"Nobody here seems to think so!"
"The Tanarians know everything, do they? Haven't you always been the sort to scoff at local beliefs, then attempt to expose them as ridiculous superstition while you uncover the real truth of the matter?"
"You could be right," Dante said, calming himself. "We're in a strange land that's virtually unknown outside of its own borders, and the only person we know here is somebody I've spent the last year alternately trying to kill and avoid being killed by. Meanwhile, the enemy we're contending with is like nothing I've ever seen before. Given all of the above, it's not easy to know what's true. We could be overestimating the White Lich."
"Ah, it's been so long since I heard the sweet tune of sense! I thought I'd never—"
"However, the point remains that we are at least partly responsible for his release. And even if he's not capable of consuming the entire world, I've already watched him consume a Tanarian village. He'll cause far more death than that before he's done. We have to find a way to eliminate him, but we don't have the strength to do it ourselves."
"It might have slipped your mind, busy as you are, but you do rule an entire citadel full of some of the most highly-trained priests and monks on the continent. I could dispatch some of them to you."
"We'll do that, but it'll take months for them to arrive. Who knows how powerful the White Lich will be by then. And we need to plan for the possibility, however remote you might think it is, that he is as dangerous as the Tanarians say. Preparing a defense against that is going to require more than a few months."
"Hmm. Have you considered diplomacy?"
"Well, we and the White Lich have already tried to kill each other three times now, and he keeps trying to enslave me. But I'm sure we'll be able to hash out our differences over a nice pot of tea."
"Not with him, you fool. Er, foolishly great leader. I was referring to our allies. And potential allies."
"Like who? Gallador?"
"They have a few sorcerers around, don't they? And they're exceedingly loyal. Especially since you completed that tunnel for them into the Western Kingdoms."
Dante scratched the side of his jaw. "They'll help us, but they can't afford to send much. Not with the Gaskans itching to return them to the empire's grip."
"The Collen Basin? They are much closer, and it seems as though they should owe us as much as Gallador."
"Unfortunately, they're too morally stunted to realize their obligations to us. Besides, as far as I know, they only have a single sorcerer in the whole place. Mallon stole away anyone else who showed the talent."
"The norren, then? They're loyal. Sort of."
"No nethermancers there, either. And I doubt their woodsmanship would be much use in these swamps. Still, a few of them might be useful to have around. Warn the rest that it might be a good idea to cut back on their feuding for a little while."
"There's always Pocket Cove," Nak said. "Although after they got us into Weslee, they probably think that you owe them."
"This might sound insane, but our best bet for an ally might be Mallon."
"Mallon?! You've been halfway at war with them ever since the Plagued Islands!"
"And their leadership has just been forcibly replaced by scheming foreigners. We could offer to help them restore order in exchange for their help putting down the White Lich."
Nak grew thoughtful. "How exactly are you going to broker this alliance? It will take at least a month to get our envoys down there."
"Raxa and Sorrowen are still in Bressel. They can start right away."
"You want to unite two ancient enemies in battle. And you plan to do this using an acolyte and a thief as diplomats?"
"Raxa's not a thief. She's an assassin. Given what Mallon's up against, they might take her more seriously than some oil-haired dandy."
"Wouldn't that be something. Mallon and Narashtovik working together as friends! Do you think such an alliance could last?"
"We're too different for that. But better to have peace until the time when we remember to start hating each other again. I want you and the Council to come up with ideas to make this happen."
"We shall convene at once."
"Beyond organizing whatever aid we can muster, right now what we need most is information. Records of the White Lich or anything like him. Hopefully, we'll turn up something we can use to kill him."
A quill scratched in the background. "Shall I dispatch a ship to the Houkkalli Islands?"
"Bearing gifts. I'm not sure their monks have the highest opinion of Narashtovik. Send your fastest rider to Pocket Cove, too. They were establishing themselves around the same time as the Eiden Rane. They might know something about him."
"I could send a rider to Pocket Cove. But it seems to me that it might be faster to simply ask Minn."
"She's still there?"
"She was operating on the foolish assumption that you two would be back when you said you'd be."
Nak left to go fetch her, shutting down the loon connection so as not to drain the nether. Five minutes later, the loon pulsed in Dante's ear.
"Dante?" Minn sounded slightly distant; the loon was bound to Nak and she was likely standing next to him.
"Have you ever heard of someone called the Eiden Rane?" Dante said. "The White Lich?"
"The what? Do you realize you have the strangest conversations?"
"He's a…person. Of sorts. A sorcerer who has supposedly been alive since about the same time your people founded Pocket Cove. I wondered if you knew anything about him."
"No. But there's a lot at Pocket Cove that the elders keep to themselves. Is this serious?"
"Extremely. Can I convince you to go ask them for me?"
"Yes, although I feel like I ought to extract a concession from you in exchange."
"Name it."
"Grant us a title of some kind," Minn said. "It doesn't have to be proper nobility. I just want to be able to browbeat people when they get snotty with me."
"Very well." Dante swatted at a fly that wouldn't leave him alone; they were running out of Volo's anti-bug paste and had started to ration. "I hereby declare you and Blays to be the Fishmaster and Fishmistress of Canal Street."
