?”
“Sire. Torvil is on your mission and Kammen is sleeping. It falls to me to guard you.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
“With your permission, I would like to arrange an additional guard detail, as well as a runner to carry messages for you.”
“I leave it in your hands, Seldar. Shouldn’t you be excused from guard duty? Don’t you have a palace to run?”
“Dantos is seeing to the palace and helping arrange things for me with the Baron. But yes, Sire, I do have other duties. This is why I ask for the additional guard detail. You have not yet agreed to permit us to include others in the personal guard of the King.”
“Oh, right, right. Look, Seldar… skip the permission thing, okay? You’re wise and you’re just. You know what I’ll like and what I won’t. If it turns out you’ve started something I don’t like, I’ll tell you why and we can discuss it. Right now, I have a magician to find, a horse to recover, a war I don’t want, a kingdom to lose, a mountain range full of nasty people to spy on, a whole family of evil magi after my head, and a granddaughter on an unauthorized field trip. You’ll understand if I’m more than a little distracted.”
“Of course, Sire. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You’re already taking a ton of worries off my shoulders.”
“I meant with whatever you’re doing now.”
“Oh. Oh! Yes, actually, you can. Throw up a spell for yourself, to block detection magic.” He obligingly did so. I tested my sensor; it worked. I kept getting bleed-through from other people, though. I could focus on Seldar and get a deep hum, but there was always a constant cacophony of tones and buzzes and hisses in the background. It was like listening to a faint radio station with a street full of traffic outside. It was there, but it wasn’t clear.
“Okay, that’s working,” I told him. “Thanks. I still need to refine it some more, I think. Maybe an additional level of filtering based on other psychic characteristics? It won’t help with people I don’t have on file, but ought to be useful for finding people I know…”
“Sire?”
“Sorry. Thinking out loud.”
“Good. I hope I will not be responsible for understanding any of that.”
“Later, after I teach it to you. I’m busy inventing it.”
“I see. Is there anything else I may do to assist you?”
“Got a good way to solve my other problems?”
“Not all of them, Sire, no.”
“Well, then, that’s—wait, what do you mean ‘not all’?”
“I only have ideas about some of them, Sire.”
I put the sensor aside and pulled two chairs closer together. I ushered him into one and took the other.
“I am all attention.”
“You have mentioned a number of magi families,” he began. “From what you have told me, prior to your most recent disappearance, the Fries family is the one proving difficult?”
“Yes.”
“Will not the other families aid you against your enemy?”
“I doubt it. They aren’t able to confront the Fries directly, not now. I suspect they won’t want to have anything to do with me, either. Ancient curses, sunken continent, loss of magic, all that stuff. Long story, but they don’t like nightlords.”
“Not even a Lord of Night who will give them back the magic?”
“I… hmm. I’m not sure.”
“As I see it, Sire, they will be subjugated under the Fries or destroyed. You can give them the power to resist their enemies.”
“I made their enemies powerful,” I pointed out.
“Perhaps they will see it so,” Seldar admitted. “They may also welcome your offer to open the power of this… nexus?”
“Nexus, yes. This could work,” I mused. “The problem is what happens afterward. I may be trading in one family of trouble for several families of trouble after the magical shootout.”
“A definite threat traded for a potential threat?” he suggested.
“I’ll have to look into it. But that will be later; I can’t risk hitting a time distortion and disappearing right now.”
“Time distortion?”
“Yeah. See, inter-universal travel is weird.”
“I will take your word for it, Sire. One world is more than enough for me.”
“No, you need to understand what happens, at least, if not why.”
“Very well.”
“See, while we’re here, when a candle burns down one band, it burns down about one band everywhere else. If I’m here and you’re in Carrillon, we can each light a candle and wait until it’s almost burned out. We then scry on each other and see the other candle has burned about as much. Time passes the same no matter where we’re standing. Right?”
“There may be exceptions, but I accept your statement as the norm.”
“Good man. This similarity of time doesn’t appear to hold in other universes. A candle may burn one band here, but burn ten bands there—or barely have melted the wax around the wick. I spent four days or so there, but sixteen days passed here.”
I didn’t go into the possibility I was in a world shockingly similar to the Rethven I knew. I just went with the assumption I was in the right universe. Everybody recognized me and there wasn’t a duplicate of me. That meant it was close enough, surely. But is there a world exactly like Rethven, but where I (or the analog of me) went away and never returned? Are the other versions of me out there?
It’s possible. Somehow, I don’t like it. Still, the thing about infinity still applies. You can look through an infinite number of even numbers and never find an odd one. I need to research the rules for alternate universes. Later.
“I see,” Seldar said, tugging at one ear in thought. “You have no way to tell how the ribbons of fate flutter in other worlds?”
“Not until I come back. I don’t know if gate connections do anything to it, or if it’s cyclical, or even if it’s in constant change or periodically alters. Right now, it’s random. I’ll work out the pattern, if there is one.”
Someday. But I didn’t add that, either.
