“
He just stared, too tired to call out to her,
and nodded weakly.
‘“
Well,’ she said, ‘here I am. Come and get
me.’
‘“
Witch,’ he called, drawing strength from his
anger, ‘you know I haven’t the strength to swim the river!’
‘“
Then I suppose I must come to you,’ she said,
and she rose up into the air and transformed herself into a bird.
And in that form, she flew across the stream to him, and then
transformed herself back into a woman.
“
When he saw this magical shape-shifting, Harlen
knew that this was no mere witch-woman. Even the most powerful
witches in legend needed spells and chants and potions for the very
simplest of transformations, and surely, to take the form of a bird
cannot be simple. Harlen knew that he faced either a Power or a
demon. And when she knelt down over him, her long red hair brushing
his chest, he was afraid, and called out, ‘Get away,
demon!’
‘“
Demon!’ she said, as she stepped back in
surprise. ‘You think I’m a demon?’
‘“
What else could you be?’ Harlen asked.
“
She laughed, and said, ‘Oh, I can be anything I
please, anything at all. Shall I be a demon for you? Do you want a
demon lover?’ And she was suddenly a demon, three meters tall and
scaly black, her eyes pits of fire and her fingers curving talons.
‘Or something more comely?’ And she was a woman again, but a
different woman, tall and slender, no longer naked, but wearing a
gown of spun silver embroidered in gold. ‘Or would you prefer a
simple companion, and not a lover at all?’ And suddenly a man much
like himself stood there, clad in buckskin, smiling down at
him.
‘“
Who are you?’ he asked, terrified.
“
She did not answer immediately, but returned to
her own shape, naked once more, and looked down at him. ‘You know,’
she said, ‘if you’re too tired to swim the river, then I can’t hope
for much from you as a lover, can I? And if you think me a demon,
you probably don’t want me at all. I suppose I should just go and
leave you alone, shouldn’t I?’
“
Before he could answer, she vanished,
disappeared into the empty air.
“
Her voice lingered, though, and said, ‘As for
who I am, I’m called Imp, but I’m not a demon at all.’ And then she
laughed, and her laughter gradually faded away until there was
nothing left at all.
“
And although he was tired he got to his feet and
ran after her, first one way, then another, looking for some trace
of her. But he found nothing, and he never saw her again, though he
looked for her many a time, spending many, many wakes and even
whole seasons wandering through the forest in search of
her...”
—
from the tales of Atheron the
Storyteller
Geste’s calls were not going well. Bredon watched
and listened closely, but said nothing.
Gold the Delver said that Brenner deserved
anything he got and it was all one of Geste’s pranks, anyway. This
said, he broke contact.
Lady Tsien giggled and flirted and refused
to take Geste seriously, until at last Geste broke the connection
himself. Bredon was fascinated by her appearance; although she
looked human, she had small folds at the corners of her eyes, and
an odd color to her skin.
Hsin of the River said that it was none of
his business if Brenner had finally aggravated Thaddeus beyond
bearing. His skin was an interesting shade of brown, and his image
was accompanied by a flock of tiny, vividly blue birds.
The Nymph was not home, and could not
readily be located; Bredon regretted not getting a look at the
legendary beauty. She was thought to be visiting the Skyler, but
the Skyland did not answer.
Before them the battle still raged, though
darkness had fallen. The weapons used by both sides lit the skies
in intermittent flashes, and in that flickering, polychrome glow
Bredon saw several of the flitting silver drones tumble from the
skies. Others were blown to fragments as he watched. Whenever their
numbers seemed to be diminishing, though, a dozen more arrived to
take the place of those that had been lost.
When Geste asked for Aulden the Technician a
young woman’s heart-shaped face appeared, framed in red hair and
wearing a brilliant grin. Bredon noticed that despite the darkness
she appeared to be in full sunlight.
“Hello, Imp,” Geste said. “Could I speak to
Aulden? I need his help.”
Bredon had assumed that the woman was a
servant of some sort; hearing Geste address her by the name of
another Power was disconcerting. He looked more closely.
