Issola (Vlad Taltos) Page 21

  “They have indeed. Morrolan and Aliera were taken, Verra threatened—yes, they are stirring.”

  “Then they are ready with their stroke.”

  “So it would seem. Except that we have freed Morrolan and Aliera; I don’t know how that will change their plans. But we have to assume they’re still going ahead with it.”

  “Very well,” said the Necromancer. “What do you require? I can cut their access easily enough.”

  “Insufficient,” said Sethra. “Can you keep them out of the area?”

  The Necromancer was silent for a moment; then she said, “I don’t know. It’s so large. Thirty-five or forty square miles, the last time I looked.”

  “Yes,” said Sethra. “The Empress will almost certainly be willing to help.”

  “Then perhaps,” said the Necromancer.

  “If you cannot keep them out, do you think you could, perhaps, keep them in?”

  The Necromancer frowned. “One of them, certainly. Ten or twelve of them, all with access to the power of the amorphia, impossible. But the same set of enchantments can be used in both directions.”

  “All right,” said Sethra. “Good. You ought to start your preparations at once. In the meantime, I need to be there, along with Morrolan, Aliera, and whoever else we can gather together quickly. How much time will you need?”

  “I don’t know. I won’t know until I start. Certainly, several hours, even with the Orb. Possibly a day or two. I wish you had told me sooner.”

  “I wish I had realized sooner what they were up to. We cannot wait a day or two before cutting off their link. I’m nervous about waiting even another hour.”

  “I shall hurry as much as I can.”

  “Yes. We will move as soon as we can, and, if you aren’t ready, then we will endeavor to hold the place until you are.”

  The Necromancer nodded and said, “I’ll get started, then.” She turned away without ceremony, took three steps, and sort of faded away in midstride, leaving a trail of golden sparks behind her; possibly for effect, though that didn’t seem like the sort of thing she’d do.

  She left the room just as Morrolan returned—he coming in by the door—according to some sort of law of conservation of wizards. The Necromancer left in a shower of sparks; Morrolan appeared with a flapping of wings. Jhereg wings, to be exact. Rocza’s wings, to be precise. Loiosh left my shoulder and flew toward her, the two of them doing a sort of midair dance of greeting, then flying around the room once together before landing on my shoulders, and continuing the reunion with neck and face rubs behind my head. It was all very cute.

  “I told you I was cute.”

  “I thought you might be missing her,” said Morrolan.

  “I was, and so was Loiosh. Thank you from both of us.”

  He nodded to me, then faced Sethra and announced, “The Empress agrees.”

  “Good,” said Sethra. “So does the Necromancer.”

  “I love it when a plan comes together,” I remarked to no one in particular.

  Morrolan shrugged and said, “Here, Vlad.” He reached into his cloak and emerged with a bag, which he emptied on the table near my elbow. It contained half a dozen daggers of various sizes. “I thought you might like to restock,” he said, “so I grabbed these from my armory. I don’t know exactly what you like, but one or two of these must be all right.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That was very thoughtful of you.” I inspected them, then placed all of them about my person in various ways. It took some work, with only one hand to work with; but this reminded me to make sure they were all accessible to my right hand. That put one behind my back, one between my shoulder blades, one in my right sleeve, well, you get the idea. Having them there made me feel better at once. I stretched my feet out in front of me and leaned back. Sethra said, “You look like a man who isn’t going anywhere, Vlad.”

  “Well, I don’t plan on leaving here any time soon. Am I mistaken about something?”

  “I had planned to bring us to the site of Adron’s Disaster right away. We don’t know when they will appear; I’d just as soon anticipate them.”

  I looked at my left arm, then at Sethra, with what I hoped was an eloquent expression.

  She nodded. “I take your point. But Spellbreaker could still be useful, if you can manage to wield it right-handed.”

  I sighed. “Very well,” I said, and made it to my feet. “I assume Aliera will be joining us soon?”

  “I should imagine. Morrolan, if you will please reach your cousin when she becomes available, and let her know that we are leaving now, and give her our precise location.”

