Warautumn

by Tom Deitz

  “Pregnant,” he blurted out.

  Strynn nodded through a very self-satisfied grin. “Twins—I think. I should have told you earlier, but things had just got so grim and serious when we should all be happy—”

  “However briefly,” Avall broke in ominously, as emotions warred across his face. “You know that we’ll have to act quickly now that I’ve got the regalia back. Or I will, at any rate.” He closed his eyes and clamped his hands to either side of his head. “But—Oh, Eight damn it! This is just too much! There are too many things to confront all at once, too many choices, too many Eight-cursed if-thens!”

  With that, he rose and stalked away, but Merryn was on her feet in an instant, restraining him with a hand on his arm. “Is there a reason you have to confront it now? The ultimatum’s been expired for over an eight, in case you’ve forgotten. Whatever’s happened in regard to that has happened.”

  Avall turned on her fiercely. “Has it? Maybe it has and maybe it hasn’t, but the fact is I’m still King and I’ve gone off and left people I care about in perilous straits, and people I’m responsible for imprisoned under threat of their lives, never mind what’s happening in Tir-Eron. And that’s not even considering that Zeff could well have found more gems by now—he’s had more than long enough to dig his way down to the mines, especially if he uses everyone in the hold as slave labor.”

  “And you can fix this? You yourself?”

  “Give me the regalia and you’ll see! And the other gems—our personal gems you demanded of us.”

  “What for?”

  “So I can jump back to Gem-Hold. Even if Zeff has found more gems, I’m bound to be his equal simply because I’ve been dealing with gems longer and have three very strong ones properly installed in housings designed for them.”

  Merryn shook her head. “You can’t.”

  “Can’t what.”

  “Jump back.”

  “Give me those gems and I’ll show you!”

  Merryn grabbed Avall by both shoulders and shook him firmly but gently. “You can’t, Avall. They were damaged. They were burned in the fire.”

  He glared at her. “You’ve tried them?”

  A deep breath. “I haven’t dared. I remember what happened with the master gem recording Barrax’s death. These may have done that as well, and if they have—are you man enough to face another man’s death by burning?”

  “The gems can be cured, Merry.”

  “Can they?”

  “The master gem—it was getting better before I broke it.”

  “And the fragments?

  “We’re still testing. That’s why I wanted to use the other gems.”

  She shook him again. “And what about us, Avall? Your friends? Your family? Your wife? Your bond-brother? Everyone you love is here right now. What about us? Would you abandon us all to who-knows-what just so you can return to Gem-Hold and—quite possibly—die?”

  “I won’t die,” Avall retorted. “The cursed gems won’t let me.”

  Merryn’s eyes flashed fire. “The same gems that are shattered or burned past risk of usage? Do you think they owe you any favors now? You said they protected you, but look how we’ve treated them! Would you risk it, Avall?”

  “You’re saying I shouldn’t go back?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, I’ll kick your backside for you if you don’t try. But you go with the rest of us. And maybe you go via the gems. Maybe. We’ve got three good ones in the regalia; maybe you can jump with them. But you won’t do it alone.” She paused, grinning fiendishly. “You know, what would be true justice would be for you to jump into Gem-Hold in secret and plant the burned gems where Zeff can find them—and let him go pleasantly mad.”

  Avall couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “This is the same sister who didn’t want me jumping?”

  She released him with a chuckle of her own—and a warning pat. By unspoken consent, they began to walk together, away from the camp. “Madness and genius are opposite sides of one coin,” she said eventually.

  “And we’d be fools to decide anything until everyone knows as much as possible.”

  She regarded him seriously. “You know what we have to do, don’t you?”

  “You’ll tell me anyway, won’t you?”

