“We should buy me something,” Gynik responded.
Gynik had explained days ago that since she was being seen with Lirry in public, her appearance would be a direct reflection on his status. Therefore, anything that he could buy her that showed her as being wealthy and prosperous reflected indirectly on him as well in the most becoming manner. To be overdressed and lavish presents on oneself was ostentatious. To overdress and lavish gifts on one’s date was the most becoming generosity.
Of course, Lirry did not have two stones to put together in terms of actual wealth. Aside from the gifts that he had extorted from goblins coming to gawk at the Device, he was still just the supervising technician and really had no wealth of his own. Gynik was, to put it mildly, an expensive friend to have. The only alternative for Lirry was to put his entire appearance of fortune on the accounts and promises rapidly adding up at every one of the merchants in the fortress-city.
None of this was of great concern to Gynik. As she so often reminded Lirry on their long, luxurious evenings together—accompanied by the ticking of the Device and the ever watchful Mimic—Lirry’s wealth was assured as soon as he was presented at court. All Dong Mahaj-Megong had to do was take a look at the Device and Lirry’s debts would be satisfied a hundredfold.
“What do you think of this?” Gynik asked Lirry. She was holding up a staff with a spinning governor mechanism on the head. The small brass balls of the governor would shift out every time she spun them. “It’s almost magical, isn’t it?”
The shopkeeper was a little gremlin named Knikik. Lirry had dealt with him just the day before. The necklace he had secured for Gynik was still around her green neck. Knikik was eyeing it as though he still should be owning it.
“That staff be worth a hundred cogs,” Knikik intoned defiantly.
Lirry’s eyes bulged out of his head. “A hundred?!”
“Aye! One hundred cogs and not a screw less!” Knikik stomped his foot for emphasis.
“Nobody has a hundred cogs!” Lirry growled.
“Nobody’s got that staff, either!” Knikik responded, somewhat erroneously, as it was obvious that at least one person had that staff—namely, Knikik.
Gynik did not appear to be taking notice. She was too absorbed in the staff itself. “Oh, Lir-Lir! It reminds me of your darling Device so! It would be the perfect reminder for me—and simply everyone—of you and your wonderful Device.”
Mimic rolled his eyes. She had used her pet name for Lirry. It was a weapon of formidable persuasion.
“But Gyki,” Lirry responded with his own pet name, causing Mimic to feel queasy. “That’s a lot of cogs!”
“Oh, nonsense! What are such considerations to my Lir-Lir? Show the little gremlin your prize and work out your silly little business details,” Gynik said, charmingly batting her yellow eyes. She once more smiled as she spun the rotating governor. “If you do, I promise to spin for you later.”
Lirry grinned foolishly, then waved Mimic forward.
Mimic was a little uncertain as to what to do. If he moved forward, the cape would once more fall into the mud. There was not enough room to swing wide to either side; he would simply end up standing in someone else’s shop. After a moment’s thought, he balanced the Device in one hand and grasped the cape in the other. In a single motion, he flipped the cape over his own head and then stepped carefully forward, holding the Device out from under the cape.
He could not see a thing but could hear well enough.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Ah!” exclaimed Knikik.
Lirry cleared his throat. “Do we have a deal on my account?”
“Very well,” Knikik sniffed. “But no more, Lirry. Your account is already too high as it is.”
Gremlins and goblins have perfect memories when it comes to processes and accounts. Every merchant knows exactly what is owed to them and by whom. Even so, it was beginning to get difficult for Lirry to keep track of all the debts he had accrued throughout the fortress-city.
From under the blanket of Lirry’s cape, Mimic heard the sweet and alluring voice of Gynik. He could imagine himself controlling one of the great war machines of the ancients, destroying his opponents with breath of fire and hurling destructive rocks great distances. Lirry would be receiving all his terrible wrath and Gynik would be there at his side speaking as she was speaking now . . .
“Lirry! Ooh! Look! You should buy me some of those!”
