Nightlord: Orb (91 page)

“I regret I do not know.  I was not aware they were missing.”

“Okay.  Thought I’d ask.  If you get a chance, would you ask around?”

“I will, but be aware they are servants to the Demon King that once you were.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“Indeed.  Their souls may be stained with the blood of innocents and the corruption of the Lord of Darkness.”

“Okay.  I’ll bear it in mind.  But before I can help them work through that, I have to find them.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you, Perrin.”

“May the Lord of Light bless you and your endeavors, King Halar.”  He turned and started down the Kingsway.

Somehow, I doubted the Lord of Light wanted anything to do with me, but maybe I’m prejudiced.  Still, it was an interesting encounter with my old enemies.  It seems they changed even more than I did over the intervening decades.  Overall, it seemed like a good change.  I wish I could claim some credit for it.

Mary came back shortly before sunset.  We showered while she talked.

“I’ve met your granddaughter,” she began.

“Nicely?”

“I’m not on fire, am I?” Mary countered.  “She’s nice, but I still don’t get along well with holy ground.  My feet felt hot when I entered the temple.”

“That’s weird.  I don’t have a problem with it.  Plus, it’s daytime.  Are you sure the floor wasn’t actually hot, as in having a high temperature?  It is the Temple of Fire, after all.”

“You know, that didn’t occur to me,” she admitted.  “I assumed when I shouldn’t have.  Bad experiences and all that.”

“Fair enough.  Did Tianna come out?”

“We went to her place, instead.  She’s nice.  Clever, too.”

“And you’re unincinerated.  I’m pleased.”

“Well… so am I.”  Mary turned in the waterfall and held me, water pouring over us.  “I get the impression she’s not too pleased with me, though.”

“Why not?”

“She thinks I’m angling for the job of step-grandmother, or something.”

“She’s already got one.  I married Lissette, remember?”

“I know.  She knows.  But Lissette isn’t an immortal lady of night, fit to be a companion to a dark king for eternity.”

“Um.”

“That’s not exactly how she put it, but it gets the point across.”

“Oh.  Well.  Okay, then.”

“I checked with the other temples, too.  The Lord of Justice doesn’t seem as bad as the Temple of Fire, but my feet still hurt—whether it’s because I’m an unholy minion of evil or because I’m a professional thief, I don’t know—and the high priest wasn’t available.

“The House of the Grey Lady didn’t bother me at all, other than it’s depressing.  All those statues of people with flowers and candles and similar offerings.  The place is full of mourners.  It’s like a funeral channel on video—all mourning, all the time.  I don’t know how anyone stands the place.

“The Temple of Shadow is pretty nice—sort of a partly-buried sphere with a weird, two-part stairway, kind of like the water trap under the sink.  My feet didn’t bother me in there, so I sat down.  No problems with that, either.”  She grinned at me.  “I did have to brush off a couple of the faithful, though.  They’re more polite about it than most people, though.  Nobody grabbed my butt, anyway.  It’s kind of surprising; they seem to think blondes are hot.”

“Only the hot ones,” I guessed.  “Did you do anything else with your day, aside from tour the local churches?”

“I did!  I went to a number of places with music and plays and other entertainments.  You’re strangely popular.”

“Yeah, well, I blame it on the isolated location and the minimal visits by the Demon King.  He didn’t really impact the place too much on a personal level.  Plus, I have a cult following who have doubtless been doing constant public relations work.”

“No, no—not popular like that,” she protested.  “Well, yes, I suppose so, come to think of it.  I mean you’re a popular subject for music and theater.  Were you really called the ‘Wall of Blades’?”

I groaned.  I’d forgotten about that.  Under Mary’s urging, I explained about the incident that earned me the nickname.  We dressed during the explanation.  She found it greatly amusing.

“So, all you did was stand there and parry anything he threw at you?”

“Pretty much, yes,” I admitted.  “I think it was the open defiance of religious authority that really made people sit up and take notice.”

“It would work for me.  Didn’t you tell me someone was committing libel or slander or whatever it’s called?  Timma?  No, Tyma—that was her name.  I didn’t hear anything in town about it.”

“They’re singing the old songs about me because they know I’m up here,” I guessed.  “I doubt anyone wants to be caught singing anything else.  For all they know, I might be able to hear them.”

“Once the sun goes down, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit.  You can hear fog scraping along the riverbanks.”  She ran fingers through her hair and frowned.  “Where’s my brush?”  I found it for her and she started working on her hair.  “I’m not sure about the idea of them being scared to sing anything treasonous, though.  I get the impression they
like
you.  Don’t ask me why.  It’s only a feeling.”

“I’m a powerful and frightening thing, but I’m
their
powerful and frightening thing.  At least, that’s how it used to work.”

“They do seem to think of you fondly, yes.  Mind you, I think you’re right about them not having much experience with the Demon King.  I get the impression he didn’t actually
do
much out here, so they remember you as you were.  Everything they talked about was stuff from before the conquest.”

“So, the rest of the kingdom may still be after my head,” I sighed.  “At least Karvalen likes me.  Probably Mochara, too.  That’s good to know.”

“Glad I could help.  Speaking of which, what do you have planned for tonight?”

“Several things.”

“All esoteric, magical, and too complicated for an apprentice?”

“Yes, yes, and no.”

“Really?  What, then?”

“I need to add a visual impulse to the psychic alarms.  I’m tired of wondering who’s at the door.  Come to think of it, I also want to put a scrying portal near the main door—a mirror hanging on the wall beside it, maybe, to act as a peephole.  I do need to work on my sand table some more; it’s got some complicated stuff needs doing, but you can help with it even if you don’t understand it.  Extra hands.”

“Put your finger here while I tie this knot?”

“Essentially.  Assuming, of course, you don’t have a much more important duty to perform.”

