Exile's Return (17 page)

“Impressive, isn’t it?” said Kalkin, and Kaspar turned to look down the road. The grass, if that was what it was, was colorless in the night, as were the distant trees.

“I thought you said you couldn’t come here,” said Kaspar.

“We’re not here. We are merely looking. That’s quite different. Look.”

Kaspar looked and saw the city gates closing for the night. Everyone outside the gate hurried to get inside, and no effort was made to accommodate them. Those at the gates wore black armor not unlike the Talnoy, save they had open-faced helms and lacked the golden trim.

“Why is the gate open so late?”

“It isn’t late,” said Kalkin. “It’s sundown.”

“But the sky is black!”

“Yes,” answered the god. “This world’s sun puts out heat, but little light. Remember what I said before, the laws and rules here are different. If we were here in the flesh, your life would be measured in days. The air itself would slowly poison you. The heat of the sun would slowly blister your skin, and even at night you would find it uncomfortably hot. The water would taste like bitter sulfur and burn like acid.”

The gate closed with a thunderous sound, as if two giant stones struck the earth. Then Kaspar realized that somehow the gates were now part of the wall: cleverly balanced stones, perhaps counterweighted somehow, turned so effortlessly that two men—or whatever these creatures were—could close them alone.

“Observe,” said Kalkin, indicating the road.

A single wagon hurried toward the gate, pulled by one of the mule-like reptiles, and Kaspar saw it was driven frantically by a single creature. “What do you call these…people?”

“They call themselves the
Dasati
, which in their tongue means ‘people.’ They are as unlike people as dragons. Actually, dragons are more like people than these creatures. This is one of their worlds, Kosridi. It is a regional capital.”

“One of their worlds?”

“Like the Tsurani and some other races, they have means to move from world to world. They are more aggressive than any nation in history.”

“What is occurring?”

“A curfew of sorts. No one is permitted outside the city walls after the gates close.”

“Why? Are there enemies close by?”

“The Dasati have no enemies…on this world, at least. But there are many perils.”

The cart pulled up before the gate and the driver shouted frantically to those up on the wall. The Dasati on the causeway above the gate paused and looked down.

A chatter of conversation erupted and others hurried to watch the man in the cart. Then out of the darkness came a howl.

Kaspar’s blood ran cold at the sound. “What is that?”

“Something analogous to our wolves.”

Creatures raced out of the darkness, leaping across the dark landscape so rapidly that Kaspar only had a hint of their form. When they neared the wall, their hides reflected the torchlight, and Kaspar’s mouth opened in astonishment.

If the things pulling wagons and carts were lizard-mules, this was a thing produced by a wolf mating with a horse. “What is it?”

“It is called a Zarkis,” replied Kalkin.

The creatures were the size of a large pony, with ocher-colored fur around the muzzle, but otherwise they were dark gray in color, with black fur on their legs. Their heads were broad, flat, and the eyes wide set and yellow in the torchlight; and their fangs were as long as Kaspar’s dagger. They moved with astonishing speed and three had the beast of burden down in seconds.

Two others leapt from behind the wagon and one snatched the driver’s head from his shoulders and a moment later, before the body could even collapse, the second creature bit the torso in half. Kalkin observed, “The pitch of life, if you will, the pace and rhythms, are far more extreme than your world’s. Even the plants are tough and hard to kill. The predators of this world are beyond description. Even the prey animals would put up a fight you can hardly imagine should you hunt them. Think of a rabbit with teeth like a razor and the attitude of a wolverine. The people are as unforgiving.”

“Why did no one help him?” asked Kaspar.

“Help is a matter of convenience to these people. A family member might have tried to drop him a rope, had there been time, a close friend might have promised to say goodbye to his mate, an acquaintance would not have laughed at the slaughter until after he was dead.”

Then Kaspar realized everyone on the wall was laughing, as if they had witnessed a brilliant performance by a court fool. “They think this is funny?”

“Different rules, Kaspar.” Kaspar looked at Kalkin and saw that the familiar smile was gone. “These creatures view horror as funny. It amuses them to see pain and suffering.”

