The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha) (7 page)

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Authors: Steven Brust

BOOK: The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha)
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“No, she means a particular sword.”
“Ah. That is different.”
“Entirely.”
Arra struggled to her feet, leaning upon the altar. Morrolan, not to be outdone, did the same, and soon they were, more or less, standing next to each other.
“Did she say what it was about this sword that makes it special?”
“No.”
“Did she say anything about where to find it?”
“In fact, she did not.”
“Hmmm. That makes it more difficult, then.”
“Yes, I can see that it might.”
“Did she say anything that might help me to find it?”
“She said that, when the time came, it would find you.”
Morrolan thought about this for some few moments, then said, “This would require me to wait before acting against those who raided Blackchapel.”
“And?”
“You know, I think, that I am not of a disposition to enjoy waiting.”
“Yes, I know that.”
“I am at this moment less inclined to wait than I have ever before been in my life.”
“I know that, too, milord.”
“And, moreover—”
“Well?”
“If we do nothing, what is to stop them from returning?”
“Oh, as to that—”
“Well?”
“There is more the goddess told me.”
“I am listening.”
“We must leave Blackchapel.”
“How, leave?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“That is hard.”
“It is. But consider: we are not strong enough to fight them, and they know where we are.”
“Both of those statements are true,” admitted Morrolan.
“And moreover—”
“Yes?”
“The goddess has said so.”
“Well, that is a strong argument.”
“That is my opinion; I am gratified that it coincides with yours.”
“And our Circle?”
“What of them?”
“Will they be willing to leave Blackchapel?”
“If you lead, they will follow.”
“You think so?”
“I am convinced of it. Consider: You are their leader, who has brought them together, and they have all learned more of the Art from this, and share in the power we are gathering.”
“That is true.”
“And consider as well that, if they stay here, they will be subject to more depredations from jealous or frightened neighbors.”
“The Goddess! You are right about that, too!”
“Then, are you convinced?”
“Nearly.”
“Well?”
“There is something I wonder about.”
“And that is?”
“When we leave Blackchapel—”
“Yes, when we leave?”
“Where do we go?”
“Oh, as to that …”
“Yes?”
“I have not the least idea in the world, I assure you.”
“But then, we cannot set out without setting out in some direction; that is a natural law.”
“Oh, I do not quarrel with natural laws.”
“Then we must determine, if not a destination, then at least a direction.”
“Perhaps we will receive a sign.”
“You think we might?”
“It is possible.”
“Is the goddess known for giving signs?”
“She does sometimes, when it suits her purposes.”
“Well then, perhaps it will—what is that?”
“What is what?”
“I heard something.”
“What did you hear?”
“Something clattering, outside of the chapel.”
“Clattering?”
“And the sounds of horses’ hoofs.”
“Perhaps it is a coach.”
“Well, if there is a coach, perhaps there is a passenger.”
“That is not impossible.”
“Let us look.”
“Very well, let us do so; I believe that I am able to walk now.”
“As am I.”
“Then let us go outside.”
“Very well.”
 
 
How Morrolan Is Astonished
To Learn Something that the
Reader Has Known All Along
 
 
 
