Phoenix in Shadow

by Ryk E. Spoor

  “What? Oh, marvelous! Are these—”

  “They are! Phoenix, Tobimar, this is Tanvol Davrys, Seventh Light, and Anora Lal, Third Light of Kaizatenzei.”

  The two Lights bowed in the same manner as Miri, and Kyri strove to match them. “May your days be ever bright. Welcome to the Valatar Tower, Phoenix and Tobimar.” Tanvol glanced a bit farther back. “And of course you as well, old lizard.”

  “I thank you, naked mammal,” Hiriista said with a steamkettle laugh. “Greetings to you, Anora.”

  “And you, Hiriista. I see you’ve been making sure our visitors stayed out of trouble.”

  A hiss of amusement. “Oh, I think I might describe things differently.”

  “Come on,” Miri said. “We can talk later, right now I have to bring them to—”

  “Yes, yes, go on, Lady Shae’s mentioned multiple times that she wanted these visitors brought in straightaway,” laughed Tanvol.

  The next door flowered inward, rather than outward, and led to an intersection, with a corridor that obviously proceeded around the entire building, and another short corridor directly ahead, ending in a large set of double doors that looked as delicate and ethereal as the rest of the Tower. Despite that, Kyri had a feeling that she would find it impossible to break those portals unless she called upon the power of Myrionar—and maybe not even then. “Miri, is there any particular tradition or ritual we should observe when greeting Lady Shae here?”

  Miri hesitated. “Well . . . no, not really. I mean, there’s a normal bow and greeting that citizens do if they’re coming to ask her help or have her hear a case, but you’re not citizens and don’t fit in any other category. You’re unique!”

  With that, she bounced (there was no other way to describe it) to the doors and flung them open. “Shae, they’re here!”

  Tobimar failed to restrain a snort of laughter. “No ritual indeed.”

  Kyri couldn’t keep a grin off her face. “But that is Miri.”

  As they entered, they could see a similar tolerant, fond smile on Lady Shae’s face. “Yes, I see they are. You might have announced them properly . . . but all right, I see you couldn’t possibly have done so.” Shae stood and bowed, which they returned. “Phoenix of Myrionar, Tobimar of Zarathanton, I bid you welcome.” The smile took on a hint of Miri’s mischief. “And what do you think of our little town?”

  Kyri found herself laughing along with Tobimar. “Was it so terribly obvious, Lady Shae?” she finally managed.

  “That you thought we were a quaint, small country which was probably not terribly advanced? Not obvious, perhaps, but certainly easy enough to derive from your conversations.”

  “Well, as we said to Light Miri,” Kyri said, now serious, “we apologize for misjudging you . . . and for doubting the beauty and majesty of this, your capital.”

  “Apology accepted, and thank you.” Lady Shae strode down her steps to face them. As Kyri had remembered, Shae was even taller than she was, towering at least a half-head above her, huge yet beautiful; she moved like a gloomcat or other big predator, lazily yet with confident power. “I had not expected you for another several days, at least, but it will not take long to arrange a proper welcome.”

  “You mean a large and complex banquet which will include many political pit-traps for me to evade.”

  Miri giggled and then caught herself, but Shae also smiled. “Perhaps that is a bit too accurate, but yes. Miri, take them to the guestrooms we set aside, and let them prepare. Dinner will be in . . . an hour and a half, shall we say?”

  Miri bowed and then turned to the others. “This way!”

  No rest yet. But I think I don’t have much choice.

  And with what I sensed . . . now I know we’re at the right place.

  CHAPTER 33

  “There were some crystals that seemed suspicious,” Poplock told his three friends, “but I was able to blind them, if they’re watchstones, and a few wards made sure they’re not listening through those. Otherwise, nothing.”

  “Watchstones? Really?” The mazakh looked worried.

  “Like I said, I’m not sure—but they just didn’t quite seem to fit with everything around them, and this place looks like it was built with no expense considered too big, you know?”

  Hiriista went to the indicated locations and studied the small crystals, now covered with what appeared to be dull mud. After a few minutes he sighed. “I believe you are correct, my friend. A most disquieting thing to discover here.”

