Lawrence Watt-Evans - Out of This World

“Nor do they,” Raven acknowledged. “We’ve tested them.”

For a moment nobody spoke; Pel took them all to be absorbing the implications. Among other things, it was an admission that Raven’s people had visited the Empire, and had obtained weapons there.

But they hadn’t done so openly.

“Well, then,” Cahn said finally, “what do you want us to do, when our weapons won’t work?”

“Some weapons work everywhere,” Raven said, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. “Your Empire has great resources, thousands upon thousands of men and machines-you spoke of a populace numbered thirteen billions. Could you not make swords as easily as those… those things you carry? Could not your armies march ‘gainst Shadow, as did those of Stormcrack Keep in my youth?”

“And where are those armies of your youth now?” Cahn demanded. “Why should we send our people to be slaughtered by that thing’s magic?”

Raven frowned, and shifted his weight to his other foot before replying, “And what of your science? What of other weapons? We know that what you bear will not function, but have you no other armaments? We know little of what will or will not serve, in any of our three worlds; there may well be weapons known to you, and unknown to Shadow, that would serve as well in our world as your own. We know not whether this world’s mighty bombs can destroy Shadow’s fortress; mayhap they can, mayhap they cannot. Perhaps your magicians, your science- wielders, can discover ways to shield against Shadow’s spells; perhaps the men of your world are not as susceptible to those spells as are mine. Dare we not venture the attempt?”

“I’ll order the pizza,” Nancy whispered in Pel’s ear. “I figure five large pies.”

He nodded, and she slipped away.

“I’m sure,” Cahn said, “that when the Empire has had time to prepare, we will make an attempt. The Emperor doesn’t want Shadow there any more than you do, but there’s no point in throwing away resources in a premature attack.”

“So you wait, and wait-seven years, now, since first Shadow showed its hand in your realm?”

“Seven years, yes,” Cahn agreed. “But we haven’t been waiting idly-if we had, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”

“Not idle, perhaps, yet you wait,” Raven insisted. “And I fear that when at last the Empire sees fit to strike, I’ll be long in my grave, and our councils lost. Then even if Shadow falls, my people will be but yielding one tyrant for another.”

“You’re saying the Empire’s no better than Shadow?” Cahn asked, his tone threatening.

Raven held up his hands. “Nay, I said it not,” he said. “’Tis certain that your Emperor George cannot help but be preferable to the horrors of Shadow. But is there no other way? Are my people never to return to their own ways, their own rulers?”

“Watch how you talk about the Emperor,” Godwin growled.

“His Imperial Majesty George the Eighth generally doesn’t interfere much in the lives of his subjects,” Cahn said, with enforced calm. “You people will probably have all your own little lords back, if that’s what you want-it’s just they’ll be subject to the Empire.”

Raven turned up his palms. “And you do not see why we are dissatisfied with that?”

“I see it,” Cahn said, his voice hard. “I just don’t see why it’s any of my business.”

“Ah, Captain,” Raven said, suddenly changing manner from supplicant to salesman, “ that brings us back whence we began. I can take you home to your own world; in exchange, I ask that you aid us against Shadow.”

“It’s a circle, all right,” Cahn agreed, “because I don’t see what we can do.”

“Isn’t there any way you can defeat Shadow, other than a full-scale war?” Pel asked.

Cahn turned to him. “For example?” he asked.

“Well, Shadow’s a magician, right? I mean, underneath? Couldn’t someone kill him somehow? Wouldn’t that do it?”

“Shadow might have been human once,” Raven said. “I doubt it still is.”

“But could it be killed?”

Raven turned to Valadrakul, who turned up open palms. “Who knows?” he said.

“Well, maybe if someone tried, that would solve the whole problem,” Pel suggested. “You know, like if someone had assassinated Hitler in 1938 maybe we wouldn’t have had to fight World War II.”

Fourteen pairs of eyes stared at him in utter incomprehension. Ted, in his recliner, giggled again; Amy was looking about the room, from face to face, while Susan was watching Raven. Nancy was in the kitchen, and Pel realized he didn’t know where Rachel was; she had disappeared.

Probably got bored, he thought to himself. This must all be way over her head.

“Sir,” Valadrakul said, “I know nothing of this Hitler, nor any World War, but yes, an we could slay Shadow, we would need no war.”

“Well, can we slay Shadow?”

Valadrakul turned up a palm again. “Who knows?” he asked again.

“Well, where does Shadow get its power?” Pel asked. “Is there some magic ring we can throw into a volcano or something?”

Stoddard glanced at Raven, who glanced at Valadrakul, but most of those present simply stared at Pel.

“You know, like in The Lord of the Rings or something,” Pel said.

“Friend Pel,” Raven said, speaking gently, “what are you saying? Once before, you spoke of this; we know not what you mean.”

“You aren’t making sense, Mr. Brown,” Cahn said.

“It’s a book,” Pel explained. “Three books, I mean, by J.R.R. Tolkien. There’s this hobbit, see, who finds a magic ring that’s the key to the Dark Lord’s power, and he throws it into a volcano and melts it, and then the Dark Lord doesn’t have any power.”

“Nonsense,” Valadrakul declared. “What fool of a sorcerer would put all his power in a single talisman? And Shadow uses no talismans at all; Shadow is at the heart of a great mystical matrix, a web of arcane potency built up over centuries. What would such as that need with wands and rings and baubles?”

“I certainly never heard of any such tale as you describe,” Cahn added.

“I’ve heard of it,” Susan interjected, “but I never read it.”

“What’s a hobbit?” one of the crewmen-Cartwright, Pel thought it was-asked.

“An imaginary little person,” Pel explained.

“Like a spriggan?” Cartwright suggested.

“I don’t know,” Pel replied. “What’s a spriggan?”

“Like in the stories,” Cartwright said. “You know, like Plunkett’s stuff.”

“Who’s Plunkett?” Ted asked.

“Edward Plunkett, the writer,” Cartwright said, turning to look at Ted.

“Never heard of him,” Ted said.

“Neither did I,” Pel added.

“Of course not,” Cahn said. “He’s from our universe, not yours. He wrote picture books, died a couple of years ago.”

“Well, I guess we all know things the others don’t,” Pel agreed.

“Like what that thing is,” said Peabody, emboldened by Cartwright’s comments. He pointed at the stereo.

“It’s a stereo,” Pel said. “It plays music.”

“Like a melodion?” Peabody asked.

“I don’t think so,” Pel said. “Wasn’t that some Victorian thing?”

“Boy, has this conversation degenerated!” Ted called out to no one in particular. “From saving three different universes to sound equipment!”

“Indeed,” Raven said, with a sour glance at Ted, “I must agree. We were discussing whether a way might be found to slay Shadow, without first defeating it in battle.”

“I don’t know of any,” Cahn replied.

“I don’t know anything about it,” Pel said.