H
aving made the decision to determine the exact nature and cause of the sound outside of the temple, Morrolan and Arra stepped around the altar, and took what seemed to them to be a long walk to the doors. They stepped out and blinked their eyes in the sudden brightness.
“It is a coach,” said Arra.
“And a coachman,” said Morrolan. “Miska, is it not?”
“The same,” said Miska, as he climbed down.
“I am pleased to see you still among the living. I would have thought—”
“No, my good Dark Star. Priestesses of the Demon Goddess are immortal, elfs are long-lived, and coachmen—”
“Yes, what of coachmen?”
“We are eternal.”
“Very well, I accept that you are eternal. In any case, I am pleased to see you. I would offer you
brandy,
only it chances that I have none.”
Miska shrugged. “It chances that I have a flask of it, so I require no more at the moment.”
“That is well,” said Morrolan. “Tell me, what brings you here?”
“I am delivering a passenger.”
“A passenger?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“How did you acquire this passenger?”
“She was kind enough to buy me a flask of
brandy,
so I offered to bring her to where she should be.”
“Ah, and this is where she should be?”
Miska shrugged. “So it would seem, for I am here.”
“Is that how you know?”
“Assuredly. You must understand, my dear Sötétcsilleg, that when I set out upon a journey, I do not always know where I am going. But I always know when I have arrived, and, as I have said, I am here.”
“Well, that is true,” put in Arra, who had been following this conversation closely.
“Then,” said Morrolan, “let us meet this famous passenger.”
“You are about to,” said Miska.
“Then we await you,” said Morrolan.
Miska, having by now climbed down from his box, stepped up to the door, with its two windows, both of which were shuttered, and struck the door twice with the knuckles of his right hand, evidently as a signal or warning; after which he grasped the door handle and, with a practiced maneuver, turned it, which not only permitted him to open the door, but, at the same time as the door opened, caused a small stairway to descend from the coach to the ground. The coachman held out his hand, and another hand, this one covered in a green glove, took it delicately, after which appeared the arm connected to the glove, then a face, then neck and shoulders, until at length all of the mysterious passenger had appeared, set foot upon the stairway, and descended to the ground.
In addition to her gloves, which, as we have already said, were green, she wore a gown of the same color (with the addition of white trim) that fit very close, left bare her right shoulder, and, save for a few small ruffles, was without decoration. In addition to this, she had a white wrap of some sort of fur, and for jewelry she wore a pair of small, plain, gold ear-rings and a ring upon the fourth finger of her right hand in which three tiny rubies were set in silver. Her hair was rather dark than otherwise, and her face narrow and angular. Her figure, as could be clearly discerned from the tight fit of the gown, was quite slim; but what caught everyone’s attention at once was
her height, which was nearly the equal of Morrolan’s, which height, as we said earlier, was such as to tower well over all the Easterners with whom he surrounded himself.
“My good Dark Star, and my dear Arra, I present to you the Lady Teldra.”
“It is a great pleasure to meet you all,” said the one called Teldra, “but, I must say that I am especially pleased to meet you, Lord Morrolan, as I had no idea I was to have the honor of meeting, here so far to the East, another such as I.”
Arra and Morrolan bowed, and Morrolan said, “Another such as you? You must refer, then, to the fact that we are both exceptionally tall? Well, but permit me to say that your surpassing beauty commands my attention far more than the mere distance between your forehead and the ground upon which you do the honor to tread.”
This speech, as it happened, was remarkable in two ways: for one, it was the first time anyone had heard Morrolan assume such tones and manner; and, for another, it seemed to everyone present that Morrolan had overlooked something that, to them, seemed obvious—more than obvious, in fact, it seemed conspicuous.
Miska was the first to point it out, saying, “How, you think she made reference to her height, when she observed that you two have something in common?”
“Well, I had thought so. Do you refer to something else?”
“Entirely. Or, rather, we refer to a cause of which her height, and your own, is merely an effect.”
“Well, I am most anxious to hear about this cause.”
“How, you do not know it?”
“Know it? Why, I cannot so much as hazard a guess about it.”
“How, you cannot even guess?”
“I have said so.”
“And yet, I have trouble believing it.”
“Oh, you should believe it, and for two reasons: in the first place because I have said so, and in second place because it is true.”
“Well,” said Miska, “you begin to convince me that you really are unaware of what we are suggesting.”
“That is good. But there would be something better.”
“Oh, and what would be better?”
“If you would enlighten me. For I confess that I am entirely perplexed—so much so, that you might as well call me Erik.”
At this, Teldra in turn looked puzzled, but Miska gave a gesture indicating that it was not worth explaining. Arra, in the meantime, was staring at Morrolan with undisguised astonishment. The latter, observing her countenance, said, “What, you too?”