  He saluted, with, I think, a touch of irony. I imagine he was still annoyed about her “young Dragon” remark earlier.

  I drained off the remainder of my wine and said, “Do you ever get tired being the general-in-chief, Sethra?”

  Sethra gave me a wry smile. “This is half of a general’s dream, Vlad: a campaign with no need for a quartermaster. The other half, of course, would be a campaign with no subordinates to keep happy. If I ever have both of those at once, I’ll consider my existence fulfilled and become part of the rock of Dzur Mountain again.”

  “Again?” said Loiosh.

  “Again?” I said.

  She shrugged and didn’t answer, damn her.

  I carefully set down my wineglass and said, “Well, shall we be about it, then?”

  “Yes,” said the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountain. She turned to Teldra and said, “If we have the chance to negotiate with them, we will take it, but the difficulty will be knowing if they are deceiving us. Do you think you can tell?”

  “I don’t know,” said Teldra. “I hope so. I will certainly try.”

  Sethra nodded. “All right. Let’s make an end to this.”

  “Do you think,” I said, “that this will really be the end?”

  “If we’re lucky, it will end this gambit on the part of the Jenoine.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” I said, trying to sound like I was all kinds of excited to be part of it. My arm hung there, limp and useless, and Spellbreaker unraveled. I took it in my right hand, and managed, after too much effort, to get it around the wrist. It felt funny there. It also felt funny to be carrying a Morganti dagger. And not having a working left arm felt funny as well. I was a walking joke.

  “Shut up, Loiosh.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I know. It’s what Sethra would call a preemptive strike.”

  Morrolan said, “Is there anything we need?”

  Sethra touched the hilt of Iceflame at her side and said, “No, I believe we have what we need.”

  “Do you have the location?”

  “I will in a moment. Bide.”

  Teldra came up next to me. I said softly, “Do you know know what she meant by ‘becoming part of the rock of Dzur Mountain again’?”

  “No,” said Teldra, just as softly. “I was wondering myself.”

  “She was probably speaking metaphorically.”

  “Probably.”

  I wasn’t convinced; I’ll bet Teldra wasn’t either.

  Teldra took a moment to construct me a sling out of a dark grey linen towel she procured from somewhere. She set my arm in it carefully, and I grunted a thank-you.

  “Let’s go,” said Sethra, and we gathered around her. I touched my grandfather’s amulet, just to reassure myself that it was still there, and it occurred to me suddenly that I’d been wandering about without any of my protections and hadn’t even noticed—this could be dangerous habit. On the other hand, if I were killed by the Jenoine, I would have no need to worry about the Jhereg. You take your consolations where you find them.

  I had gotten to about this point in my reflections when the walls abruptly collapsed and opened up to the outdoors—or that’s what it seemed like. We stood now on a small rock ledge, overlooking the Lesser Sea of Amorphia, where the greatest city of the Empire used to be until Aliera’s daddy had a hissy-cow at the Emperor. I must make a
point of telling Sethra not to underrate the power of the hissy-cow.

  I looked out upon the raw, seething amorphia below us—the quintessence of chaos, crying out to be organized, and defying anyone’s ability to do so. Some of those with me knew what it took to create order out of chaos; those we were expecting also knew. Some wanted to use it for one thing, some another, and therefrom sprang conflict mortal. Me, I’d just as soon let the damned stuff be.

  The old city of Dragaera had grown up in what once, I’m told, was a fertile plain, fed by several streams and rivers coming down from a range of mountains that has more names than peaks. The mountains, which were west of the city, were now behind my left shoulder, except for bits of them that spread out in the form of sharp, ugly bits of greyish rock, one of which I now stood on. There were no signs of any rivers from where I stood, and what had been the city and most of the plain was a swirling mass of colors—browns, greens, and oranges, mostly—murky in places, sparkling at times, occasionally even pulling back to show what appeared to be brown dirt beneath. It did, indeed, seem very much like an ocean, if you can imagine an ocean with no tides, but instead with random waves that lash out up to two hundred feet from the “shore”— waves with the charming property that the merest touch will not only kill you, but cause you to instantly dissolve into nothing. It was not my favorite place to be; especially here, about fifty feet away from it.

