Shadowkeep

by Alan Dean Foster - (ebook by Undead)

  “We don’t need toughness from the thaladar. As Maryld said, you and I will handle the physical requirements of this expedition. We need her to help us pass Shadowkeep’s mazes and traps.”

  “I know that.” Sranul used a long finger to dig at one ear. “Just don’t let this one intimidate you.”

  “She doesn’t. It’s all three of them together.”

  “Then I’m glad the two older ones aren’t coming with us. One thaladar is plenty. I don’t think I could take all three of them chattering at once, no matter how valuable their advice.”

  The proof of the roo’s words came later, as the three women held what amounted to a thaladar council of war. Sranul stood it for as long as he could before he excused himself and stole away to the garden, leaving Praetor to deal with the three sages by himself.

  “You must not assume,” the grandmother was telling him, “that you will ever have to confront Dal’brad directly. Shadowkeep is so big that not even the king of demons can keep watch on every room and corridor. With luck, you will be able to reach Gorwyther and free him before the demons realize what you have done.”

  “That is so,” said the mother, whose name was Ferald. “The faster you can find Gorwyther, the better your chances of success. The demon king is known to suffer from overconfidence.”

  “Yes.” The grandmother smiled. “Like us thaladar.”

  The same thought had been in Praetor’s mind, but he didn’t dare voice it. He was relieved to see the two younger women laughing at the comparison.

  “Like the thaladar,” agreed Ferald. “It is said Dal’brad relies entirely on the safeguards he has installed in the castle. Since they have worked so well in the past, he will assume there is nothing to worry him in the future. He has no way of knowing that the brave and wise are about to come calling on him.”

  “Yet caution must ever be your watchword,” said the grandmother sternly, wagging a warning finger at Praetor. “Take care in everything you do. Attempt nothing without considering all possible ramifications beforehand. You must know when to rush boldly ahead lest pursuit overtake you.”

  “How do we know when to charge and when to consider?”

  “Life, like Shadowkeep, is full of contradictions,” said Maryld. “I will be there to advise you.” She smiled again. Whenever she did that it was hard for Praetor to realize how much older she was than him.

  “Look,” he said to take his thoughts off that smile, “if the thaladar have known of the danger posed by Shadowkeep for so long, why haven’t you moved against it by now?”

  Ferald looked from mother to daughter. “There have been proposals made in the past to do something, but as you know, we are not fond of physical combat. Certain things cannot be accomplished through use of logic and reason alone. Many demons are susceptible to logical argument, but the lower orders of imps and devils and poltergeists respond only to the most basic physical or emotional stimuli. You can be as reasonable as possible with them only to find yourself transfixed by an ax instead of an aphorism.

  “The result, among the thaladar, has been a lot of talk but no action. I’m not proud of that.”

  “It has, therefore, been clear to me for a long time,” the grandmother went on, “that in order for any penetration of Shadowkeep to take place, it would have to be carried out by a band of mixed individuals. Your coming to us offers us a chance to do just that. The thaladar will benefit if you succeed as much as will humans or roos.”

  “If you knew this, how come you never organized such an expedition yourselves?”

  Again the embarrassed looks. Maryld nodded in the direction of the garden. “The roos distrust the thaladar, as do your own kind. This dislike we have brought on ourselves, by our aloofness and attitudes. Any overtures we might have made, any attempt to form a band of adventurers from all three races, would have been met with suspicion at best, hostility at worst. So we never tried.

  “That is why your coming here now is so important. It is a chance we must not let slip away. We three recognize the danger inherent in Shadowkeep even if the rest of the thaladar do not. As teachers, we cannot bury our heads in the sand in the hope that evil will never reach the gates of Socalia.”

  “I wonder,” Praetor mused aloud, “if the Spinner knew this would come to pass. That one of you would come with us.”

