Beyond

by Mercedes Lackey

  They strolled through the manor, out the back into the kitchen garden, and from there down a path that ended at a small stone building about the size of a room, surrounded by a stone wall. After a moment, she realized this was a pigsty. A truly palatial pigsty. And although she could not see the pigs in it, she soon was able to read the name carved above the door.

  The Empress.

  Sure enough, when Lesley led her to the wall, which was at exactly a comfortable height to rest her arms on and lean against, there was the sow in all her immaculate glory, large and pink and very, very clean. The sty smelled of nothing worse than clean straw. And the piglets were surprisingly cute, nosing around in the straw in imitation of their mother, although they surely weren’t old enough to want anything other than milk.

  “Handy thing, this,” said the Squire. “You’ll find a couple of places in Valdemar like this. Lovely little circles of stone, absolutely dead to scrying. Anyone who tries can see what’s here, but won’t be able to hear a bloody damned thing. Now, young lady, what in the seven Hells is going on? Are we putting off the Plan?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” she assured him. “If anything, it might be going faster than we thought. Ivar Endicrag has been to the site, and found a lake perfect for our purposes in every possible way and more.”

  “Wait a moment, let me read the note,” he said, pulling it out of his waistband and unfolding it. He perused it for a very long time, and smiled slightly.

  Then instead of talking to her, he pulled something else out of a pocket, and wrapped the note tightly around it. She got a glimpse of cheese before he leaned over the wall, held it out, and made a “pshpshpshing” sound at the sow.

  The Empress ambled over, sniffed his offering, and daintily accepted it, devouring paper, cheese, and all.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve been told the Plan?” he said.

  She shook her head. “Not in full, but I’m told none of us have. All that I know is that Kordas wants to get as many people as he can as far away from the Empire as possible. And that this is something that goes all the way back, perhaps to his grandfather’s time, and certainly to his father’s.”

  Lesley nodded. “It does, and my folk have been in on it from the beginning. We’re evacuating by barge, because barges can carry more than wagons and make better shelters. That is why we needed a place where we could put a water-Gate down. First we needed to find a good spot. Then we needed to get someone across to explore and find us a body of water. After that comes the Foothold Gate, and then it’s up to the mages to do whatever it is they do to establish a proper water-Gate on the shore, and maybe another for foot traffic. Once they do that, Valdemar Manor will start transporting barges full of supplies and people to establish a camp across. This will take a tremendous amount of supplies, far more than people can bring for themselves. Depending on how many people we can evacuate, they’ll have to spread themselves out so we don’t overwhelm the area with people and animals and all the shit they produce.” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean that literally. Kordas’s father was the first one to see the sanitation problem and allow for it. ‘If you’re to manage a civilized people, start with the sewage,’ he told us all early on. As a pig farmer, I’m acutely aware of such a problem. Fortunately, shit itself is a valuable resource when it comes to crops, so the challenge isn’t just getting rid of it, but managing it. We’ll need to establish a territory at least as big as this Duchy if we are going to prosper.”

  “As big as this Duchy?” she said, shocked. “But—that looked like it was all wilderness! And—how?”

  “It might look that way, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people there already. We’ll have to deal with that as we go along. It might be easier if there are people and we can negotiate with them to mutual satisfaction. After all, we do have plenty of people who are from all manner of crafts and so on.” He shrugged. “If not, there are two big things. We’ll need to get as far as we can from the Gate we put up, simply because whatever we did, the Emperor’s mages might be able to follow. And because our—call ’em sanitary facilities—are going to be crude at best, we’ll need to spread ourselves out. If we poison our water, we might as well slit our own throats and get it over with, otherwise it’ll be a miserable lingering death for about half of us, if not more. As to how, Kordas, and I suppose Isla, have that all mapped out. All I know is my part: my people, my kin, and my pigs.”

  “It seems impossible,” she faltered.

  He shrugged again. “The Emperor’s Army can do it. He can put three legions in the same place without wrecking it. We reckon to have about five thousand less than that, if we can get everyone out. We just have to allow for animals as well as people, but again, the Emperor’s Army has horses, mules, and a fair number of food animals with it, otherwise the supply problems would be endless.”

  Her head swam with all of that, and she was just glad she wasn’t the one who had to try to make all of this work.

  “Drop by drop, Lady Fidelia. To the best of my knowledge, all of us landholders in the Duchy implemented roving teams of specialists to look after our lands; unknown to them, that was to prepare them for the fast work needed at the Foothold. Everyone will know his part, and if each of us faithfully does his part, it’ll work.” He patted her on the shoulder, a level of familiarity that could have been a crime in other regions of the Empire. “Have faith. Now, we’ve probably lingered here long enough. Do you have another message to deliver?”

  She nodded.

  “Then if you’re to get back safe by nightfall, we’d better move on.”

  They walked back to the manor; the gatekeeper had tied Sundrop up in the shade near the gatehouse and given her water. The Squire gave Delia a kind farewell, sketched a salute, and went back into his home. She mounted into the saddle without aid and took out her map.

  Count Endicrag’s manor was much further from here than this place had been from the Valdemar manor. Lesley was right. She had a long way to go.

