Margaret Weis - Into the Labyrinth

Hugh was now composed again. Several glasses of wine and a hot meal, which he wolfed from the tray placed on the bloodstained desk, restored his physical and, to some extent, his mental strength. He was so far improved as to recall his outburst with chagrin, flushing darkly when he thought about it. Ciang shook her head at his stammered apology.

“It is no small matter,” she said, “to brush up against a god.” Hugh smiled bitterly. “God. Alfred—a god.”

Night had fallen; the candles were lighted.

“Tell me,” Ciang repeated.

Hugh began at the beginning. He told her about the changeling Bane, about the evil wizard Sinistrad, about being hired to kill Bane and falling under the little boy’s spell. He told Ciang about falling also under the spell of the boy’s mother, Iridal—not a magic spell but one of plain and ordinary love. He told Ciang, unashamed, how he had forsaken the contract to kill the child for love of Iridal and how he had planned to sacrifice his life for her son. And the sacrifice had been made.

“I died,” Hugh said, shuddering at the remembered pain and horror. “I knew torment—terrible torment, far worse than any mortal agony a man can suffer. I was made to see inside myself, see the evil, heartless creature I had become. And I was sorry. Truly sorry. And then... I understood. And when I understood, I was able to forgive myself. And I was forgiven. I knew peace... And then it was all snatched away.”

“He... Alfred... brought you back.”

Perplexed, Hugh looked up. “You believe me, Ciang. I never thought... That was why I didn’t come...”

“I believe you.” Ciang sighed. Her hands, resting on the desk, trembled slightly. “I believe you. Now.” She stared at his chest. Though it was covered, the rune-mark seemed to shine through the fabric. “I might not if you had come back then. However, what is done is done.”

“I tried to go back to my old life, but no one would hire me. Iridal said that I’d become mankind’s conscience. Any who plotted evil deeds saw their own evil in my face.” The Hand shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s true or not. At any rate, I hid myself away in the monastery of the Kir monks. But she found me.”

“The woman you brought here—Iridal, the boy’s mother. She knew you were alive?”

“She was with Alfred when he... did this.” Hugh placed his hand on his breast.

“Alfred denied it afterward, but Iridal knew what she had seen. She left me to myself, though. She was afraid...”

“The touch of the god,” Ciang murmured, nodding.

“And then her son, Bane, turned up again, with the elves. The boy was well named. He was planning to destroy the peace being arranged between Prince Rees’ahn and King Stephen. With the help of the Kenkari, Iridal and I set out to free Bane from the elves, but the boy betrayed us to them. The elves held Iridal hostage, forced me to agree to kill Stephen. As the supposed heir, Bane would take over the human rulership and he would betray them to the elves.”

“And Stephen’s assassination was the job you bungled,” Ciang put in. Hugh flushed again, glanced up at her, gave a rueful smile. “So you heard about that, too? I planned to get myself killed. It was the only way I could think of to save Iridal. Stephen’s guards would take care of me. The king would know Bane was behind it. He’d deal with the boy. But again, I didn’t die. The dog jumped the guard who was about to—”

“Dog?” Ciang interrupted. “What dog?”

Hugh began to reply; then an odd look crossed his face. “Haplo’s dog,” he said softly. “That’s strange. I hadn’t thought of it until now.” Ciang grunted. “More about that in its proper place. Continue your story. This Bane died. His mother killed him, just as he was about to kill King Stephen. Yes.” She smiled at Hugh’s look of amazement. “I heard all about it. The mysteriarch, Iridal, returned to the High Realms. You did not go with her. You went back to the Kenkari. Why?”

“I owed them a debt,” Hugh said slowly, turning his wine glass around and around in his hand. “I had sold them my soul.”

Ciang’s eyes widened. She sat back in her chair. “They do not deal in human souls. Nor would the Kenkari buy the soul of any man—human or elven.”

“They wanted mine. Or at least I thought they did. You can understand why, of course.” Hugh drank down the wine at one gulp.

“Of course.” Ciang shrugged. “You had died and had returned. Your soul would have been one of great value. But I can also understand why they did not take it.”

“You can?” Hugh paused in the act of pouring himself another glass to focus on her. He was drunk, but not drunk enough. He could never get drunk enough.

“The souls of the elves are held in constraint to serve the living. They are prevented from going beyond. Perhaps they do not even know that such peace as you describe exists.” Ciang pointed a bony finger. “You are a danger to the Kenkari, Hugh the Hand. You are more of a threat to them dead than you are alive.”

Hugh gave a low whistle. His face darkened. “I never thought of that. The bastards. And I thought...” He shook his head. “They acted so compassionate... And all the time looking out for their own.”

“Have you ever known anyone who did not, Hugh the Hand?” Ciang rebuked him.

“Once you would not have fallen for such wiles. You would have seen clearly. But you are changed. At least now I know why.”

“I will see clearly again,” Hugh said softly.

“I wonder.” Ciang stared at the bloodstains on the desk. Absently her fingers traced them. “I wonder.” She fell silent, absorbed in thought. Hugh, troubled, did not disturb her.

At length she raised her eyes, regarded him shrewdly. “You mentioned a contract. Who has hired you and for what?”

Hugh moistened his lips, this part coming reluctantly. “Before he died, Bane made me agree to kill a man for him. The man named Haplo.”

“The one who traveled with you and Alfred?” Ciang looked surprised at first; then she smiled grimly. It was all starting to make sense. “The one with the bandaged hands.”

Hugh nodded.

“Why must this Haplo die?”

“Bane said something about some lord of his wanting Haplo out of the way. The kid was persistent, kept after me. We were coming up on Seven Fields, where Stephen was camped. I had too much to do to fool with a child’s whim. I agreed, to shut him up. I wasn’t intending to live that long anyway.”

“But you did live. And Bane died. And now you have a contract with the dead.”

“Yes, Ciang.”

“And you were not going to keep it?” Ciang was disapproving.

“I’d forgotten about the damn thing!” Hugh said impatiently. “Ancestors take me, I was supposed to die! The Kenkari were supposed to buy my soul.”

“And they did—only not quite the way you expected.” Hugh grimaced. “They reminded me of the contract. Said my soul is bound to Bane. I’m not free to give it to them.”

“Elegant.” Ciang was admiring. “Elegant and very neat. And so, elegantly and neatly, they escape this great danger that you present to them.”

“Danger?” Hugh slammed his hand on the desk. His own blood was there, taken from him years ago when he had been an initiate into the Brotherhood. “What danger? How do they know about this? They were the ones who showed me this mark!” He clutched at his breast as if he would rip out his flesh.

“As for how they know, the Kenkari have access to the ancient books. And then, you see, the Sartan favored them. Told them their secrets...”

“Sartan.” Hugh looked up. “Iridal mentioned that word. She said Alfred—”

“—is a Sartan. That much is obvious. Only the Sartan could use the rune-magic, or so they claimed. But there were rumors, dark rumors, of another race of gods—”