The Redemption of Althalus

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David

  “Where did you get the special mead?” Althalus asked Gher.

  “The lady who’s been darning my socks told me about it. Nabjor uses it on some of his customers now and then—if they’ve got a lot of money, but don’t want to spend it.”

  “Just exactly what are you up to, Althalus?” Nabjor demanded in a hoarse whisper as he came out of his hut. “Aren’t those two your friends?”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far, Nabjor,” Althalus replied. “Business associates, yes, but not exactly friends. Ghend’s trying to bamboozle me into stealing something for him that’s a lot more valuable than he cares to admit, and it’s in a place that’s so dangerous that he’s afraid to go steal it himself. That’s hardly the act of a friend, now is it?”

  “Not hardly,” Nabjor agreed. “If you’re going to kill them, don’t do it here.”

  “Oh, we’re not going to kill them, Nabjor,” Althalus said with a wicked grin. “I’m just going to prove to Ghend that I’m a lot slicker than he is. Go fetch our imitation Book, Gher.”

  “Right,” Gher said, grinning broadly.

  “I thought you didn’t know what a book was,” Nabjor said. “You certainly made quite a show of that.”

  “It’s called ‘playing dumb,’ Mister Nabjor,” Gher said. “It’s always easy to swindle somebody who thinks he’s smarter than you are.” Gher went to where their saddles were and took out the book Dweia had given them. “Do you want me to switch them now, Althalus?” he asked.

  “That’s your job, Gher. Just make sure that Ghend’s saddlebag looks the same when you’re finished.”

  “And did you want to show me how to walk, too?” Gher asked.

  “That boy’s got a very clever mouth, doesn’t he?” Nabjor said.

  “I know,” Althalus agreed. “He’s good though, so I put up with him.” He fished a gold coin out of his purse and held it up for Nabjor to see. “Do me a favor, old friend. Ghend and Khnom drank quite a bit of your special mead before they drifted off, and they won’t be feeling very good when they wake up. They’ll need some medicine to make them feel better. Give them as much of that doctored mead as they can drink, and if they’re feeling delicate again the day after tomorrow, get them well again with the same medicine.”

  “How did you find out about my special mead?”

  “I’ve used doctored mead occasionally myself, Nabjor, so I recognize the effects.”

  “Are you going to steal their gold, too?”

  “No, I don’t want them to get excited and start looking at Ghend’s book too closely. It’s a fairly good copy, but it’s not entirely the same. Keep the two of them drunk and happy, and if they ask, tell them that I’ve gone to Kagwher to steal that other book for them.”

  “After this is all over, come on back and tell me how it all turned out,” Nabjor said with a broad grin.

  “I’ll do that,” Althalus promised, even though he knew that this was the last time he’d ever see Nabjor. “Be the friendly tavern keeper, my friend,” he said. “Cure Ghend and Khnom of any unwholesome urges to follow Gher and me. I don’t like to be followed when I’m working, so make them good and drunk right here, so that I don’t have to make them both good and dead somewhere up in the mountains.”

  “You can depend on me, Althalus,” Nabjor said, eagerly snatching the gold coin from his friend’s fingers.

  C H A P T E R F O R T Y - S E V E N

  Althalus had a peculiar sense of dislocation as he and Gher rode east from Nabjor’s camp through the tag end of night. Their elaborate modification of the past had gone well—almost too well, perhaps. Their alterations hadn’t really been all that extensive, but they’d set some things in motion that Althalus didn’t fully understand.

  “You’re awful quiet,” Gher said as they rode through the forest.

  “I’m just a little edgy, that’s all,” Althalus told him. “I think we might have opened some doors that we didn’t really want to.”

  “Emmy can take care of it.”

  “I’m not sure she’s supposed to. I get the feeling that I’m the one who’ll have to deal with it.”

  “How much longer are we going to keep poking along like this?” Gher asked. “We could just give Eliar a shout and go home in a blink, you know.”