  To be fair, I should add that being above it was rather safer. Not safe, but safer.

  “Now what?” said Morrolan. “Spread out, or remain together?”

  “Remain together,” said Sethra. “And settle in; we might be here awhile.”

  “Should have brought some chairs,” I said. Morrolan gave me a Look.

  So I squatted down. My arm gave another twitch. Maybe, if I were lucky, it would start working again before I needed it. I massaged the arm through the sling for a bit and couldn’t even feel it.

  Sethra drew Iceflame and pointed it out toward the middle of the Sea, staring intently after it. Then she sheathed Iceflame and said, “All right. Any time now.”

  “That was it?”

  “That was it. I have broken their link. Now we wait. If the Necromancer can seal this place off from them before they arrive, then we can all go home. If not, then we get to fight them. If we are lucky, they will be unable to re-establish a link right away, so they will be fighting without the advantage of sorcery, and a good strike with a Great Weapon will kill them. If we are not lucky, things could be more difficult.”

  “Here’s to luck,” I said.

  “There they are,” said Sethra, and my heart jumped into my mouth. I stood, and tried to let Spellbreaker fall into my hand, but missed the grab and it slithered onto the ground. As I groped for it, I following Sethra’s gaze until I spotted a shimmering in the air not fifty feet away from us, on the same ledge.

  “Okay, here we go, Loiosh.”

  “Boss, it’s ALiera and the Demon Goddess.”

  “Oh. So it is.”

  “Sethra,” I said, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “No,” said Sethra, as she took her hand off the hilt of Iceflame.

  Getting the chain wrapped around my wrist again gave me something to do while I recovered. Aliera and the Demon Goddess came up to us, and looked out over the sea. There was an expression on Aliera’s face that I’d never seen before. Was she actually staring out at that and thinking of her father? How could she? Then again, how could she not?

  The first words out of Aliera’s mouth were “What did the Necromancer say?”

  “She’s working on it,” said Sethra. “But she says it may take a while.”

  I said, “Well, we have the Goddess here; maybe she can do something.”

  “Not quicker than the Necromancer,” said Verra, in that oddly echoing voice of hers.

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” said the Goddess patiently, “she’s better than me.”

  I stared at her, wanting to say, “But you’re a Goddess!,” only that would have sounded stupid, so I just swallowed and said, “Okay.”

  Sethra said, “Very well, then, Verra, I will keep my attention focused the other way.” I’d run into people who were hard to understand; the Demon Goddess is the only being I have met who makes those around her incomprehensible. There is something very wrong about having that effect.

  Aliera drew Pathfinder; I took an involuntary step back. Aliera pointed her blade out generally toward the Sea, and swung it back and forth a couple of times, then she made some sort of indefinite grunt under her breath. “Nothing yet,” she said.

  Morrolan said, “I could reach the Necromancer and—”

  “Disturb her while she works,” finished Sethra.

  Morrolan scowled, then chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “That was my intention. You don’t like the plan?”

  “As much as you like waiting,” said Sethra.

  Morrolan looked at her. “You don’t mind waiting, do you, Sethra?”

  She laughed. “At my age, one gets used to it, little Dragonlord. I spend more time waiting than doing anything else.”

  Morrolan shook his head. “I can’t imagine getting used to it.”

  “You see? You have more in common with our friend Vlad than you ever thought.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it again. Morrolan had nothing to say, either. We stared out over Adron’s Disaster, which did the dance of amorphia: colors shifting, shapes appearing and vanishing, and always something faintly enticing, the way a tall cliff is enticing to someone afraid of heights. I kept my eyes above it as much as I could, because I didn’t want to look at it, but didn’t want anyone to know I was afraid to actually watch it.

  “You want to look useful, Loiosh?”

  “You mean just to impress them? Of course.”

  He and Rocza took off from my shoulder and began flying around the area in opposite directions. I said, “Don’t get too close to it.”

  “We don’t intend to, Boss.”

  Sethra said, “Are we going to get any help from the Empress?”

