Lawrence Watt-Evans: The Sword Of Bheleu

Haggat put down his new scrying glass and stared at it thoughtfully. He was not entirely pleased with the course events had followed, but it would do. The Council of the Most High had suffered badly, though it was not destroyed. The overman Garth yet lived, but he no longer possessed the Sword of Bheleu and could therefore be dealt with by the cult's ordinary methods. That was all satisfactory.

The yellow-garbed figure might be a problem, however. Haggat did not know who or what he was, but he obviously controlled considerable power, judging by the ease with which he had taken the sword from Garth and apparently rendered it harmless. The scrying glass would not show him directly, any more than it had been able to show Garth while the sword's power shielded him, but Haggat caught glimpses while watching Garth's slow journey back to Skelleth. The man in yellow tatters had walked at his side the entire distance and occasionally come partially into view. His face had never been visible at all, not even for the briefest of glimpses. He carried the sword as if it weighed nothing and seemed unbothered by cold or fatigue from the long walk-though it was hard to be sure from such fleeting images.

He probably wasn't anybody important, Haggat decided finally. He was some obscure wizard who had chanced upon a spell that could control the sword, at a guess. He was nothing to worry about.

Anyway, it was Garth who concerned the cult. The death of the former high priest had yet to be avenged. Something would have to be done about that.

Shandiph was a wanderer and had no true home of his own; he materialized in Chalkara's chambers in Kholis, side by side with the court wizard, and then collapsed onto the rug. He had survived the great blast, but his injuries were serious. He had remained upright, casting spells, only through force of will.

Chalkara was unhurt; she bent over him and tended to his injuries as best she could, while shouting for the servants.

"Where are the others?" he managed to ask.

"I don't know," she replied. "That…that whatever-it-was said it was sending us home; perhaps the others are in their own homes now."

"They aren't all dead?"

"No, no. They're not. I saw that many still lived."

"That's good." His head fell back on the cushion she had slid beneath it.

"Shandi…who was that? How could he do all that?"

"I think it was the King in Yellow," Shandiph answered.

"He has the sword now."

Shandiph shook his head slightly. "He can't use it. Only the god's chosen one can use it."

"Then it's all over?"

He nodded, weakly.

A servant appeared in the doorway, staring in astonishment.

"Don't just stand there," Chalkara snapped, "Go find a physician!"

The girl nodded and vanished, her running footsteps echoing in the stone corridor.

Chalkara remained, kneeling over Shandiph's body, praying to the Lords of Eir that he wouldn't die.

There was shouting outside his door; Karag dropped the last splintered fragment of the Great Staff and worked the latch.

Servants and guardsmen were hurrying past; he reached out a soot-blackened hand and stopped a rushing housemaid.

"What's happening?" he croaked.

"Oh, my lord wizard, you're back!"

"Yes, I'm back. What's going on?"

"The Baron has just returned from Kholis, my lord, and they say he's angrier than anyone has ever seen him! The High King has again denied him the Barony of Skelleth, he says, and kidnapped his wizard-he means you! Oh, you had better go and see him at once!"

Karag nodded. "I will go immediately." He released the woman's arm, and she ran off.

He looked down at himself. He was filthy, his cloak was in tatters, but he was unhurt; the staff had protected him. Then that great burst of light had shattered the staff, and he had been certain he was about to die. He remembered that.

Kubal had crept up behind the overman, as his plan called for, while Chalkara drew the pentagram, and he had used the transporting spell, but it hadn't worked; the sword had absorbed it somehow. The overman had laughed; Karag remembered that with painful clarity. The overman had laughed at his scheme.

Then there had been a stranger in a ragged yellow cloak at the overman's side, taking the sword from him-and then he was here, in his own room.

It didn't seem to make much sense.

There was more shouting somewhere, and he decided against taking time to clean himself up. The Baron would be mad enough with him as it was. He joined the hurrying crowd in the passageway and made his way down to the great hall.

As he walked in the door, the Baron, standing on the dais, immediately caught sight of him.

"There you are, traitor! Have you returned to beg my forgiveness?"

"What have I done, my lord? How did I come here?" He had decided instantly upon his approach; he would claim to remember nothing of the last few days. Let the Baron think he had been kidnapped.

The Baron glared at him for a long moment, then said, "All right, I will accept you back, and you will tell me later what became of you. Right now I have more important matters to attend to. I have abrogated the covenant and declared war upon the Baron of Kholis, who calls himself King. My men are preparing to march even now, and the messengers I sent back from the false king's castle have had siege engines built. You, wizard, will aid me in this war with your spells."

Karag stared up at his master in dismay.

Garth sat quietly at the Forgotten King's table in the King's Inn, staring at his mug of ale. He and the old man had travelled all night and half the following morning to return to Skelleth, and Garth had then slept away the rest of the day. When he awoke, the King was back in his corner as if nothing had happened. There was no sign of the sword.

Garth had gotten his ale and seated himself, but neither had spoken.

Finally, the overman said, "It would seem that the Age of Destruction is averted; what does that do to the reckoning of time?"

"Lessened, not averted," the old man replied

"Only lessened?"

"Yes. Already the Kingdom of Eramma is destroyed by civil war."

"It is?"

The old man nodded.

Garth wondered at that. He saw no sign of any war, and no news of one had reached him since his return to Skelleth. Still, he knew that the Forgotten King had knowledge beyond the ordinary.

"That's unfortunate. Wars are wasteful and unnecessary."

The King did not reply.

There was a moment of silence, and then Garth asked, "Who were those wizards? Why did they attack me?"

"The Council of the Most High, as they call themselves, is sworn to preserve peace," the old man answered.

"Will they stop the war, then?"

"They will try and fail."

"Might they not attack me again-or you?"

"No. They have no magic powerful enough and are scattered and weakened."

"They seemed powerful to me"

"They drew upon the vault where their ancestors stored away much of their power. I have sealed the vault against them."

"Might they be able to stop the war, if they had this old magic?"

The Forgotten King shrugged.

Garth sipped his ale, then asked, "When will you send me after the Book of Silence?"

"When I remember where it is."

"When you remember? Then you knew once?"

The King nodded.

Garth sipped ale again, and asked, "Have you any idea how long it will take you to remember?"

The King replied, "I know that it was I who moved the book from its place in Dыsarra, because no one save you and I can carry it and live. That is all I know. I may recall where I left it tomorrow, or not for thirty years. Until I do, do not bother me. You are free to do as you please, so long as you do not leave Skelleth for any extended period of time, until I remember. Now go away."