by Dave Duncan
“Warned by whom?” Sagorn demanded, white eyebrows perking up like a dog’s ears.
“A God.” Rap spoke offhandedly, just to annoy him. “I’m not sure which God They were — one doesn’t think to shoot questions when Gods appear. I thought that the end of the millennium was awhile off, but I seem to have interpreted the date too literally. A year or two either way… When did the War of the Five Warlocks begin?”
“Around 2000.” Acopulo was not certain, though, and he had left himself open to another thrust from the old jotunn.
“The Festival of Healing, 2003, was when Ulien’quith fled the capital,” Sagorn snapped. He was excited, and that was encouraging. The old sage was not easily persuaded, and if he accepted that the coming year 3000 was important, then something in his endless studies of ancient lore had led him to that belief. “You are right, your Majesty. A year or two either way does not matter.”
“But the millennium itself does!” Rap agreed. “The pixies disappeared in the War of the Five Warlocks. Now his Majesty has seen a pixie. That seems to fit, somehow, doesn’t it? Every sorcerer from the wardens on down seems to have disappeared — I detect almost no occult power in use anywhere. I sense a terrible evil overhanging the world. Warlock Raspnex’s warnings of chaos and the fall of the Protocol — those may fit, also, although I am far from ready to trust the dwarf. Any dwarf.”
The great pending evil was rooted in Dwanish, and therefore dwarvish in origin. Not knowing that, the mundanes frowned disbelievingly and began to argue. Rap started to explain and was distracted by farsight. Downstairs in the kitchen, a dirty rag hanging on a nail had started to move in a breeze that had not been blowing until now.
He felt the hair on his scalp prickle. The shutters had been forced, and two massive hands were gripping one of the bars that blocked the window. The owner of those hands was still outside, and hence shielded from him, but their size and their gray color were unmistakably dwarvish.
The bar bent like a rope and was removed. Its neighbor followed, a moment later. The hands grabbed the stiles of the opening; a large head appeared, and massive shoulders. Raspnex squirmed into the room, and the ambience shivered as he used power to complete his acrobatic entrance and land on his feet.
He found Rap at once, and recoiled in shock. For a moment the ambience was shadowed by images of thick stone walls. “I come in peace, your Majesty!”
Raspnex believed that Rap was still his better at sorcery, but there were no secrets in the ambience.
Trapped!
“Then you are welcome,” Rap said. “You are in no danger from me. Warlock.”
The warden of the north was squat and broad, in the manner of dwarves. However he might look to a mundane, in the ambience his age was obvious. His hair and beard were still a normal iron-gray, but the turf on his chest was silver. The years had softened his rocky muscles like cooled lava, and his skin hung limp on him. He was still a powerful man, though, as his treatment of the window bars had shown. Now his agate eyes slitted in astonishment as he appraised Rap’s image in the shadow world.
“So I see!” He grinned, showing quartz-pebble teeth.
He turned and thrust an arm out through the blank of the window embrasure. With a shiver of power, he hauled another man inside bodily, and then there were two dwarves down there in the kitchen.
Two sorcerers — no bets on that.
The second dwarf was an adolescent, but age had nothing to do with prowess in sorcery. He inspected Rap warily. Apparently reassured, he closed the shutters without raising a hand, while Raspnex started for the kitchen door.
“What the Evil happened to your powers?” he demanded angrily. “Or is this some sort of trickery?”
“No trickery,” Rap said. “They’re long gone. I can’t pull a rabbit out of a hutch now.”
“That’s impossible!”
“No, but it’s a long story. Who’s the enemy?”
“My nephew.”
“Zinixo!” Just what Rap had feared — but it was a great relief to know that Raspnex himself was not on Zinixo’s side. If he were, Rap would be a devoted slave already.
“Thank the Gods I have only one!” the dwarf said sarcastically.
In the ambience, the two of them were face to face. In the slower mundane world, Rap’s companions had barely registered his sudden silence, and Raspnex was trudging across the kitchen, closely followed by his young companion. They wore the drab, shabby work clothes that dwarves preferred, and they were both wet with melted snow.