She was unquestionably beautiful, without a
blemish of any sort, but she lacked the radiant glory that marked
Lady Sunlight as something beyond mortal flesh. Her face was that
of a lovely little toy, not a goddess.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Geste,” she replied with a
comical pout. “He’s not here. Is there anything
I
can do?
I’d
love
to help you, whatever it is.” She smiled
fetchingly.
Geste smiled back, but only for an instant.
“I appreciate that,” he said, “but I think we’ll need Aulden,
too.”
“Well, he went to do some work for Thaddeus
a few days ago. He should be back any time, or you could call him
there...”
“For Thaddeus?”
“That’s right.”
Geste hesitated, troubled. Imp noticed
immediately, and her smile vanished, her green eyes suddenly
troubled.
“Geste, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s Thaddeus—or Thaddeus and Brenner,
anyway. Thaddeus has an entire fleet of war machines attacking the
High Castle.”
“War machines?”
“High-powered drones. One of them attacked
me, as well. I think that must be the work he wanted Aulden for,
building war machines.”
“Oh, but Aulden
wouldn’t
!” Imp said,
shocked.
“Not willingly, I’m sure,” Geste answered
grimly.
“Not...? Geste, he wouldn’t... I mean...
Geste, if this is one of your tricks, I swear I’ll have Aulden
sabotage every machine you own!”
“It’s no trick. I promise you, Imp, it’s not
a trick. And it’s not just Aulden I’m worried about, or Brenner;
Sheila and Sunlight and Rawl were all last heard from at the High
Castle, and Khalid and O are missing, last heard from at Fortress
Holding.”
“Geste, you
can’t
... really? All of
them?”
“Really. All of them.”
The heart-shaped face turned for a moment,
giving Bredon a glimpse of thick waves of reddish hair; Geste
waited.
Imp turned back and said, “They
are
all missing. If this is a trick, Geste, it’s a good one—and it’s
terrifying me. If it’s a trick, Geste, please, tell me now. I don’t
like being frightened.”
“I wish I could, Imp, but it’s true.”
“Thaddeus is really
attacking
Brenner? Seriously?”
“It looks serious to me; send something to
check for yourself, if you like.”
“Have you talked to Shadowdark?”
“Shadowdark?” Geste was plainly startled,
but only for an instant. “Shadowdark! No, I haven’t; I’ll call
him.”
“You call him, then; maybe he can talk sense
to Thaddeus. I’ll try and get through to Brenner, and maybe some of
the others.” Imp’s image vanished.
The name “Shadowdark” was unfamiliar to
Bredon, and he thought it had an ominous sound. “Who is
Shadowdark?” he asked.
“Thaddeus’s father,” Geste replied. He
started to say something to the floater, but Bredon distracted him
with a touch on the sleeve. The Trickster looked up at the mortal,
startled at his audacity.
“His father? He has a father?” Bredon
asked.
“Of course he has a father,” Geste snapped,
annoyed. “And he had a mother once, too, but she’s dead. We all
have parents, like anyone else. Where did you think we came
from?”
“I don’t know, I... I...” Bredon trailed off
into silence, and Geste ordered the floater to call Shadowdark.
A moment of silence ensued, during which
time Bredon tried, and failed, to gather the courage to ask more
questions. He was consumed with curiosity about what was happening
around him, and with concern for Lady Sunlight, but Geste was
obviously worried and irritable and in no mood to answer his
inquiries.
Instead, he watched the battle around the
High Castle. It continued unabated, and as far as he could tell
neither side was gaining any advantage.
“My apologies, sir,” the floater said at
last, “but Lord Shadowdark was outside, unattended. A messenger was
sent.”
An instant later another floating face
appeared.
Bredon had thought he was beyond surprise,
but this face shocked him. The other Powers had all looked young or
perhaps middle-aged, and had been clean and strong and handsome in
different ways. None had seemed all that different from mortal
humans.
Shadowdark’s face was misshapen and pale,
the left side bloated while the right sagged, both sides hideously
wrinkled, more like some bizarre fungus than the face of an old
man. Gruesome scars puckered the skin in a dozen places, tangled
among the wrinkles. Patches of black stubble were scattered along
his cheeks and jaw, but he had no real beard. Straight black hair
hung limply past his shoulders.
