Timothy Zahn - Cascade Point

Turek blinked once, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "What do you mean?"

"How do you visualize it when you battle it? As a natural phenomenon like rot, or as a living force?"

Turek sipped at his water, considering. He'd never thought about it in exactly those terms before. "I don't know. Sometimes I seem to hear voices when I'm fighting it. But on the other hand, it doesn't seem to learn or to focus its effect in any way, like you'd expect it to if it were trying to destroy us." He shrugged. "I'm not sure it makes any difference what it is. It grows; we clear it out."

"It does make a difference," Javan disagreed quickly. "If it's not alive, there may indeed be only one way to get rid of it, like cutting rot away from fruit. But if it is alive, there may be several ways to attack it."

Turek put his mug on the ground and crossed his arms across his chest. Now the conversation was going somewhere. "I already know one way to attack Shadow—and, in case you've forgotten, it took our ancestors five generations to develop it. So tell me about this new method you've got that everyone else has somehow missed."

"First of all, I should point out I'm also familiar with the standard way. I don't suppose you know, but I studied for three years to become a Shadow Warrior. And I didn't miss the cut," he added, correctly interpreting Turek's expression. "I left voluntarily."

"Why? Afraid you couldn't handle the Final Test?"

"Maybe partly. But mainly because of all the ones who didn't make the apprentice cut. It seemed such a waste of effort, on everyone's part."

"Fighting Shadows isn't easy. It takes strength of mind and a lot of stamina."

"Certainly, the way you do it. But I've found an easier way." Javan hunched forward earnestly. "You see, the usual method involves a sort of head-to-head confrontation where you have to basically overpower the Shadow—fight it with its own weapons, so to speak. The problem with this is that you have to go right into the Shadow, where it's strongest, and actually make contact with it. It's a terrific strain, which ages Shadow Warriors far before their time, and even seems to affect their personalities."

"Our personalities are not your concern," Turek said bluntly. "As for the rest of it, it's the price we pay to help the people of Vesper. And we pay it willingly."

"I'm sure you do. But it's not necessary. You don't need to outdarken the darkness, so to speak. You can use light."

"Light?" Turek had lost track of all the charlatans throughout history who had tried using light against Shadow. "Yes—but not the kind you mean. It's an inner light, a sort of psychic glow."

"That's absurd."

Turek hadn't really intended the words to sound so harsh, but that was the way they came out. Javan reddened with anger. "So now you're going to give the verdict before the trial? Very convenient—saves time, I imagine."

"Don't worry; you're not going to get me into that old trap," Turek said grimly. " 'Shadow Warrior persecution' is a standard charlatan excuse, and I'm going to make sure you can't use it."

"Charlatan!" Javan stood up abruptly, glaring down at Turek. For a moment the tent was filled with a brittle silence as Javan slowly regained a grip on his temper. "All right; enough talk, then. Name the test."

Turek closed his eyes, opened and closed them again. No good. Shadows eventually grew up around anything man-made, but with the primitive furnishings of Javan's tent the effect was much too slow to worry about. The Shadows blanketing the chairs and candlestick were thin enough that anyone with a modicum of Shadow Warrior training could handle them, and Turek had no intention of making things that easy for Javan. "Nothing worth doing in here. Let's go outside."

After the relative dimness of the tent the bright sunlight was dazzling, and Turek made use of it for two more afterimage searches. Again he was out of luck no decent Shadows were visible anywhere. "You keep a clean camp," he grunted.

Javan shrugged. "The meditation required to learn my technique is hampered when a student is surrounded by lots of different Shadows. The learning comes quicker when there's just a single strong Shadow to work on."

A malicious smile tugged at the corners of Turek's mouth. "Thanks for reminding me. There is a decent-sized Shadow around for your test."

Javan seemed taken aback. "You can't mean Landers Waste."

"Why not? Ordinary Shadow Warrior technique is useless against something that size. Ideal way to prove your stuff."

"That's completely unfair—" Javan began, but just then Polyens came around the corner of the tent.

"Excuse me, Javan, but there's a man here to see you about clearing out a Shadow," he said, his eyes flickering between his master and Turek. "He said it was important."

With one final glare at Turek, Javan deliberately turned to Polyens. "Bring him here." Polyens looked toward the rear of the tent and nodded, and a middle-aged man came nervously into view.

It was Merken the Jeweler.

He froze in midstep as he recognized Turek, and the color drained from his face. "Master Turek!" he gasped.

Turek took a step toward him, fists clenched at his side, a sour taste in his mouth. "Yes, Merken, it's me. What's the matter, didn't you trust me to come back? You thought I was going to break my word?"

Merken was rapidly approaching a state of terror. "No, Master, no! But your message said you'd be delayed, and I didn't know how long, and I just thought—I mean, I've heard of Javan—and I thought maybe..." He ran out of words as he tried to burrow deeper into his cloak.

Turek took another step forward... and Javan was suddenly between him and Merken. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked calmly.

"Nothing!" Turek bit out. "Apparently the residents of Akkad don't trust Shadow Warriors. Fine; I'll see to it that no Shadow Warrior ever goes near the place again."

Turek had thought Merken's face as devoid of color as possible, but now he had the satisfaction of seeing the jeweler whiten still further. "Wait," he choked. "Please. It would destroy Akkad—no one could ever live there again."

"You should have thought of that before you decided I wasn't trustworthy." Turning his back, Turek began to walk away.

"Just a moment, Master Turek," Javan called.

Turek spun around, half-expecting to see Javan's minions approaching with fighting sticks drawn. But no one moved. "What?"

"It seems to me this would be a good opportunity for you to test my technique. I take it that this Shadow is one even a Shadow Warrior would have trouble with?"

"It'll take several attacks to get rid of it," Turek muttered, thoughts racing. It would be a good test, come to think of it—there was no way Javan could use Shadow Warrior methods against it without that being obvious. And there would be neutral witnesses there, enough to counter Javan's forces even if he brought his whole army along. "All right," he said at last. "The Shadow in Merken's shop— that's your test."

Javan nodded. "Good. We can leave immediately, if you're agreeable. Just let me get a few things for the trip." —

Javan either had a great deal of confidence in himself or he shrewdly realized that descending on Akkad with a mob of his partisans would be ill-advised and unproductive. Thus, only four men left Lander's Waste a half hour later: Turek, Merken, Javan, and Polyens.

Turek walked in front, alone. His anger at Merken had cooled, leaving an undefinable ache in its place. Why he had reacted so violently before, he still didn't know, and it both irritated and worried him. After all, there was nothing like a contract between Merken and himself, and he had forgotten to mention in his message that he would probably not be gone more than a day. But logic didn't help, and the hurt remained.