  * * *

  —

  Lord Gerther Endicrag was the opposite of the Squire: lean, wiry, and very like a much older version of his son Ivar. Delia was in no position to tell if his garments were in the current fashion or not, but they were certainly as stylish as Kordas’s were, and at least as new.

  The manor was like her old home, but in a different style. Newer, perhaps. It was not one of those sugar-sculpture creations.

  She was met at his gatehouse and escorted to his door. There was already a footman at the door, who escorted her to the Count as Sundrop was taken away to the stable. When the footman led her inside, she discovered that unlike her old home and the Squire’s place, this manor was modeled on the same pattern as the mage-built edifices, in that it had corridors and hallways that led to rooms, not rooms opening into other rooms, which opened into still more rooms. While the latter might be a more efficient use of space, there was no doubt that it was more maze-like, and gave one very little privacy.

  She was taken to a small corner room lined with curio shelves and looking out over a pleasant ornamental garden. Not only were there windows open to the garden, there was a door as well. This was clearly not an office. And the Count was not alone.

  With him was a lady who was about the same age, with short-cropped graying hair, whose features were so like his that she immediately revised her idea that this was his wife. He confirmed this by introducing her to “my cousin Alberdina, a Healer with as wandering a foot as my son Ivar.”

  They all settled down into three chairs beside the cold hearth; the Count ordered wine and invited Delia to explain why she was there.

  Keeping to her script, she told him how Kordas had been summoned to the Imperial Capital with no notice and for an indefinite length of time, and that she was to be the messenger between him and Lady Isla.

  He pursed his lips, but said nothing immediately. Alberdina, however, was not shy about giv
ing her opinion.

  “How tiresome,” she said. “I wanted permission to test his people for Healing ability. I don’t suppose Lady Isla will cooperate?”

  “I don’t see any reason why she shouldn’t,” Delia hastened to tell her.

  “Well, not every Lady is pleased when her favorite gardener or some other useful servant turns out to be able to Heal, and I snatch them up from under her nose to train them,” Alberdina said.

  “You can do that?” Delia looked at her, perplexed.

  “Imperial Law. Goes back to when the Wolf King was a pup.” She laughed heartily. “Old bastard fancied the idea of having a Healer at hand to tend even his hangnails. Not a bad law, either.”

  “I don’t think Lady Isla will object,” Delia replied firmly.

  The Count nodded. “Told you so, cousin. Our Duchess is very much on the practical side.”

  Then the Count asked a lot of very trite and boring questions, until Delia wondered if she’d been sent to the right place. It went on for so long she was about to find some excuse to leave, when a little mage-light that had been burning on a small table between the Count and his cousin turned from red to white. She might not even have noticed it, had the Count not suddenly relaxed and held out his hand.

  “It’s safe to speak now,” he said. “And I assume you have a message for me?”

  With relief, she handed over her bit of parchment. The Count read it, then handed it to Alberdina, who in turn read it and handed it back to Delia.

  “Give that back to Lady Isla. She’ll know what to do with it,” the Count said. “I’m not a mage myself. I don’t know how to destroy it in such a way that another mage can’t find out what was on it.”

  “Squire Lesley fed his to his pig,” she offered, and the Count and his cousin laughed.

  “Practical as ever, is Lesley. All right, we’re ready. Ivar is yours now, and I’ll start readying others to follow. Supplies as well, of course.”

  “I’ll be coming back with you, on the excuse that I’m testing Healers. In fact, I’ll go over as soon as you get the permanent Gate up. You’ll need a Healer over there, and I’m very much looking forward to seeing a new land.” She rubbed her hands together in satisfaction. Delia was fascinated. “Oh, you’re surprised? I’m all packed up with everything I can’t live without. We’ve taught just about everybody in our lands to have a jump-bag or two, stuffed with everything vital to them, in case of fire. Without them knowing it, we were training them for the Plan. All I need to do at the moment is steal a couple of Gerther’s mules, and we’re off.”

  “Gerther is happy to give them to you. Shall we go do that, while the light is still clear?” the Count suggested. Since by this time Delia was eager to get back and find out if Isla had heard anything from Kordas, she all but leapt to her feet.

  The ride back was rather more fun, if a bit slower, than the ride out. The mules set their own pace, and there was absolutely no point in trying to make them go faster. They were mules, after all.

  Alberdina had been almost as many places as Ivar, though never outside of Imperial lands, and was full of stories. Stories that were much different than Ivar’s, of course; she was a Healer, not an explorer. Her stories were about people, rather than places.

  “But I’ve never been near the Capital and I never wanted to be,” she finished, as they came within sight of the Valdemar manor. “That place eats up Healers and spits them out sick and exhausted, and it takes them a year or more to recover, during which they are useless.”

  Delia cast her a warning glance, but it was clear that Alberdina was not concerned with hiding her opinion of the Capital in any way. “The place is unhealthy, and we all think it has to do with the magic. Whether it’s just too many spells tangling up with one another, or the wrong kind of magic, who can say? Only another mage, and they aren’t talking. Or maybe it’s all the bad temper there. Everyone silently at everyone else’s throat. We’re sensitive to that; can’t be a Healer without also being an Empath. Fortunately for me, no one there wants a loud-mouthed female Healer who won’t keep her opinions to herself.”