"Isn't this the strangest thing. It seems I just forgot where Pocket Cove is."
"Okay, hang on. Make that the Honored Tri-Barons of the Sealed Citadel."
"That's a lordly-sounding mouthful. I'll leave tomorrow morning. Oh, and one more request."
"Yes, Minn?"
"Don't let Blays get hurt."
"I never do."
"He gets wounded all the time!"
"And always comes home without so much as a scratch."
"I wouldn't mind a scar or two," Minn laughed. "I'll be at the Cove within a week." Her footsteps retreated from the room.
Nak said, "While I was off finding her, I was thinking about how odd it would be that the founding of Pocket Cove was taking place at the same time this lich of yours was first attempting to seize Tanar Atain. And how, right before that, you had the Rashen and Elsen locked in a deathly struggle for Narashtovik that resulted in the finding of Cellen, the raising of the Woduns, and all of that business. What was in the air back then that so much was happening in such a short period?"
"Greatness doesn't emerge from a vacuum. It inspires itself in others." Dante smacked the back of his leg, which had been brushed by what he hoped was a sprig of grass. "Or maybe it's about being challenged. The nethermancers of Narashtovik have learned more in the last dozen years of strife than in the two centuries before that. Now think about all the troubles they were going through a thousand years ago."
"That would explain why they seem to have known so much more than we do. Yet how was all of that lost?"
"I suppose they finally ran into a challenge they couldn't overcome."
They both fell quiet. Before they could stare too deeply into the abyss, Nak brightened. "I'd better get to it, then. As they say, the only cure for hard times is hard work."
> "Get a team to check the archives, too. And summon the Council. Tell them everything I've told you. And that I need all the ideas I can get."
He closed the connection. Twilight had fallen, casting the swamp into surreal shades of purple and steel. The voices of the others drifted from the camp. Dante had no new answers, but speaking with Nak had cleared his mind. If nothing else, the outside world would soon be aware of the darkness spreading across Tanar Atain. And the great gears of Narashtovik were rolling into action: priests gathering to share counsel; monks paging through the stacks in search of lost secrets; riders spilling forth from the gates to seek the wisdom of other lands.
It was almost enough to make him forget that all this activity was happening over twelve hundred miles away.
Before he could lose his motivation, Dante pulsed Sorrowen's loon. He wasn't certain the boy would answer—before, the acolyte had kept the loon hidden away, only wearing it for prearranged talks—but Sorrowen answered immediately.
"Lord Galand?" The boy's voice pitched up. "We haven't heard from you in days. We thought you were dead!"
"No," Dante said, and was right about to begin to explain when he realized he had no energy to go through it all again. Fortunately, Sorrowen was of grossly inferior stature, and Dante owed him no explanation whatsoever. "We've run into difficulties. They're ongoing. But I have news for you. That new fleet Mallon built? It wasn't to invade the Collen Basin. They're using it to transfer Tanarians into Bressel."
"Ah. Right. Why?"
"It's related to the difficulties here. The extremely condensed version is that it turns out Gladdic, as evil as he is, was here to destroy something even more evil. Being ignorant of this, when we tried to enact justice for his crimes, we ended up stopping him from destroying the thing that's much worse than he is. And now things are so terrible that the emperor decided to move everyone he likes to Mallon instead."
"That explains the riots. And the priests turning on each other. And all the warring. The city's in complete anarchy!"
"But it hasn't fallen to the insurrection yet?"
"No, but I would say it's about to."
"How can you be sure?"
"Uh," Sorrowen said. "Well, for one thing, the king's dead."
"King Charles?!"
"Wasn't that the name of the king of Mallon?"
"Yes? You grew up in Bressel!"
"Yeah, then it was definitely King Charles. That was a few days ago. The Pikes of the Faith—that's what the rebels call themselves—have taken more and more of the city ever since."
"They're going to take control of the entire thing once the emperor brings back his first fleet-load of Tanarians. If you and Raxa haven't already figured this out, you guys don't have to worry about Mallon invading the Collen Basin anymore. They've got way too much on their hands for that. But I've got a new job for you. After the Drakebane takes command of Bressel, there's going to be a resistance movement. I need you and Raxa to join it."
"Er." The loon picked up the sound of Sorrowen scuffing his shoe in the dirt. "But didn't you just say the resistance is about to lose?"
"Yes, so if I'd asked you to fight in it, or take charge of it, you might have something to worry about. Which makes it a good thing that I'm merely telling you to join its fringes and see if you can identify its leaders."
"What if Raxa says no?"
Dante swore, abruptly certain that she would. It was most inconvenient to need things from people who weren't required to follow your orders. "Tell her there's no time to negotiate now, but that she'll be paid fairly."
Sorrowen sighed. "She's going to yell at me. But I'll do my best."
"See that you do." As Dante reached to tap the loon, he stopped his hand. "One last thing. If at any time you haven't heard from me in a week or more, pack up your things and return to Narashtovik. And tell Raxa she has no further obligations to the Citadel."
"You think you might..?"
"Do you understand me?"
"Yes, lord."
"Good. Keep yourself safe."