37
The Bargain
The leaves from the aspens drifted down around Rhea in a soft yellow cascade. The morning chill was leaving her as she made her way through the trees, her breath coming in steaming puffs. Galen picked his way ahead of them, searching through the thick copse as they made their way along the hillside. Maddoc struggled along behind Rhea, his breath labored with his exertions.
It was difficult to keep up with their friend. Rhea had told the man that they were going home, and now he walked the hills with a fanatic determination. Nothing in the world existed for Galen except the road home, and there was nothing that she could say or do that would hold him back. Besides, the difference in their years was being demonstrated in the spring of their steps.
Rounding another ridge, Galen stopped. The gentle slope gave way to a deep canyon cutting back into the Rheshathei Mountains. The rushing sounds of a stream could be heard from somewhere far below them. Rhea and Maddoc struggled to catch up.
“Now what?” Rhea puffed as she reached Galen.
Galen looked around, considering. Something caught his eye and he pointed. “See that? Farther up the slope . . . that outcropping of rock. It juts out clear of the trees. I think we’ll get a better vantage point up there.”
“Up, down, all around,” Maddoc recited in a singsong voice. “Walking to the grave we’re bound.”
“He’s cheerful this morning,” Galen said dryly.
“I think he needs a little break,” Rhea said, her voice sounding winded. “You go up and take a look. If you find a path for us, we can join you in a few minutes.”
Galen nodded. “Good idea. You wait here and I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t you worry, we’ll be right here,” Rhea said as she sat down heavily on the ground, pulling Maddoc to sit next to her.
Galen was already moving out of sight, his faded and stained rose doublet moving quickly through the white tree trunks.
“That is one determined young man,” Rhea observed, stretching her aching legs. “How much farther until we reach the Empress Road, do you think?”
“The Empress Road . . . a heavy load,” Maddoc said, his head bobbing lightly over his shoulders. “A mile or two and then we’re through.”
Rhea sighed and closed her eyes as she lay back among the carpet of fallen leaves. “That close? Well, that’s a relief. I think I might prefer the dangers of the open road to this torturous route through the hills. How far is it through the pass to Tokfield?”
“The Empress Road will not be taken, lest our Galen be forsaken!” Maddoc giggled as he finished.
“What?” Rhea said sitting up. “What are you talking about?”
“Tragget holds the master’s fate with Galen’s wife behind his gate and we must act before too late!” Maddoc laughed with pleasure at the foolish rhyme.
“Galen’s wife? Berkita?” Rhea became alarmed. She grabbed her husband with both hands by his shoulders where he sat. “What about her? Maddoc, talk to me!”
Maddoc’s eyes focused suddenly on her. A sad smile erupted on his face, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh, it is so good to see you again, my beloved.”
“Oh, Maddoc!” Rhea’s words were clipped in her ambivalence. “What about Galen’s wife?”
Light dawned in Maddoc’s eyes. “I have a message for him, a very important message!”
“What message?” Rhea’s eyes narrowed slightly. “When did you get a message for Galen?”
“I have to find him right away,” Maddoc said brightly, standing up suddenly. “We’ve got to change our
course . . . find a new destination. A new destiny.”
“Wait!” Rhea stood up with him, clasping her hand around his arm. “Change our course? Where are we going?”
“South. Southwest to ruins older than Mithanlas,” he said. His eyes were focused on a distant place. “That’s where we are to meet him. That’s where everything will be made right.”
Rhea shook her husband again. “Who, Maddoc? Who are we to meet?”
Maddoc turned to his wife. “Why . . . Tragget, of course.”
“Tragget?” Rhea squawked. “Grand Inquisitor of the Pir? That Tragget?”
“Why, yes!” Maddoc smiled with delight. “How very clever of you to know! He has a proposition for our friend Galen. He wishes to meet with him, learn from him, and join us on our adventures!”
“Oh, my poor husband.” Rhea sighed. “I’ve lost you again.”
“Nonsense,” Maddoc snorted. “I’m still here. You just aren’t listening. Tragget is one of the Elect. He’s a bit odd, perhaps, and seems to feel entirely too guilty about his being one of us, but I suspect it’s just a matter of his upbringing. In any event, he has Galen’s wife with him.”