  “It sounds to me as if you and my sister will get along like two sister-mares in a herd,” Delia said, smiling a little.

  “Well, we’re probably both lead-mares, so that’s just fine,” the Healer proclaimed, and raised her head and sniffed the air. “Is that chicken I smell?”

  “Your nose must be phenomenal!” Delia exclaimed. “It probably is. We have country-supper, which is soup and things for our evening meal. Our cook makes an amazing chicken soup.”

  “It’s another reason why I won’t go near the Capital,” the Healer said. “The stink. ‘The City of Smoke and Hate,’ I call it. And chicken soup? I’d have walked here for a good chicken soup.” She put her heels to her mule, who, seeing and scenting a stable nearby, this time willingly picked up his pace, as did the two carrying her luggage and gear.

  They arrived exactly when supper was served, which gave them just time to wash up before joining the rest. She and Ivar enlivened the entire High Table with stories, and the entire room eavesdropped without shame. If there was ever a great distraction and an utter boredom for a spy, this is it, Delia thought, and she was very, very sure that this was exactly what Alberdina and Ivar intended. A mage scrying would have been asleep before they all packed up, and Isla gathered up the four of them with her eyes and indicated they were to follow.

  They did, and Hakkon came along.

  She had expected them to go down to the cellars, but they went to the common room of the Circle’s Tower. There were more mages there tonight—none of them as old or as eccentric as the Circle, but there were a great many crammed into the usually capacious space.

  The mage-lights around the room were a peculiar hue, one that Delia had never seen before. A sort of pale purple. She settled on the floor—most of the seating here was either on stools or on the floor, and she didn’t want to take an actual seat from someone who physically could not sit on the floor—out of the way of the people she suspected were actually important enough to speak.

  But not before she passed the note back to Isla, who took it, nodded, and—it ignited in her hand, going up in a sudden burst of blue flame.

  When everyone had settled, and there was no one coming in the door anymore, Ponu cleared his throat and the muttering died away to nothing.

  “Scryers will see the six of us gambling,” he said. “So everyone can speak freely. We have a big job ahead of us, and we need to figure out how to do it without anyone even guessing what we’re up to. Tomorrow down in the cavern, every mage in this place is going to help build the water-Gate and the land-Gate. The first, obviously, will be for barges, and the second for foot traffic. We’re having bedding brought down there, because when we’re done, most of you will be about to pass out.”

  There were groans.

  “Quit your bitching,” said Sai. “We’re also cracking open the best wine in the Valdemar cellars and drinking it afterward. Wine doesn’t take Gating well, so we might as well drink it now.”

  The groans died away.

  “I’ve already crafted the four pillars,” said Jonaton. “As big as I could manage, and I think we’ll be able to pass more than one barge or person at a time. There might be a rush on the Gates at the last minute, so—” he shrugged.

  “Once the pillars are across the Foothold Gate, that’s the easy part. Jonaton is going to activate and attune them. I don’t envy him that.” For once, Ponu gave Jonaton a nod of respect. “Alberdina, we’ll need you on the other side for that, because he’s going to be flatter than a sheet of paper and about as much use after. Gates aren’t meant to be attuned by one person, but these are pulling Gates, and that means only one person can attune them.”

  “I can do that,” the Healer said. “I have some ideas that might make it easier on him.”

  “Once they’
re attuned and they have the right resonance, anyone with the right talisman can use any other Gate in the entire Duchy to get there. And that’s the best plan; ideally, we want to use common, short-journey Gates that don’t need Keepers, but we don’t want to keep using the same Gates either. And we want to make it possible for people to travel short physical distances to the Gates rather than long ones. Is everything clear so far?”

  Murmurs of agreement.

  “All right. The last thing is the talismans. You will all know the resonance. You all know how to make them. We’re going to need a lot of them, but we plan on reusing them by sending a couple of you across to the destination, where you can temporarily neuter them and send them back in bunches.”

  “How do you neuter a talisman?” someone asked.

  “Carry it in a mule’s nutsack!” Ceri yelled out, and Sai smacked him, while everyone else laughed.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Ceri snickered. “I meant to say, carry them in Sai’s nutsack.”

  Ponu chucked a buttered roll at Ceri. “We have a status board in the workroom below and you know your code terms. Remember, the real trick now is to work hard, work fast, but act bored. Keep rain covers over everything coming in and out. Anything new, Jonaton?”

  Jonaton reiterated, “Behave like nothing unusual is going on. I’m going through the Foothold Gate within the next few days to check some things from the other side, too, if Alberdina can keep me steady enough. I have some ideas. And don’t eat or drink anything from the Foothold side until the teams mark them as safe. Not even any field cooking until the tests are done. That means you’ll be sent home-cooked meals for a while.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief. “That’s—much better than I thought,” said someone Delia couldn’t see.

  Ponu snorted. “This Plan has been decades in the making. If we didn’t think of everything by now, it’s because whatever is coming is something we can’t anticipate with all the information we have. All right. This phase is going to happen within the week. Are you all ready?”