  “Yes,” said Morrolan. “She’s sending the Court Wizard.”

  “Ah.”

  That was irony—Morrolan had been Court Wizard for some years, since an unfortunate incident involving Sethra the Younger, who had held the post previously.

  The Goddess said, “I believe we will be ready for them.”

  Aliera said, “If you missed that, she said we will have aid from Barlen, and several of the other Lords of Judgment.”

  This brought up several questions, such as why in blazes they needed me here; but what I said was “Aliera, why is it that whenever the Goddess your mother speaks, everyone hears something different? It seems—”

  Sethra broke in suddenly, “The Necromancer says they are coming. She can’t stop them, but she hopes to he able to hold them here.”

  Loiosh and Rocza returned to my shoulder. Aliera, Morrolan, and Sethra all drew their weapons. I managed to unravel Spellbreaker without dropping it.

  I was disappointed.

  I’d really been hoping Aliera would answer my question.

  15

  WHEN NEGOTIATION BECOMES STRAINED

  I wondered if Sethra was happy about having guessed right. Myself, I’d just as soon she’d been wrong.

  “I see them,” said Aliera.

  I followed her gaze, and spotted them almost at once, about fifty yards from us, standing right next to the Sea—closer than I’d have gotten to it for any reason, ever.

  “They’ve spotted us,” said Morrolan pointlessly, because they were obviously staring at us.

  “What are those things they’re carrying?” I asked.

  “Probably something magical,” said Aliera.

  “Thanks.” I said.

  “Loiosh?”

  “I can’t tell from here. Should I get closer?”

  “No.”

  In the course of moving away from the rampant Great Weapons
, I discovered I was next to Teldra. “Okay,” I said to her in low tones. “I’ve got a plan. First of all, are you secretly Mario?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Oh. All right, so much for that plan.”

  She laughed more than it was worth; maybe she was scared too.

  As far as I could tell, the Jenoine were doing nothing except looking at us; Aliera, Morrolan, Sethra, and Verra spread out a little, leaving Teldra and I just a bit behind them.

  I said to her, “Perhaps you should have a weapon.”

  She shook her head. “I hardly know which end to hold.”

  I nodded, thinking that I’d still feel better if she were armed. But why? What did I have to offer her that could hurt them? And then, for all I knew, she could be armed; you never know about an Issola. Hell, maybe she was secretly Mario. It would certainly solve a lot of problems if she were. I looked at Spellbreaker. It was long this time—almost three feet—but the links were very, very fine. I set it swinging slowly.

  I took a step forward, then, and Sethra said, “Wait, Vlad.”

  I stopped. Maybe she had a plan. I’d like her to have a plan. I’d like any reason not to get any closer to those things.

  “Sethra, are we going to attack?”

  “Bide, Vlad. I’m not yet certain.”

  I bit back more questions, and waited.

  “There!” said Sethra, suddenly.

  I looked where she was pointing, and saw a dark figure standing, about as far from the Jenoine as we were, but on the opposite side.

  “It’s Barlen,” said Loiosh.

  “He should help.”

  I glanced at Verra, and saw her locking eyes with Barlen briefly. I felt smug, as if I’d caught her at something; supposedly they were ancient enemies and lovers. That’s the sort of thing gods do, you know. It’s all in the legends. If this thing continued, I was going to have to start believing in legends.

  Then the other Lords of Judgment appeared. Four … six … maybe ten of them, spreading out over the area. Some I might have recognized from the Halls of Judgment if I’d been closer. Some of them appeared to be more or less human from this distance, others not—I recognized one figure that seemed to be nothing more than a burning stick; another took the form of a cat-centaur; there was a thing that reminded me a little of that chunk of trellanstone, only with legs and spindly little arms; yet another seemed like a walking prism, at least, there were a lot of colors, and my eyes couldn’t focus on it; and there was even a dragon which, from across a long distance, seemed almost to catch my eye for an instant, as if it knew me. I stared back. Could it be that one from the Paths of the Dead? No, for some reason, it didn’t seem like that dragon. Eventually it looked away, leaving me wondering.