Nightlord: Shadows (35 page)

The pool was empty, save for the small, steady trickles from the fountain. It would take a long time to fill up again at that rate, but that wasn’t a concern. If I could get out of this plane, lower my vibration rate to match the matter-based plane, I shouldn’t have to deal with any of this stuff again.

There was enough water dribbling in for my purpose: to see my body. It didn’t look any different, but I wasn’t looking at it from a god’s perspective. I was looking at it like a man. I don’t know how to look at things like a god. All I see are metaphors, hallucinations, and anthropomorphic personifications.

I think I want to stick with seeing things on more material planes of existence. Flesh, blood, life, souls, magic, vital energy—you know, mundane stuff.

I stepped down into my body again, slipping it on. It was much roomier, now. Or was I much smaller? Probably a bit of both. I worked my way down into it, slid my soul back into my flesh, stretched it up over my head, and pulled it closed.

Interlude

The Prince tugged his shawl tighter and relaxed back in his chair.

“Well, that was hardly unexpected.”

The wizards gathered around him nodded, heads bobbling up and down. The one in charge of the illusion signaled the one with the mirror and they both dismissed their spells. The images in the viewing room dissipated.

“Get Rakal. I want to talk to him.”

Moments later, the mirror rippled and revealed Tyrecan’s workroom. Tyrecan looked up. He activated his own mirror and looked into it. His expression flickered between surprise and fear, settled on respectful.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Fetch Rakal.” This was done. “Rakal. Good. Do you still have Keria tied down?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied, cautiously. “She is not physically restrained—”

“Skip it; it’s a metaphor. She’s still under control, right?”

“Yes, lord.”

“Good. Give orders through her. The armies of the Eastrange are a potential liability; send them to attack his mountain.”

“Lord… is it wise to continue to antagonize him?” Rakal asked. “I deal with the demons from beyond the world every day and, while I respect their power, I do not fear them.
Him
, I fear, for I know of no power to control him.”

“
I
will control him,” the Prince snapped, then coughed and spat. “You just do as I tell you and he’ll come to us, to
me
, on my terms.”

“Of course, my lord,” Rakal agreed. “Shall I use his sword as an inducement?”

“Hmm,” the Prince said, wiping his mouth with a cloth. It came away with a trace of blood and spittle. “You’re not a total idiot,” he said, finally. “I’ll think about that. There should be a way to make use of it. Meanwhile, get the armies moving.”

“I shall have words with Keria as soon as she wakes.”

“See to it, then.” The Prince waved a withered hand at his wizard and the mirror’s image rippled into reflection again.

Rakal sat down next to Tyrecan.

“What do you think?” Rakal asked.

“I’m not being paid to think,” Tyrecan replied, “just to observe and report.”

“You still have an opinion.”

“My opinion is much like yours. I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing. He frightens the life right out of me.”

“It’s not fright that will drag the life out of you,” Rakal said, darkly.

“That doesn’t help.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m happy doing my job,” Tyrecan replied. “You call up dark powers and bind them. I see things far away. If I wanted to take a more active part in dangerous doings, I’d have studied spells for that.”

Rakal snorted and rose from his seat.

“Be that way, then. I can’t imagine enjoying life for another century like that, much less ten thousand years.”

“Ask me in ten thousand years,” Tyrecan countered, “if you’ve managed to survive that long.”

Friday, April 30
th

Morning dawned and I woke up.

That’s always a good way to start the day. It saves a lot of confusion later. Unfortunately, I had a lot of confusion immediately. My dreams were terrible things, full of conflict and arguments and fighting… and maybe something pleasant, here and there… and… something. Something important, but annoying. Something I didn’t like at all, but might not have to deal with? Was it something I should remember? Was it an important dream? I’ve had dreams of prophecy and visions of the future, visions of the past, visions of people and places…

Whatever. If it was important, it would come to me. My headspace was still somewhat out of order. Once my memories—and other people’s memories—were organized, I’d remember it.

I sat up and looked around. I recognized a lot of the people in the room; I broke most of their arms not too long ago. My first impulse was to get up very suddenly and be unpleasant. Fortunately, Tort was sitting next to me and holding my hand. She was dressed in work clothes, though, so it wasn’t a social occasion. Still, if she was there and unworried, the situation deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Standing over me was a statue. Not a very good one, but it was clearly me.

I knew exactly what to do.

“Tort? What’s going on?”

“You had a… conflict? Argument?... with the Mother of Flame,” she said, carefully. “At least, that is what I gather from discussion with your daughter.”

“Ah, yes. We did have a bit of a domestic dispute. I recall. Sparky bitched about it to Father Sky and he punched me in the face…” I shook my head. When did that happen? I couldn’t recall, exactly. “Where am I?”