He spoke, harshly making a demand, but the
words were strange.
Geste replied, using equally strange words,
and Bredon realized that for the first time in his life he was
hearing another language spoken.
“What is he saying?” he asked, interrupting
Geste.
Geste waved him away.
“If I may be permitted to translate, sir, I
would be glad to do so,” the floater said.
Geste glanced up. “Go ahead,” he said. Then
he continued speaking in the foreign tongue, ignoring both Bredon
and the floater.
The floater explained, “Lord Shadowdark
demanded to know who was calling him, and why, and Mr. Geste
identified himself, and apologized for the intrusion. Mr. Geste is
now describing the situation he found at the High Castle.” It
paused, and then said, in a flawless imitation of Geste’s own
voice, “...I hoped that you might be able to intervene. Thaddeus
thinks very little of the rest of us, rightfully considering us to
be relative youngsters lacking experience, but I am sure that he
still respects
you
. He may well feel some degree of filial
devotion, even after so long a time. If you would consent to speak
to him, to attempt to make peace between Brenner and himself, we
would consider it a great favor, and would gladly repay you however
we could.”
Shadowdark spoke, and the floater said, in a
voice that failed to duplicate Shadowdark’s in anything but pitch,
“You told these stinking machines to drag me in here for that?”
“Yes, sir,” Geste and the floater’s
imitation of Geste replied, in two different tongues.
“You’re an idiot. It’s none of my business.
I don’t care what you people do to each other; Thaddeus and
what’s-his-name can kill each other if they like. Even if I did
care, I haven’t had anything to do with Thaddeus in... in
centuries, probably. Ask a machine, I don’t know. He hasn’t wanted
anything to do with me since I left Alpha Imperium. Anything I
could say would probably just annoy him.”
Shadowdark’s image started to fade, then
returned to solidity long enough to say something the floater
translated as, “By the way, don’t bother me again. I won’t
answer.”
The face vanished.
“Damn,” Geste said. “It’s impossible.” He
reached out and grabbed an invisible support, then leaned forward
and rested his head on his arm.
Bredon was baffled. “Who is this
Shadowdark?” he asked, directing his question somewhere between
Geste and the floater. “Is he a Power?”
Geste waved wearily at the floater without
raising his head. “You tell him,” he said. “I need to think.” He
paused, then lifted his eyes to the “window” for a moment and
added, “And while you’re telling him and I’m thinking, take us
home.”
“
...He looked up from where he lay, and saw a man
dressed in black, with a strange black hat upon his head and a
raven on his shoulder, standing at the edge of the
clearing.
“
Of course, he knew immediately that this was
Rawl the Adjuster. He struggled to sit up, but he could not. It
took all his strength to call, ‘Hello! Can you help me?’
“
Rawl heard him and paused. He looked the
situation over for a moment, then came and sat beside the
storyteller. ‘What do you need?’ he asked.
“
And the storyteller explained how he had counted
the Powers, and that although he had always been told that there
are twenty–eight Powers in the world, yet when he thought through
every tale he knew, every legend, every little incident, and noted
down each and every mention, however trivial or obscure, he came up
with a list of only twenty-seven names. He told the Adjuster how
this had troubled him, and how he had gone seeking through the
world, to see if anyone could tell him who the twenty-eighth Power
is. He told how he wandered on, ever more despairing as first
wakes, then seasons, and finally whole years went by without an
answer, until at last he had found himself in his present sorry
state.
“‘
Is that all?’ Rawl asked. ‘All you want is to
know the names of all twenty-eight immortals?’
“‘
Yes,’ the storyteller replied. ‘That’s all.
Tell me the twenty–eighth name, and I shall die content.’
“‘
There’s no need for you to die at all,’ Rawl
told him, ‘for I can easily heal your wounds and send you back to
your village sound and well.’
“‘
I would rather know the name,’ the storyteller
said.
“‘
I’ll tell you that, too,’ Rawl answered. ‘I
suppose that it would be Shadowdark.’