  “Only that in order to determine what we can and cannot do, we’ll have to test every one of the gems, both alone and in every possible combination, not only to assess their present condition but also in case some combination of them might still allow jumping—which I will concede is the fastest way back there, if also the most—I’m very tempted to say ‘foolhardy.’ ”

  Avall felt his blood run cold. “You’re right—much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “And as soon as they’re determined to be even minimally safe, the rest of us need to try to bond with the various gems as well—including the burned ones if someone can determine that they’re safe. And maybe even if they’re not.”

  “That’s insane!”

  “Maybe so, but hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe the gems have different effects on different people, or that people have different effects on them? Strynn has said, for instance, that the birkit told her that she’s a strong thinker.”

  “So is Kylin,” Avall acknowledged. “He was able to link with me through a gem neither of us was touching.”

  She grinned. “Then there you are. And there’s also the small fact that we all need to be as familiar and facile with their various … powers as we can be, simply because there’s no telling when one of us might be incapacitated or have to work with an unfamiliar gem. But beyond all that, there’s one final thing I think needs to be done—and this one you really won’t like.”

  “I’ve a feeling I know what it is, too,” Avall sighed. “You’re talking about the regalia.”

  She nodded. “You have to try it again to see if it’s sustained any damage. But we also have to be prepared for the possibility that you may not be able to use it when it’s needed—because you’re dead, injured, didn’t make a jump you expected to, or for a double-eight dozen more unpleasant and unlikely reasons that nevertheless could occur. The point is: A weapon that can only be used properly by one person isn’t much of a weapon. Which means that, much as I dislike the notion, I should try it, in case I have to substitute for you—and then probably Lykkon and Bingg, since it seems to have an affinity for Clan Argen minds. After that, I’d say Rann should try it—with supervision. He’s not our blood, but he’s the closest friend we’ve got who isn’t, and I think we need to know how the regalia would respond to that. And before you say that Strynn’s closer, I’d remind you that she’s also pregnant and carrying the heirs to two important houses—and that those children may be even more important now that the High Clans have been decimated again. That said, she should try it—after she’s delivered.”

  “And Myx, Riff, Div, and Kylin?”

  “Them, too, though I notice you didn’t include Krynneth. Still, if it accepts them, fine. If it doesn’t … Well, if nothing else, the attempt could become a kind of loyalty test.”

  Avall shook his head. “No it will not! When this is over, if I’m alive, or anyone else is alive who owes allegiance to me, I’m going to do what I started out to do: have anything that smacks even slightly of gems hidden away beyond temptation. Maybe in that geen’s lair, in fact.”

  “There’s a lot wrong with that idea,” Merryn snapped.

  Avall turned and started back toward camp. “Maybe so, but tell me later. For now, we need to tie up a few loose ends, then play question-and-answer in case we’ve left out anything important, and then—I don’t know about you, but I barely slept at all last night, besides which, I’d like to spend some time with Strynn.” He paused. “She is all right, isn’t she?”

  Merryn shrugged. “I’m neither a healer nor a midwife, but it looks like a simple cold, complicated by the fact that she’s pregnant.”

  Avall took her hand
. “So, then, as soon as we feel up to it, we start investigating the gems—obviously we can’t do all this testing you propose in one day—probably not even in an eight. But regardless of all that, we need to head north as soon as possible, optimally tomorrow. With this many people and only three horses, it’ll be slow going, but at least it will be some kind of progress. And we can work with the gems on the way. And if we should find out that jumping is an option—”

  “Enough for now,” Merryn said. “I’m as tired of the if-then game, as you are.”

  More discussion awaited them at the camp: discussion that eventually shifted to the hard points of actual logistics—no-tably where, exactly, they were, and how long it would take to return to Gem-Hold—if such a thing were possible—before the winter snows.

  “It shouldn’t be hard,” Lykkon put in, after a good hand’s intent listening. “I can tell a fair bit by where the stars are and the way the sun and moons rise and set. Tied in with what Merryn’s told us about the overland route she took, I’ve got a pretty good idea of where we are. Of course it would help if I had my maps, but, idiot that I am, I pulled ours out to check something before we left, got distracted—and inadvertently left them on the island.” He blushed furiously.

