LIAVEK 3
edited by Will Shetterly and Emma Bull
Copyright
LlAVEK
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace/1986
CatYelling/2015
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1986 by Will Shetterly and Emma Bull
"A Happy Birthday" copyright © 1986 by Will Shetterly.
"Before the Paint Is Dry" copyright © 1986 by Kara Dalkey.
"The Rat's Alley Shuffle" copyright © 1986 by Charles de Lint.
"Dry Well" copyright © 1986 by Nathan A. Bucklin.
"Dry Well of Dondar" lyrics copyright © 1986 by Alison Bucklin.
"Choice of the Black Goddess" copyright © 1986 by Gene Wolfe.
''The Ballad of the Quick Levars" copyright © 1986 by Jane Yolen.
Acknowledgments
The editors would like to thank Professor Elmer C. Birney of the University of Minnesota for improving our acquaintance with camels; Fred Haskell, for telling us the name of the other doorkeeper; and Melissa Pierson, the copyeditor of this book, for reasons that would be obvious had there been no copyeditor.
Dedication
For Susan, Beth. Terri, and Val, who make it possible—and fun.
"A Happy Birthday" by Will Shetterly
EARLY ONE MORNING in the month of Fruit, The Magician stood on a tower that rose over Liavek's Old Town. A late summer breeze bore the smells of the sea, and mingled with the tang of brine were the traces of smoke from cooking fires, the aroma of pot-boils simmering and bread baking in brick ovens. The breeze also brought the cries of seagulls and a healthy murmur of conversation, curses, greetings, laughter, bits of song—all the noises that a successful center of trade and art should produce in early morning. The City of Luck gleamed in sunlight reflected from tiled roofs and painted stucco walls. A slight smile touched The Magician's youthful features. If there was something of wistfulness in that smile, there was contentment, too.
A new sound came from behind him, of light footsteps on the stairs. A new smell joined those of morning: a hint of copper and jasmine. Then a woman's body pressed against his back and her arms embraced him. He felt her stand on tiptoe to kiss his neck, then heard her say, "You're being rather flashy this morning."
He shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I've never seen Liavek from this height."
"I thought you were advertising for clients. Liavek's never seen a tower on Wizard's Row."
"Well. not in a few generations, anyway. Besides, it's only visible to magicians."
He felt the woman nod. "It's beautiful."
''The tower?" The golden cylinder was half again as high as Mystery Hill, usually the highest point in Liavek.
"No, my vain love. The city." She moved to his side, and he put his arm around her. After a moment, she lifted a hand and said, "Here." She held a box wrapped in silver cloth.
He raised an eyebrow.
She smiled. "Don't pretend you'd forgotten, Trav. You just felt like waking well before noon. You just felt like expending Rikiki knows how much power raising a tower that only people like us can see. Right." Slightly off-key, she sang:
On each birthday, for the hours
Mothers labored giving birth,
Folk receive from unknown powers
Luck, a gift of unknown worth.
On each birthday, wizards wrestle
With their birth luck to invest
Birth luck's power in a vessel
Granting magic on request.
On each birthday, sad folk wander
Hoping luck will alter fate.
Happy folk who will not squander
Happiness stay home and wait.
Happy birthday, happy luckday,
May kind fortune follow you,
Luck's capricious, luck loves patterns.
May my gift shape luck for you.
She thrust the box at him. "Happy birthday."
With a laugh, Trav set the box on the wall and quickly unwrapped it. Her present's nature was obvious when the first corner of the box was revealed. The sides and bottom were teak, but its top was a tessellated inlay of ivory and rosewood. "It opens?"
She nodded, and her wiry bronze hair bounced about her face.
''Thanks, Gogo. How?"
With a smirk, Gogo slid one of the side panels. The game board tilted up, and shah pieces lay beneath it in felt-lined beds. Each had been carefully carved and painted, so their living models were easy to identify. One set of pieces stood on bases of enameled Liavekan blue and the other on Tichenese yellow.
Trav moved his finger across the rows. He touched the figure of a small girl in long robes. "The Levar, dressed as she was on her last official birthday."
"Who else for shah of Liavek?"