“I’ve seen games down in Kesh,” said Kaspar. “I’ve seen men fight to the death, but they’re cheering, not laughter. It’s…a contest.”

“Here, suffering is an entertainment. The weak are to be purged from the collective body of the race, suffering is exploited; weakness marks you as a victim, power marks you as an exploiter; everything is a negotiation between people of roughly the same power, for if you are stronger than another, you take what you wish, and if you are weaker, you find a powerful patron to protect you in exchange for service. Murder is a pastime, and charity is unknown and unimagined. The only thing close to kindness is reserved for family, for if you find another’s child unattended, you kill it, for it may some day be a threat to your child. And you nurture your child, cultivating a sense of obligation and loyalty, against the day he may turn you out when you’re too old to be useful. You gain power from your family, your physical strength, your ability to use magic, or the patronage of your gods—and they are every bit as unyielding as the people who worship them.”

That was when Kaspar realized he had not seen a child anywhere. They must be hidden and protected by their mothers until they were old enough to defend themselves. “Harsh beyond sane words…” he whispered.

“Different rules,” said Kalkin again.

With a blink they were somewhere else.

“At sundown the
Karana
, the ruler, reviews his army.”

Kaspar looked and saw a palace, or something that reminded him of one, situated on the highest hill in the city. As they neared the central courtyard, Kaspar was astonished at the scale of everything. The palace itself was as big as the citadel in Opardum, and half again, and its central courtyard was easily a quarter of a mile on each side.

Kalkin indicated a balcony marked by a massive red banner that hung below it, a banner bearing a black glyph and surrounded by a circle made up of tiny swords. Atop it there stood a creature who looked much like the others, save that he carried himself with obvious authority. Several females hung behind him, and Kaspar expected by the standards of this race they were comely, for they wore raiment that was relatively skimpy compared to what he had seen on the streets, and of brighter colors. The ruler wore a red cloak with some sort of white fur at the collar. Under this, he wore black armor trimmed in gold, like the Talnoy’s.

Across the courtyard thousands of armored figures marched, with drums pounding and horns blowing a dissonant flourish. “Those are Talnoys?” Kaspar asked.

“Yes,” said Kalkin. “They are slaves to the Karana, and slaughter at his whim. They have conquered nations and worlds, and each is occupied by the soul of a murdered Dasati.”

“What I’ve seen is chaos. How do these people keep order?”

“The same way a colony of ants or a hive of bees does, by instinct, by knowing who does what and not worrying about the fate of the individual. Should someone here be clever enough or powerful enough to slay the Karana, he would be the Karana the next day, and be hailed by those he ruled, for he had proven to be a stronger ruler, and therefore might protect his clients and vassals better.”

Suddenly they were somewhere else, and Kaspar felt the air was much warmer.

“We are on another continent,” said Kalkin. “It is afternoon here. Below, what you would consider ‘games’ are underway.”

Kaspar looked down at a stadium at least three times larger than that in the city of Kesh. At least two hundred thousand of the creatures could be seated in it, he judged.

On the floor of the arena several areas had been fenced off. And in each of them horrors were underway.

A creature that looked like an elephant with a crocodile’s hide and no trunk, but rather the face of a sloth, was being ridden around slowly, crushing people staked out to the floor.

In another area people were being set on fire and let loose to run until they fell over and were consumed by flames.

Everywhere Kaspar looked he saw pain and suffering, and those in the seats above howled in laughter and pleasure. At many points along the terraces he saw couples aroused by the bloodshed to the point of mating, ignoring those around them.

A male Dasati was looking over the edge of the arena, where a pack of small doglike creatures were tearing people limb from limb. The spectator’s neighbor stood up, put his foot to the first man’s backside, and pushed him into the arena. As the startled man fell into the waiting maw of the slavering animals, those around the victim and the murderer gave in to paroxysms of laughter.

“Samas is right,” said Kaspar. “Evil is insanity.”

Suddenly they were back in the pavilion. The two light blue divans appeared and Kaspar sat down heavily. “Why did you show this to me?”

“Because now you begin to understand why that thing you’ve been hauling around for weeks needs to be got rid of.”

