Fire and Dust

by James Gardner

  «The portal is the door to the inner vestry,» November said. For some reason, she was whispering. «The key is anything shaped like a snake. I've got a little talisman in my pocket, but frankly, your friend Zeerith would probably…»

  Her voice trailed off. Speaking of things shaped like a snake, an enormous serpent had just emerged from the door of the chapel. It measured more than fifteen feet, almost twice as long as Zeerith; and although it had a male human head, it had no hair. Instead, it flared out a cobra's hood with menacing intent.

  «Honored naga,» Wheezle shouted quickly, «we come in peace!»

  «Do you?» His voice was iced with hostility. «When you hold my daughter captive?»

  «Daughter?» Zeerith whispered.

  «She isn't a captive,» Yasmin put in quickly, «she's a refugee. If we hadn't helped her out of town —»

  «She should not have been in town!» the male naga roared. «Do you think we approve of leggers stealing our children? I have missed this daughter for years. I have sought this daughter for years. And only tonight, in the moment of her molting, could I finally sense her awakened soul. It is a gift our kind possess, to locate kin. Now she has been found, and her kidnappers will pay!»

  «They didn't kidnap me,» Zeerith protested weakly. «They saved me from a fire —»

  «Silence!» the other naga commanded. «You have known nothing but slavery, since the day of your birth. It has confused you. You think of your captors as generous people who gave you food and attention; but all leggers are exploiters, child, and they want you to do their bidding. If these particular leggers have not hurt you, it only means they are more subtle than most – they snare you with honey, rather than violence. You are too young and trusting. I know better.»

  «You know fizz,» said November in disgust. «If this is your daughter, take her and be piked; but save the sermons for someone with a stronger stomach. I'm not getting paid to put up with such barcardle, and I certainly won't —»

  A beam of red light lanced from the naga's forehead. It struck November in the face, splashed out, and wrapped around her head like a veil. She lifted her hands as if she could pull loose the weaving scarlet; but the glow swept down her body like a wave washing over the shore, speeding down to her toes and out to her fingers in less than a second. Her arms jerked to a stop. Indeed, her whole body froze as stiff as rigor mortis, and she tumbled to the ground like a statue knocked from its pedestal.

  After a few seconds, the red light faded. She looked no different – still flesh and blood, not turned to stone – but if she was breathing at all, it was too thready to tell.

  Yasmin slid her sword from its sheath. Reluctantly, I did the same. «Sir,» Yasmin called to the naga, «whatever you believe, we've done nothing wrong. The truth is, we've only known your daughter a few hours, and in that short time, we've saved her life from three separate threats. Of course, you'll just dismiss my claim as another lie. However, I'm not lying when I tell you this: the fate of thousands depends on us reaching Sigil before disaster strikes. You stand between us and the portal we need. We don't want a fight, but we'll do what we must with a clear conscience – you struck the first blow.»

  Miriam raised her fists into a fighting stance, but whispered out of the side of her mouth to Hezekiah. «Why don't you just teleport us inside?»

  «I can't,» the boy grimaced. «Rivi blanked me back at the house.»

  «You've had a sleep since then,» I reminded him, but Hezekiah simply glowered.

  «Not enough sleep,» he muttered, «and not the right kind.»

  «We're waiting,» Yasmin called to the father naga. «Get out of the way, and we'll leave without a fuss. We're fond of Zeerith and would hate to hurt you for her sake; but we will if you leave us no choice.»

  «You never had a choice, leggers.» The naga's voice was venomous… not a pleasant word to consider while confronting a giant snake. «When I sensed my daughter's molting,» he continued, «she was still inside the town. I thought I'd need an army to rescue her. As it turns out, you've conveniently brought her to me… but I still have the army.»

  Suddenly, we were surrounded by scratchy rustling sounds. More than a dozen serpentine heads lifted from mounds of fallen leaves scattered around the forest – a platoon of nagas emerging from camouflage. Yasmin sprinted for the door of the chapel, but beams of scarlet light shot out from three directions and brought her down like a lassoed steer. She had time to curl into foetal position before the rays froze her as solid as November.