So even a warlock dared not use sorcery in the open now? God of Horrors!
“I thought I had nailed that blackguard into a box he’d never get out of!” Rap said bitterly. He had used every scrap of his enormous demigod’s power when he sealed his enemy in an occult shielding. How had the former warlock escaped?
“Thank Bright Water,” Raspnex growled. He paused to scan the house. “Name of Evil, this place is a labyrinth, isn’t it?” Approving images of mine tunnels… “She gave him Kraza.”
Kraza? The name was familiar. Raspnex threw up a brief image of a female dwarf, quite pretty by dwarvish standards, and then Rap remembered. The wardens had sent her as their emissary, the third time they had begged him to take Zinixo’s place on the Red Throne.
Raspnex had located the correct staircase. He scowled at its ramshackle condition and chose to levitate up it, perhaps not trusting its treads to withstand his great boots.
His young companion grinned and followed suit. He jangled the ambience less than Raspnex did, which meant he was intrinsically more powerful. His occult image was more solid, too, which was usually a good indication of occult potency.
And that was the key to the whole mystery! That was how Zinixo had escaped from his cocoon to threaten the world…
Rap’s mundane companions were all regarding him with apprehension. As for as they were concerned, he had been leaning against the fireplace and staring glassily at the floor for the last couple of minutes.
“Stand back from the doorway. Centurion,” he said. “Don’t go for your sword. It will do no good.”
Hardgraa reached for the hilt automatically, then reluctantly released it. He stepped a pace sideways.
“Cousin!” Shandie said, jumping to his feet. “Rap? What’s wrong?”
Even as Rap named the visitor, the warlock hurled the door open and stamped into the room. “You’re a fool, imp!” he growled, glaring across at the imperor.
Fury flickered over Shandie, but he bowed respectfully. “You honor us with your presence, your Omnipotence.”
“You can forget that rot! No more omnipotences. It’s over!” Dwarves were not known for tact, or delicacy of phrase. “No more wardens, no more warlocks, no more witches. Why in the name of Evil didn’t you get out of town while you had the chance?” Raspnex stalked forward to the center of the room, dominating it completely, although everyone else was much taller. “Flee, I told you! But oh, no! You had to come into this warren, on the one night in centuries when you would leave a trail through Hub that a blind toad could follow! Idiot!”
The imperor flushed darkly in the flickering candlelight.
The second dwarf followed the warlock in, slamming the door. There was a shimmer of sorcery on him, probably a loyalty spell. He was very young, with a hint of down like gray moss on his sandstone cheeks. His hair dangled in elaborate curls like iron turnings. Typical dwarf, though — his pants and boots had been patched repeatedly.
“Tell us why you came, Sorcerer,” Shandie said coolly.
“I’ll be buried if I know!” Raspnex pointed at Rap. “Well, I suppose I came to appeal to him, but I see now that I wasted my time. I’d hoped he could help, but he can’t.”
“Who’s your companion?” Rap asked.
“Grimrix. He’s a votary. Don’t laugh at his hairstyle or he may turn you into a woolly caterpillar.”
The youngster scowled; blue fire flickered ominously in the ambience.
“Steady!” t
he older dwarf snapped. “Well, imp,” he said aloud. “So you didn’t listen to me! Who outside this room knows where you are?”
“No one,” the imperor said, “except Legate Ugoatho.”
“Who’s he?”
“Head of the Praetorian Guard.”
Raspnex snorted. “They’ll have gotten him already, then. One of the first they’d go for. In fact, it’s amazing they’re not here yet.”
“The legate is utterly loyal!” Shandie protested.
The warlock showed his big teeth. “Not anymore.”
“Tell them the problem,” Rap said sadly.
“You tell them. I already tried, and seems they don’t heed me.”
“I’ll have to be quick, though.” Time was precious, Rap realized. Whether or not Zinixo had brought in his main occult strength yet, if he had perverted the head of the Praetorian Guard, then a thousand men might be on their way already. Four carriages stood outside in the snow, there were tracks. “The problem is Zinixo. I’m sure you remember him.”