“Um,” Tort said. Everyone was looking at me with expressions ranging from carefully blank to unabashedly awestruck. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that I had a fight with the gods and survived. Tort ignored this and continued.

“May I introduce Sir—that is, may I introduce Kelvin, a gentleman who wishes to be a knight in your service? He is the provisional head of the provisional Order of Shadow, since you have not personally ratified it.” She paused. “And since you have taken most of their swords,” she added.

I remembered him. He showed up on the very first day. He was the one who kicked a guy, told him a knight didn’t belong in the dirt, and helped motivate they guy to get to the water. Since then, he’s been out in front on most things, yelling for his partners to keep up, or dead last, encouraging the guy just in front of him to try harder.

Kelvin was a medium-sized man, perhaps a bit long in the arms, with callused hands, short, dark-blond hair, and a jaw like an anvil. I could have hammered horseshoes on it. He was quite handsome, but relatively unimpressive until I noticed his forearms. I didn’t break either of those; I would have remembered. The things reminded me of Popeye the Sailor; they were thick and solid and looked like granite sculpture wrapped in skin. He could have cracked coconuts just by squeezing them, and his hands were big enough for it, too.

He genuflected—dipped to his left knee, planted his right fist on the floor next to his right foot—and stood up.

“Your Majesty,” he said. His voice was pleasantly deep and smooth. I wondered if he sang. “I apologize for the behavior of the more impetuous members of the Order.” He held out his sheathed sword. It was about the size of Firebrand—four feet of blade and a two-handed grip. If he practiced with it regularly, I could see why he had forearms like other people’s calves. Hell, like some people’s
thighs
.

“I have borne this blade in my attempts to serve the interests of the King, and now I surrender it to you. It is my hope that I will one day be found worthy to bear it in your name.”

I swung my legs to the side and stood up. Nothing fell off; nothing came loose. I actually felt fine. Would I continue to feel fine after the sun went down and I had to deal with my vampiric digestion again? I suspected that wasn’t going to be the problem, but I didn’t know for certain. I made a mental note to be somewhere I could afford to be “ill” in a supernatural fashion.

I took the sword and half-drew it. No Damascus striations, but very good steel; it’s one of the things Karvalen does well. Typical enchantments for strength and sharpness. It would take a lot to notch the edge, but even where it had been notched, it had been ground down and sharpened. It was a workmanlike weapon. I slid it back into the scabbard.

“I’ve seen you at the training, haven’t I?” I asked, pretending he only looked familiar.

“Your Majesty did.”

“You may address me as ‘Sire’,” I told him, and resisted the impulse to tell him to be informal. Like it or not, I have to at least act the part of a king when people are watching.

“Yes, Sire.”

“I didn’t see you at the… incident… in the Lady Tort’s living room.”

“No, Sire.”

“Why not?”

“The individuals of the Order who chose to address the King in such a manner did so without informing me of their intent.” His tone was less than amused.

“Why do you think that is?” I asked, curious.

“Because they knew I would not condone such an act,” he replied. He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the silent crowd. “If I may say so, Sire, I would have acted to prevent it.”

“How so?”

“By knocking their thick heads together until they learned better, Sire.”

I decided I liked Kelvin.

“As the head of the order, have you punished them?” I asked.

“No, Sire. It seemed to me that sufficient action has already been taken by the King. I do not presume to know the King’s intentions, and have no orders.” He shrugged, slightly. “Since there are no true knights, nor even an Order of Shadow, it was also not my place to do so.”

“Why didn’t you come to me before this?”

“My King made it clear to all that we are not yet knights. Is it the King’s will that commoners such as myself should trouble him with questions he has already answered?”

I re-evaluated Kelvin, uncertain about whether I was going to like him, or if he would irritate me, or both. I half-expected a smartass remark from Firebrand about that, and realized I missed it. Sometime soon, I have to go find it and see if it will come home with me.

“Fair enough, I suppose. Now, this is important: stop talking like that.”

“Sire?”

“You are allowed—and ordered—to use personal pronouns. Stop talking as though I’m not here. Let me hear you say ‘Yes, Sire. I understand you.’”

“Yes, Sire. I understand you,” he repeated, quirking a smile.

“Good. No more of this he-him-his stuff. When you speak to me, you speak to me directly. That other stuff annoys me. Besides, I have high hopes that you will be a knight in the very near future and the head of an order of knighthood, as well. Individuals of such rank have more latitude in their mode of speech.”

“I understand you, Sire. I will do as you instruct.”

“Very good! Since I’ve had my evening cut short after an argument with the gods, I’m a little behind schedule. Please round up everyone who still wants to be a knight and do what we did yesterday, but harder and longer.” I beckoned him close and whispered in his ear, “The current goal is to build them up where they’re weakest—strength, speed, balance, that sort of thing. Later, when we’ve got those, we’ll sort them out for moral and ethical standards. Right now, I just want guys who will be able to stand up after the battle is over and run to the next one. But don’t let them know that. Got it?”

