Darknesses (48 page)

T
wo
figures lurched back
from the Table of the Recorders as Alucius appeared
upon it, steamlike mist evaporating from his face and figure. His skin was
chill, as if the sweat had turned to ice, then sublimated away.

Alucius
glanced from the Recorder to the second man, who resembled the Lord-Protector,
but who was shorter, stockier, and younger. Then, his eyes focused on the
Recorder, who lifted a pistol-like weapon.

“Get
him, Waleryn, if you value your life. He is an evil spirit who will steal your
very being!” snapped the Recorder.

Alucius
barely managed to drop behind the Table as the light-knife flared over his
head. Stone droplets pattered down onto the floor, and the odor of hot stone or
metal filled the ancient chamber. From behind the Table, he quickly reached out
with his Talent-probe and touched Waleryn’s lifethread, enough to stun the man,
who sagged to the floor, his fingers momentarily grasping at the edge of the
Table, before he slumped forward.

The
Recorder said nothing, but another blast of bluish light flared into the wall
behind Alucius, more stone droplets sprayed across the stones, and an acrid
scent filled the room.

Alucius
extended his Talent-probe to the light-knife, unraveling the connections
between the crystals.

“Waleryn!”
snapped the Recorder. “Weakling…”

Alucius
eased up from behind the Table, facing the ifrit, checking the monstrous
lifethread, and probing for the most vulnerable of nodes.

The
Recorder leveled the light-knife at Alucius, but no light beam flared from the
weapon, and he set it on the Table. “That will not help you long.”

The
all-too-familiar ruby mists began to rise from the Table, and as they did, a
wall of purplish power slammed toward Alucius.

Alucius
formed a golden green wedge and let the force flare around him, then struck
back, aiming at the node where the Recorder’s lifethreads intertwined, the one
from the Table and the one linked to somewhere in Lanachrona.

A
purplish shield blocked the thrust, but for a moment, the Recorder’s hands left
the Table, and the ruby mists subsided. Alucius dropped a line of darkness over
the Table, further smothering the mists.

“That
won’t last,” the Recorder said quietly, replacing his hands upon the Table.

“Long
enough.” Alucius probed for the main lifethread node, keeping his line of
golden green tight and focused.

“You
cannot stand against all of us,” the Recorder said. “But you could join us.” He
hurled another blast of purple at Alucius.

Alucius
slipped the purple force aside and jabbed at the Recorder’s face with golden
light designed to dazzle.

The
other blinked, then retaliated with another wave of purple as the ruby
mist-arms rose once more from the Table.

Understanding
the arms better the second time—or fourth, he realized absently—Alucius
attacked their nodes just beyond the Table, and both sprayed apart in instants,
with threads flying into the air, then retreating into the Table and the unseen
conduit beneath.

“You
can’t be…” murmured the Recorder, leveling another blast at Alucius.

As
the force sheeted past his golden green shield, Alucius struck, hard, and
tight, against the main lifethread nodes.

Purple
flared all around the Recorder. He pitched forward against the Table, then
crumpled to the stone floor.

A
wave of dizziness assaulted Alucius, and for a time, he just leaned on the edge
of the Table, panting and trying to catch his breath. His arms and legs both
felt heavy, as if it would be a chore to lift either.

He
hoped that the death of the Recorder and the entity that had possessed him did
not trigger another building collapse, but there were no rumblings in the
earth, no shivers of the palace, for which he was glad, because he had no place
to retreat through the Table.

Finally,
he straightened.

Now
what? What could he do to the Table? If it remained in the palace, sooner or
later someone else would be snared, then…

Alucius
shook his head and began to probe, seeking out nodes, linkages, and
connections. Without worrying about the Recorder, he could follow the lessons
of the soarers more deliberately and closely. He just hoped that he could use
more finesse and skill than strength in dealing with the Table, since he was
running close to his Talent-limits. That, he could tell.