“Former warlock of the west.”
“Right. He tried to destroy me, and I won…” Then Rap recalled something else, and looked to Raspnex. “A year ago a God told me that this mess was all my fault. That must be because I didn’t kill Zinixo when I had the chance, and the excuse.”
“You did worse than that,” Raspnex said grimly. “Much worse. But carry on. Can you explain to these mundanes what you did to my nephew?”
As he described how he had rendered the sorcerer impotent by enveloping him in a magic-proof shielding, Rap wondered what error could possibly have been worse than sparing Zinixo, that vindictive, lecherous, sadistic…
“So what happened?” the imperor demanded.
Raspnex shrugged his bull shoulders. “Oh, he went totally insane. He’d always been unstable, even as a kid. He’d always been suspicious and timid, and the greater his power grew, the more timorous he became. You believe that, imp?”
“I’ve met people like that,” Shandie said. “They think the world is out to get them.”
A lot of dwarves thought that way — both Raspnex and Grimrix were notably jumpy now — but Zinixo had carried distrust to the point of obsession.
“So he can’t use his magic,” the imperor said, frowning. “Why is he dangerous?”
“Because of Bright Water,” Rap said. “She couldn’t break my spell, either, but she must have taken pity on him. She gave him a sorcerer.”
“Gave him?”
Raspnex snorted and snapped his fingers. Young Grimrix stepped forward obediently at the summons, but occult fire flickered faintly again. “Sir?”
“Tell them how you feel about me, sonny.”
The boy blushed and looked down at his boots. “I love you.”
“There! See? He’s a votary. I’ve laid a loyalty spell on him. He’ll do anything to help me.” Raspnex glanced at the kid, showing his pebble teeth again. “He’d die for me! Actually, his power’s greater than mine. It took three of us to hobble him — me and two of my other votaries. Now do you understand?”
The mundanes were radiating horror and fright as they realized the possibilities.
Raspnex thumped a massive hand on Grimrix’s shoulder. “Go and scout. See if anything’s happening outside.”
The boy nodded and transported himself down to the front door. He opened it, peered out cautiously, then vanished from Rap’s ken.
It was all so confoundedly obvious now! Zinixo had collected at least a dozen votaries in his brief tenure in the Red Palace. Because he saw danger everywhere, he had also made it his business to identify as many of the other wardens’ votaries as he could. With a sorceress eager to do his bidding, all he had needed to do was set Kraza on the weakest. Then the two of them would have sought out another and jointly imprinted that one. Not just votaries — they must have hunted down every sorcerer they could. And so on… Rap explained to the audience.
“He’s been at it for almost twenty years,” Raspnex added. “He’s got an army of them now, all loyal to the death. We call it the Covin.”
Shandie sank down again on the arm of his wife’s chair. His face was taut. “Why did nobody stop him?”
“Because nobody knew!” the dwarf rumbled in his sepulchral voice. “Except maybe Bright Water, and she was too crazy to care. I think he was extra careful with her brood, anyway — he made his compulsion secondary to hers, to take effect after she died. So she didn’t mind. Now he’s cornered all of the sorcery in Pandemia!”
The crowded room fell silent as the mundanes struggled to comprehend the disaster. Sagorn sat down again, also, muttering and shaking his head.
“So although he has no real sorcery of his own,” Shandie said, “he controls an army of sorcerers? How many?”
“Scores, maybe hundreds. All eager to help. And the little snit may have his own sorcery back too now, if the Covin’s been able to break Rap’s spell.”
“Surely it was the wardens’ duty to prevent such an abomination?”
“It was, but they didn’t know it was happening until Bright Water died.” Raspnex’s eyes were hard as flint. “They brought me in as the new North in the hope I could stop him, because I knew him and how he thinks. But it was too late.”
The imperor looked around the group, but no one had any comments. “What does he want?”
The dwarf snorted. “Everything! I told you — the greater his power, the more fearful he is! He knew he’d become a threat to the Four, so he feared the Four, because they were the only power that could threaten him. That’s how he thinks.”