“So, your enemies may have years in which to work while we speak here?”
“Or only a few flickers of the candle may have passed since I returned.”
“That would seem more likely.”
“How so?”
“From the description of your escape, they were prepared to work with vast powers. Yet, how long was it between that escape and the summoning attempt? And a second attempt has not yet been made. Surely, time must flow more slowly for them while we speak here.”
“Seems reasonable,” I admitted. “It could go wrong very quickly, though. Remember, we don’t know what causes a shift in the time differential—assuming something does—or how rapidly the ratio changes naturally.”
“Then we should work quickly.”
“As usual.”
“Indeed.”
“So, the last thing to do is go over there and discuss fighting the Fries family with other families. Got it. In the meantime, do you have any other solutions to my problems?”
“A few. Have someone run over Lotar in the street. Or have a word with his god, since I suspect Lotar is after personal power, not righteousness. His faith benefits from this, of course, for he sees his church as a vehicle to power. I would not think it meets with the full approval of his god, but I am hardly an expert in such matters. You may wish to speak with Mary about him, or see him yourself.”
“Oh? Has Mary been looking him over?”
“Yes, but she has made no report to me. Doubtless she wishes to speak directly to you.”
“Doubtless. I’ll talk to her later and see what I learn. Don’t misunderstand me; I trust your judgment. I just don’t feel comfortable ordering someone’s assassination without knowing he deserves it.”
“I know.” Seldar smiled. “It comforts me.”
“Still on the lookout for the Demon King?�
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“No. Merely testing to see if you are learning from the example of your knights. It is a part of my duties.”
“Fair point. What else can you solve for me?”
“I am not sure I have solved anything for you,” he observed.
“Maybe not, but you’ve got ideas. That’s a few steps ahead of me.”
“The Queen?”
“What about her?”
“You wish her to rule, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps… you could encourage some of the less-cooperative of the lords to formally acknowledge her authority. This might smooth her path, and yours. If they fear you enough to obey your Queen, as your regent, then your goal is accomplished, is it not?”
“There’s a thought. Got a list of people I should talk to?”
“I shall have one for you before morning.”
“Excellent. Now, I have a question about the Duke of Vathula.”
“Bob?”
“Yes. I understand he’s the Duke of Vathula, and Vathula is the entire mountain range. Were you aware I—as the Demon King—made some sort of post-mortem arrangements with him? So far, I’m told T’yl is supposed to be dead as part of the arrangement. Tort should be, except they couldn’t find her. They’ve also begun killing off my biological children, but I put a stop to it.
“Which,” I continued, “leads me to an aside. They didn’t kill and exsanguinate a hundred children in Carrillon on the night of my most recent departure. I’ve got them looking into it because I’d like to find out who did it and why.”
“I was unaware of this,” Seldar stated. “Perhaps Torvil or Kammen might know more.”
“Consult with them. I want to know more about my dark elf secret police assassin death squads before I call Bob up and ask him what the hell is going on. If they’re doing things on the orders of the Demon King, I probably want to stop them—but I think it unwise to just come out and ask, ‘Hey, what did I order you to do?’ It shows weakness, which is a very bad thing with elves, orku, galgar, and most other unpleasant races.”
“Humans, too,” Seldar added. “I will discover if there are any unusual occurrences.”
“Mostly deaths, I would imagine.” Seldar nodded in agreement. “I also want to know more about Thomen and his relationship with the Queen. I strongly suspect he’s doing bad things to her brain and compromising her judgment. I want to know what he’s doing, specifically, and why. If I have to, I’ll ask him myself. Since that’s likely to end badly—I’m not feeling terribly patient or emotionally stable—let’s try to keep things from getting that far.”
“I will begin these investigations immediately, Sire. For the works of the Vathulans, I will report as I find them. When I discover who is responsible for the night of the hundred deaths, do you wish them delivered to you? Or will you insist on being personal?”
“I’m sure the murderers were only acting under orders from someone. It wasn’t personal. But I’m taking it personally.”
“May I remind Your Majesty that a good king does not take anything personally?”
“Even on my best day, I’m a terrible king. But your point is well-taken. Find out who is responsible and deal with them.”
“I shall see to it, Sire. However, I feel I should mention you—not the Demon King—are regarded as a great king, and can command the unquestioned loyalty of thousands.”
“Which is why I’m trying to get out from under the crown and stick Lissette with the job.”
“Aha. Now I understand!”
“Good. Why are you still sitting there?”
“No one has arrived to take my place as your bodyguard, Sire.”
“This could get old. Really quick.”
“We will try to make it as painless as possible.”
Beltar chose that moment to push the door open—either excellent timing or he was listening at the door. We both turned to look. He was in his black armor. He also had a tabard on over the armor, held in place by the sash. The tabard was a uniform grey, either lead or slate-colored. My device—the sword-through-dragon arrangement—was embroidered up near the shoulder, rather than plastered all over the chest.
“My lord?”
