Through the Ice (7 page)

Seth thought of the nuclear arms buildup and the war in which Russia and the United States had recently "unofficially" fought each other. That had been just one in a long chain of similar episodes across the world. The populations of some small nations had been decimated, and in spite of a brief hopeful time things did not seem to be improving. A buildup of evil? Yes, it was fair to call it that! He looked at the faces of Rame, Vidav and Tirsa, and knew that their worlds also faced serious problems.

"In our world the cause of evil is Nefarious, an extremely powerful sorcerer. The situation here has been thoroughly assessed, and it is our conclusion that no one from our world can stop him. The Empire itself is helpless against his magic; our magic is puny compared to his, and our economic and military powers cannot compete with magic of this nature. If he cannot be stopped here, then neither will the evil in your worlds, because of the linkage. It will be your task to do what the Empire cannot, and eliminate the threat that Nefarious represents to all our planes."

For the first time Tirsa spoke. "Forgive me if I seem dull, Emperor Towk. But is it reasonable to expect a rough man, a cultured woman, a faun and an impetuous youth, most of whom are ignorant not only of magic but of the ways of your world, to accomplish what your no doubt competent minions can not?"

Seth loved the sound of her voice, which was melodious, and appreciated her reasoning, which was sound. But he hated that reference to "an impetuous youth," partly because he could not deny its accuracy. He would have to settle down and try to give a more mature account of himself. Meanwhile, he had noticed that even her eyes were striped, in their fashion: they had concentric light and dark patterns. The effect was eerie—and intriguing.

The Emperor smiled. "You are hardly dull, Tirsa! You have cut to the very heart of our problem. I must answer no, it is not reasonable to expect this, and indeed we have no certainty of the outcome of this struggle. All that the prophecy guarantees us is a chance; it does not indicate which side will be victorious. But since we seem to have no chance otherwise, we must take what offers, however unlikely it may seem, and that is the Chosen.

"Your group may seem small. Certainly it is, and for excellent reason. We have ascertained that we can not attempt it with more than four. A large group could readily be detected by the evil sorcerer's spies. The operation must be done in the utmost stealth, for if he knows where you are he will destroy you. I ask you not to doubt me in this: he has the means to obliterate you, from any distance, once he knows precisely where you are and what your nature is."

"But with such power, he will be able to locate us very soon," Vidav said.

"Perhaps not. To an extent, his power is his liability, in this case. He has, among other things, the ability to sense people by their magic. Because of this, an attack on him by the people of this world who possess magic would be impossible. He would always know where we were, and would eliminate us at his whim. But all of you, Rame not excepted, lack the ability of self-driven magic. Therefore he will not be able to detect you by your natures, and you will be able to approach him and surprise him. But he knows of your existence, so will be alert, and his spies will be everywhere. You must avoid them or, if discovered, kill them, to maintain your secret—but even that is not good, because his spies surely report in regularly, and he will soon know if any disappear. So this will be a great challenge—but you do have resources, and perhaps you will be able to succeed. Rame knows the terrain, and also understands the nature of Nefarious. The rest of you have been Chosen, not randomly, but by a prophecy and a spell related to it. You will not be unprepared. Every possible item that can help you will be at your disposal, and if you survive, you may live your lives here in whatever manner you desire. If it is possible to defeat Nefarious, you are the ones who can do it."

"We may not be unprepared," Tirsa remarked dryly. "But it might be an overstatement to refer to us as prepared."

"Accurately put," the Emperor agreed. "I said before that you have a choice; once again I must state how important this choice is. It will determine the fate of this world—and your own. Circumstances require haste; please, if you wish to leave, do so now. There will be no penalty; we know that you must do this of your free choice, or failure is assured."

Seth realized suddenly that this choice was upon him, and the others. He had either to object now, or go along. The thing was of course crazy; he had only the word of a man who claimed to be an Emperor that the mission was important, and no assurance that he would survive it, let alone be successful. It was no good, to let himself be stampeded into such a dangerous undertaking on a strange world!

The room was quiet. None of the others were leaving. Were they each waiting for someone else to make the first move? Rame, beside him, was absolutely still; what was he thinking? He glanced at Tirsa, and realized that whatever she did, he would do too. He knew her even less than he knew this world or this mission, and cursed himself for a fool. But he would not leave if she didn't.

Emperor Towk nodded. "I see that the prophecy was correct and we have chosen wisely. I thank you, each and all, for this commitment. You have brought hope to the planes."

Commitment? Seth was ashamed. He had merely waited to see what the others would do, especially Tirsa. His was the commitment of indecision!

"We will feast, and then you will be shown to your rooms," the Emperor said. "There is much to be done tomorrow!"

The four Chosen were escorted to a huge dining room, where they met the Empress, a gracious lady in a surprisingly ordinary gown. Evidently this world wasn't much for fancy clothing.

They sat down to feast. This time it was not simply fruit; meats and pastries of all kinds were served, together with delicious, sparkling beverage that, he realized belatedly, was somewhat intoxicating. He was enjoying himself greatly, and only hoped that he wasn't making a fool of himself because of his light-headedness. He noticed that Tirsa hardly touched her drink, after the first sip; she had been too smart to gulp it down the way he had. Her plane featured mental ability, after all. Meanwhile, Rame conjured many new foods into his reed whistle, perhaps more than he actually ate. Vidav ate slowly and steadily, his mood hardly lightening.