  “We can return,” Riff assured him. “It’ll take time and effort, but it should be possible.”

  “Tomorrow,” Merryn concluded with conviction. “Tonight’s going to be long enough already.”

  CHAPTER XX:

  PLAYING WITH FIRE

  (SOUTHWEST OF ERON–HIGH SUMMER: DAY LXXXV–LATE AFTERNOON)

  Avall and his companions spent the latter part of the morning and most of the afternoon putting the camp in order and retrieving their gear from the raft. Though they had not been able to bring everything from the island—the worktable, rug, and Lykkon’s mislaid maps, to name three—they had brought nearly everything else that was small, portable, and applicable to either defense or most crafts, along with the bulk of their food, save one case of wine. Of course they hadn’t been planning to feed four extra mouths, either—but neither had Merryn’s crew expected to have to provide for seven, so it evened out in the end. Merryn and Strynn still had a decent supply of trail rations, along with a few more items they had secured from the Ixtians. Avall’s group had a fair store of fruit and nuts from the island, plus a nice supply of luxury items Lykkon had been hoarding, which included some very good wine he had brought along, the consumption of which was justified now that there was cause for celebration. For the rest, they had canvas for tents and awnings, and blankets for bedrolls, so that the result of half a day’s intensive labor was that they all but tripled the size of the original compound. Myx and Riff took charge of the horses and strung up a make-do rope corral around them, as well as volunteering to stand guard against marauding geens. By unspoken agreement, the raised rock slab itself was dubbed the Royal Pavilion, mostly because Avall had moved his gear there so as to be with Strynn. The rest of the sleeping arrangements were yet to be decided.

  What with Merryn’s excursion in the wee hours, a morning’s worth of exertions for most of them, and an afternoon’s excitement, punctuated by more physical endeavors, they were all hungry well before the usual mealtime. Bingg and Rann volunteered to cook, claiming they had fewest other conflicts, since Lykkon was frantically recording everything he could remember about the day in his journal.

  The meal itself was quite a feast, given its impromptu nature and the circumstances under which it was contrived. The main entree was a stew of horse, water-beast, and a third of the remaining Ixtian bacon, mixed with local wild mushrooms and tubers. There was also fruit, wild salad, and pan-bread with cheese; while they quenched their thirst with water, saving the wine for dessert, as they were saving their precious supply of cauf for breakfast.

  And while the amounts consumed would have raised no eyebrows in Tir-Eron, life in the Wild had accustomed everyone to lighter fare, and so no one went away hungry.

  With three hands still remaining before sunset, peace settled across the camp—but also a certain degree of anticipation. People kept glancing at Avall, then glancing away, as though they hoped he hadn’t seen them. They were waiting for him to act, he knew. Waiting for him to remember that he was King.

  Which was odd, he considered, as he leaned back against the upright stone at the rear of the camp and took his first long sip of Lykkon’s wine. Yesterday he had been one of a group of equals; better at some tasks than some of his fellows, worse than others. And less useful overall than Riff or Myx, if for no other reason than because he was younger. Today, he was King again. He wondered what made the difference. He had the regalia, of course, but that was a symbol of power, not power itself, at least as far as this group perceived it, for they knew he would never use it against them.

  But Merryn was back, as was Strynn, so perhaps they made the crucial distinction. Merryn was certainly more decisive than he, yet she deferred to him. Strynn was all but his legal equal and also strong in her own right. But again, she deferred to him.

  So, he wondered, where did the division lie between that which was symbol and that which was truly Avall?

  He caught himself drowsing and shook himself. This was no time to waste on dreaming when there was work to be done if they were going to accomplish anything at all beyond vanishing from Eronese history—or being recorded there as slothful dilettantes.

  “I need to do something,” he announced, and rose.

  Merryn and Rann, who stood nearest, caught his eye. “There’s no reason to wait,” he continued, for their benefit alone. “I can dread what I know I’m going to have to do, or I can get it over with. I don’t know how much progress we can make before sunset, but I guess it’s time we determined the current status of at least a couple of the gems.