“Well, if you can’t send it back, can’t you destroy it?”

Kalkin gave Kaspar a withering look.

“I know, if you could have, you would have.” Kaspar sat back. “What am I to do?”

“We gods may not take that thing off this world, but you mortals can.”

“How?”

“You must seek out those who’ve put you in your current predicament. You were hardly what one would term an innocent bystander, Kaspar, but you were never the main concern of these people. Your companion, Leso Varen, was. Samas has told you who the magician served, and perhaps even a little of that being’s nature, but what you don’t know is that your enemy, Talwin Hawkins, was also serving others: the Conclave of Shadows.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” said Kaspar.

“Of course not. They wouldn’t be much of a secret organization if you had. Even Leso Varen was ignorant of them; he knew someone was opposing them, but not who.”

“Where do I find them?”

Kalkin smiled. “That’s a bit of a problem.”

“You don’t know? I thought you were the god of knowledge.”

Kalkin laughed. “Me? Hardly. That worthy being was known as Wodan-Hospur before the Chaos Wars. He is one of the four missing gods. We don’t know if he’s dead or just…somewhere else. I merely take care of knowledge until he returns.” With a grin he said, “In your nation you call me Banath!”

“The god of thieves!”

Kalkin bowed. “And Trickster and Prankster, and Walker in the Night, among other names. Who better to guard knowledge than a thief?” He stood. “Come now, we must return you. Your time here grows short.”

“But where do I find the Conclave?”

“If you knew, and fell into the wrong hands before you found them, you could do much injury. By now others know the Talnoy exists and are no doubt looking for it. Which means they are looking for you as well.”

“How do I hide something like that?”

“You don’t,” said Kalkin. “Remember when you killed the
wergon
, with the Talnoy’s sword.”

“The what?”

“That demonlike creature that killed McGoin?”

“Yes.”

“And the Talnoy came to retrieve its sword?”

“Yes.”

“Just take its sword and it will follow you.”

“You mean I didn’t have to carry it up the mountain?”

Kalkin tried not to laugh. He failed. “No,” he said, spluttering. “You didn’t.”

Exasperated at being the butt of the joke, Kaspar said, “Well then, what do I do, dress it in a robe and call it brother?”

Kalkin laughed again, then gathered his wits. “No, but take that ring you carry in your purse and slip it on. Put your other hand upon the Talnoy and think of a monk, and it will look like a monk to any but the most powerful of clerics or magicians.”

“It’s a controlling ring?”

“Of sorts. The Karana can’t be everywhere and someone’s got to order these things around on the battlefield. It lets subordinates give tactical commands to the Talnoy. Just don’t order it to attack the Karana or you’ll burst into flames.

“Oh, and remember, the ring will drive you mad if you wear it for more than an hour or two at a time. But any time you need to instruct the creature, slip it on, tell it what you want, and it will do it. Just be sure to take it off as soon as you can. So, keep the instructions simple.”

“How do I find the Conclave?”

“This is the tricky part. I can send you in the right direction. The problem with big magic is that the bigger it is, the easier it is for…certain people…to notice. So I can get you to the city of Sulth, or rather just outside it, with your treasure chest and the Talnoy, and from there you can buy a ship. Sail northwest for forty-five days, then cut straight west, and within another two weeks you’ll start seeing familiar waters. Make for your home, and seek out Talwin Hawkins.

“If you can talk to him before he kills you, or before the new Duke of Roldem has you executed on the spot, Hawkins can get you to the Conclave. Tell them what you have seen and what you know and bid them rid this world of the Talnoy. And press upon them it is urgent.”

“Why?”

Kalkin grimaced, and there was no hint of humor left in him. “I failed to mention this, didn’t I? Now that the Talnoy has been removed from the crypt in which it was hidden, and the protective wards around it removed, it’s like a beacon light to the Dasati. Magical gates, or rifts, are starting to form. Little ones, not easily found, and they only stay open for minutes at a time, but the creature that killed McGoin was an inhabitant of Kosridi that blundered into a rift. And that thing represented no threat compared to a fully animated Talnoy. You know how hard it was to kill the wergon with conventional steel.”