The Thief Who Spat In Luck's Good Eye (16 page)

Fireflies? In winter?

“
Holgren, wake up. Something’s happening.” I nudged him in the ribs, and he came up quick and clear-headed.

“
Powerful magic is at work.”

I looked around, and the trees were melting away like phantoms. The lights I had taken at first for fireflies were expanding, brightening, and aligning themselves along intricate geometric lines. They bled into one another until solid planes of glowing green light came into being. Walls formed, hundreds of feet high. Even the meadow grass retreated back into the ground and was replaced by some hard, flat surface. As these new surroundings took shape, that eerie green light faded, to be replaced by weak starshine. The walls took on the appearance of tangible shadows. Precise as every angle was, there still seemed to be something organic about the structure, in a way I couldn't pin down.

When everything stopped shifting, we stood in the courtyard of a huge fortress. Walls surrounded us on three sides. The fourth side of the courtyard, behind the obsidian block, was taken up by a massive archway, beyond which lay only a shadowy void. It was the entrance to a massive structure that stretched up and blotted out the stars. I craned my head back and saw a confusing welter of walls and windows and eaves, and high above them a thin spire that seemed to pierce the sky itself. No human hands could have built such an edifice.

Welcome to Shadowfall,
said a rich, disembodied voice. It was familiar. It was a younger version of the voice the Sorcerer King's crippled husk had owned.

Ruiqi will be joining us momentarily
, the voice continued.
Please, enter and make yourselves comfortable.

I glanced at Holgren. His face was unreadable. I took hold of his shoulder and we went through the arch.

I thought I had experienced discomfort when I entered the gate to Thagoth that Holgren had conjured up, months before. This was something else again. It wasn't pain, but was as if every particle of my body was taken apart studied, sniffed over, tasted, and put back together in a fraction of a second. It was over almost before it began. As I stepped through the archway to the room beyond, I felt an impulse to scream that dissipated before I had a chance to act on it.

The room was much like any drawing room, with a hearth in one corner containing a small, flickering fire. Two upholstered chairs were drawn up beside it. I glanced back at the archway, and it was now the size of a normal door. Beyond I could see nothing but shadows.

I apologize for the brief discomfort but I find such measures save time. Now I know just who—and what—partakes of my hospitality. Welcome Amra, Flame-chosen. Welcome Holgren, resurrected mage. Please take a seat. We have much to discuss.

I led Holgren to the chairs, saw him settled, and sat down myself.

“
Why don't you join us?” I asked. “I like to see who I'm talking to.”

Your partner spoke closer to the truth than you guessed when he jested about being in the belly of the beast. Rather than being in the room with you, it would be closer to the truth to say I
am
the room. I can, however, create a manifestation if will make you more comfortable.

“
It doesn't really matter to me, I suppose. And I doubt it makes much difference to Holgren. Though I thought you wicked types liked to make people uncomfortable, as a general rule.”

Have you ever considered the notion that every so-called hero is actually a villain, from someone's perspective? The reverse also applies, as in any equation.

I said, truthfully, “I don't tend to think of such things. I'm a more practical person. I try not to let the larger issues distract me.”

The flames in the hearth sort of rippled, and twisted, and out of them stepped a man of medium height. He was naked, and bald. Those same tattoos adorned his skull. Shadows sloughed off him like dead skin and drifted like ash to the floor at his feet.

He was handsome in a boyish sort of way, though his eyes were two dead things that reflected no light. I sort of had to squint to see the resemblance, but he could have been a younger, able-bodied version of the Sorcerer King.

“
I understand just what you mean, Amra.” He raised a finger absently and another chair appeared. He sat down, and thankfully crossed his legs.

“
I too am what you might call goal oriented,” he said. “Which gives me hope that we can come to an understanding this evening. But here is Ruiqi now, with refreshments.”

She came in the room through the arch, still wearing her ochre robe, carrying a tray on which rested a flagon of wine and two small crystal glasses. She knelt between Holgren and me, eyes downcast. Nothing showed now of the haughty, powerful mage from this morning. The tray she held trembled slightly and sweat beaded on her upper lip, though the room was cool despite the fire.

“
Not right now, thank you,” I said. Holgren shook his head. She rose and, walking backward, retreated to a far corner where she stood and held the tray with white knuckled hands. She kept her eyes firmly on the floor.

Was this some sort of subtle statement on the Shadow King's part? If he was trying to intimidate me, it was pointless. I already feared him as much as I feared anything. I did feel an odd stab of pity for Ruiqi, though, to see her so cowed. I suppressed it. I had my own problems.

“
We needn't waste much time, I shouldn't think,” said the Shadow King. “You know my interest in you has to do with the necklace. You know its intended recipient was Athagos. Let's discuss what I require from you.”

“
I told her, and I’ll tell you, nothing would make me happier than for you to take this necklace back. You'll be happy, I'll be happy, and we can all go about our business. I don't see what there is to discuss. Just take it.”

“
In a perfect world that would be precisely what I would do. We do not live in a perfect world—not yet, at least. There are two ways to remove the necklace, Amra. The first requires your death.”

“
I can't say I like that one much at all.”

“
I'd assumed as much. That fact alone should make the alternative more palatable.”

“
What is the alternative?” Holgren asked.

“
Amra must return to Thagoth and place the slave chain on the neck of the one it was intended for.”

“
Let me just work this out aloud,” I said. “You made the necklace but you can't take it off me?”

“
No. I only guided the making of the slave chain. I did not fashion it myself. If I had, we would not be having this conversation as the chain would fully acquiesce to my will.”

“
May I ask who did make it?” Holgren asked.