  “This Spinner you’ve spoken of,” the grandmother said, “is no Seer, I think. If so, I do not believe his range is great or he would have told you more than he did. He came only to warn of the danger posed by Dal’brad’s machinations. If he were capable of more, he surely would have told you of your forthcoming meeting with the roo, at the least.”

  “That’s right.”

  “It is of no moment. Better in a time of crisis to rely on your own instincts and knowledge than on the word of a wraith with unknown allegiances. What matters is that the three of you get to Shadowkeep and free Gorwyther in time to stop the demon king.”

  “You realize that once you enter the castle,” Ferald told him, “it’s unlikely you’ll be able to get out again without accomplishing your purpose.”

  “I expect as much,” Praetor replied tightly. “I’ve prepared myself for that possibility.”

  “Good,” said the grandmother. “Prepare for death, anticipate life.” She sighed. “It’s not good to get old. The machine doesn’t work as well as it used to. I’m tired. Too tired to accompany you myself, too tired to talk any longer. Ferald?” Her daughter helped her rise from her chair.

  “Rooms have been made ready for you and your friend,” Maryld told him. “We’ll leave at first light.”

  Praetor nodded. “My thought as well.” He climbed to his feet, gazed at each of the women in turn. “Thank you all. You’re a remarkable family, and I consider myself fortunate to have met you.” He turned to follow the housekeeper toward the stairs, then hesitated and looked back.

  “I don’t mean to pry into personal matters and I hope I’m not being impertinent, but I see three generations of thaladar women here—and no men.” He fixed his attention on Maryld. “Where are your menfolk?”

  The grandmother spoke first. “You asked why we had not tried to challenge Dal’brad before and we told you, but we did not tell you all. My husband and my daughter’s husband went to Shadowkeep, not to try and free Gorwyther, which they realized they could not do, but to try and learn the castle’s weaknesses. They never came back.” Her last words had the finality of an ax blow.

  Praetor swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  “So you see,” the old woman went on, “our motives for helping you are more than altruistic. Or did you think the thaladar so devoid of emotion that we cannot feel a desire for revenge?”

  “No. I never thought that. I just didn’t know you had reason for it.”

  “You know now. You know everything now.” She blinked. “I am tired. Ride hard and fast, young human, and bring my granddaughter back to me.”

  “As long as there is life in me,” Praetor assured her grimly.

  Good as her word, Maryld was ready and waiting for them in the courtyard when Praetor and Sranul emerged from their rooms. Her own mount was a mature horse the size of a pony. Saddlebags lay behind the small saddle.

  She wore a heavy caftan of iridescent blue worked with silver thread and a matching cape of lighter blue that flowed down to her knees.

  Praetor spared a curious glance for the horse. No doubt the thaladar had bred them down to size over the centuries. They were good with animals. Knowledge, he thought, was as valuable a commodity as gold.

  Kaltar stood patiently nearby, in the grip of a stableman. He greeted Praetor with a snuffle. Praetor grabbed the pommel and mounted.

  Maryld looked questioningly at Sranul. “Your friend does not ride?”

  “My legs don’t fit comfortably around a horse’s spine,” the roo informed her. “And besides”—he bounded eight feet straight up—“as Praetor can tell you, I can run as fast as any horse, turn quicker, and dodge better.
Riding would reduce my mobility, not increase it. I’m built for longdistance hopping and you’re not, so don’t worry on my account.”

  Though Maryld had made her farewells the previous night, her mother and grandmother were still there to see her off. Their tender parting gave the lie to everything Praetor had heard about thaladar aloofness.

  The mother made him bend low so she could whisper in his ear. “See that she comes to no harm, man. I realize none of you may come back, but if you do, you must promise to bring her with you. I could not let you ride away without letting you know how I feel about her.”

  Praetor straightened in the saddle, smiled warmly down at her. “You don’t have to tell me how you feel about your daughter, ma’am. It shows in your face.”

  She stepped back from him, nodding knowingly. “You are wise and understanding beyond your years, young human, though I think you do not realize it yourself. A good omen.” She raised a hand as if in blessing. “Go forth in safety and in the knowledge that your cause is just.”