He
continued to probe the Table until he found what he was seeking, a multiple
node that wove together different threads—two that were deep greenish black and
thick, the purplish black of the ifrit conduit, and a lighter purple thread
that left him squeamish even to consider. Still, he could sense the power, and
he had the definite feeling that if he unraveled the nodes and the threads,
there would be a reaction, and it would not be wise to be anywhere close.

He
looked at the still-unconscious Waleryn, then bent and grabbed the man’s tunic,
dragging the Lord-Protector’s brother out of the Table chamber and down the
narrow corridor into the room of those nearby farthest from the Table. By then,
Alucius was breathing deeply once more, but he eased his way back to the
doorway of the Table chamber.

From
the doorway, his hand upon the heavy door, Alucius extended a thin golden-green
probe to the nexus of the threads, and, tiny thread by tiny thread, began to
unlink them.

When
he was little more than halfway done, the purplish thread bucked and flared
fire, a line of force that Alucius blocked, although the effort set him back on
his heels for a moment. With that kind of reaction, Alucius closed the door and
backed away as he continued to unravel the joints.

He
did not finish, because when he was close to three-quarters finished—or so he
judged—all four threads flew apart.

Alucius
sprinted down the corridor. He made it to the outer archway when a dull
rumbling explosion shook the walls and floors, bursting the door to the Table
chamber from its hinges and flinging it against the opposite stone wall of the
outer corridor. Great gouts of gray dust, carrying a purple Talent-sheen
billowed from the chamber.

The
entire palace shook—once, twice—and then subsided.

Alucius
watched, panting, sweating profusely, as the dust began to settle. He did not
have to return to the chamber to know that the Table no longer functioned. A
half smile crossed his lips. That was good, because he doubted he had the
Talent-strength left to do anything at all, beyond perhaps a minor illusion, at
least for a while.

He
slipped along the corridor toward the kitchen, casting an illusion of a
captain-colonel, being ignored as cooks and their helpers scurried
about…passing him and generally ignoring him, except for one woman, who
demanded, “What happened?”

“There
was an explosion in the Recorder’s chambers. Nowhere else,” Alucius replied.

“…knew
he’d come to no good.”

Alucius
kept moving. Before he dealt with the Lord-Protector, he had one other chore to
handle. He hoped he was up to it.

He
smiled to himself. He had one advantage. No one knew he was back except
Waleryn, and the Lord-Protector’s brother wasn’t likely to wake for several
glasses.

The
first order of action was to get something to eat. Amid the scurrying and the
guards in the outer corridor, he used a deeper illusion to slip into the
kitchen and help himself to a meat pie and a beaker of ale. Then he found a
dark alcove off the game larder and relaxed his illusions.

His
vision was blurring and his hands were trembling as he began to eat and drink.
After he finished, he remained there, listening, watching, but no one came his
way, although he could hear guards and officers questioning people.

Then,
a good half glass later, some of his strength restored, with a concealment
shield in place, he made his way upward and through the back corridors, wending
his way toward the topmost floor and the Lord-Protector’s private apartments.

After
more than a few wrong turns, he found them. He had to stun both guards in the
corridor outside the Lord-Protector’s apartments, then use his Talent-probe to
unlock the door to the private foyer.

The
Lord-Protector’s consort sat at her writing desk, not facing the foyer, for
which Alucius was grateful. Ever so gently, Alucius touched her lifethread, and
the woman slumped over the desk.

Carefully,
as he moved toward the unconscious woman, he probed her figure with the tiniest
of golden Talent-probes, noting the reddish ugliness in places within her body.
He stretched her out on the lounge, then concentrated, melding what he had
already known about healing with what the soarers had taught him.

When
he left, she was breathing more easily.

Alucius
was sweating again, even after drinking some of the dark ale in the crystal
flagon on the desk.

His
next effort was to see if he could find the Lord-Protector, preferably in a
private setting.

After
finding the concealed stairs across the main foyer from the private apartments,
he descended the circular staircase. He found no one in what had to be the
private study of the Lord-Protector, but he could hear voices from the
adjoining hall. He seated himself in one of the straight-backed chairs and
listened. As he waited and rested in the private study, hoping the audience
would not be too long, he took the Star of Honor from his belt wallet and
pinned it back on his tunic.

