Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘That’s a metaphor, I presume,’ Antyr said.

‘Absolutely not,’ Oslang laughed. ‘How do you think his robe gets in such a mess?’

Antyr’s eyes widened. ‘I can’t imagine the Duke of Serenstad cleaning the stables, still less some of his officers. Then again, when he was younger, he was always at the forefront of the battle. At least in war he wouldn’t ask of others what he wasn’t prepared to do himself.’

‘And they followed him loyally as a result?’ Oslang said.

‘Many did, for sure,’ Antyr replied. ‘But his rule of the city was far from the triumph of reason and logic you seem to have here. Conspiracy and plotting were the norm, with endless different factions jostling for power.’

Oslang laughed again. ‘That was just because I said it all very quickly. I wouldn’t call it a triumph by any means. It’s pretty good, but we’re not without a fair amount of downright inefficiency, and some of the petty squabbling and rivalry that goes on between ostensibly rational adults wouldn’t be tolerated in a schoolyard, believe me. As for power, there you have it. What is power over others? I order you to do something, you refuse, so by superior strength or the threat of it, I force you to. But then, having set the rules, as it were, I’ve constantly to be on my guard that someone won’t do the same to me. That’s how it goes, isn’t it?’

Antyr frowned. ‘Yes, but it works well enough, especially when your superior strength allows you to kill me with impunity.’

Oslang’s face became serious. ‘Yes indeed. I apologize. I didn’t mean to trivialize what you said. Ethriss knows, we above all understand it’s a fundamental mistake to imagine that violence solves nothing. Indeed, it’s perhaps because we have such a frightening measure of the power that can be made available for the terrorizing – the destroying – of others that we set such store by our way.’

‘Aha. By your solemn faces I see you’ve been putting the world to rights in my absence.’ It was Andawyr. He sat down next to Antyr and clapped his hands jovially.

‘And who better to do it?’ Oslang said emphatically, relaxing back into his chair. ‘We were just coming to defining the purpose of humanity.’

Andawyr made a disparaging face. ‘Oh, an easy one, eh? Our purpose – the purpose of humanity – is to discover all the secrets of the universe, and to find out both where we came from and where we’re going to. Next question!’

Antyr risked entering into the spirit of their exchange. ‘And will we do it?’ he asked.

Andawyr’s reply was unexpectedly serious. ‘Oh yes,’ he said with a calm smile. ‘Without a doubt. It may take some time, though.’

A scornful sound, not dissimilar to a raspberry, filled the minds of Antyr and Andawyr. It came from the two wolves. Grayle had his head on his paws and was staring at them, Tarrian was scratching himself vigorously.

‘Would you like to join in the debate?’ Andawyr asked caustically.

‘You’re not ready for it yet,’ Tarrian replied. ‘Carry on. We’ll join in as soon as you’ve something interesting to say.’

Antyr gave a disclaiming shrug.

‘Well, it’s another perspective, I suppose,’ Andawyr said, looking at the wolves enigmatically. Then he took Antyr’s arm. ‘Are you fully recovered?’ he asked. ‘No after-effects of any kind?’

‘No, none at all. And you?’

‘Still puzzled, that’s all. And concerned.’ He leaned his chair perilously backwards and reached out to take some papers from a nearby chest of drawers. Dropping them on the table he rifled into his gown and finally produced a pen. He began doodling idly.

‘A first-order Warning set off, Oslang. Highly localized. Your initial thoughts.’

Oslang drummed his fingers on the table. ‘First and last thoughts, I’m afraid – none,’ he replied. Andawyr continued to look at him expectantly. Apparently cornered by this, Oslang gave a noisy sigh. ‘I’d have thought it impossible,’ he said. ‘But I saw and heard it, therefore it isn’t. So I’d have to say that it was a very unlikely event – low probability. But even then, I’m not sure where to start looking.’

‘To find an unlikely event, look in an unlikely place, presumably. Your thoughts, Antyr.’

The suddenness of the question startled Antyr. ‘I’ve no idea.’ The words blustered out. ‘I told you. It was mainly reflexes that brought us back. There was precious little conscious thought. But it makes no more sense to me than it seems to do for you. Nothing was unusual about the dream other than the absence of the control you normally have – hardly a disturbing thing in itself. Tarrian and Grayle have found nothing untoward or they’d have told me by now. Whatever it was, it came out of nowhere and without any warning, and my feeling – and that’s all it is – is that it was associated with that sword.’

Andawyr nodded, but, as he had with Oslang, kept on looking at Antyr as if expecting more. Antyr dithered. He pointed to the Beacon symbols by the door. ‘Just how do those things work? Exactly what is it they detect?’ he asked.

Andawyr followed his gaze thoughtfully, then turned back to him. He did not address the question, however. ‘You’re here, in this strange place, so far from your own land, because you’re no ordinary Dream Finder, are you? You told us that somehow you’d been able to move to worlds that were as real as this but different from it.’

‘Yes.’

‘What control do you have over this ability?’

‘None that I’m aware of. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I’m here.’ He glanced at Oslang. ‘My ignorance burdens me.’

‘Why?’

Again Andawyr’s question startled Antyr, though the Cadwanwr did not wait for an answer. ‘Why shouldn’t this ability be a source of excitement and liberation to you? An opportunity to explore realms that few others can even dream of, let alone travel to.’

Antyr was shaking his head. ‘You don’t understand. There’s a subtle feeling of wrongness about being in another world.’ He stopped. ‘No, that’s not correct. There was a subtle feeling of wrongness about me when I was in another world. A feeling of… inadequacy… inappropriateness. This gift, if gift it is, and however it came to me, was – presumably still is – substantially beyond my control. I didn’t know what I was doing. What I did I did by instinct. I was parted from my Earth Holders. They were hunting through a realm that was separate from me – somewhere between the worlds. For all I know I could’ve been lost in one of those worlds for ever – my body here perhaps neither dead nor alive.’ He shuddered as fears he had not experienced for a long time returned to him. ‘I’d forgotten how awful it was. And, too, in those worlds there was a deep feeling of intruding, of my presence having consequences that I couldn’t see.’

Andawyr’s eyes reflected his pain. ‘And now my ignorance burdens you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been worse than thoughtless. I was so intrigued by your story that I’ve behaved appallingly. After such a journey, the least you were entitled to was a little time doing nothing. And there I go, imposing on you. Dragging you into my dreams, of all places. Now questioning you into the deep hours of the night.’ He brushed the papers to one side and slapped the table. ‘The Beacons are all quiet. Nothing untoward’s happening. I can’t apologize too abjectly for my disgraceful conduct. Get off to your bed and some rest. Tomorrow you can lounge in it all day or wander about to your heart’s content. We can talk about all this some other time, whenever you feel like it.’

He made to stand up, but Antyr stopped. ‘No. I am tired, but I doubt I’d be able to sleep after what’s happened. I’d rather talk for the time being.’ He looked at Andawyr shrewdly. ‘Why didn’t you answer my question about the Beacons? That’s the second one you’ve avoided.’