“Yes, Sire,” he murmured. He seemed pleased. I gathered he approved. Maybe he was just pleased that I confided in him.

“Take charge of them, Kelvin,” I said, loudly.

Kelvin stood up, saluted with that closed-fist-over-opposite-side-of-chest gesture, and motioned to everyone. He hurried out the door; everyone in the room stood up, saluted, and followed him. Even most of the children, bless their little hearts. One little boy, probably about six, hurried over to me and hugged my legs.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he said, and ran out. I watched him go, feeling strangely touched by the gesture. In seconds, Tort and I were alone.

“Is that sort of thing going to happen whenever I give an order?” I asked.

“It is likely, my angel. Except, possibly, for the child.”

I sighed and sat down on the altar again. Tort seated herself at my feet and laid her cheek against my thigh, looking up at me.

“My angel, do you truly not understand?”

“Understand what?”

Tort’s smile flicked on and off.

“You are our King,” she said. “Your word is… well, not law, for that is something else. Your word makes law, or abolishes it. Those who do not worship you will follow you, obey you, work for you, and attempt anything you might wish of them. Those who do worship you will follow you into the jaws of a dragon, knowing that if they are to die there, it is for your purpose, and will go gladly.”

I put my head in my hands and Tort moved to sit beside me. She stroked the back of my head, down my neck, and down my back.

“Does this dismay you, my angel?”

“It frightens me,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“Because I am not qualified to be… whatever. I don’t understand politics, economics, agronomy, labor, capitalism, trade, shipping, industry… any of that stuff… well enough to be entrusted with that kind of responsibility.”

Tort continued to, well, pet me while I rubbed the heels of my hands in my eyes.

“Who does?” she asked, finally.

“Nobody.”

“And how many who seek power would bother themselves with these matters?”

“Well… not enough.”

“Then why does this trouble you?”

“Anyone who wants power can’t be trusted with it,” I told her. “I don’t want power, so that’s in my favor, but I’m also not qualified to hold it.”

“So, who should we trust, then? Someone who seeks power, or someone who does not want it, but will be conscientious in his attempts to wield it justly?”

I paused to think about that one. She had a point. I didn’t like it—it was an awful point, and it nailed me right through the responsibility. But it was a valid point.

“Have I mentioned,” I asked, sitting up, “that you’re not only beautiful, charming, and intelligent, but wise?”

“I am old,” she reminded me. “I have had practice.”

“Apparently so. All right. Where are we, just for the sake of asking?”

“Ah, yes. We are in a small temple—a chapel, perhaps. A little, one-room affair, dedicated primarily to prayer and contemplation of… its god,” she finished, choosing not to name me.

“Well, that’s not so bad, I guess. They aren’t committing human sacrifice, right?” I didn’t smell any blood, but it was daytime.

“Only rarely—the occasional rapists, traitors, and child abusers, my angel. They believe you to find their flavor particularly enjoyable.”

I think I growled. I tried to look on the bright side. It wasn’t easy.

Still, I reminded myself that it could have been a lot worse. If rape and child abuse are capital crimes, that’s one law I’m not going to change. It made me want to take a long, hard look at their criminal justice system, though. How often did people wind up under the knife when they didn’t deserve it? I’m all for killing the bastards who do such things, but I want to make sure we’ve got the right guy, first.

“And why am I here?” I asked.

“It seemed the best course when you, ah… departed. I—I was concerned that…”

“That I might be away for a long time?”

“Yes,” she said, in a very small voice. I was forcibly reminded of a frightened little girl. “We tried to call you back.”

“I’m fine,” I assured her. I held her hand and patted it. “I really am.”

She hugged me, as befits my Tort. Totally not in keeping with the Court Magician of Karvalen, but I didn’t mind a bit. I held her and rocked her. She trembled a little, and I realized just how terrified she had been. She really was afraid, genuinely afraid. She wouldn’t have merely missed me; she would have been devastated.

I silently resolved to keep that from happening. And kept holding and rocking her.

“Now,” I said, once she stopped shaking, “I want to talk about some things.”

“Whatever you wish, my angel,” she said, slightly muffled by my shirt.

“Sparky didn’t want to tell me about my son. Nobody wants to tell me about my son. I’ve run around, asked people, nearly been flash-fried, and had to bite a goddess because I keep asking and no one will tell me. I’ve had it up to here with this. So, please, just tell me. I promise not to go ballistic.”

Tort shifted her hug to put her head over my shoulder; I think she didn’t want to look at my face. It also allowed her to whisper much more softly.

“Let me begin by saying that this is what I have been told. T’yl knew for certain, for he investigated, but this is the truth as he told it to me.”

“Okay. Not absolutely certain, but as certain as it can be without being a witness. Go ahead.”