  Miriam cursed and threw herself on top of Hezekiah. I dropped to the ground and rolled in the general direction of the chapel, aware that snakes were probably better at dirt-hugging than I was. Out in the darkness, Zeerith sobbed, «No, please, no…»

  …then my world went scarlet, rapidly followed by black.

  18. THREE TESTS, COME WINTER

  Magic spells have many different aftereffects. Some leave you feeling as if giants have diligently clubbed every bone in your body; others cause no direct pain, but make you painfully sensitive to loud noises; a few put you into a state of insatiable arousal; and one I ran into in Ysgard left me unable to see any shade of green for three days.

  I paid the mage double for that one.

  When I awoke from the naga's spell, my throat was ragged by a raspy dryness, as if some frenzied clawed creature had crawled down to my epiglottis and was now digging its way out. There was a marble floor beneath my cheek, and lying on it had stiffened most of my muscles; but I was alive and relatively undamaged, a condition I certainly hadn't expected after the nagas coldcocked me.

  Blinking, I sat up. The space around me was huge and very white, with marble slabs on the floor, walls, and even ceiling. In front of me, a row of unglassed windows opened onto a grayly overcast day, its sky displaying that muted fluffiness that always promises snow. Narrow marble benches ran under the windows, situated so that you could lean back and prop your arms comfortably on the window-ledge behind you.

  A man was doing precisely that, sitting casually, watching me gather my senses.

  «Hello, Britlin,» he said at last.

  «Hello, Father,» I answered.

  * * *

  Niles Cavendish had aged considerably since I'd seen him last. His black hair was now amply salted with streaks of white; his moustache had turned completely gray, and every line on his face had deepened. Laugh-lines they were called, and Father Niles had obviously laughed a great deal after walking out on his wife and child.

  «How are you feeling?» he asked.

  «Physically or emotionally?»

  «Let's go with the physical for starters.»

  I shrugged, then silently chided myself – if I reverted to a sulky adolescent at the first glimpse of this man, I'd soon despise myself. Being able to act like a grown-up was something that set me apart from him… wasn't it? «No broken bones,» I said. «I'm fit to fight a pit fiend.»

  «With my sword.» He nodded down at my side, where the rapier still hung from my belt. «I'm glad it wasn't lost.»

  «You can have it back any time you want.»

  I began to unbuckle the sheath, but he waved at me to stop. «Keep it. I haven't handled a blade in twelve years; I'd probably cut myself. If it comes down to hack and slash, I'll leave that honor to the next generation.»

  «Honor,» I muttered under my breath. Then more loudly, I said, «Can you tell me what's going on here?»

  «You've arrived at the Court of Light,» Niles Cavendish replied. «The Holy of Holies for the entire naga race. Their Supreme Goddess Shekinester lives here somewhere, though I've never seen her. Not knowingly, anyway. I've seen one sodding lot of snakes over the years, and maybe one of them was divine… but who knows?»

  «Are we still in the Outlands?»

  «Indeed,» he nodded. «Only about twelve hours from Plague-Mort. I gather that's where the nagas bagged you.»

  «You know about what happened?»

  «Oh yes, they told me everything. They intended to
kill you, but your young friend Zeerith begged so touchingly for your lives, they decided to bring you to Shekinester and let her judge the case.»

  «My companions are all right?»

  «As far as I know. Of course, Shekinester judges everyone individually, and it's possible she's already passed sentence on some members of your party.»

  «That's no problem,» I told him. «A goddess must be able to tell we're innocent.»

  He smiled a rueful smile. «Shekinester is not just a goddess, Britlin – she's a naga goddess. You may not have committed the specific crime you're accused of, but that doesn't mean she'll let you walk away intact. She weighs your soul in its totality; and she weighs it on her own scale. A few years ago, Shekinester judged two men who stumbled in here after deserting some Prime-world army. She killed one man for cowardice, and congratulated the other for renouncing an immoral war. You see? Maybe another deity could second-guess dear old Snake-Mother, but to mere mortals like us, it all seems pure whim.»