  The trio departed, waving until the two older women receded from their sight. They rode out through the iron gate and back onto city streets. They were nearing the city gate when Maryld leaned forward on her mount and frowned.

  “This is odd.”

  “What is?” Praetor stared anxiously ahead but could detect nothing amiss.

  “The number of soldiers near the gate. Far more than usual.”

  “Some kind of official function in progress?” he opined.

  “I think not.”

  The reason for the presence of so many thaladar soldiers soon made itself known as they moved to intercept the travelers. Praetor found their exit barred. Politely, as always, but firmly. A few curious glances came their way, but for the most part, the citizens of Socalia ignored the confrontation and went about their business.

  “What’s going on here?” Maryld asked the senior officer. “Is there some danger?”

  He stepped forward and grasped the reins of her mount. His skullcap was bright green. “Teacher Maryld. You are traveling in the company of”—and it made it sound vaguely obscene—“a human and a roo. This is not permitted outside the city wall.”

  She eyed him coldly. “What are you talking about? Who dares to inhibit my free passage?”

  “It is done for your own safety. You were observed in deep personal conversation with these two.”

  Maryld gasped in surprise. “Council spies? In my own home? This is worse than outrageous. This is…” she struggled for a term of sufficient magnitude to properly express her anger, “discourteous.”

  “You were not being spied upon,” the officer informed her. His eyes flicked in Praetor’s direction. “The Council was curious to learn what such as these were doing in Socalia.”

  “They might have asked,” she replied frostily.

  The officer grinned humorlessly up at her. “Your family is noted both for its wisdom and,” he added delicately, “eccentricity. Some on the Council were concerned with motives. It was decided, I was told, to seek enlightenment through less semantically obscure channels. I am sorry if you are offended as a result.”

  “‘Offended’ is too mild a word to use for this invasion of privacy, sir. This is a matter for the courts.”

  “As you wish. Certainly it is not for me to decide,” said the officer. “But I have my orders. In order to ensure your safety and that of Socalia it has been decided that you are not to be allowed to accompany these two beyond this point.”

  “I’ll go when and where I please!” She urged her horse forward. Two more guards stepped up to block her way. The animal bucked slightly, uncertain whose orders to obey.

  “Inexcusable!” she growled, fuming as she sought a way around the soldiers. “I will lodge the strongest objection, as will my mother and grandmother!”

  “Your family’s influence is strong, but not this morning,” the officer told her apologetically. “I must ask you to stop trying to ride through my command.”

  “Don’t you know what this is about?” she asked him angrily. “Don’t you know where we are going? To Shadowkeep!” This announcement produced a few interested murmurs from the supposedly indifferent soldiery. “I go not on behalf of humans or roos but on behalf of all intelligent beings everywhere.”

  “I was not given this information,” the officer replied evenly, “but it does nothing to countermand my orders. You will not be allowed to proceed, madam teacher. Think of your reputation and please cooperate.”

  “Reputation be damned!”

  “You will not provoke me into a lapse of courtesy,” he responded stiffly. “I am simply following my orders. You cannot pass.”

  “Now, look—” Praetor began, but Maryld put out a hand to forestall any confrontation.

  “Never mind. It’s all right. There’s nothing to be done about it. I don’t want you getting into trouble with my people, Praetor. Not on my account. There is no excuse for this kind of behavior, and there will be many apologies due, but there is nothing here worth the shedding of blood.”

  He considered, tried to calm himself, and finally nodded agreement. “As you wish, Maryld. You and your mother and grandmother have already given us much good advice. We will press on to Shadowkeep knowing that you and they are with us in spirit if not in body.”

  “An unusually sensible attitude,” observed the officer, “especially for a human.” He turned to his troops. “Let the two strangers pass.”

  The line of guards separated in the middle, producing a pathway to the city gate. Praetor and Sranul urged their mounts forward.