He tapped another, a middle-aged man in the red robes of the Faith of the Twin Forces. "And His Scarlet Eminence, the Levar's Regent."
"Of course. Who else for sultana? His reach extends to the limits of the board. I think he'd be flattered."
"I do, too." Trav touched two others, one of himself and one of an old woman who wore her white hair braided about her head. "The Ka'Riatha and me. That's very flattering, but you could've used yourself for a wizard."
"I could've used half a dozen folk. But you've been The Magician for nearly three hundred years; you have to be there. And Granny's the link between the old city of S'Rian and the new one of Liavek."
Trav's finger brushed over the two Liavekan towers, one being the Levar's palace and one Fin Castle, and rested again by a stocky, older woman in a gray uniform and a blue cloak sitting on a racing camel. "City General D'genli for one warrior." He touched a man astride a white horse. The man's red cape helped identify him, as did two flintlock pistols in his sash, as did two dark scars on either side of his face. "And dear Count Dashif for the other. An interesting choice."
Gogo wrinkled her lip, then said, "Admiral Tinthe would have been more appropriate, but a ship would've taken too much space on the board."
The soldier pieces were a miscellany of Liavekan inhabitants: a ship's captain with a shaven head, a white-robed priest of the Church of Truth, a red-haired Levar's Guard, a gaudily dressed entertainer of indeterminate sex, an elegantly dressed noble carrying a walking stick, a street musician playing a cittern, a slender girl in clothes too large for her, and a tall, attractive woman with a whip coiled about one shoulder. Trav paused by the last. "That's the woman from the Tiger's Eye? Who are the rest?"
"Just folk who caught my eye."
Trav nodded as he scanned the other pieces. "The Emperor of Tichen for the opposing shah; his daughter for sultana. I agree. For wizards, the Guild of Power's Old Teacher and Young Teacher." He touched the latter. "Someone new has taken the Young Teacher's part."
"Yes. Djanhiz ola Vikili. They say she's more impetuous than Chiano Mefini, but more powerful, too."
Trav laughed suddenly and pointed. "King Thelm and Prince Jeng of Ka Zhir for Tichenese soldiers! You do have a wicked wit, my love."
She grinned. "Just because they don't know they're pawns—"
"It's a little frightening to see Liavek's opponents laid so neatly out."
"Isn't it consoling to see our defenders?"
"Not really. Well, I suppose." He kissed her and said, "Thank you. I suppose we should go below before my magic fades." In spite of his words, he made no move toward the stairs. "I wonder who'll take part in the next game between Liavek and Ka Zhir?" He glanced at the figure of the Levar's Guard, then looked from the set of playing pieces to Liavek below them. "And I wonder if Tichen's Old Teacher has a similar shah set?"
•
Bejing Ki, Old Teacher of the Guild of Power, flew over the sands of the Great Waste in th
e belly of a large red bird made of wicker and painted cloth. Her apprentice, a nomad boy named Chiba, sat before her, peering through the red bird's eyes and guiding its flight with levers that controlled the angle of its wings and tail. Bejing's power had lifted the bird into the air above Tichen, but the former Young Teacher, Chiano Mefini, had designed it so well that Chiba's power was sufficient to propel it forward. The Old Teacher's thoughts were free to drift or plan as the Old Teacher pleased. She tried to anticipate her actions in Liavek and found she could not.
A cluster of images continued to return to her. She heard Chiano whisper his story, and she saw him gasp and die when he finished. She thought of The Magician, and how weak he would be in less than an hour. Chiano had said that today was The Magician's birthday, when the thing called power by the Tichenese and birth luck by the Liavekans would flee whatever vessel Trav had invested it in and return to his body. And while he labored to reinvest his luck before his birth hours ended, he would have no magic to use on other things. Every spell he had ever cast would have failed. Trav, The Magician of Liavek, would be as defenseless on this day as any wizard can ever be.
Chiano Mefini had been her sister's son. The Old Teacher had loved him as if he had been her own. Someone would pay.
•
A very smaIl girl in a clean, unbleached tunic ran through the Canal District of Liavek's New Town. No one chased her, and she did not seem to chase anyone else, so most people smiled and stepped aside for her. A few frowned and muttered about "children today."
