Lawrence Watt-Evans - In the Empire of Shadow

“So what?” Wilkins asked.

“Why, know you not the tale?” Taillefer asked, astonished.

“We’re not from around here,” Wilkins answered dryly.

“Then gladly I’ll tell it,” Taillefer said, his grin returned. “’Twas in the days of old, when Shadow’s reach was yet limited, when darkness had not yet fallen upon all the lands, yet strife was widespread, for those who opposed the encroaching evil were not united; aye, in truth, that’s the damning disgrace of all our people, and all that was needed for the triumph of Shadow that so oppresses and shames us now…”

“Excuse me,” Amy called from her place by the wall, “but I don’t think this is the time for stories.”

Affronted, Taillefer turned to glare at her. “’Tis no mere story, wench, but the true history of this place.”

“All the same,” Pel said, “maybe it can wait. Amy isn’t well, and we’d like to get her home. And I want to get home, too, and probably the Imperials do. And we should get Ted there to a doctor.”

Ted giggled.

Susan said nothing, Amy noticed; she just stood by and watched.

“Ah, and is this why I was summoned hither?” Taillefer asked. “Has Valadrakul told you that I might bear you to your homes?”

Valadrakul cleared his throat. His still-raised hand was still glowing, but the glow dimmed perceptibly.

“Indeed, I’ve a fine gift for wind-riding,” Taillefer said, “and I might well bring another, though I doubt me I can carry any but one at the time.”

“’Tis not wind-riding we ask,” Valadrakul said, lowering his hand. Only the faint remaining glimmer of Taillefer’s staff and the dim light of the stars overhead remained to illuminate the scene.

“And what then is it?” Taillefer asked. “That sign sent me told me that I was called, and by whom, and to what part of the world, but naught else. What would you have of me, Valadrakul of Warricken?”

A thin tongue of flame flared up in the stack of brush, as Valadrakul worked his magic with a gesture. “Before we talk of that,” the wizard said, “let us exchange names, as you said we should. You know me well of old, and Raven has spoken his name; know then that he who stands yonder is Stoddard, of Raven’s household, most faithful of all.” He pointed to where Stoddard stood, faintly visible in the still-weak firelight. “And of all you see here, good Taillefer, only we three, Raven, Stoddard, and myself, are from this realm.”

Taillefer cocked his head slightly. “How mean you, Valadrakul?”

Valadrakul sighed. “I mean that this good man, Pellinore Brown, and likewise Ted Deranian, and these ladies known to me as Amy and Susan, came to us from a land they call Earth; and that these others, Messires Wilkins and Sawyer and Singer and Marks, and Mistress Thorpe, are from the Galactic Empire.”

Amy couldn’t see just where the wizard pointed as he named all the names, and wished that they had some proper light-even just a flashlight. The fire was growing, and that would help.

The glow of his staff lit Taillefer’s face, though, and Amy could see that he was considering them all for a moment, looking about in the darkness.

For a moment, firelight flared, as a particularly dry bit of kindling caught; then it flickered and died down.

“And that would account for their garb, I would suppose,” Taillefer said at last, “but that yourself, Valadrakul, and him you name Stoddard, wear the same. And lo, Vala, your hair is much transformed; had you fleas, perhaps, that would not yield without this butchery?”

“We have sojourned in the Galactic Empire,” Valadrakul explained, “and there were forced to make do with what attire came to hand.” He put a hand to his head. “As for this, ’twas but the result of misfortunes that bear no retelling here and now.”

Taillefer nodded thoughtfully. “And Elani? For surely, ’twas she who sent you thither?”

“Dead,” Valadrakul replied bitterly. “Slain by Shadow’s black beasts.”

Amy’s stomach lurched, and she called, “Can we get on with it, please?”

Taillefer threw her a glance, then turned back to Valadrakul. “’Tis a grievous loss you speak of,” he said, “and when time more freely permits, I’ll mourn her as she is due. Erstwhile, howsoever, he that you called the Brown Pellinore spoke of going home. Home to this Earth, is it?”

“Aye,” Valadrakul said.

Amy could hear Wilkins and the others trying to help the fire along, could hear the bits of wood scraping on the stone floor and the muttering of their voices, but she could no longer see their faces. Someone was cursing under his breath, but she couldn’t tell who it was.

“And you’d have me open the portal, then?” Taillefer asked his compatriot. “’Tis for this that you summoned me and sought my aid?”

“Aye,” Valadrakul replied.

“And you’d have it here in Regisvert, I suppose? Do you think me mad, Vala?”

“The place was of your own choosing, Taillefer, that it might be readily found by us all; I’d no mind as to where the portal might be.”

“What’s wrong with right here?” Amy demanded.

Taillefer turned a disdainful stare her way, his face ghostly in the gloom. “Methought you’d have none of the history, woman,” he said.

“I don’t need any lectures,” Amy snapped. “What’s wrong with here?”

Valadrakul sighed and turned to her. The darkness hid his features. “Four hundred years and more agone,” he said, “this Castle Regisvert was hearth and stronghold for the Green Magician, sworn foe to Shadow. ’Twas built upon this spot because here the currents of magic are strong, the flow of power rich and full; and as was ever the case, that drew the attention of Shadow, who one dire night came and, after a famous battle of eldritch skill and might that lasted for many days, Shadow struck down the Green Magician, threw down the castle to ruin, and drew the powers of this place into its own web. The magic yet runs strong here-but likewise is it yet linked close to Shadow, and as any touch upon the strands of a spider’s web will draw the spider’s eye, yet will any spell worked in this place draw Shadow’s gaze.”

“You tell it briefly, and without interest,” Taillefer said, “yet is that the essence of the tale, and of my reasoning.”

“Then we’ll go somewhere else,” Amy said. “We don’t care where you open the portal, we just want to go home.”

“And I’ve no doubt you desire it,” Taillefer said, “but I’ll have none of it. Go where you will, yet I’ll not conjure you home.”

Wilkins, squatting, looked up from the fire; Stoddard, who had been standing impassively nearby, unfolded his arms from across his chest.

Ted giggled hysterically. “I knew it,” he said. “I’m never going to wake up from this one. I must be comatose, or maybe dead.”

And Amy’s stomach betrayed her again; she bent, clutching her belly, and threw up most of her stolen supper.

Raven frowned and glanced at the black-haired Earthwoman, the one called Susan. She was tending to her sick companion, and her black bag rested on the ground beside her. The madman, ted-Deranian, was leaning against a broken wall, staring at the stars. Pel the Brown and the witch-woman Thorpe were dividing their attention between their fallen comrade and the wizards, while the four soldiers had eyes only for Raven, Valadrakul, and Taillefer.

Stoddard was standing back, beyond the fire, but Raven had no worries where Stoddard was concerned; the man had been true all his life, the most faithful helpmeet any could ask for.

And Valadrakul had returned to his customary silence; he was standing there, looking first to his compatriot in the mystic arts, then to his liege lord, and saying nothing.