Silverthorn

by Raymond E. Feist

  Of the hundreds of volumes Macros had bequeathed to Pug and Kulgan, only a third had been catalogued. Macros, through his strange goblin-like agent, Gathis, had provided a listing of each title. In some cases that had proved helpful, for the work was well known by title alone. In other cases it was useless until the book was read. There were seventy-two works alone called Magic, and a dozen other instances of several books with like nomenclature. Looking for possible clues to the nature of what they faced, Pug had closeted himself with the remaining works and begun skimming them for any hint of useful information. Now he sat, the work upon his knee, with a growing certainty about what he must do.

  Pug placed the book carefully upon his writing table and left his study. He walked down the stairs to the hall that connected all the rooms in use in the academy building. Work upon the upper level next to the tower that housed his workrooms had been halted by the rain that now beat down upon Stardock. A cold gust blew through a crack in the wall, and Pug gathered his black robe about himself as he entered the dining hall, which was used as a common room these days.

  Katala looked up from where she sat embroidering, near the fireplace, in one of the comfortable chairs that occupied the half of the room used as common quarters. Brother Dominic and Kulgan had been talking, the heavyset magician puffing on his ever present pipe. Kasumi watched as William and Gamina played chess in a corner, their two little faces masks of concentration as they pitted their newly emerging skills against each other. William had been an indifferent student of the game until the girl had shown an interest. Being beaten by her seemed to bring out his sense of competition, heretofore limited to the ball yard. Pug thought to himself that, when time permitted, he would have to explore their gifts more closely. If time permitted …

  Meecham entered, carrying a decanter of wine, and offered a wine cup to Pug. Pug thanked him and sat down next to his wife. Katala said, ‘Supper is not for another hour. I had expected I would have to come and fetch you.’

  ‘I’ve finished what work I had and decided to relax a little before dining.’

  Katala said, ‘Good. You drive yourself too∗ hard, Pug. With teaching others, supervising the construction of this monstrous building, and now locking yourself away in your study, you have had little time to spend with us.’

  Pug smiled at her. ‘Nagging?’

  ‘A wifely prerogative,’ she said, returning his smile. Katala was not a nag. Whatever displeasure she felt was openly voiced, and quickly resolved, by either compromise or one partner’s acceptance of the other’s intractability.

  Pug looked about. ‘Where is Gardan?’

  Kulgan said, ‘Bah! You see. If you hadn’t been locked up in your tower, you’d have remembered he left today for Shamata, so he can send Lyam messages by military pouch. He’ll be back in a week.’

  ‘He went alone?’

  Kulgan settled back in his chair. ‘I cast a foretelling. The rain will last three days. Many of the workers returned home for a short visit rather than sit in their barracks for three days. Gardan went with them. What have you been delving into in your tower these last few days? You’ve barely said a civil word for a week.’

  Pug surveyed those in the room with him. Kataia seemed absorbed by her needlework, but he knew she was listening closely for his answer. The children were intent upon their game. Kulgan and Dominic watched him with open interest. ‘Reading Macros’s works, seeking to discover something that might give a clue to what can be done. You?’

  ‘Dominic and I have counselled with others in the village. We’ve managed to come to some conclusions.’

  Such as?’

  ‘Now that Rogen is healing, and has been able to tell us in detail what he saw in his vision, some of our more talented youngsters have thrown themselves upon the problem.’ Pug detected a mixture of amusement and pride in the older magician’s words. ‘Whatever it is out there that seeks to bring harm to the Kingdom, or Midkemia, is limited in power. Assume for a moment that it is, as you fear, some dark agency slipped through the rift from Kelewan, somehow, during the Riftwar. It has weaknesses, and fears to reveal itself fully.’

  ‘Explain, please,’ said Pug, his interest driving aside all fatigue.