  “You sure they weren’t here all along?”

  “Of course they . . .” Hiriista trailed off. “No,” he said finally, “no, I am not sure. I have never been in this particular set of rooms before, to begin with, but to be completely honest with you, I have never suspected such a thing, so upon reflection I find I cannot say that there were not any such things where I have stayed in the past. Still,” he said with a sighing hiss, “it is, as I said, most disquieting.”

  “I find it almost comforting,” Kyri said from where she was brushing her hair, getting it back under control after the shower she had taken; Poplock always found that drying brush of hers fascinating, as it was such a delicately adjusted magical item of such utterly mundane utility. It also had the apparent side effect of drying clothing underneath the hair, preventing the white-and-green, elaborate dress Kyri had selected from her neverfull pack from being streaked and spotted with water.

  “Comforting?” repeated Tobimar with incredulity, as he also tended to his hair; he was avoiding the trouble of water spotting by leaving his fancy jacket and shirt off, only his singlet still covering his upper body. “What in the name of the Light do you find comforting in the idea that our hosts are, or could be, spying on us?”

  Kyri smiled, though Poplock thought he saw a very sad edge to the smile. “Two reasons, really. First . . . honestly, put yourself in their position, and especially the Lady Shae’s. Here come these people through a pass that, as far as you know, leads to something as close to Hell as the world could hold. They seem to be all good people, they appear to be heroes that you could trust, but are they?”

  “True,” Poplock said with a bounce. “And really, that’s the way we’re looking at them, right?”

  “Given what we were expecting when we came here . . . yes, I guess so,” Tobimar conceded. “So you’re saying that doing so indicates that they aren’t being stupidly trusting.”

  “Right, or at least that’s one big possibility. The other is that Lady Shae or someone else here that’s running the show suspects that we’re a danger, and they’re spying on us specifically to find out what we are and what we know.”

  “Which is almost comforting because it means that your deductions were correct and the evil you seek is, indeed, here in Valatar,” Hiriista said.

  “Right.”

  Tobimar glanced warily at the blackened crystals. “But if they’re trying to spy on us to see what we know, and they see that their watchstones and other scrying aren’t working, I’m wondering if we’re in danger right now.”

  Poplock gave a deliberate shrug. “If they’re that focused on finding out our secrets and ready to move? Yep, I’d expect they’ll be pounding on our doors any minute now. But I’m betting not. If they’re not routinely used, no one will notice what we’ve done, at least not soon. If they are routinely used, they probably still don’t want to call attention to it, and if we are polite enough not to mention it, they probably will let the subject be passed over. It becomes a signal—‘I know that you know that I know,’ if you know what I mean?”

  Tobimar laughed. “I guess I do know. Yes, if Mother for some reason was spying on one of our guests back home, and the guest found out, neither of them would ever actually comment on it unless they felt the confrontation would itself be worth the effort. You’re right.”

  “So if we aren’t suddenly attacked in the next few minutes, we can figure that we’re safe for the moment, anyway,” Kyri said. “All right. We’ve only got a half hour before
we have to go downstairs, so I have to tell you now: I sensed something dark, just when we were arriving.”

  Poplock found himself leaning forward in anticipation. Well, dust and mud! I’m actually glad we’re finding something! No wonder people back home though I was a little dried in the head.

  “Sensed what?” Tobimar asked.

  “Two things, actually. Both very strong. One of them was . . . angry. Hungry. I got an impression of fire and night at the same time. The other one was much more focused . . . felt very dark but controlled, amused, considered, and had an incredible mass of power associated with it.”

  Hiriista narrowed his eyes. “Did you get a direction? A distance?”

  Kyri screwed up her face, thinking, then shook her head. “I have to guess that it’s close—maybe in the Tower itself somewhere—but that’s just a guess, based on the fact that it was only here that I sensed it. But I suppose the Tower, with the Great Light above, could also be focusing powers like mine. Myrionar and Terian are closely allied, after all.”