“
The Duke of Viborg. A talented man, given his limitations.”

“
Ah. I see. Thank you.”

1 wanted to get up and pace. I didn't. “So you can either kill me and get somebody else to cart it back to Thagoth —which I have to assume isn’t your first choice, or you wouldn't bother to get all chatty—or I go back to that hellhole myself and get Athagos to try it on for size.”

“
Essentially. I have enough control over the Duke's creation to redirect its focus, and allow you to return to Thagoth.”

“
It all sounds very plausible, doesn't it? Except that I'm actually a dead woman either way. I only survived Athagos last time by sheer chance.”

“
You are a resourceful woman, Amra. You'll think of something. Or not. Honestly, it is of no concern to me, so long as Athagos dons the chain.”

“
It's not your problem, in other words. What if—hypothetically, you understand—I refuse to go?”

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were lumps of coal.

“
There would be nothing hypothetical about your death, I assure you. You would still bear the necklace to its destination. Believe me when I tell you death is no bar to my will.”

“
You'll forgive me for saying so, but where I come from, dead is dead.”

“
Ruiqi. Be so kind as to show our guests what I mean.”

I didn't like the sound of that at all. “That won't be necessary, really. I have a vivid imagination.”

“
I find object lessons powerful motivators.”

Ruiqi set down the tray and stepped closer, to within arm's reach. She kept her eyes cast to the floor. Slowly she began to pull her robe over her head. Delicate ankles were exposed, then graceful, muscular calves, dark skin glowing like burnished copper in the fire's light. The hem of her robe rose higher, to expose knees and thighs, as graceful and toned as a dancer's or an acrobat's.

It was just above her groin that her body changed from most men's dream to anyone's nightmare. As she slipped the robe over her head and let it fall to the floor. I couldn't help but stare in sick fascination at all the damage. The woman had no right to be walking around or poling a punt or even breathing, mage or no.

Something had torn great chunks from her torso. She had been partially gutted. Blood-slick lengths of intestines—what remained of her intestines, I should say—lay coiled in the depression just above her hips, held in place by Kerf only knows what force. All flesh on the left side of her abdomen was gone from ribs to navel. I could just see the tips of the vertebrae of her lower spine peeking out, orange in the fire's light. Her ribcage wasn't much better. It had been cracked open and a fist-sized section removed, exposing splintered ribs and her purplish, beating heart.

“
Ruiqi has, in the past, sought to cross me in certain matters,” the Shadow King said. “She has learned the wisdom of obedience. Haven't you?”

“
I have, master,” she replied.

“
You may dress now, and leave us.”

“
Thank you, master.” There was no hiding the tone of relief in her voice. She put the robe on quickly, but left the room with a measured gait. I suppose her master disapproved of haste.

“
You will return to Thagoth, Amra, and collar the death goddess. If you manage to survive, I wish you a long life. Our business will have been concluded. Have you any further questions?”

“
Why do you want Athagos?” I asked.

“
I'm afraid you wouldn't understand.”

“
I would,” said Holgren.

“
Indeed, you might. My motivations should be the least of your concerns, however.”

Holgren nodded. “As you say.”

I stood up and grabbed Holgren's arm, fairly yanking him out of his chair. “Well, I suppose we should be on our way. It's a long trip back to Thagoth, and I'm sure you'd like to have Athagos here as soon as possible, whatever you want her for. Will you be provisioning us? We lost everything in your creatures’ raids.”

I wanted to get the hell away from him—it, whatever—as soon as humanly possible, before my smart mouth earned me missing chunks of my anatomy. Just thinking about it made me shudder.

“
Provisions won’t be necessary. I shall open a gate for you.”

“
That's great, but what about after? If we manage to survive securing Athagos for you, we'll be hard pressed to make it home.”

“
In your own words, that's not my problem.”

I had nothing to say to that. Ruiqi came back in, then, and stood just inside the archway with her eyes downcast. “All is prepared,” she said in a subdued voice. “Follow.”

I hooked an arm through Holgren's and followed her out. My mind was already turning to the question of surviving Athagos. I had to find some way to deafen myself again, preferably in a temporary sort of way. I weighed the chances of simply stuffing my ears with cotton or wax. It was a hell of a chance to take, and I'd only get one shot. Perhaps Holgren had some magical way to achieve my deafening. Once we were well away from the Shadow King, we were going to need a planning session.

Ruiqi led us back through the arch, this time without the disconcerting side effects, into the courtyard beyond. The Shadow King was already there, standing off to one side. A circle of ghostly blue fire about eight feet in diameter ringed the glassy black block now.

“
Holgren, please enter the circle.” The Shadow's voice was cool, a trifle too nonchalant. It rang alarms in me.

“
This isn't anything like what Holgren did to summon up the last gate.”

“
The observations of a magic-poor thief do not interest me.”

“
Then let me rephrase—what the hell is going on?”

Ruiqi blanched. Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head.
Don’t
she mouthed.

Again the Shadow smiled. His eyes weren't made of coal anymore, though. More like lightless pits of doom.

“
Enter the circle, Holgren. I will not tell you again.”

Holgren leaned into me, “We're nearly free,” he murmured. “Whatever will happen, will happen. I love you.” And with that he walked forward until he crossed over into the circle. He brushed against the obsidian block. And began to scream.

“
You motherless—” I screamed and rushed to Holgren, and found myself suddenly on the ground. The circle of flame had repelled me. I tried again. I couldn't cross the boundary of the circle. My body refused to. I could reach my hand up to the circle, but could not force it past the edge of the ghostly fire, couldn't break the plane no matter how hard I tried.

Holgren fell to the ground as I watched, and curled up there in pain next to the block.