“…the
Table is destroyed? How could that happen?”

“…do
not know, Lord-Protector…the Recorder is dead. The Lord Waleryn remains
unconscious. The walls are cracked, but we can find no signs of any explosives,
and there is no smell of gunpowder.”

“My
own palace, and you cannot tell me…”

The
conversation went on for some time, then died away.

Alucius
stood, waiting.

“…surrounded
by idiots…” The Lord-Protector was so engrossed that he did not look up as he
stepped into the study, followed by Majer Suntyl.

“Sir!”
blurted Suntyl.

The
Lord-Protector looked up. He stopped, then turned to Suntyl. “You may leave us,
Majer. I’m certain that the overcaptain has much to report. Please close the
door. Firmly.”

“Yes,
Lord-Protector.” Suntyl backed away.

Once
the door closed, the Lord-Protector laughed. “I should have guessed. I had
hoped, but not after so long. Not when you vanished without a trace.” The
Lord-Protector studied Alucius. “You look as though someone had confined you.”

“They
did. I’ve spent much more time than I would have liked in Prosp. The Recorder
sent me there.” Alucius knew he couldn’t keep everything from the
Lord-Protector, not and have his story make sense, but he saw no point in
bringing in the soarers.

“Sent
you there?”

“Through
the Table. It was a way of transport in the time of the Duarchy. There was
another Table there.”

“Was?”

“A
building was falling on it when I departed. In great haste.”

“So
there is no way to use the Table in that fashion any longer?”

“No.
You would not wish that anyway. Not for the price you would pay.” Alucius asked
quickly, “Is Waleryn your brother?”

“Why?”
asked the Lord-Protector.

“He
was with the Recorder. I left him unconscious in one of the Recorder’s
chambers.”

“You
just left him?”

“You
already knew that. He’ll be fine when he wakes.” Alucius looked calmly at the
Lord-Protector, who stepped back.

After
a long moment, Alucius spoke. “You asked me to take care of your problem with
the Recorder of Deeds, and you were right. Sooner or later, he would have
killed you, or had your spirit possessed by another of his kind. Or he might
have just had you die in some unfortunate accident and had your brother become
Lord-Protector. Of course, your brother would already have been possessed.”

“That…you
are mad.”

“No.”
Alucius projected absolute certainly. Cold and brutal assurance. “Unlike some.
I want nothing from you—except for what you already promised. You can believe
me or not. There is a…presence…that can use the Tables to take over those who
summon images in them. That is why the Tables would not have been a…reliable
form of transport. The Matrial was one of those.”

“How
could she have been? She did not have a Table.”

“She
had a purple crystal that performed similar functions. That was how she
controlled the torques.”

“How
do you know…Should I ask?”

“You
can ask.” Alucius smiled. “It’s better that I don’t answer that one, except to
say that I know, and that I didn’t destroy her.” He hadn’t. He’d destroyed the
crystal, which had killed her. “How is your consort?”

The
Lord-Protector looked sharply at Alucius. “What do you know of that?”

“Before
I…left, the majer who was acting as your secretary was kind enough to tell me
that she was ailing.”

“What…?”

“Now
that the Recorder is dead—and your brother is no longer working with him—you
may find that your consort will recover.”

“Are
you suggesting that the Recorder—and my brother—had something to do with her
illness?”

“It
was in both their interests that you not have an heir,” Alucius pointed out.
“That way he could groom Waleryn…”

The
Lord-Protector’s shoulders sagged. “I should have seen…I knew…I knew Waleryn
was up to something.”

“You
can ask him, when he wakes. He will wake shortly, if he has not done so
already.”

“What
did you do to the Table? It could have been a great tool.”

“The
Table failed after the Recorder died,” Alucius replied. That was true, in a
sense. “He—or the creature that possessed him—had done something to it.” That
was also true. “The Table, even when it worked, could not have transported more
than a handful of people, and all those would have become creatures like the
Recorder—deathless and evil.” Alucius was exaggerating, although it was clear
that the Matrial had certainly been.