  “Lykkon,” he called, louder. “You need to be here to watch and record. And to abort things if it looks like anything untoward is about to happen.”

  “What is about to happen?” Lykkon inquired, ambling over to join them.

  “I’m about to test the gems and regalia,” Avall told him. “As days progress, we’ll all need to work with them, but we’re starting with me because the majority of them are most attuned to me.”

  Lykkon, who had effectively taken charge of the fragments of the master gem, nodded. “Where do you want to begin?”

  Avall sat down on the edge of the slab of rock around which their camp was built. “I’ve got some idea about how the broken ones function, and Merry just used the regalia, so I suppose the logical place is to begin with the burned ones, since they’re the primary unknown quantity. I’ll try to bond with them, starting with the one that used to be mine, and go from there.”

  Merryn stared at him. “Not to be contentious, but … why you? Two of those gems were tuned to Rann and Strynn; they could just as well be the ones to test them. And since Strynn—”

  “I’ll go first,” Rann broke in abruptly.

  “You will not!” Avall challenged. “I’ve shirked responsibility long enough, and this, as nothing else, is my responsibility.”

  “But you haven’t worked with these particular gems,” Merryn gave back. “No one has, since they were burned. They’re a whole new … category.”

  “Besides,” Rann chimed in, “I’ve contributed almost nothing to gem lore, so it’s time I did. Just one of you be ready to pull me out if things go badly.”

  Avall glared at him. “I haven’t said you can do this yet—and I am still your King.”

  The glare Rann returned him was as fierce. “And my duty is to protect that King, and since we both know there’s a risk involved—”

  He paused, tense as a harp string, all but gasping for breath, then: “But forgetting that for the nonce, I will say this once and never, I pray, again: but as you are my friend and my bondbrother, Avall, do not ever, ever, ever pull rank on me in a matter like this again. We both know what’s at risk, and I’m not talking about the gems—not anymore.”

 
; Merryn’s hand was actually on her dagger, the situation had grown so tense. But she laid a hand on Avall’s shoulder. “We’ll gain more new information at less risk if Rann tries first,” she murmured. “If he succeeds, I’d say the next step would be bonding with you, and then … we shall see.”

  “Will we?” Avall growled. But already his will was weakening in the face of cold, hard facts. A risk was involved. Rann was more expendable, as far as the Kingdom was concerned, and Rann served the Kingdom as well as the King—and the Kingdom always came first. Besides which, he was willing.

  “Do it,” Avall said finally. “I’ll concede this argument. But be warned, I will not concede the next one, not if it’s a matter of who uses what gems how.”

  “That’s—” Rann began.

  “Not fair,” Merryn finished for him. “But probably reasonable, given what’s at stake.”

  And then, abruptly, silence.

  “Are you going to try for any particular effect?” Lykkon dared at last, to break the uneasy tension. “Merryn’s right: We should all try the same things, optimally with all the different gems in all their states. For now—Well, as I understand it, the main effects aside from bonding are protracted time sense, heightened senses in general, and the ability to distance-speak—but that last probably won’t work at present, since all the likely targets are surely wide-awake right now, and ‘speaking’ works best if one is dozing but not yet full asleep. Oh, and there’s jumping, of course.”

  “Jumping,” Avall echoed sourly. “But probably not with these.” He eyed Rann warily. “If you do try something that stupid, be sure your target is within recovery range—by which I mean somewhere from which you can walk back here in no more than a hand—like the geen’s cave, only I forbid you to target that.”

  Rann rolled his eyes. “Give me a gem and let’s get started—before you talk me out of it entirely and we have the whole damned argument to do over.”

  Merryn fished in a pouch and brought out what had been their personal gems before she had claimed them to be spirited away with the regalia—which was before one of the Ixtians had walked into a fire with them in a pouch at his side.