“That was why you came to the Rotunda today?”
Thunder rumbled in the ambience. “Of course it was! Why are you so stupid? We expected him to strike when we answered your summons at the enthronement, so he could swat all four of us at the same time. Probably he’d have blasted us as he blasted Ag-an, years ago. Grunth and I got the jump on him. We made you imperor, sonny, but it isn’t going to do you any good.”
Shandie frowned. “And why destroy the thrones? Zinixo did that?”
“No! I did!”
“The four thrones were occult,” Rap said. This conversation was a stupid waste of time! Nevertheless, the imperor had a right to know, and Rap himself had no idea what was going to happen next. If Zinixo’s Covin had already infested the city, then the situation was as close to hopeless as he could imagine. “They were portals into the wardens’ palaces. He could have forced entry through them.”
“I thought you didn’t know all this?” the imperor said.
“I didn’t, earlier. Partly I’m working it out as I go along, from what Raspnex told me as he came in — you weren’t privy to that conversation, is all. He hasn’t used sorcery on me yet, although he could. And you’ll have to take our word on that. You can’t trust anyone now, your Majesty. Once Zinixo’s votaries pin a man down, he’s theirs. As Raspnex says, Legate Ugoatho would be a logical first choice. He’ll serve Zinixo from now on, to the death. They all will.”
“To what purpose?” Shandie demanded grimly.
Rap shrugged. “He’s mad, he sees danger everywhere. The imperor is powerful, so he must be loyal to Zinixo — everyone must, who has any sort of power at all. He’d make everyone in the world love him, if he could.”
“Where are the Four?”
Rap looked to Raspnex. “Good question!”
“Gone,” the dwarf said. “Most of their votaries have been stolen from them. Lith’rian panicked first and fled to Ilrane. Olybino was next. He’s just vanished. Can you imagine what Zinixo will do to those two when he gets his hands on them? No, you can’t possibly imagine. Even I can’t. But it will be long and nasty — that I do know.” He pulled a face. “And I’m not on his friendship list either.”
“And Grunth?”
The dwarf shrugged, rolling his eyes.
“So Zinixo will imprint me with a loyalty spell?” Shandie demanded, glaring.
“Slow, isn’t he?” the warlock said
, in an aside to Rap. “Of course. It will be easier than proclaiming himself imperor. The Impire is just too big for him to ensorcel everyone, and a dwarf imperor would not be acceptable — he would always be frightened of revolution, see? But you will reign for his benefit. You will serve him loyally to the end of your days.” He jabbed a finger like a crowbar toward the child asleep in Eshiala’s lap. “And so will she, and her children after her! You know how long sorcerers live.”
“No!” Shandie bellowed. “I won’t have it!”
The dwarf curled his big mouth into a sardonic smile. “And your so-beautiful wife? My nephew is oddly partial to female imps… Now don’t you wish you’d taken my advice?”
Shandie put an arm around Eshiala. “What is your advice now?”
Again the dwarf shrugged his barrel shoulders. “I may be able to get us out of here. May, I said. He’s so suspicious that he tends to be too cautious. He may not commit his real strength quickly enough to block me.”
That sounded like a very leaky lifeboat to Rap. As soon as the fugitives emerged from the shielding, they would be visible in the ambience. There was no hiding place in that featureless void, no way to outrun a superior force. Only power mattered.
“If I can escape…” Shandie said. “If we can… If you can get us out of here, what then?”
“Retire. Hide. You can’t hope to win your impire back, you know. Just go into hiding and maybe, in a couple of centuries, your descendants can come forward and claim their inheritance.”
The mundanes stared at one another in dismay, while Raspnex curled his lip contemptuously at them; but in the ambience he was scowling up at Rap with a worried expression. “The kid’s taking a long time, isn’t he?”
“Let’s hope he’s still yours when he comes back,” Rap said pointedly. “Zinixo’s here, in Hub?” he added aloud.
“Maybe. More likely not, not yet. But he’s sent his minions. I could smell ’em.”
“So could I. And I’m not exactly his best friend, either, am I?”