  “I don’t think we should, Gher. It’s only a hunch, but I think there are some things that happened last time that we’d better not step over.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what’s making me edgy. I think we’d better just stay on the ground.”

  “Did you float this past Emmy?”

  “Not yet. I’ll get around to it—one of these days.”

  “You’re going to get yourself yelled at, Althalus.”

  Althalus shrugged. “It won’t be the first time. I think we’ve changed just about enough of the past. We swindled Ghend, I got to keep my tunic, and we stole the Book of Daeva. I don’t think we want to change anything else. Something happened last time that has to happen this time as well. If it doesn’t, this whole thing might fall apart on us.”

  “Are you certain sure you didn’t get hold of Ghend’s cup by mistake back there in Nabjor’s camp? You’re not making much sense right now.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The dawn came up murky and sullen over deep-forested Hule, and Althalus and Gher rode east among the gigantic trees. “We need to watch out for wolves,” Althalus cautioned.

  “Wolves?” Gher sounded a bit surprised. “I hadn’t heard that there are any wolves in Hule.”

  “There were—are—now. We’re in a different Hule right now. This isn’t the place you’re familiar with. It’s a lot wilder than it’s going to be later on. The wolves shouldn’t be much of a problem, since we’ve got horses this time and we’ll be able to outrun them, but keep your eyes and ears open.”

  “It was real exciting back then, wasn’t it?”

  “It had its moments. Let’s move right along, Gher. If Nabjor does what he’s supposed to do, it should be quite some time before Ghend wakes up to what we’ve done, but I want to get a long way ahead of him—just to be on the safe side.”

  “What could he do?”

  “Put an army out in front of us, possibly. He still has access to Pekhal and Gelta at this particular time, you know.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Gher admitted.

  “I didn’t think you had.”

  “Maybe we should gallop for a while.”

  “Excellent idea, Gher.”

  Because they were mounted, they covered the distance between Nabjor’s camp and the edge of the vast forest in less than half the time it’d taken Althalus before. The trees thinned as they moved up into the highlands of Kagwher and turned north, retracing the route Althalus had taken some twenty-five centuries ago rather closely.

  The air turned chill as they moved north, and then one frosty night as they sat near their campfire, Althalus saw a familiar sight in the northern sky. “I think we’re getting closer,” he told Gher.

  “Oh?”

  Althalus pointed to the north. “God’s fire,” he said. “I couldn’t swear to it, but I think we’re getting closer to one of those things that has to happen this time in more or less the way it did last time.”

  “I wish you could give me some hints about what we’re supposed to be looking for.”

  “So do I. I just hope we’ll recognize it when it comes along.”

  “Well, I hope so, too. We’re getting awful close to winter, you know, and we’re still a long way from home.”

  “We’ll make it in time, Gher,” Althalus assured him. “That’s one thing I can be sure of. I’ve been through this before, you know.”

  Just before sunrise the next morning, they were awakened by a human voice—a voice Althalus recognized. “Don’t be alarmed,” he told Gher quietly. “This is that crazy man I told Gosti about. He’s not dangerous.”

  He was a bent and crooked old man, and he was shambling along w
ith the aid of a staff. His hair and beard were silvery white, and he was garbed in animal skins. His face was deeply lined, and his eyes were shrewd and alert. He was talking in a resonant voice, speaking in a language Althalus could not quite recognize.

  “Ho, there,” Althalus called to the crazy man. “We mean you no harm, so don’t get excited.”

  “Who’s that?” the old man demanded, seizing his staff in both hands and brandishing it.

  “We’re just travelers, and we seem to have lost our way.”

  The old man lowered his staff. “Don’t see many travelers around here,” he said. “They don’t seem to like our sky.”

  “We noticed that fire in the sky ourselves, just last night. Why does it do that?”

  “People say it’s supposed to be a warning. Some think that the world ends a few miles to the north of here, and that God set the night sky on fire to warn everybody to stay back.”