“He’s captured her?” Rhea said, shocked.
Maddoc shook his head. “No . . . nothing like that. She came looking for her husband. That’s one thing you’ve got to say about that Arvad family, they are a determined clan!”
“Like us, I suppose.” Rhea nodded, but her brow was still knitted with troubled thoughts. “It doesn’t sound right to me, Maddoc. The Grand Inquisitor of the Pir just wants to toss aside his faith and join us? For what? For something that we barely understand ourselves? It just doesn’t ring true to me, dearest.”
“Oh, what do you know of truth,” Maddoc sniffed. “You’re dead. All of you are already dead.”
Rhea held her tongue for a moment, choking back the anger and frustration, before she continued. “I know enough not to tell Galen. Not yet. This may be a trap, my husband. We need to know more before we can decide. But trap or no, if Galen hears that Tragget has his wife, there will be no holding him back!”
Maddoc nodded for a moment. “So you don’t think I should tell Galen?”
“No,” she said clearly. “Not until we are sure.”
“Sure of what?”
Rhea turned around sharply. Galen was stepping down the slope toward them. She had been so concerned about what her husband was saying that she had not heard him approach.
She opened her mouth to answer him with some vague and meaningless statement . . . but Maddoc spoke first.
“Sure that Inquisitor Tragget is with your wife, of course,” Maddoc said with an odd smile. “He wants to talk to you about her.”
I stand in a small clearing. Turning, I can see the ruins of the tower behind me bathed in twilight. Around me, the forests are made of ice, their leaves burning with brilliant flame. The crumbled foundations of a long-dead village cast multiple shadows around me in stark relief. The grasses here are green, tall and supple.
I can see the winged woman floating above the ruined tower. She is surrounded by a clear, glowing heart that will not free her. The light shining up from the tower is holding her at bay. She would help me if she could. I will help her if I can. I am filled with hope. She is filled with despair. Yet neither of us knows what to expect of this encounter.
A small demon sits on one of the foundation stones. It holds a lantern that is filled with a blue light. I try to speak to it, and it responds, but its sounds are all ugly and gibberish. I remember this vile little creature. He was one who was dismembering Maddoc so long ago in another of my dreams. Now he sits patiently on the ruined foundation at the edge of the clearing.
We have not long to wait. From the ice-wood forest they come, first one and then the other.
“Maddoc,” I say. I know that my voice is too full of hope—perhaps too full of desperation as well.
“Galen, how good of you to come!” Maddoc says pleasantly as he steps forward, extending his hand. I grasp his arm at the elbow as he grasps mine in return. “I’ve someone who has much to say to you.”
I see him more clearly now. I know him too well.
“Hello, friend,” I say cautiously.
“My name . . . my name is Tragget,” he replies. “Hello, friend.”
“This is a strange place indeed,” I say, my arms crossed in judgment on the man standing awkwardly before me. “I am your friend here but you did not seem so when you took me from my home, my wife, and my life.”
“I was more friend to you then than you know,” Tragget answers. “Your Election was due to a power greater than either of us, Galen. You could not avoid it. I could not prevent it. I see now that our only hope lies in accepting it.”
“Accepting it?” I cannot believe what this man is suggesting. “This ‘power’ has done nothing but ruin my life. It has destroyed my every hope of happiness, torn me from my life’s blood and soul, and you ask that I give in to this monstrous curse?”
“There are bigger things . . . bigger issues involved—”
“Not for me!” The anger and rage, the fear of the years instilled in my bones, seems at once to find a voice. I cannot stop my words as I speak, the emotions forcing the blood to my hot face and tears from my eyes. “I want nothing to do with this . . . this mystic power! The only things I care about are my wife and the beautiful life that you and the Pir and this curse have stolen from me! That’s all that is important! That’s all that matters!”
“Yes, that matters! Of course, that matters!” Tragget agrees, his voice calming and careful. “I know you better than you think, Galen! I’m one of you . . . I, Grand Inquisitor of the Pir, am myself one of the Elect. I know what it is to hide from the eye of the dragonstaff, perhaps even better than you. At least you have a life that you want to go back to . . . all I have is a life from which I want to escape!”