Dante closed down the loon. Stars reflected from the dark water. After staring at them for a minute, Dante turned and rejoined the others. Everyone but Gladdic was asleep, or at least attempting to be. They'd lost nearly all of their gear when the canoe was destroyed, however, leaving them without blankets or coverings of any kind other than the clothes on their backs. They didn't have much food, either. Would have to do something about that. Such details seemed very tedious, but Dante supposed that tending to them would give them something to do until they came to terms with the idea that they'd blown their only shot.
While the others slept, Gladdic sat apart from them, back turned as he scratched something out onto a palimpsest. Now that they weren't actively pursuing the White Lich, the old man's presence felt different. It would be exceedingly easy to draw a sword and put it through his back.
Gladdic looked up from his work, glancing over his shoulder. Dante turned away and started tamping down the grass to make his bed. He supposed they should set watch.
Then again, if the Eiden Rane came for them that night, what would it matter?
~
There was something disproportionately uncomfortable about sleeping without any form of blanket, and Dante found himself waking time after time, tickled by the grass or the tiny legs of what he fervently hoped weren't spiders. He got up for good at the first graying of the east, happy to be out of the grass even though he was still completely exhausted.
When Blays got up a while later, he took one look at Dante and laughed. "You look like you've been Blighted."
"Good. I won't feel guilty when I eat your limbs for sustenance."
"How much do you have left to eat?"
"Just what I had in my pack."
"Split it with me? I don't have anything."
"That's because you ate all yours last night."
"Look, I'm the one doing you a favor. Either you can share part of it with me, or I'll steal all of it for myself."
Dante reached for his bag. "You think so?"
"Yes, I—" Blays vanished into the shadows, rematerialized at Dante's back. "Do."
Concluding that the only way to end this torment was to comply, Dante split the rest of his nuts and dried fish. It wasn't enough for either of them, and they made a quick pass of the island, turning up a few more of the purple berries they'd eaten the day before. Dante was almost sure they were the same kind, anyway, but being generally not a fan of the type of diarrhea that often accompanied the consumption of the wrong type of berries, he double-checked with Volo, who confirmed they were edible.
She eyed her share. "Isn't much to fill you up, though."
"Well no," Blays said. "But if we plant them in the ground, and water them and care for them for several years, then it won't matter how few of them we had to begin with, as we'll all have starved to death."
Dante motioned into the trees. "We need to find a village. Or a city, if there are any of those nearby."
"What about the whole 'invincible lich and his undead army' thing?"
"We'll go back to ruminating on our utter failure after we've secured the basic necessities of life."
Volo pinched her upper lip. "Halo Vaye isn't far. But it's back toward the Eiden Rane."
"Get us there. I'll make sure that we're not seen."
He knocked down a pair of dragonflies, which he'd found to be the fastest and stoutest of the available insects, and sent them whirring ahead. The five of them piled into the canoe, discovering that the one upside to having no supplies was that meant you had nothing you needed to pack.
The day was the warmest yet and the paddlers were all soon sweating. Blays and Volo chatted some, but Naran hardly said a word, and Gladdic spent the time looking like he was trying to remember how to perform advanced mathematics. It was mid-morning and everyone's stomach was growling by the time the dragonflies broke into the village clearing.
"The village is there," Dante reported. "The people
who live there are not."
Blays winced. "Blighted?"
"I'm not seeing any remains. Or bloodstains. If the lich Blighted this place, his first order to his new servants was to scrub it spotless."
The canoe entered the wide clearing that held the village. No smoke rose from the communal ovens and grills. No people tended the stands of banana trees or the tuber paddies.
Blays stopped paddling. "How many more villages are we going to see like this?"
"It wears at the soul," Naran said.
Volo ducked her head, surveying the silent fields and empty house-boats. "If you see enough of it, that wears your soul down to nothing, right? And you can't go on any more. Does that mean there's a limit to how much good any of us can do before we give up?"
Gladdic shifted on his bench. "Is that what happened to the gods?"
"Ah!" Blays pointed at one of the stands of trees at the edge of the village. "Bananas!"
A large bunch hung from the crown of one of the trees. Most of the fruits were still green, but a few near the end were yellow, and those at the very end had fallen to the ground, the peels browned and splitting. The uncollected fruit drove home the desolation even more than the abandoned homes.
Volo altered course toward the small square island, bringing them onto the soft dirt of its fringe. Blays hopped out, drew his sword and hacked through the trunk; rather than being hard wood, this was made of a dense and fibrous pulp closer in consistency to a giant stalk of celery, and yielded easily to steel, the tree splashing down in the water.
With a flick of his wrist, Blays severed the banana bunch from its thick green stalk. He wiped down his sword and hefted the bunch, trying to avoid the absurdly sticky white sap that gushed from where it had been cut.
As if by mutual decision, they each ate two of the fruit to quell the rumbling in their stomachs, dropping the peels into the water. They stashed the green ones in the back of the canoe. Volo directed them to the gates in the nets surrounding the village proper.
"They're wide open!" Her jaw dropped in horror and affront. "That's a beating for sure!"
A shadow passed over Dante. "They didn't bother to close it because they knew they weren't coming back."
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