“My lord,” said Arra, “would you permit me to ask you a question?”
“If it will help me to comprehend, you may ask three.”
“This, then, is the question: Have you never wondered why it is you are so much taller than everyone around you?”
“Why, I had thought it rather a fluke, in much the same way that Kevin is so much fatter than everyone else, or that Lara has hair that is so much redder than everyone else’s.”
“But you cannot fail to notice that you have lived for more than a hundred years, whereas those around you rarely achieve half that age.”
“But, my dear Arra, you have lived as long as I.”
“But you know that this is a gift from the goddess, for I have explained it to you.”
“Well, and could she not grant me a similar gift?”
Arra could only respond to this with an eloquent shrug, as if to say, “I am at a loss for how to go on.”
At this point, Miska could no longer contain himself, and began to laugh—and his laugh, the reader should understand, consisted of no small chuckles, but rather big, booming guffaws, and were accompanied by a rocking of his whole body, and tears streaming down his face. Morrolan frowned. “Do you know, I am becoming annoyed,” he remarked.
Miska, for his part, did not notice, being too occupied with laughing, but Teldra said, “Please, my lord; forgive him. He means no offense, and does not laugh at you, but, rather, at the absurdity of the situation, which, I assure you, is as unlikely as any I have ever encountered, or am likely to.”
“Well,” said Morrolan, a bit mollified, “if you would be good enough to explain it, perhaps I will see the absurdity as well.”
“That is not unlikely,” said Teldra.
“Well then?”
“Permit me to try,” said Arra.
“Do so, by all means,” said Morrolan and Teldra. (Miska said nothing, as he was still endeavoring to stifle his laughter.)
“You have,” said Arra, “heard of elfs?”
“Elfs? But of a certainty. They live in the West, over the mountains.”
“That is true,” said Arra, “although some of them, from time to time, come east to our side of the mountains.”
“Well, and if they do?”
“Well, then, sometimes they settle down and live here.”
“Why should they not? There is good country on this side of the mountains.”
“Well, of what does living consist?”
“Living? Well, it consists of walking, of sleeping, of eating—”
“And having children?”
“Well, yes.”
“And dying?”
“Well, yes, dying can be seen as part of living, if you wish.”
“I more than wish, I insist upon it.”
“Very well, if you insist, I accept it.”
“Good then. Let us see what we have.”
“Yes, let us do so.”
“We have elfs who have crossed the mountains, and had children, and died.”
“Yes, as well as walking and eating and sleeping.”
“Oh, I do not say they didn’t do those things as well.”
“That is good, for if you did, I should have to dispute with you.”
“But for now, let us consider only having children and dyting.”
“Very well. It is sad when those things happen together—that is, when two people die soon after having a child, for that leaves the child an orphan.”
“Exactly.”
“I know of this, because it is what happened to me.”
“Exactly,” said Arra. “Now do you comprehend?”
Morrolan frowned. “But we were speaking of elfs.”
“Well, and what do we know of elfs?”
“They live on the western side of the mountains.”
“And what else?”
“They have magical powers.”
“What sort of magical powers?”
“Oh, as to that, I have no idea, I assure you.”
“Well, they live a very long time, do they not?”
“Yes, so I have heard.”
“And they are very tall, and thin, and, in addition, they have no beard.”
“Yes, I believe I have heard that too.”
“Have you ever shaved, my dear lord?”
“I? Well, I have never had the need.”
“And then?”
Morrolan stared at her, comprehension at last coming to him. Miska was at last able to stop laughing, and just watched Morrolan with an amused twinkle in his eye.
At last Morrolan said, “Do you pretend that I—”
“Exactly,” said Arra.
“Impossible!”
“Not at all.”
“But why would no one have mentioned it to me?”
“I, for one, assumed you knew.”
“As did I,” added Miska.
“But those who raised me—”
“Almost certainly wished to conceal your nature to protect you.”
“I cannot believe it,” said Morrolan.
“You cannot doubt it,” said Arra.
“And yet—”
“Well?”
Morrolan fell silent, considering what he had been told. At last he said, “I am an elf?”
“As much as I am, myself, my lord,” said Teldra. “Although I am an Issola, and you are, to judge from your countenance, a Dragonlord.”
“You perceive, I do not comprehend what these terms mean.”
“Then, if you wish, I will explain.”
“I think I am not yet ready for more explanations.”
“I understand,” said Teldra, “and will wait until you are ready.”
“That will be best.”
Miska wiped tears of laughter from his face and said, “Well, it was worth a drive of three hundred kilometers just to be here for this moment.”
Morrolan, in the meantime, stared at his hands as if he had never seen them before. “I am an elf?” he murmured.
“We call ourselves human,” said Teldra gently.
“Who does not?” said Arra.
“Or Dragaeran, if you prefer,” said the Issola.
“Dragaeran,” said Morrolan, as if trying out the word to see how well it fit into his mouth.
“I wonder …” said Teldra.
“As do I,” said Morrolan. “I wonder many things.”
“I do not doubt it in the least,” said Teldra. “But there is a thing I wonder in particular.”
“Well, and what is that?”
“I wonder about your family name, and who your ancestors were, and so on.”

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