Far ahead of her, two men in the gray of the Levar's Guard walked toward the municipal hall. Both wore light wool capes of Liavekan blue, thrown back from their shoulders since the morning had already begun to grow warmer. One was a tall, stocky man with his hair tied at the nape of his neck; the other was slimmer and shorter with reddish hair, though his complexion was as dark as any Liavekan's. The girl's black eyes widened when she saw them and she tried to yell, but she was too tired and too far away. Her calls of "Rusty! Rusty! Wait for me, Rusty!" disappeared among the sounds of the street.
The two were about to turn onto the Street of the Dreamers when a dog ran into the red-haired man's legs. He tripped into a rack of costly clothing set beside a shop called Master L'von's. An old man ran from the shop at the sound, then stopped. "I suppose you're trying to flush some damned Zhir counterfeiter from the ladies' undergarments, Lieutenant?"
"No, I—" Rusty pointed toward the dog, but it was gone. "I tripped. Sorry."
"'S'all right." The man and the guards set up the rack again and brushed dust from the clothes. "Nothing hurt but the reputation of the Gray Guards, eh?"
Rusty winced and shrugged. As the man went back into his shop, Rusty said, "Two days counting baubles in a ship that stank like a dragon had died in its hold just because the Navy's too incompetent to sink a captured pirate. Then our replacements relieve us an hour late. Now this. I swear I—"
The girl ran up to him. "Rusty, Rusty! You gotta come help!"
Rusty squatted to catch her in a hug. "Sessi! What's happened?"
"I was playing ball, and the ball rolled into a street, and it disappeared!"
He laughed. "That's odd, little sister, but it's hardly a catastrophe."
"Yes, it is! It was Kolli's favorite ball, and he won't like me anymore if I've lost it."
Rusty nodded. "All right, Sessi. We'll go find it. Where'd the ball disappear?"
"The ball didn't disappear, Rusty. The street disappeared."
The two Guards glanced at each other. The stockier one scratched his scalp. "Wizard's Row, huh? Want some help, Rusty?"
"No. It's probably there now." He stood, touched his forehead in salute to his friend, and began to walk away with the girl. Suddenly, he spun and said, "Stone! What's today?"
"I dunno. Rainday, I think."
Rusty nodded. "Lost track on that inventory job. Tell Captain Bastian I'm taking the day off!"
"She won't like that."
"Tell her it's my birthday present. I'm going to help Sessi find her ball, then I'm going home to hide for the next five hours."
•
At mid-morning, 17 Wizard's Row was a square, two-story structure of yellow brick. Its front door was oak, with brass fittings which included a large gargoyle's head with a lolling tongue. Two very dark men and a very tall woman approached wearing dusty, hooded robes of the clans of the Waste. One reached to pull the gargoyle's tongue and it snapped at his hand. The man stepped back, glancing in surprise at his companions.
The gargoyle said, "Go away. We're busy today."
The man hesitated, then said nervously, "We've traveled far. We want to see The Magician."
"Want all you will," the gargoyle said. "But want somewhere else."
The shorter man, who stood to one side, moved suddenly for the handle. The gargoyle's head swung toward him. It began to step out of the oak as though it had only been lying in a pool of water, but the woman touched the gargoyle's neck with a carnelian ring. The gargoyle halted immediately, a bas-relief of a beast with its chest and front claws lunging from the door.
"How long will that hold him, Young Teacher?" said the shorter man.
"Long enough," said the woman, pushing on one of the gargoyle's paws. The door swung silently open.
A dark hall lay beyond, with light splashed at the far end from another room. Djanhiz ola Vikili, Young Teacher of the Guild of Power, remembered what she had learned when she had invaded this house under Chiano Mefini's direction: 17 Wizard's Row was inhabited by the guard they had just passed, two cats, and two humans: Trav The Magician and Gogo. The guardian at the door, whether demon, god, or eccentric magician, was now trapped by a spell which could check earthquakes and tidal waves. Protective spells hid the three intruders from the cats' senses. The hours of The Magician's birth had begun, so all of Trav's power and training were turned to reinvesting his birth luck before those hours ended. Only Gogo remained to face the combined skill of three sorcerers of the Guild of Power.