  Althalus frowned slightly. The crazy old man didn’t seem to be quite as crazy as he’d been last time, and he didn’t look quite the same either. “It sounds to me as if you don’t quite agree with those who say that the world ends someplace around here,” he noted.

  The old man shrugged. “People can believe anything they want to,” he said. “They’re wrong, of course, but that’s none of my business, is it?”

  “Who were you talking to just now?” Althalus asked, trying to wrench the conversation back to the track he remembered.

  “I was talking to myself, of course. Do you see anybody else out there for me to talk to?” Then the old man straightened and indifferently tossed his staff away. “It’s not going to work, Althalus,” he said. “You’ve changed too many things. Our conversation won’t be the same as it was last time.” He made a wry face. “Of course, it was fairly silly last time, if I remember it correctly, and we have more important things to discuss. When you get back to the House and see my sister, tell her that I love her.” He smiled faintly. “Dweia and I don’t agree about too many things, but I love her just the same. Tell her that I said to be very careful this time. This scheme you all cooked up was clever, certainly, but it’s extremely dangerous. Our brother’s shrewd enough to have guessed what you’ve been up to by now, so he won’t let Dweia get away with what she’s planning without a fight.”

  “Are you who I think you are?” Althalus choked.

  “Can’t you accept the obvious without asking all these idiotic questions, Althalus? I’d have thought that Dweia’d slapped that out of you by now.”

  “Were you the one I met here last time as well?”

  “Obviously. Dweia was waiting for you in the House, and she hates to be kept waiting—or had you noticed that? You needed directions, so I came here and gave them to you. That’s part of my job. You already know the way this time, so I’m here to give you some advice instead.”

  “Advice? Don’t you mean commands?”

  “That isn’t the way it works, Althalus. You have to make your own decisions—and accept the consequences, of course.”

  “Dweia gives us orders all the time.”

  “I know. She even tries to give me orders. I usually ignore her, though.”

  “Doesn’t that make things awful noisy?” Gher asked.

  “Very noisy, but that’s part of the fun. She’s absolutely adorable when she flares up like that, so I nudge her in that direction every so often. It’s a game we’ve been playing for a long, long time, but that’s a family matter that doesn’t really involve you.” Then the old man’s face grew deadly serious. “You haven’t seen the last of Ghend, Althalus. You’ll meet him one more time, so you’d better be ready for him.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You’ll have to decide that for yourself. When you chose to go back and change things, you changed other things as well. Your scheme was very clever, I’ll grant that, but it’s also very dangerous. When Ghend comes at you, he’ll be so desperate that he’ll be opening doors that aren’t supposed to be opened, and you’ll have to respond in kind. If you stop and think about it, you’ll know what has to be done. Please be careful when you do it, though. I spent a lot of time and effort on this place, and I’d rather you didn’t nullify it.”

  “Nullify?”

  “The word isn’t too accurate, but there isn’t a word that describes what’ll happen if you aren’t careful. Now, then, if I were you, I’d stay away from those doors right now. You’ve been using them to alter reality, and you’re starting to dislocate some things that’d be better left alone. It wouldn’t be a good idea to shift the seasons right now.”

  “I was sort of wondering about that myself, even before we left Hule.”

  “You managed to get something right, at least. You reached the House at the onset of winter last time. I’d keep it that way this time. Everything has a proper time and season, and the more important something is, the more crucial the time is. You don’t want to reach the House late, of course, but getting there early could be just as dangerous.”

  “I had a feeling it might be. I’ll make sure we reach the House at exactly the same time.”

  “Good.” Then the old man looked rather quizzically at Althalus. “I can’t really see why Dweia objects to your tunic so much,” he said. “I think it looks rather splendid myself.”

  “I’ve always liked it.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to sell it?”

  Althalus floundered a bit.

  “Never mind, Althalus. I won’t make an issue of it. There’s something I will make an issue of, however.”

  “Oh?”