  ‘We will assume this thing is from Kasumi’s homeworld and not seek some other more exotic explanation for its use of an ancient Tsurani dialect. But unlike Kasumi’s former allies, it comes not in open conquest, but rather seeks to use others as tools. Assume it came by the rift somehow. The rift is a year closed, which means it has been here for at least that long, and perhaps as long as eleven years, gathering servants like the Pantathian priests. Then it seeks to establish itself, by using a moredhel, the “beautiful one,” as Rogen described him, as an agent. What we need truly fear is the dark presence behind that beautiful moredhel and the others. That is the ultimate author of this bloody business.

  ‘Now, if all this is true, it seeks to manipulate and employ guile rather than direct force. Why? Either it is too weak to act, and must employ others, or it is biding its time until it is able to reveal its true nature and come to the fore.’

  ‘Which all means we still must discover the identity and nature of this thing, this power.’

  ‘True. Now, we also have done some speculation predicated upon the assumption that what we face is not of Kelewan.’

  Pug interrupted. ‘Do not waste time with that, Kulgan. We must proceed on the assumption that what we face is from Kelewan, for that, at least, provides us with a possible avenue of approach. If Murmandamus is simply some moredhel witch-king come into his own, one who just happens to speak a long-dead Tsurani tongue, we can counter that. But an invasion by some dark power from Kelewan … that is the assumption we must make.’

  Kulgan sighed loudly and relit his cold pipe. ‘I wish we had more time, and more idea of how to proceed. I wish we could examine some aspect of this phenomenon without risk. I wish a hundred things, but most of all I wish for one work by one reliable witness to this thing.’

  ‘There is a place where such a work may exist.’

  Dominic said, ‘Where? I would gladly accompany you or anyone else to such a place, no matter what the risk.’

  Kulgan barked a bitter laugh. ‘Not likely, good brother. My former student speaks of a place upon another world.’ Kulgan looked hard at Pug. ‘The library of the Assembly.’

  Kasumi said, ‘The Assembly?’

  Pug saw Katala stiffen. ‘In that place there may be answers that would aid our coming battle,’ he said.

  Katala never took her eyes from her work. In controlled tones she said, ‘It is good the rift is closed and cannot be reopened save by chance. Your life may already be ordered forfeit. Remember that your status as a Great One was called into question before the attack on the Emperor. Who can doubt you are now named outlaw? No, it is good there is no way you might return.’

  Pug said, ‘There is a way.’

  Instantly Katala’s eyes were ablaze as she looked hard at him. ‘No! You cannot return!’

  Kulgan said, ‘How can there be a way back?’

  ‘When I studied for the black robe, I was given a final task,’ Pug explained. ‘Standing upon the Tower of Testing, I saw a vision of the time of the Stranger, a wandering star that imperiled Kelewan. It was Macros who intervened at the last to save Kelewan. Macros was again on Kelewan on the day I nearly destroyed the Imperial Arena. It was obvious all the time and only this week did I understand.’

  ‘Macros could travel between the worlds at will!’ said Kulgan, comprehension dawning in his eyes. ‘Macros had the means to fashion controllable rifts!’

  And I have found it. Clear instructions are in one of his books.

  Katala whispered, ‘You cannot go.’

  He reached over and took her white-knuckled hands in his own. ‘I must.’ He faced Kulgan and Dominic. ‘I have the means of returning to the Assembly, and I must use it. Otherwise, should Murmandamus be a servant of some dark Kelewanese power, or simply a diversion w
hile such a power comes into its own, we will be lost without hope. If we are to find a way of dealing with such a one, we must first identify it, discover its true nature, and to do that I must go to Kelewan.’ He looked at his wife, then at Kulgan. ‘I will return to Tsuranuanni.’

  It was Meecham who spoke first. ‘Well then. When do we leave?’

  Pug said, ‘We? I must go alone.’

  The tall franklin said, ‘You can’t go alone,’ as if that thought was the sheerest absurdity. ‘When shall we leave?’

  Pug looked up at Meecham. ‘You don’t speak the language. You’re too tall to be a Tsurani.’

  ‘I’ll be your slave. There are Midkemian slaves there, you’ve said often enough.’ His tone indicated the argument was over. He looked from Katala to Kulgan and said, ‘There wouldn’t be a moment’s peace around here should anything happen to you.’

  William came over, Gamina behind him. ‘Papa, please take Meecham with you.’

