Robert Redick - The River of Shadows

Arunis turned to Vadu and raised his hands, as if presenting evidence of something they had already discussed. Vadu frowned at Hercol, and his head bobbed up and down. “That was an unwise remark,” he said. “I cannot release anyone whose stated intention is to commit murder. Especially when the declared victim is a guest of the city.”

“I thought we were guests of the city,” said Chadfallow.

“You’re here because you’re ill, Doctor,” said Fulbreech, smiling his handsome smile.

“Correct,” said Vadu. “I suggest you all work in good faith with our specialists. If anyone can help you, it is they. Be glad you were brought here. Your shipmates”-he faltered, looking troubled-“may well come to envy you.”

“Counselor,” said Hercol, “you are deceived. This sorcerer is the enemy not only of all the men of the Chathrand, but all men, all people in Alifros. Help him no more-for however it may seem, he is not helping you. Very soon he will attempt to steal the Nilstone. You must prevent that at all costs.”

“Steal the Nilstone!” laughed Fulbreech. “Do you know why he says that, Counselor Vadu? Because that girl went mad and screamed it, on the way to this asylum. Steal that little bauble, the Shaggat’s toy-”

Arunis shot an angry glance at Fulbreech. The youth drew back a step, clearly frightened.

“He has no need to resort to theft,” said Vadu. “We have an understanding, Arunis and I. Come, sorcerer, you can see that they are well looked after. Let us go.”

“Not without my idiot,” said the mage.

Even as he spoke a door opened at the end of the hall, and several more birdwatchers appeared, this time leading a docile figure in chains. Thasha gasped: the figure was human. He was dressed, and of a rough, solid build like a farm laborer. He was also quite clearly deranged. His eyes fixed on nothing; his lips flexed and squirmed aimlessly. Both arms dangled at his sides, but his left hand twitched repeatedly, a sharp motion like the leap of a frog.

“Are you certain you want it?” said Vadu. “Look at it, mage. It’s useless.”

“Oh, I want him-it,” said Arunis. “If it is truly as they describe.”

“We told you the truth,” said one of the birdwatchers, frightened and angry at once. “This one’s a special case, and needs special handling to keep it from harm. It walks upright, and lets itself be dressed. But it’s blind to danger. You’ll find it a burden, sir, you should leave it with us. It will swallow rocks, nails even. And it doesn’t see what’s in front of its nose. It sees something else. It would walk off a cliff, or into a fireplace. It lives in the mist, in the fog-and we’re attached to it, you see. It’s been here so long.”

“Perfect,” said Arunis.

“Twenty-eight years,” said another of the birdwatchers, his voice sour and upset. He was the only one of the dlomu who struck Thasha as cruel: a look somehow heightened by the bright gold tooth in his upper jaw. He gestured at the tarboys. “It was younger than them when we caught it. We raised it.”

“With loving care, no doubt.” Fulbreech snickered.

“It’s not fair to prance in here and snatch it,” the dlomu went on. “We’ve written books about this tol-chenni, Counselor. Why doesn’t he take one of the newer ones, they’re just as healthy, and-”

“I will have this one, Vadu,” said Arunis. “Rid me of its handlers. Quickly.”

As Vadu ushered the unhappy technicians from the corridor, Arunis stepped close to the glass. He glanced briefly at Druffle, his former slave; and at Uskins, who cowered deeper into the bushes when the mage caught his eye. His gaze rested longer on Hercol, and longer still on Pazel and Thasha. His eyes did not gloat. Despite the hunger that was always part of him, he appeared almost serene.

“We haven’t really talked,” he said, “for months. Since that day on the bowsprit, Pathkendle-you recall? After that there were so few opportunities. I admit I wanted for conversation. I had Felthrup, of course-and you too, Uskins, after the captain assigned you to wait on me, and keep me under observation. You’re not likely to forget those chats, are you, Stukey?”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Uskins in a whimper. “I was good.”

“You may be here a long time,” said Arunis to the others. “For as long as Bali Adro continues to pay for this institution, this relic of its former glory. I do not think that we shall meet again; not in any form that you would recognize. So I wish to thank you. Of course, you will not understand it when I say so, but you were… necessary. This long, long struggle was necessary.”

“You say that,” said Chadfallow, “and you mean necessary to some end you have dreamed up. Something violent and fantastically selfish.”

“Yes,” said Arunis, clearly pleased. “So you do understand, a little. You think you have been fighting me, but it is not so. You have been fighting for me, as slaves fight in the ring for the glory of the gladiator. And so it has always been. These centuries of battle, of searching for the way the task could be done, of racing the others to the finishing line. Battling you and your ancestors, battling Dunarad and Suric Roquin, the Amber Kings, the Becturians, the selk. Battling Ramachni and Erithusme the Great. All for my benefit, my distinction. And now the final step is come, and I am grateful.”

The nine humans could only stare. Thasha knew that the driving lunacy of the being before her had reached some new and hideous threshold. He wasn’t lying, wasn’t playing a trick. He really was saying goodbye to something-to them, and something he had decided they stood for.

“It’s not going to happen,” she said. “Do you hear me? What you think is going to happen-it won’t. No one is with you, except out of fear. You can’t turn your back without fear that someone will stab it. But we’re stronger. We have each other. You’re alone.”

If Arunis heard her, he showed no sign. He raised his hands before his face as though framing a picture.

“I will reward you,” he said. “When all else is gone, burned beyond ashes, burned back to heat and light, I will retain the image of your faces as I see them now. My enemies, who almost killed me. My final collaborators. I will remember you in the life to come.”

“And I will help you remember, Master, if you wish,” said Fulbreech suddenly. His voice was soft, but anxious nonetheless. “I will be there with you, just as you told me. I will keep helping you, with my cleverness, my skills. Won’t I, Master? I’ll help you all the way there, and beyond. Won’t I?”

Arunis passed his eyes over Fulbreech, and said not a word. Taking the chain from Vadu, he led the tol-chenni down the corridor and out of sight. Fulbreech hurried after him. A door opened and closed.

Vadu looked at the human prisoners. His head bobbed in agitation.

“I should like to know why he insists on the company of lunatics,” he said.

The sorcerer’s visit left them quiet. For Thasha the word collaborators had stirred some buried feeling, a blend of guilt and terror that her conscious mind could not explain. She had assumed that the mage and Syrarys were in league from the day her mother’s necklace, so long in Syrarys’ hands, had come to life and nearly strangled her. But it sickened and terrified her to think that both might have been involved with her family since before her birth.

She was still mulling over these dismal thoughts when the dog sat up with a startled yip: the first sound it had made since its arrival. Voices followed: loud, angry dlomic voices, drawing nearer. Mr. Uskins squealed and darted for the bushes.

Some argument or standoff was occurring within the Institute. Then all at once a crowd, almost a mob, burst into the corridor. The old birdwatchers were shoved aside as thirty or forty newcomers pressed up to the glass.