  Praetor turned to wave farewell to Maryld. “Good-bye and thank you. I know this isn’t your fault. As you say, there’s nothing to be done.”

  “I am sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll manage.” He put Kaltar into a trot. Sranul lengthened his bounding strides, easily keeping pace alongside as they exited the city.

  “Well,” he told the roo later that night as they sat around a crackling fire beneath the man-sized leaves of a sombradula tree, “we almost had thaladar help.”

  “A good idea come to naught through no fault of our own,” the roo agreed. He leaned back on his tail and helped himself to another handful of the fruit he’d gathered that evening before the sun had set. He chewed noisily, smacking his lips. They were stained red and blue from berry juice.

  “It was no real surprise,” he went on. “Just like the thaladar not only to refuse us help but to prevent one of their own from doing so. One of these days I think that race is going to turn so tightly in on themselves that they’ll all up and vanish, and you know what the result will be? Not another soul will miss ’em. Good riddance, says I.”

  “That’s not a very charitable attitude to take, Sranul. They can’t help acting the way they do.”

  “Oh, can’t they? How can you be charitable toward a bunch of pointy-eared snobs like that? You know why they keep so close to their cities?”

  “You told me,” Praetor murmured, but Sranul continued as though his friend hadn’t said anything.

  “It’s because they’re afraid of everything else, that’s why. It isn’t so much that they dislike strangers as that they’re scared. They may be a bunch of brilliant little twerps, but they’re still a bunch of little twerps.” He slapped an irritating pinecone from beneath his tail. “Didn’t you notice the expressions on the faces of those gate guards? They were trying to put on a brave front, but I could tell: they were scared to death. Of the two of us.”

  Praetor stoked the fire. “They’re not as cowardly as you make them out to be.”

  “Maybe not, but for all their fine shields and swords it’s plain to see they’re no fighters. If we’d really wanted to, I’ll bet you and I could have sent the lot of them packing and ridden out with that girl.”

  “She’s not a girl,” Praetor reminded the roo. “She’s a good deal older than I am.�
�

  “We could have done it, man.” He spat out several seeds. “She wasn’t such a bad sort, for a thaladar.”

  “And you’re not such a bad sort for a roo,” said a voice from the darkness.

  Praetor dropped the stick he’d been using to stir the fire with while Sranul jumped ten feet straight up. The roo landed on an overhanging branch, which bent dangerously beneath his weight. He tried to penetrate the night and locate the source of the unexpected compliment.

  Maryld walked into the firelight, leading her horse behind her. A little embarrassed at having been caught so off-guard, Praetor rose to meet her.

  “How?” was all he could think of to say.

  She patted her mount on the muzzle, let the reins fall, and moved to stand closer to the warming flames. He saw that she was still wearing the same exquisite blue traveling suit.

  “Cold out tonight.” She put her hands toward the fire, rubbed them together.

  A loud thump announced Sranul’s descent from the tree. “Yes, what are you doing here? I thought they’d place you under some kind of house arrest or something.”

  “They tried to.” She grinned over at the roo. “Oh, you should have been there! What a fine fight we had! Mother and grandmother let the Council representatives who came to the house know exactly what they thought of them. They argued that I was a free spirit and should be allowed to go wherever I wished, in the company of whomever I chose to travel with. The Elders argued back, but you could see they were embarrassed by their own decision. Their argument was weak, but they had the spears on their side.

  “Seeing that they weren’t getting anywhere, mother and grandmother abruptly came around to the Council’s way of thinking, acknowledged its supremacy in such matters, and saw to it after the house guards had withdrawn to the gates that I was spirited quietly out through an old and little-used aqueduct access near the back of the city wall.”

  “I’m surprised they let you get away,” Praetor murmured.

  “Oh, we’re very trusting, we thaladar are.” She was laughing at the memory. “As soon as mother and grandmother conceded the Council’s supremacy, they relaxed the watch on our house.”