  “Treat my sister well. If you disappoint her, or hurt her, you’ll answer to me for it. Do I make myself clear?”

  Althalus swallowed hard and nodded.

  “I’m glad we understand each other. It’s been very nice talking with you, Althalus. You have a nice day now, hear?” And then the old man sauntered off, whistling as he went.

  “Now that’s something that doesn’t happen every day,” Gher said in a shaky sort of voice. “You said that something important was going to happen on our way back to the House. This was it, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t think anything’s likely to come along to top it.”

  “Do you think we ought to holler at Eliar and have him tell Emmy that we’re going to be a little late?”

  “Not this old dog,” Althalus replied. “The old man kept using the word ‘advice,’ but I got his point. He told us to stay away from the doors—and he probably meant the windows as well. I’m not going to take any chances at this point.”

  “Emmy was probably watching from the window anyway, don’t you think?”

  “Almost certainly. She likes to keep an eye on me. Let’s gather up our things and get ready to move out. We still have a ways to go, and we don’t want to be late.”

  They took a quick breakfast and rode north toward the precipice Althalus still thought of as the Edge of the World.

  “I thought that tree was dead, Althalus,” Gher said, frowning. “It doesn’t look very dead to me.”

  Althalus looked sharply at the Edge of the World. The tree was still gnarled and twisted, and it was still bone white. It had leaves now, however—autumn leaves of red and gold that crowned the tree in glory.

  “It wasn’t like that before, was it?” Gher asked.

  “No,” Althalus replied in a puzzled voice.

  “What do you suppose made it come alive?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea, Gher.”

  “Do you think it means something?”

  “I don’t know. Now I’ve got something else to worry about.”

  “Should we stop and see if something happens?”

  “We don’t have time. Let’s keep going.” Althalus turned his horse in an easterly direction to follow the edge of the precipice.

  “It looks different out there,” Gher said after a while, pointing north. “It didn’t look that way from Emmy’s House.”

  “No ice,” Altha
lus told him.

  “There isn’t, is there? What happened to all the ice we used to see off to the north?”

  “It hasn’t got here yet. We’re still back ‘then.’ ‘Now’ won’t get here for a couple thousand years.” He broke off. “Now you’ve got me doing it,” he scolded the boy. “This fooling around with time does funny things to a man’s head.”

  Gher grinned at him. “That’s what makes it so much fun.”

  “I think I’ve had enough fun for a while.” Althalus looked around. “Keep your eyes open for rabbits or marmots. We didn’t bring very much food with us, so we’ll have to live off the land for the rest of the trip.”

  Evening was settling in over the far north, and Althalus and Gher were rounding a jutting spur of rock when they saw a campfire in a small grove of stunted pines just ahead. “We’d better be just a little careful,” Althalus cautioned. “That fire’s something new. It wasn’t there last time.”

  They scouted around, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in the vicinity.

  “Who built that fire, Althalus?” Gher demanded. “Fires don’t just start themselves, do they?”

  A familiar odor coming from the campfire, however, hinted at a distinct possibility. “Supper’s ready, Gher,” Althalus told the boy. “We’d better go eat it before it gets cold. You know how Emmy is when we’re late for supper.”

  Gher gave him a puzzled look, and then his eyes widened. “You know, sometimes Emmy’s so clever she makes me sick. She wanted to let us know that she saw us talking with her brother without coming here and telling us right to our faces, so she fixed us supper instead.”

  Althalus sniffed at the fragrance coming from the fire. “She’s managed to get my attention,” he said, swinging down from his horse. “Let’s eat.”

  “I’m ready,” Gher agreed. “When you get right down to it, I’m way past ready.”

  There was no question about who’d prepared the feast at the lonely campfire, since every bite had the familiar taste of Dweia’s cooking. There were also several large bags of additional food near the fire. Althalus and Gher both ate too much, but it’d been quite some time since either of them had tasted decent food, so their enthusiasm was quite natural.