  Tobimar frowned, shaking his head. “That’s what worries me most. The Stars and Sun were . . . are artifacts of Terian himself; it was said that Terian constructed them with his own hand and infused them with his power, and Terian is acknowledged even by the other gods as one of the three or four most powerful beings of all. How in the name of the Light could evil live in proximity to that power, let alone hide from it?”

  “Yeah, that’s sure been buzzing just out of reach for me, too,” Poplock said. “What I’ve heard is that anything really evil—the kind of darkness Phoenix senses and all—that even touches one of Terian’s artifacts goes poof in a big flash of light like the core of a lightning bolt, nothing left, just ashes. You’d think Demons and whatever would stay away from that like giant ants avoid Pondsparkle.”

  “You would, yes,” Hiriista said thoughtfully. “Yet do not underestimate our opposition. If—as the Phoenix’s senses indicate, and the logical progression of your quest would require—somewhere here is hidden a vastly powerful portion of a demonic conspiracy, then it is not in fact so badly affected.” He pulled out his scent-pipe, which Poplock noticed Hiriista did whenever thinking hard.

  “Still,” Hiriista continued slowly, “we can take it as a given that nothing of true evil would choose to stay near such powerful artifacts of a deity of the light unless there was some very, very strong motivation, some huge benefit to be gained from it.”

  “Well, it camouflages them, right?” Poplock pointed out.

  “Hmm, yes, I think we can take that as a given at this point. The radiance of the Lights literally dazzles the senses, to the point that even those of lesser gods cannot penetrate the light around them to see the darkness just a short distance away.

  “Yet . . .” Hiriista inhaled scent, contemplated for a moment; Kyri and Tobimar were still finishing their hair, but were otherwise silent and attentive. Poplock waited.

  The mazakh magewright shook his head with a hiss. “Yet there is more . . . much more . . . behind this. If what the stories Miri recounted say is true, then your Seven Stars are gone. Something has destroyed artifacts of one of the most powerful gods. Yet the effects of their presence remain; we can sense this in every one of the major cities that had one of the towers of the ancient days. Why? Surely the objective of destroying such an artifact would be to neutralize its effect, wipe out its power.”

  “Unless,” Poplock suggested, “they wanted to use its power?”

  “But using it would . . .” He paused again. “You may have something there, my little friend. I am utterly unsure how it could be accomplished, but the idea of taking the power of one of the gods would be tremendously attractive to any demon, if they could figure out some method to avoid said power-theft from being fatal.” He breathed out a few more scent-clouds. “I must think on this . . . and observe what is said and done. I trust you will all do the same.”

  “Oh, trust me, my eyes will be watching everywhere,” Poplock said emphatically.

  “Count on it,” Tobimar said, taking Kyri’s hand and giving it an emphatic squeeze. “So this dinner might be useful.”

  “Almost certainly,” Hiriista agreed.

  At that moment there was a soft knock on the door. “Lady Phoenix and company, dinner is served,” said the voice on the other side—a man’s voice, which Poplock thought belonged to a gray-haired man in severely-cut robes who had been just to one side of Lady Shae’s throne. This memory was confirmed when Tobimar opened the door and the man bowed low. “If you will all accompany me . . . ?”

  “Certainly, Pelda,” Hiriista said, putting his pipe away.

  Pelda led them down one of the flights of stairs they had taken to get there, but from there turned down a smaller hallway that curved around the interior of the Palace and through a doorway on one side. As they entered, Poplock felt Tobimar relax slightly and similar relief become visible on Kyri’s face as they saw that the room, while large, was no great dining hall or ballroom, and the long table in the center was adequate for ten but not for a hundred.

  “Welcome, Phoenix of Evanwyl, Tobimar of Zarathanton, and of course Hiriista!” said Lady Shae, rising as they entered. “Come, sit here to my side, that I may speak with you easily.” She gestured to three seats that were at her left hand, as Lady Shae was seated at one end of the table.