  Please.

  Pug put his hands in the air. ‘Very well. We’ll establish some charade.’

  Kulgan said, ‘I feel a little better, which is a relative statement not to be taken as approval.’

  ‘Your objection is duly noted.’

  Dominic said, ‘Now the issue has been broached, I, too, wish to again offer to accompany you.’

  ‘You offered before you knew where I was going. One Midkemian I can look after, two would prove too burdensome.’

  ‘I have my uses,’ replied Dominic. ‘I know the healer’s arts and can perform my own brands of magic. And I have a good arm and can wield a mace.’

  Pug studied the monk. ‘You are taller than I by only a little. You might pass as a Tsurani, but there’s the problem of language.’

  ‘In Ishap’s order we have magic means to learn languages. While you prepare your rift spells, I can learn the Tsurani tongue and aid Meecham in learning it as well, if the Lady Katala or Earl Kasumi will help.’

  William said, ‘I can help. I speak Tsurani.’

  Katala didn’t look pleased, but agreed. Kasumi said, ‘I also.’ He looked troubled.

  Kulgan said, ‘Of all here, Kasumi, I expected you would be the most likely to wish a return, yet you’ve said nothing.’

  ‘When the last rift closed, my life on Kelewan ended. I am now Earl of LaMut. My tenure within the Empire of Tsuranuanni is but a memory. Even if it is possible to return. I would not, for I have taken oath to the King. But, he said to Pug, ‘will you carry messages for me to my father and brother? They have no way to know I live, let alone prosper.’

  ‘Of course. It is only right.’ He said to Katala, ‘Beloved, can you fashion two robes of the Order of Hantukama?’ She nodded. He explained to the others, ‘It is a missionary order; its members are commonly seen travelling about. Disguised as such, we shall attract little attention as we wander. Meecham can be our begging slave.’

  Kulgan said, ‘I still don’t like this idea. I am not happy.’

  Meecham looked at Kulgan. ‘When you worry, you’re happy.’

  Pug laughed at this. Katala put her arms around her husband and held him closely. She also was not happy.

  Katala held up the robe and said, ‘Try this.’

  Pug found it a perfect fit. She had carefully chosen fabrics that would most closely resemble those used upon Kelewan.

  Pug had been meeting daily with others in the community, delegating authority for his absence – and, as was understood but not spoken, against the probability that he would not return. Dominic had been learning Tsurani from Kasumi and William and aiding in Meecham’s mastery of that language. Kulgan had been given Macros’s work on rifts to study so he could aid Pug in the formation of one.

  Kulgan entered Pug’s private quarters as Katala was inspecting her handiwork. ‘You’ll freeze in that.’

  Katala said, ‘My homeworld is a hot place, Kulgan. These light robes are what is commonly worn.’

  ‘By, women as well?’ When she said yes, he said. Positively indecent.’ as he pulled out a chair.

  William and Gamina ran into the room. The little girl was a changed child now that Rogen’s recovery was assured. She was William’s constant companion, playing, competing, and arguing as if she were a sister. Katala had kept her in the family’s quarters while the old man healed, in a room next to William’s.

  The boy shouted, ‘Meecham’s coming!’ and broke out in gleeful laughter as he spun in a circle of delight. Gamina laughed aloud as well, imitating William’s spin, and Kulgan and Pug exchanged glances, for it was the first audible sound the child had ever made. Meecham entered the room, and the adults’ laughter joined with the children’s. The burly forester’s hairy legs and arms stuck out from the short robe, and he stood awkwardly in the imitation Tsurani sandals.

  He looked around the room. ‘So what’s funny?’

  Kulgan said, ‘I’ve grown so used to seeing you in hunter’s togs, I couldn’t imagine what you’d look like.’

  Pug said, ‘You just look a little different than I had expected,’ and tried to stifle a laugh.

  The franklin shook his head in disgust, if you’re done? When do we leave?’

  Pug said, ‘Tomorrow morning, just after dawn.’ Instantly all laughter in the room died.