“Duty?” she asked, putting the brush down.  “I wasn’t aware I had any duties, aside from scouting out the city.”

“If Tianna is sending people up on the dark horse of death—or if the priest of the Grey Lady is?  Liet, right?”  Mary nodded.  “Did you discuss it with either of them?”

“No, I’m afraid not.  Tianna and I had other things to talk about.”

“Other things?  I think I may be too frightened to ask.  If Tianna or Liet is sending people up to take the express route to the afterlife, I can’t keep putting my work on hold to deal with them.”

“I’m being promoted to goddess of death?” Mary asked, grinning.  “I’ve never been deified.”

“It’s really not as much fun as you think,” I assured her.  “I actually had in mind you doing what we’re supposed to do.  Gateway from life to death, that sort of thing.  Be a hot, blonde Valkyrie.  Much better deal than being deified.”

“Okay.  I can do that.  The waiting is boring, but it’s been worth it so far.”

“Good.  Let’s go look at the alert spells.  You can watch and learn while I work on them.”

“Sounds good.”

Bronze was already on her way down the Kingsway when we reached the opening in the wall.  We rearranged the Kingsway alarm with no trouble, aside from some questions about how it detected things.  Mary seemed more interested in how to beat such an alarm than to build one, but I can understand her priorities.  She walked back and forth through it, triggering it as a test.  It worked; a mental image of her crossing the threshold flickered through my mind every time.

Of course, by then Bronze was on her way up again, carrying someone.

“I’ll take care of it,” Mary assured me.  “Go do your thing, sorcerer.”

“Wizard,” I corrected.  “Sorcerers have demonic spirits inside them in exchange for specific abilities.  It’s the rather cliché thing of signing over one’s soul in exchange for power.”

“I remember.  But you’ve got some light-allergic spirit inside you, and it does something similar, doesn’t it?  Doesn’t that count?”

“You raise a disturbingly good point,” I agreed, and wandered off to try and not think about it.  I also mounted a small mirror next to the main door, inside the great hall, and started some preliminary enchantment work on it.  Then I rummaged around some more to find another mirror for mounting on the outside.  If the two were used together, it would be a much more efficient setup—

“Halar!” echoed through the halls in Mary’s voice.  I closed a chest and headed back to the great hall.  Mary greeted me.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

“I do? Someone going to the great beyond wants me, personally?”

“No, he says he knows you.”

“Huh.”

We went outside.  I recognized Sir Beltar as he sat on Bronze.  He was heroic in scale, broad-shouldered and big, almost big enough to look right on Bronze.  Years of use with those grow-big-and-strong spells produced impressive results.  He made me wonder how silly I look up there.  A little snow whirled about him and the wind rippled the ends of his tight-wrapped cloak.  He was older, but I suppose I should get used to that sort of thing.  Still… nine years?  He wouldn’t be out of his twenties, yet.  He seemed even older, somehow.  Was it the weight of responsibility?  Or an unexpected level of maturity?  Or an unintended side-effect of the steroid spells?  Or had he grown, both inside and outside?

I desperately hoped he was a tad more graceful, too.  He used to be a bit of a klutz.

He recognized me, as well. He dismounted and went to one knee.  He did the salute-thing—the one with the right fist, palm inward, pressed over the left breast, held as though to hold a weapon vertical.  He seemed to have forgotten how much I hate it.  At least he remembered to only go to one knee.

“My Lord King.”

“My Beltar.  Up, up!”  He rose and I clasped forearms with him.  I had to look up to meet his eyes; he must have been close to six-foot-three, maybe six-four.  Even without armor to bulk him up, he would be a broad, looming presence.  Wearing the matte-black armor, he was an armed and dangerous wall of night.  As I looked him over, I tried to think of a word for him.  The only thing that seemed to fit was “mighty,” and even so, it was a tight fit across the shoulders.

“I am pleased to see you again, Sir Beltar.”

Beltar’s solemn face cracked, revealing his grinning face.  He blushed.

“Shall you still call me so, even though I have surrendered my sword?”

“What?  When did this happen?”

“When I could no longer reconcile your actions as a king with my faith in you as a god.  I forswore the one for the other.”

I resisted the urge to complain about his mistake regarding deification.  It bothers me to be regarded as a goddish thing, especially by people who should know better.

“I have been told,” he continued, “your physical avatar was enthralled by an evil spirit and has now been freed.  Does this mean you not remember my departure?”

“I don’t remember the last nine years.  If you surrendered your sword, you didn’t surrender it to
me
, Sir Beltar.  There was someone else driving my body.  As soon as I can find it, I plan to return it to you.  I gave it to you for a reason, Beltar.”

I thought he was going to cry.

“This pleases me, my Lord King, more than you can know.  My heart is lifted and my soul fulfilled.”

“I’m glad.  Won’t you come in?  I’m not hungry, but you’re welcome to eat.”

“No, I cannot stay overlong; I have duties in your Temple.”  I suppressed a wince as he continued.  “I have come only to bring you this.”  He drew out a small mirror.  It struck me as suspiciously familiar.  He handed it to me and I examined it with some care.

“You kept the mirror you were issued when you were a knight?” I asked.

“Yes, my Lord King.”

“Why?”

“Because many of those who served you in those first days, the days when you created true knights… we knew something was amiss, my Lord King.  With the wars of conquest in old Rethven, more and more of your forces were not knights.  You accepted fighters—killers, really—as knights and soldiers.  We fought beside them, but when the wars ended, many of us gave up our service.  We could not be true to our oaths, not to such a king as they believed you had become.”

“They?” I repeated.

“I am a priest in the Temple of Shadow,” Sir Beltar pointed out.  “You taught me to believe in myself.  Can I do less than believe in you?”