“Hello, Beltar. Good to see you again. Do come in. We were discussing the horrors of the Demon King.”
“A lengthy discussion,” he agreed, entering. “I don’t wish to interrupt, but if I might have a few moments?”
“Always a few moments for my knights.”
“And priests?”
“Let’s not get into that, please. Seldar? Does he count?”
“I am most agreeable to Lord Beltar’s assumption of the duty, Sire. With your permission, I will be about my tasks.”
“Go.” Seldar went; Beltar sat.
“So, Beltar, what’s on your mind?”
“There are a number of individuals who are nearing the borders of this life, my lord.” His my lord was really the word herus (herr-OOS), from the original Imperial tongue, and was more an ecclesiastical honorific than a political one. It wasn’t quite on par with directly addressing god, but it wouldn’t be out of place when speaking to Sparky while she borrowed Tianna’s mouth, either.
“I thought this sort of thing was handled without me.”
“In a way. However, not long ago, a dark horse started coming to the houses of the dying and—”
“Yes, I know. It was Bronze, somewhat colored.”
“I thought as much, especially when the priestess of the Mother of Flame began to speak of it. Now, though, the horse no longer visits. Now there exists the hope they may be found worthy of a personal escort, so they come to the Temple of Shadow. We are at a loss, my lord.”
“You’ve tried sending them to the Temple of the Grey Lady?”
“We have. The trouble is, the Grey Lady will not end a life. She merely waits until it ends. Many who seek you out are not about to die, but are too weary of life to continue.”
“Great. I’m the euthanasia specialist,” I grumbled. At least I’m not a vulture, I reflected. Or not as much as I feared. I’m not waiting for something to die so I can swoop down on it; they’re queuing up and asking me to kill them. That’s better. I’m pretty sure it’s better. I hope it’s better.
“What shall I tell them?” Beltar asked, anxiously.
“Good question. Can we get them up here easily?”
“Easily? No, but arrangements can be made, if you wish it so.”
“How many are we talking about?”
“Fourteen, at present.”
“Hasn’t Mary been doing anything with this? She knows what to do. Or did she not explain…?”
“Oh, yes, my lord. For many days, she has served as the doorway of death for those who have the strength to climb the throat of the Kingsway. The ones who come to the Temple are those who cannot make the climb, or those who revere you above all other gods. Most of those who yet remain simply hope for you to return to escort them beyond the realm of life.”
Do the divine ascension thing one time and you never hear the end of it, I reflected.
“All right… let me ask this. In your opinion, how many of them want some sort of full-family ceremony? The whole farewell and funeral thing? How many are going to take a lot of my time?”
“Given opportunity, my lord, all of them.” He frowned and sighed. “Lord, they will accept a swift and painless death, without fanfare, without fuss, if that is your will. But is it not meet a man should die with some feeling of significance? Of importance? The feeling his death is something of an occasion?”
I sat there and stared at him for a minute. He shifted uncomfortably and lowered his eyes.
“Beltar, have I ever told you how impressive you are?”
“You once mentioned the burden of a great potential, my lord.”
“You’re well on your way to living up to it,” I told him. “All right. Make arrangements for them to come here. You can come up the Kingsway and arrange them in the great hall.
Notify Dantos and work with him to set it up. They can bring their families, but warn them the ceremony will not start until after dark and they will not be staying overnight—up the Kingsway and back down again before dawn. Got it?”
“I do, my lord. You are most gracious.”
“I’m a self-centered, arrogant jerk who doesn’t want to waste all night hurrying down into the city for a circumstance of pomp and ceremony before hurrying home again.”
“You will forgive me, my lord, if I do not believe you. While your reasoning might serve to dissuade others, you forget I believe in you, as you believe in me.”
I stood up and turned back to my sand table. He stood up when I did.
“That will be all, Beltar. I’ve got work to do,” I told him, trying to keep my voice level.
“Yes, my King,” he replied. I heard the door grind shut. I dabbed at my eyes—the sand from the sand table must have irritated them.
Torvil brought me a selection of items from Tort’s chambers. A little jewelry, a staff—probably a spare, judging by the spells in it—some pieces of clothing, a stuffed doll, and a comb. There was a spell on the comb to destroy any hair it collected, but not the hair it combed. It was a good piece of work.
I remembered the doll. I gave it to her shortly before I left to have a showdown with Tobias and the Devourer at the Edge of the World. What was it doing here? If she almost never came to Karvalen, why leave it here? To keep it away from the Demon King? Or to keep it safe until he was banished? She might have simply left it behind, but I won’t believe that.
Torvil’s armor had a nasty burn mark across the chest, stretching up to the helmet, discoloring part of the face shield. It was repairing itself, but it would be a while before he could see to his right at all clearly.
“What happened?”
“Defensive spell on a small box, Sire. I thought I had it counteracted, but I was wrong.”
“Is it gone?”
“No. It fired off one charge.”
“Obviously, whatever is in the box isn’t supposed to be disturbed.”