  “Thank you, Lady Shae,” Kyri said, taking her indicated place directly next to the ruler of Kaizatenzei; Tobimar (with Poplock on his shoulder) sat next to her, and Hiriista took the third seat. Directly across from Kyri was Miri, with her fellow Lights Tanvol and Anora in the next corresponding seats. “I had thought from your words that there would be a great banquet—”

  “Yes, that was my first thought, but Miri and the others pointed out that there was hardly time to properly arrange it, and undoubtedly many of the guests I would wish to attend would already have other plans this night. Time enough for that later.” Shae smiled. “And besides, I suspect you could do without such pomp for this night, am I correct?”

  “Quite correct, Lady Shae!” Kyri answered emphatically, something Tobimar echoed.

  A door on the other side of the room opened, and Shae rose with a delighted expression. “But here is one guest I had hoped to introduce you to. Welcome, Master Wieran!”

  At that name Poplock focused all of his attention on the newcomer—without, of course, being obvious about it, which was something hard to do. Fortunately, he’d had a lot of practice over the past months of looking cluelessly stupid and gazing seemingly at nothing while actually studying something carefully.

  The first thing that struck him was precision. The figure of Master Wieran was tall, angular, sharp, wearing an immaculate white outfit that covered him almost like a gown, yet was set in creases as clear as the cut of a formal suit, emphasizing the man’s height and spare figure. A single row of black buttons ran straight up the center of the sculpted gown or coat he wore, and small instruments of some sort projected from an exterior breast pocket. Wieran’s face was long, narrow, with a high forehead; his hair was moderately long and arrow-straight, white as the snow of the mountain heights.

  Black, glittering eyes peered sharply from deeply sunken sockets beneath snow-white brows and scanned the entire room with a penetrating gaze as intense as any Poplock had ever seen; that gaze seemed to linger for an instant longer on Poplock than the little Toad was comfortable with.

  Then Master Wieran’s thin-lipped mouth turned up in a smile and he spoke—in a startlingly low and gentle tone. “Thank you, Lady Shae. It was fortunate that my experiments are all in a condition to be left to themselves for a few hours.” He gave a bow that was as precise and unnaturally abrupt as the opening and closing of a fine pair of scissors. “And the chance to meet people who claim to have come from beyond the mountains, through the Pass of Night? Hardly to be missed.”

  Wieran strode—with a quick, unvarying rhythm that reinforced Poplock’s impression—and took his seat at the very end of
the table, opposite Lady Shae.

  Fascinating, Poplock thought. Symbolically that makes them near-equals, facing each other, each dominating one end of the table, making him possibly outrank even the Lights in importance.

  “We’ve heard much about you, Master Wieran,” Kyri said. “It’s good to finally meet you. I am called the Phoenix of Evanwyl, and this is Tobimar of Zarathanton and elsewhere. I understand you already know—”

  “—Hiriista, yes, of course.” That gaze flicked—the merest blink of light from beneath the brows—to Poplock again before returning to Kyri. Poplock kept still, but he had a feeling that Wieran already suspected something. And if so, he’s really dangerous. Even Hiriista had to think for a while about whether I was worth suspecting or not. “The Phoenix—a title, then. Your armor was described to me. Symbolic?”

  “Yes; I am a representative of the god Myrionar, and when becoming one of Its Justiciars, I relinquished my birth name for the symbol.”

  “Representative of a god? Most intriguing,” Wieran said, as servants came in with floating trays of food. Well, now, that’s just showing off this stuff they have. If they can do this with it, I’d think they’d have used some of it in the other cities. Poplock could think of a lot of uses for a material that could float like that. “There are only a few gods worshipped significantly in Kaizatenzei, and I have not heard yours named before.”

  Kyri gave a wry shrug. “Honestly, there aren’t that many outside of my hometown who have anymore.” She looked at the tall white-haired man. “You said ‘people who claim to come from beyond the mountains’; does that means you doubt our claim?”

  “It means I am exact in my wording, Phoenix.” The smile that took the edge off the wording was, to Poplock’s eyes, just a fractional second too late and too mechanical, a quick afterthought added by rote. “As I do not have proof that you have indeed accomplished that which was previously considered impossible, I cannot simply accept it without reservation. I therefore view your statements as claims and will continue to do so unless and until I have been presented with adequate proof.”