  I stared at him curiously. «Is it her whim for you to sit here, smugly telling me all this?»

  «It must be. I'm still alive, aren't I?»

  «So you're working for Shekinester… is that why you never came home?»

  He looked away quickly, then tried to make it into a more casual gesture, turning to gaze out at the bleak gray sky. «I'm not working for the goddess; I'm here on trial, just like you.»

  «For the last twelve years?»

  «Maybe… I lost track of time long ago. Shekinester's tests take as long as she wants them to take. At present, I think she's studying how patient I can be. Or perhaps that's over and she's moved on to a new phase… seeing how I'll react to your arrival. You may not be real at all, boy: you may just be an illusion sent to taunt me.»

  I smiled grimly. «You may be an illusion sent to taunt me.»

  He nodded. «That's the way it is when you find yourself in a deity's back yard – it becomes hard to believe in anything.»

  * * *

  I climbed stiffly to my feet and took stock of the situation. The room where I stood was a long hall, stretching as far as I could see in both directions. It seemed to be an outer promenade around a much larger building; how big I couldn't tell, but as home to a goddess, it might extend for miles.

  Outside the window, fat quiet snowflakes had begun to drift on the air. It surprised me Shekinester allowed such weather – it couldn't be good for her cold-blooded devotees. On the other hand, it wasn't cold here in the hall, despite the open windows; obviously the goddess kept her palace at a suitable temperature and let the surrounding environment take care of itself.

  «Are we supposed to stay put?» I asked my father. «Or can we look around?»

  «Do what you like,» he answered. «When Shekinester wants to test you, she'll start wherever you are. I wouldn't go far outside though.» He gestured through the window. Now that I was standing, I could see that the building was surrounded by winter-dead gardens, and beyond them, dense forest. «Bad things happen to people out in the trees,» Father said. «You're lucky the nagas carried you through to the hall. If they'd left you in the woods, you'd soon become something's dinner.»

  «I'll stay inside,» I assured him. «I just want to stretch my muscles.»

  «Is this a way of saying you want to get away from me?»

  «You can walk with me if you like.»

  He must have realized I was only making the offer out of politeness; but he rose from the bench and dusted a few stray snowflakes off his shoulder. «After you, son,» he said, waving vaguely to let me decide which direction to go.

  * * *

  We walked in silence for several minutes. Considering how little our surroundings changed, we might have been walking on a treadmill that kept us in the same place. The walls and floor remained pristine marble, with no distinguishing features. The scenery outside the windows continued to be gardens and trees, slowly accumulating a cover of white. Nothing grew closer. Nothing grew farther away.

  Finally, my father said, «They call this place the Hall of Tests. Today it must be testing our boredom threshold.»

  «You said Shekinester was judging your patience.»

  «Perhaps.»

  He made a face and continued walking. When I was young, I could remember him striding with the grace and power of a tiger: master swordsman, hero of forlorn hopes, a legend in Sigil and many other corners of the multiverse. Now his feet slapped ponderously along the marble floor and I was forced to slow down so he could keep up with me.

  After a few minutes, I cleared my throat. «You haven't asked about Mother yet.»

  «No. I haven't.»

  «Guilty conscience?»

  «Britlin,» he sighed, «I was abducted. Something I'd done must have caught Shekinester's attention – I still don't know what. One night, five nagas simply came out of nowhere, hit me with five separate paralysis spells, and dragged me here. I know you must have suffered when I didn't come back, but there was nothing I could do.»

  I didn't answer for several seconds. Then I said, «Mother is healthy enough, but she never leaves the house.»

  «That was true long before I left.»

  «If she had a husband at home to help her —»

  He cut me off. «Anne had a grown son at home. What could I do that you shouldn't be doing yourself?»

