Roger Zelazny - Donnerjack

Alice’s only response was a cold stare. Jay flushed red as he heard Drum sniggering and he realized that once again he’d acted as if Alice was some proge heroine.

Dubhe poked him. “She’s coming with us, right, Jay?”

“Uh, right.”

Alice smiled. Death turned to Drum.

“That leaves you to confer with Celerity. Are you willing?”

“Sure.” The detective placed a hand over his heart. “Lo, though I walk through the valley of darkness, I will fear no evil, for Death will be at my side.”

“I cannot be at your side, but I will give you certain information to use as you see fit.”

“Great. Now, I suspect that Jay, Dubhe, and Alice will have an easier time scouting if everything is not going according to plan at the Celebration site.”

“Not another riot!” Jay said. “The last one may have discredited the Elshies somewhat, but innocent people were hurt.”

“What I have in mind wouldn’t cause a riot… I don’t think,” Drum said. He glanced at Alice. “Our employer.”

A mischievous grin lit the young woman’s face.

“Oh, yes! Perfect.”

‘ /

Drum turned to his somewhat confused allies. “What do you say to the reappearance of Arthur Eden?”

“The author of Origin and Growth of a Popular Religion , the one who has been blacklisted for so many years?” Jay grinned. “Oh, perfect!”

“When I’m done with my job in Virtu,” Drum added, “I will go to the Celebration and do my bit to influence crowd response.”

“We’ll need to coordinate our actions somewhat,” Jay said, “but I think this will work beautifully.’

“My part,” the Lord of Deep Fields said, “will be here in Virtu— I’m going to deal with some trespassers. If Tranto and Phecda would join Seaga’s forces, when Drum convinces him that his best interests lie with us, then we will have generals there as well.”

Silence again.

“Planning more at this point wouldn’t do much good,” Drum said. “When the Lord of Entropy here gets me an appointment with this Celerity, I’ll find out if we can make an ally. Then I’ll talk to Eden.”

“I guess,” Jay said, “that Alice and I had better practice crossing the interface. It wouldn’t be a good idea to find out too late that we can’t swing it.”

It wasn’t much in the way of an apology and he knew it, but Alice smiled and punched him lightly on the arm.

“I can hardly wait.”

Death looked at them all. “And don’t forget to get your rest and sustenance. None of you are aions, nor will you have the sweetened charges the Most High give their lackeys to sustain them.”

In twos and threes, the conspirators thanked Caltrice and took their leave. As Death was about to depart, Reese Jordan spoke.

“Sir, I haven’t been strong lately, but everyone has their role. Is there anything I can do? I’ve been weak, but maybe you can…”

The Lord of Deep Fields slowly shook his head. Reese whitened. Caltrice arose from her waters.

“Lord?”

“Death comes for all,” the Lord of Deep Fields said to her. “Reese

Jordan has lived longer than most, and through the time tricks you have played here, he has gotten more out of that life.”

“Will I see the moire?” Reese asked, his voice breaking.

“Only those of Virtu see the moire,” Death said. “Bansa did; Donnerjack did not. I cannot say which it shall be for you.”

“Don’t tell Jay,” Reese said. “He’ll learn soon enough.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll be seeing you then.”

“I sincerely hope so, Reese Jordan.”

With that, Death took his leave. Reese Jordan took Caltrice’s hand.

“Wait with me?”

Her answer was a tightening of pressure, a falling of water that might have been tears, might only have been rain.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Alice, you’re safe! When will you be home?”

“I’m not quite finished with this yet. Give my apologies to Grandma and Grandpa, please, but I won’t be able to make the Celebration.”

“If it’s the young man, you’re welcome to bring him.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Mom! I’m being serious. There’s something I need you to do for me—and maybe it will help Ambry, too.”

“I’m listening.”

Jay D’Arcy Donnerjack wandered the corridors of Castle Donnerjack, wishing that he would hear the banshee howl. He knew he wouldn’t, of course, but he permitted himself to dream. Opening the much-depleted bottle of Laphroaig, he filled a saucer and set it on the windowsill.

A clanking of chains and the crusader ghost was there, sniffing appreciatively at the liquor.

“You made it back safely, then.”

“Aye, laddie, so did we all, all but your lady mother.”

“Then those who vanished from the field…”

“Were banished, not destroyed. You were right when you said that those who were dead could not be easily slain again. We did you some good, though, didn’t we, young laird?”

“Aye.”

“Then hae a wee nip and a nap, laddie. That battle’s won and the next nae yet begun.”

Ben Kwinan was surprised to hear a knock at the door to his hogan. Momentarily, he considered observing good old-fashioned Navajo manners and ignoring his caller, but the novelty of an unexpected guest was such that he went to the door.

The rough features of the sandy-haired man who stood outside were schooled into polite neutrality. He extended a hand with a calling card.

“Mr. Kwinan, I’m Desmond Drum. I wondered if 1 might have a word with you.”

Kwinan blinked, glanced down at the card. “Desmond Drum, Licensed Investigator” read the printed legend. Beneath was handwritten: “You really want to see me.”

“Come inside, Mr. Drum.”

“Thanks.” Drum followed him in, turned to the left around the fire. “Nice place. Is it secure?”

“Yes.”

“Even from your genius loci ?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you evicted.”

“What is this about, Mr. Drum?”

“I’ve come to ask you to set up a meeting between myself and Seaga.”

“What? Why do you think I could do that?”

“Because your secret identity is Celerity—the messenger to Highest Meru.”

“You know a lot for a Veritean.”

“Keep my ears open.”

“Even if I am who you say, why would I arrange such a meeting for you?”

“Several reasons: it’s your job; Seaga is going to want to hear what I have to say; Skyga would be very interested in knowing about your fence-sitting. I understand he’s in a touchy temper these days.”

“You must keep your ears open, Desmond Drum. Tell me, how would you inform Skyga of my activities if you need me to get in touch with Seaga?”

“I have a friend in low places… very low places. He could arrange a message.”

“Ah.”

Ben Kwinan considered what he had heard lately about a battle in Deep Fields, a raid on Meru, Bansa lost or transformed, secrets stolen.

“Seaga will want to know what this meeting is to be about.”

“Alliance between him and those I represent for the purpose of resisting Skyga’s latest ambitions.”

“You’re pretty open about this. How do you know I won’t go to Skyga with it?”

“I have friends in low places. I understand that divinities who violate their essential roles in the cosmic order can rapidly find themselves demoted—and vulnerable.”

“Ah.”

Pause for thought. (This manifestation only. Other aspects continued busy with carrying messages, coordinating ticketing for the Celebration, conferring with underlings. Near omnipresence could be a trial.)