The taller man completed a simple illusion so that passersby would see The Magician's door closed. Djanhiz nodded her approval. The shorter man said, "Done," and Djanhiz felt a mystical tether about her waist, linking her to the street like a diver or a climber. If the house suddenly traveled away from Wizard's Row, her companion's spell would snatch them out of it.
Rumor held that others had entered this house uninvited. None had left of their own choice. Some, it was said, had not left at all. The three Tichenese walked slowly down the hall, using every sense to search for traps. Djanhiz found many, and since The Magician's would have failed when his birth-time began, these had to be Gogo's. The Young Teacher's respect for her increased with each guardian spell she unraveled. Half of The Magician's reputation might have come from Gogo's efforts.
At the end of the hall, Djanhiz peered into the open door of a small office. A short, slender woman in a green shift sat facing a slim man who lay on a wicker couch, his body covered with a light sheet for warmth or ritual purposes. The Magician's eyes were closed, as if he slept or meditated. Gogo's lips moved as though she were singing, and her gaze remained focused on The Magician. Neither gave any sign that they were aware of the three intruders.
The shorter Tichenese whispered, "Why is she here? Investiture is private."
Djanhiz said in her usual speaking voice, "You don't see it?"
"No," the man admitted, with a hint of shame.
"How old is The Magician?"
"Two centuries, at least."
"And does he have some artifact of power to keep him alive when his age returns to his body with his birth luck?"
"He must, if he has lived..." The short man glanced at Gogo, who still chanted silently. "He trusts her? Another magician?"
The man's voice went loud with surprise, and Djanhiz laughed. "Obviously. Perhaps he pays her so much that he thinks she cannot be bribed. Perhaps she is so powerful that he does not expect an enemy's spell to bend her will to learn his we
aknesses, and perhaps she is so determined that he thinks torture could never break her will. Perhaps they love each other so much that they trust each other without other considerations. It is very romantic, isn't it?"
The taller man spoke for the first time. "Yes."
"And it is a shame that they are our enemies," said Djanhiz. "Yet Liavek's growth must be at Tichen's expense. So we must check that growth with a few careful prunings."
She touched Gogo's back with the carnelian ring.
•
As Rusty walked up Healer's Street with the girl's hand in his, he said, "You play up here often?"
"Uh-huh."
"You shouldn't."
"Uh-huh."
"'Course, I suppose that's why it's so much fun."
"Uh-huh. Look! It's there now! Wizzer's Row!"
"Of course. If you'd gone back on your own a little later, it probably would've been there."
"Uh-uh. It's 'cause you're in the Guard, Rusty."
He laughed. "Right, kid."
This section of Old Town was never as busy as other districts of Liavek, for most of the trade was across the Cat River in New Town, by the docks and in the Merchant's Quarter. Old Town's life centered on Temple Hill and Mystery Hill, and in the bustling old market between them, the Two-Copper Bazaar. But Wizard's Row almost always seemed deserted, or so Rusty thought. It was never the same, but it was usually quiet, often mysterious, always awesome. Some of the buildings were so common as to be unnoticeable. Others were constructed in impossible ways, and some of impossible things. One house seemed to be made of living birds who flew about in a pattern that always shaped a house, though the style and size of the house shifted with the flight of the birds.
"Where's the ball, Sessi?" He wondered if his nervousness carried to her.
"I dunno." She began walking down Wizard's Row, peering into every yard. "Maybe it went to see someone."
"I doubt that." He spotted a battered white ball in front of a gate midway down the street.
"That it, Sessi?"
"Yaaay, Rusty!"
He released her hand and they ran for the ball. He laughed again, forgetting his nervousness. As they came close to it, Sessi said, "Rusty, look!" He glanced where she pointed, at a house unharmed by the flames that surrounded it. His foot came down on the ball. He fell, barely catching himself, and the ball scooted into the nearest yard. Looking up from the ground, Rusty saw a brass gargoyle on the door and the number seventeen above the lintel.
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