Lyndon Hardy - Riddle of the Seven Realms

"The principle is quite simple," Milligan said as he moved to the ladder at the side of the dory. Struggling with its long length for a moment, he thrust it into a vertical position and twisted its orientation with a flip, so that the topmost rung fell against the mast.

"Even the simplest child knows that one's luck decreases by walking under a ladder," Milligan said. "The effect can be reversed only by quickly retracing one's steps the other way."

"We have such a tale from whence we come," Kestrel said. "But it is the nonsense of ancient crones, nothing more."

Milligan frowned and was silent for a long moment. "Minions of the crazed Byron," he muttered while he clutched at the talismans about his neck. "Minions of Byron, and not one, but four." His eyes narrowed and he looked at Kestrel keenly. "No, that cannot be. You are attempting some sort of a deception to free yourselves from your plight. No fatalists could have accumulated such auras as yours. You struggle for the crown, just as does Jelilac and the rest."

Kestrel frowned in turn. Very little of what Milligan was saying made any sense. He looked down at Astron as the demon stirred and struggled to sit. Kestrel wished that he were fully alert. Some of his deductive observations would be quite useful about now.

"Anyway, the reversal raises an interesting question," Milligan continued. "It is one that Jelilac stumbled on to, the kind of insight that makes him a true contender to be archon over us all. The throne has been vacant since Sigmund's luck suddenly turned sour. Soon we will all assemble to judge which aleator now possesses the greatest power." Milligan looked down at his chest and stroked three of his talismans. "Although, under the right circumstances, who is to say what will happen in the casino where the die is cast? Yes, who is to say which is the most deserving, the most faithful to the tenets of our creed?"

For a moment, Milligan stopped speaking, his eyes burning with secret thoughts. Kestrel looked back over the bow at the land steadily growing on the horizon. He eyed the two battens that held the dory and scanned the deck for signs of any other useful gear. With so few crewmen on deck, the right circumstances were the ones he was interested in as well. He began to think more clearly. Perhaps it was best to keep Milligan engaged in conversation until the others were fully alert. Then they just might manage an escape from whatever Jelilac had in store for them.

Kestrel glanced at the ladder and then back at the table. The construction for both was rather crude and unvarnished. He could see that more than one type of wood was used in each. On the other hand, perhaps such a risk was not even necessary. A fire on deck could serve just as well. That was a possibility worth exploring before attempting the longer odds of an escape.

"What do you have carved of anvilwood?" He smiled innocently. "I am a collector and most interested in any small figurines that you have to show."

MiUigan broke out of his reverie. "Anvilwood?" He laughed. "There is none here on Jelilac's barge, to be sure. You must indeed be from an islet far away. Every aleator who has stopped sucking his thumb is taught to avoid such a luck drainer whenever he chances upon it." He stopped and laughed again. "It would just be the perversity of luck that such as you would be desirous of finding some. Throughout the realm, prisoners convicted of the worst crimes are sent to uproot the trees when they are discovered and hack the branches to bits. For others, the risks in touching are just too great. The only piece that I know of is at the casino for the trials to be archon. And even that Jelilac and the others will strive to destroy, if given half the chance."

Kestrel frowned. They would have to get away after all-and then, from the sound of it, journey to one very special place. He looked up at the ladder. Perhaps it could serve another use. They would need oars, even if they managed to drop the dory over the side. He glanced back at Milligan. The little man seemed to enjoy talking. For the moment it probably was best to keep him occupied.

Kestrel fingered the three talismans hanging about his neck. "This one looks something like a match stick." He held it out to Milligan. "Where we come from, it is a mark of great honor, since only a few we call wizards have the capability to build a flame. I suppose that here such skill is also a great rarity. No one such as yourself could hope to accomplish such a feat."

Milligan cocked his head to one side. "If it were not for the aura you possessed, I would agree with Jelilac and judge you most insane," he said. "Of course I can light a fire. Why, so could any child. It is not a question of ease, but one of law. On all corners of the great sea, a flame is prohibited under penalty of death."

Kestrel frowned, but Milligan continued. "The second tenet states that the entropy of luck always increases. There is no way it can be avoided. Each transfer from one to another, even each use that dilutes it back to the ether- all such transferals reduce its potency. The last thing that anyone would want is a flame that completely disorders its fine crystalline structure and renders it useless.

"Why, even an archon could become a pauper, if he approached too close to a fire. Without his luck to guard him, all of his great displays of state on the islands would be washed away by the next giant wave that sweeps across our sea. Even if he possessed the strange book of figures that Myra is reputed to have found, his ships would start to wander aimlessly, missing all of their ports. In the time of a single sigh, he would find that he had come to possess nothing, neither food for his next meal nor even clothing to ward off the chill. And each and every one who but an instant before stooped in the deepest of bows would shun his misfortune, casting him aside and letting him wander to his death, unheralded and alone.

"No, the object of us all is to find ways to increase our luck, to concentrate it into tighter and tighter confines that enhance its potency. It is the only way to survive, to move ahead, and to strive for the mantle of the archon. The fatalists cannot be right. Things should not be left to the will of the cosmos. Outcomes are determined by men with luck; he who has the greatest will certainly emerge the winner."

"I would think that skill or wit would somehow be important as well," Kestrel said. Cautiously, he placed one hand on the ladder and looked at the rungs. Perhaps, if the sidebeams were ripped apart they would serve well enough. He smiled inwardly and looked at Astron. It was something the demon probably would have thought of, and yet it came to him first.

"In the dim past, skill and wit did determine the outcome of many events," Milligan answered. "We contested by might of arms and clever strategies of state. But then, as our legends record it, wise archon Williard with overwhelming odds was defeated by a force a tenth his size when his horse stepped into the only squirrel hole on the field of battle. An errant arrow hit his second in command in the throat, and, without a leader, the army stumbled into a mire.

"Luck triumphed over all else; and from that day to this, everyone who strives for power concentrates on increasing his own luck and dissipating that of others. Skill and talent mean little to one who can select a marked token from a bowl of thousands with but a single thrust of his hand."

"Then what need do you have of this experimentation?" Kestrel asked. He placed his hand firmly on each of the ladder's sidebeams and strained outward while smiling in Milligan's direction. "If starting a fire is of no use, then whatever else of value can we be to you?"

"The means for accumulating and dissipating luck are not written in stone monuments for all to see," Milligan said. "It is only by centuries of trial and error that the methods that we use have come to light. Doubtless many more efficient techniques yet remain to be discovered." He waved his hand in a wide circle. "Luck is all about us, albeit at very low pressure. Certain actions seem to compress it into smaller volumes and increase its potency to alter events.