Tragget suddenly steps closer, extending his hand. “I can give you back your life—but I can’t do it without your help. You know that. I can put everything else to rights for you—get you back to your sweet little forge in your backwater town with your beautiful wife and you can forget all about this . . . but only if you trust me.”
He pushes his open hand toward me.
I shake my head, my arms tightly folded across my chest. “Trust you? You, who took everything from me, who would not acknowledge me outside the dream, who dragged me from my homeland and tossed me into that meat grinder you call war training . . . I am supposed to trust you?”
“I tried to save you!” The frustration wells up in his voice.
“Oh,” I reply in disbelief. “Is that what that was?”
Tragget glances about in frustration. “You don’t understand, you can’t possibly understand.”
“I understand that I have something you want . . . but trust is something you aren’t going to get.” I turn from him, looking to escape, to get away from this man somewhere else in the dream.
“Would you trust her?”
I stop, uncertain.
“Would you trust me for her?” Tragget says. “I’ve seen her, Galen; I’ve seen the way she aches for you. She weeps nightly and is inconsolable.”
My breath comes hard and is loud in my ears.
“She followed you, Galen. She used everything she had to find you, and when the money ran out, she worked any little task she could just to find a way to come one step closer to you,” Tragget says harshly. “If you won’t trust me for yourself, couldn’t you have pity on your own wife and trust me for her sake!”
I look up. I cannot keep the tears from coming. The words come hard in my throat even as I am desperate to know the answer to my soul’s yearning. “My wife . . . is she . . . how is she?”
Tragget’s face softens. “She is well. She is in the towers of Vasska’s citadel in Mithanlas. She is well cared for, but she is desperate for news of you.”
I release a great, shuddering breath. My beloved is alive and still searching
for me. “Will you . . . will you tell her that you have word from me? Will you tell her that I love her? Will you tell her that?”
“Yes, friend, I will,” Tragget replies earnestly. “And her dwarf friend will be pleased to have word as well, I believe.”
“Cephas?” Just saying the name gladdens my heart. I laugh. “So he came, too, did he? Well, there is no stopping a determined dwarf!”
“So it would seem.” Tragget smiles shyly himself, and then looks pleadingly into my eyes. “I need you to teach me what you know about this . . . this mystic power. I can use it to help you, Galen. It can purchase your life back. Will you help me?”
Once more, he extends his hand.
This time, I extend my own. We grasp each other’s forearms just at the elbow.
“I still do not trust you,” I say.
“You don’t have to,” Tragget replies. “I’ll prove myself in time to both you and your wife.”
“Yes,” I say, “I will help you, for her sake.”
Maddoc smiles next to us, and then places his own hands on both our shoulders. “And I’ll do what I can to help. We’ll be mystics of this great power together, at least until we die. You can’t hope for a better bargain than that!”
I glance to the side. The demon smiles back at me with sharp teeth reflecting the flaming light of the leaves. He reaches up and hands me the blue lantern to seal the bargain.
BOOK OF GALEN BRONZE CANTICLES, TOME IV, FOLIO 1, LEAVES 49-52
38
Deep Magic
Mnumanthas?” Rhea furrowed her brow in the rising light of a new day. “He wants us to go to Mnumanthas?” The journey down the western slope of the Rheshathei had been a particularly difficult one the day before. The foraging had not been nearly as good as they had hoped. What additional supplies Galen had scavenged from Talwood were carefully being rationed for the trip over the pass. It had made for an unsatisfying supper when they finally made camp in a canyon near the head of the South Zhamra. The river cascaded in a tremendous fall from the towering cliffs at the back of the box canyon. A grassy clearing spread near the pool at the fall’s base and down the whitewater of the river as it continued down into the Talwood Forest. The eddies of the canyon winds had promised to disperse the smoke from the fire that originally had given them some cause for the hope of a warmer sleep. But the ragged group was exhausted and there was no one to tend the fire through the night. The embers had gone cold by the deep of morning, so the night had been a chill one.
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