  «I do what I can,» I snapped. «It's mostly her father's fault, I know that, but you didn't help: filling her head with stories about the horrors you've faced…»

  Father looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face. At last he said, «She already knew the world was full of horrors, Britlin; what I told her was that the horrors could be defeated.»

  «You could have stayed with her, instead of traipsing off on so many adventures…»

  «She wanted me to go!» he growled. Then in a quieter voice he said, «Anne wanted me to go, Britlin. She wanted to be a good wife, but under the surface she feared me, just as she feared everyone else but you. Whenever I walked into the room, she just… tensed like a frightened rabbit. She worked so hard to hide it – sometimes I heard her chanting to herself, He saved me, he saved me, he's not like all the rest. But she was always relieved to have me out of the house.»

  «And was she relieved when you bedded other women?» I asked.

  «Yes, Britlin, she was.» He ran his fingers sadly through his hair. «That part of marriage was beyond her. But Anne couldn't stand the thought of me living like a monk because of her. When I spent time with other women, it was a great relief to her; she was glad I wasn't… deprived.»

  «I'm sure it comforts you to see it that way.» I refused to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  «Anne encouraged me time and time again,» he answered, «and seemed genuinely pleased when I… I'm not a lecherous man, Britlin, but over the course of a lifetime, passion does occasionally gain the upper hand. When your heart is filled with triumph or loneliness, and there's a woman in front of you, preciously eager… can you tell me you've never been swept away?»

  «No. But I've never been married either. And I never had a son at home… or a daughter, as it turns out.»

  He looked at me curiously. «What do you mean by that?»

  «Did you ever tell a woman your name was Rudy Liagar? A tiefling woman?»

  He said nothing. I could see the answer was yes.

  «She bore you a child,» I told him. «A daughter named Yasmin… who may be under judgment by Shekinester even as we speak. The nagas took her the same time they took me.»

  He closed his eyes and lowered his head. «Now I know you're simply an illusion, sent to taunt me. A daughter? I have a child… a daughter?»

  «So I believe.»

  «And what is she like?» he demanded. «Is she… never mind!»

  Without waiting for me to speak, he ran to the nearest window and vaulted over the sill. He struck the ground heavily, crumpling to his knees in the thin layer of snow; but he quickly regained his feet and staggered out across the gar
den. His breath steamed away from him, and the snow clogged around the edges of his boots. He ran stiffly, as if he hadn't moved at speed for a long time.

  As if he had grown old.

  I realized, of course, that he must have an idea where Yasmin was being held… that he was going to her, or going to appeal to someone on her behalf. It didn't matter – I couldn't bring myself to follow him, although I could easily catch up with his clumsy old running. Some part of me felt pleased I'd finally pierced him; another part felt burning shame.

  In about a minute, he disappeared behind a cedar hedge. Then he was gone.

  His footprints began to fill with unhurried snow.

  * * *

  After a while, I started walking again – if I had stayed in one place, watching the snow fall so somberly, I might have crumbled into tears. There is always something sad about the first snowfall; I told myself that was all I was feeling.

  With every step along the marble floor, I replayed the conversation with my father… our first talk since he'd disappeared twelve years ago, or maybe the first talk in our lives. A hundred things I should have said rose unbidden in my mind: resentments that refused to solidify into rational phrases. I knew I was right – he'd been a bad father to me, a worse husband to my mother – but every time I put my reasons into words, they sounded childish and petty. That must be his fault too; his oh-so-noble attitude reduced me to a whining adolescent.

  And still the snow fell. Still the hall continued unchanging in front of me: white floor, white wall, white ceiling. Suddenly, my anger at my father veered off into fury at the bland surroundings, and I cried, «Enough is enough! Where's the door out?»

  The only answer was silence, all echoes of my voice soaked up by the snow outside.

  Should I take the easy exit: hop through an open window into the garden? If this boring sameness was a test from Shekinester, leaving by the obvious route wasn't a clever answer. Perhaps there was a hidden way out, some concealed door I was supposed to find… or perhaps this featureless hall was simply an illusion I could break with sufficient willpower.