by Tim Powers
Aurelianus had been crouched in the bow, talking in an undertone to Bugge and the three northmen, but rose when he heard Duffy stir.
He walked back to where he sat. 'Don't fool with the bandage,' he said softly. 'Luckily your skull wasn't cracked, but you could start it up bleeding again.' He shook his head wonderingly. 'You're fortunate, too, that I've regained my sorcerous strengths. You were a mess when they fished you out of that canal. I had to rebuild your left knee completely - you'll always limp some, but I figure it will lend you color - and a couple of things inside you had to be encouraged to return to their proper places and recommence functioning. I looked into your skull, and there's no bleeding in there, though you may be nauseous and see double for a day or two. I've told Bugge what to watch for and what not to let you do.'
Duffy glanced over at the northman and opened his mouth for a feeble joke - then closed it. 'I.. .1 no longer know his language,' he whispered to Aurelianus.
'Yes. Arthur has gone back to Avalon, and you're completely Brian Duffy now. That ought to be a relief -for one thing, I imagine you'll dream less often, and less vividly.' He snapped his fingers. 'Oh, and I went through your pockets, and I want to thank you,' he said, holding up a wad of pulpy paper, 'for the thought that made you save the signed flyleaf from Becky's book. The ink washed out while you were in the water, of course, but it was a.. .kind thought.' He stepped to the gangplank. 'You and these men will be rowed away northwest, along the canal and up the Danube. There's nothing you can do here now. Now it's just a clean-up job for young soldiers.'
'Who's going to row?' the Irishman inquired. 'There's not -one of us with even enough strength left to chop an onion.'
'Good Lord, man, after that production tonight, do you think it'll be any trouble for me to conjure a few mindless spirits to row your ship for a while?'
The old wizard looks exhausted, Duffy thought - probably more than I do. Yet at the same time he looks stronger than I've ever seen him.
'Here,' added Aurelianus, tossing a bag that clanked when it hit the deck. 'A token of the gratitude of the West.'
Rikard Bugge stood up and stretched, then spoke to Duffy. The Irishman turned inquiringly to Aurelianus. The wizard smiled. 'He says, "Surter is turned back, and must now retreat to Muspelheim. Balder's grave-barrow is safe, and we won't see Ragnarok this winter."'
Duffy grinned. 'Amen.'
Aurelianus stepped across the gangplank to the shore, stooped to pull the plank away, and the oars shifted aimlessly for a moment and then clacked rhythmically in the locks. The wizard united the line and let it trail out through his fingers and slap into the water.
The Irishman got cautiously to his feet, leaning heavily on the rail. 'Do you have one of your snakes?' he called to the dim figure on the bank that was Aurelianus.
'Here.' The wizard fished one from a pocket and tossed it spinning through the air. Duffy caught it, and lit it at the stern lantern.
The ship was moving now, and Duffy sat down in the deep shadow of the high stern, so that all the wizard could see of him, until the ship rounded the nearest bend and passed out of sight beyond a stone arch, was the tiny ember at the head of the snake.
* * *
Epilogue
October Fourteenth
It was clear that Suleiman was preparing an attack. Through the dawn mists von Salm, from his perch in St Stephen's spire, could see across the plain the gathering ranks of mounted Janissaries and the milling mob that was the akinji. Inside Vienna's walls the soldiers, their breath steaming as they trotted from the barracks, gathered about the points where the wall had been crumbled by mines. Frightened women peered tearfully from windows, priests hurried from regiment to regiment dispensing general blessings since there was no time for individual confessions, and dogs, puzzled and upset by the air of tension, huddled under carts and barked furiously at everyone they saw.
Merlin stood on the wall at the northeast corner and smiled a little sadly. The west wind had resumed and gained strength all through the night, and it blew his white hair into his face now as he lifted the massive sword and laid it in one of the battered crenels.
Merlin leaned in the wide notch and stared moodily down at the surface of the muddy Wiener-Bach. So long, Arthur, the magician thought. I wish we'd had a little leisure in which to talk, this time around. And so long, Brian Duffy, you disagreeable old Irishman. You were a lot of trouble, more than I expected, but I liked you. Werner never did.. .poor Werner, who succumbed to his wound this morning at about the same time you were casting off in Bugge's ship. Oh, and you were right about Zapolya, by the way. They found a bloodstained rope hanging outside the wall somewhere near the southern gate. I suppose he's on his way back to Hungary now.
'Good morning, sir,' said a portly sentry in a stern tone, edging past the thin wizard as he walked his rounds.
'Hm? Oh, good morning.'
He sighed and looked up at the patch of dark clouds in the east that was giving way before the fresh wind. Yes, he thought, in spite of all the setbacks and reluctances, you two did what you were called on to do. You saved the beer, and therefore the King and the West. This Turkish attack this morning can accomplish nothing; it's the last desperate blow of a defeated opponent who is determined at least to leave as much ruin behind as he can.
Merlin picked up the old long sword with both hands, stared at it as if to fix it in his memory for a while, and then tossed it spinning end over end toward the water below.
He turned and ambled thoughtfully toward the stairs. I guess I'll be leaving for England in about a week, he calculated. I will leave the brewery once again in Gambrinus' capable hands.. .and there are things at home that could bear a bit of meddling with. Perhaps -
The sentry came puffing up. 'What did that mean?' he gasped.
Merlin was puzzled. 'What did what mean?'
'That sword you just dropped into the Wiener-Bach -didn't you watch it fall?'
'No.' The magician smiled. 'What did I miss?'
'Well, I couldn't see it too clear through the ground mist, you know, but I'll swear that a hand rose out of the water and...' The sentry paused, scratching his nose and frowning.
'Go on,' prompted Merlin politely. 'A hand...?' The wind was twitching his hair again and he shook it back out of his face.
'Never mind, sir,' said the sentry stolidly. 'It was a fancy, I'm sure. I haven't been getting near enough sleep -these days.'
The wizard smiled sympathetically. 'Few of us have.' He walked past to the stairs and stepped down them to the ash-dusty street. From the southeast the Turkish cannons began firing, but the wind blew most of the sound away, and to Merlin it sounded like nothing but plodding footsteps receding away in the distance.
* * *
About the Author
Tim Powers was born in 1952 in Buffalo, New York; the son of an attorney. He graduated from California State University in 1976 and since then has written more than a dozen highly acclaimed and award-winning novels, including the Fantasy Masterwork The Drawing Of The Dark.
Powers's first major novel was The Drawing of the Dark, but the novel that earned him wide praise was The Anubis Gates, which won the Philip K. Dick Award, and has since been published in many other languages. Powers also teaches part-time in his role as Writer in Residence for the Orange County High School of the Arts. Powers and his wife, Serena, currently live in Muscoy, California. He has frequently served as a mentor author as part of the Clarion science fiction/fantasy writer's workshop.
Table of Contents
The Drawing of the Dark
The Way Of The Old Ones
Table of Contents
Prologue
Book One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Book Two
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Book Three
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
About the Author