  They waited quietly around the hill with the large tree, on the north side of Stardock Island. The rain had stopped, but a damp, cold wind blew, promising more rain shortly. Most of the community had come to see Pug, Dominic, and Meecham on their way. Katala stood next to Kulgan with her hands upon William’s shoulders. Gamina clutched tightly to Katala’s skirt, looking nervous and a little frightened.

  Pug stood alone, consulting the scroll he had fashioned. A short way off, Meecham and Dominic waited, shivering against the cold, while they listened to Kasumi speak. He was intensively speaking of every detail of Tsurani custom and life he could remember that might prove important. He was constantly remembering details he had almost forgotten. The franklin held the travel bag Pug had prepared, containing the usual items a priest would carry. Also inside, under those items, were a few things uncommon to a priest on Kelewan, weapons and coins of metal, a fortune by Kelewanese standards.

  Kulgan came to where Pug indicated, holding a staff fashioned by a woodcarver in the village. He planted it firmly in the soil, then took another handed to him and placed it four feet away. He stepped back as Pug began to read aloud from the scroll.

  Between the staves a field of light grew, rainbow colours dancing up and down. A crackling noise could be heard, and the air began to smell as it did after a lightning strike, acrid and pungent.

  The light began to expand and change in colour, moving faster through the spectrum until it gleamed whitely. It grew in intensity until it was too bright to look upon. Still Pug’s voice droned on. Then came a loud explosion of noise, as if a thunderclap had pealed between the staves, and a short gust of wind towards the gap between them, as if a sudden drawing in of air had occurred.

  Pug put away his scroll and all looked at what he had fashioned. A shimmering square of grey ‘nothingness’ stood between the upright staves. Pug motioned to Dominic and said, ‘I’ll go through first. The rift is targeted to a glade behind my old estate, but it might have appeared elsewhere.’

  If the environment proved hostile, he would have to step around the pole, entering it from the same side again, appearing back on Midkemia as if he had passed through a hoop. If he was able.

  He turned and smiled at Katala and William. His son jiggled around nervously, but Katala’s reassuring pressure on the boy’s shoulders quieted him. She only nodded, her face composed.

  Pug stepped into the rift and vanished. There was an audible intake of breath at the sight, for only a few there knew what to expect. The following moments dragged on, and many unconsciously held their breath.

  Suddenly Pug appeared from the other side of the rift and an audible sigh of relief came from those who waited. He came back to the others and said, ‘It opens exactly
where I had hoped it would. Macros’s spellcraft was flawless.’ He took Katala’s hands. ‘It is next to the reflecting pool in the meditation glade.’

  Katala fought back the tears. She had tended flowers around that pool, where a solitary bench looked over calm waters, when she had been mistress of that great estate. She nodded understanding, and Pug embraced her, then William. As Pug knelt before William, Gamina suddenly threw her arms around his neck. Be careful.

  He hugged her in return. ‘I will, little one.’

  Pug motioned Dominic and Meecham to follow and walked through the rift. They hesitated the barest instant and followed him into the greyness.

  The others stood watching for long minutes after the three had vanished, and the rain began again. No one wished to leave. Finally, as the rain took on a more insistent quality, Kulgan said, ‘Those set to watch, remain. The rest, back to work.’ Everyone slowly moved off, no one resenting Kulgan’s sharp tone. They all shared his concern.

  Yagu, chief gardener on the estate of Netoha, near the city of Ontoset, turned to find three strangers walking the path from the meditation glade to the great house. Two were priests of Hantukama, the Bringer of Blessed Health, though both were unusually tall for priests. Behind walked their begging slave, a captive barbarian giant from the late war. Yagu shuddered, for he was an ugly sort, with a horrible scar down his left cheek. In a culture of warriors, Yagu was a gentle man, preferring the company of his flowers and plants to that of men who spoke only of warfare and honour. Still, he had a duty to his master’s house and approached the three strangers.

  When they saw him coming, they halted, and Yagu bowed first, as he was initiating the conversation – common courtesy until rank was established. ‘Greetings, honoured priests. It is Yagu the gardener who presumes to interrupt your journey.’