Aside from the music of the faun, they ate in silence. Tomorrow, perhaps, they would talk.

After the dinner, each guest was shown to his quarters by a rather pretty maid named Domela who seemed to be assigned to them. She had lustrous auburn hair and eyes to match. Seth wondered whether they had selected the prettiest maid for the most honored guests, to encourage a positive attitude.

Seth knew he should clean up, but first he tested the bed. He sank into the soft, fluffy surface and closed his eyes for a moment—and didn't open them again. Plenty of time to worry about this world tomorrow! Tonight he slept.

There was a sound in the far distance. Seth tried to ignore it, for it disturbed his sleep, but it persisted. Finally he woke and sat up—and the sound was gone.

Relieved, he lay back in the darkness, and soon he was back asleep. But the sound returned to pester him.

Again he woke, irritated, and again there was nothing. It was like a mosquito that zeroed in on him only when he wasn't alert. He hated that!

This time he turned on his light, which he could do merely by speaking to the switch, and checked the room. There was nothing, only the bare walls. He realized that he had fallen asleep in his clothes, so he got out of them and went to the lavatory to wash himself. That made him feel better; he did not like sleeping grimy. Then he lay down again, leaving the light on.

He was soon unconscious. As part of his martial arts training he had learned how to relax, deliberately, so as to focus only on the immediate lesson, or to proceed further to sleep. He remained tired, and knew he needed a good night's rest.

The sound returned.
Go away!
he thought.

Instead, it became louder, like a mosquito homing in on a succulent earlobe. Seth wrenched himself out of sleep and sat up—to silence. The light remained, but not the noise.

Angry, he lay back yet again. This time he did not relax; he feigned sleep, hoping to catch whatever it was unguarded, so that he could identify it and deal with it. But the sound did not return.

Well, at least he had gotten rid of it! He relaxed, and once more slept.

Whereupon the sound returned.

Seth was aggravated but not stupid. Realizing that obvious consciousness banished the sound, he schooled himself to wake slowly, this time tuning in on the distraction. He did not move, he only listened.

The sound grew steadily stronger, until it was like the noise of a mighty engine, steady yet melodious in its fashion. Becoming intrigued, Seth focused further, trying to understand it. He was now fully awake, but lying quite still, his eyes closed. Would opening them banish the sound?

He cracked one eyelid open. The light was bright, but the sound did not fade. He opened the other eye, moving no other part of his body. Now he was staring at the ceiling, and the sound remained. He had fooled it; it had not fled with his awakening.

There was nothing in the room. Indeed, the sound did not seem to come from anywhere outside. It seemed to be in his head. This was no mosquito!
What are you?
he thought, addressing the sound.

To his surprise, he got an answer, of a sort.
Who?
It wasn't exactly a sound, but an aspect of it, a questioning.

I am Seth, of course!
he thought, becoming quite interested.
Who are you?

Seth!
It was more like a voice, now, though not exactly,
I am Tirsa.

"What?" Seth exclaimed, jerking up his head.

He was alone, and the sound was gone. He had blown it!

Still, he had determined that it was not his sleeping state, but his relaxation that made it happen. Now he knew it was Tirsa, using her mind to contact him. The Emperor had said that she was from a plane governed by mental ability. That had not meant much to him at the time, distracted as he had been by everything else, including her appearance, but he had assumed that it meant she was especially intelligent. Now he realized that it could mean something else entirely: telepathy!

She was using telepathy to contact him? He was delighted by the prospect! He lay back, relaxed, and opened his mind.

The sound came quickly. It was no longer a noise, but seemed more like a carrier beam for a signal of communication. Soon it seemed to fade, as he searched for the meaningful part of it.

Seth
—
did you answer?
the thought came.
If you receive me, do not speak or react. Answer with your mind only. Focus your thought and I will tune it in.

He concentrated.
I hear you. I am answering. Do you hear me?

I receive you,
she responded immediately.
Not with the ears; there is no sound. With the mind. Your thought is crude, imperfect; focus it more.

He tried. There was a quality about her thought that was not present in speech; it was more rounded, less defined, yet more meaningful. It was as though he were receiving a radio signal directly in his head, fraught with nuances, only a few of which he could interpret. He did his best to emulate it, feeling clumsy.
You are beautiful!

The freighting of nuances doubled.
This is appreciation or impertinence?

Yes,
he agreed, marveling at his audacity. He had intended to formulate a routine communication, but his mental image of her had expanded as he tried to focus on her as receiver, and somehow he had sent that instead. Now he was embarrassed.

In your plane, such opinions are not expressed?
she inquired.

Not to strangers,
he returned.
In my plane we cannot read thoughts, so we think very freely. I would not have spoken such a thing to you, but it is a true thought.
He hoped that would mollify her.

I am not antagonized, merely curious,
she returned, again reading more than he had intended.
I am of course beautiful by human physical standards; this requires no statement. I assumed you had a motive for expressing the obvious; now I understand that you were not aware you were expressing it. You are doing well in your communication, and this is excellent practice.

Thank you,
he thought sincerely.

You are very quick to adapt, considering that your plane does not do this. You may be impetuous, but you are also clever.

Thank you,
he thought again, deeply pleased by the compliment.

But you must learn to distinguish statements of fact or opinion from efforts to please or displease. Now that we have established contact, you cannot hide your thoughts from me, so it is best to keep them in order.

He could not hide his thoughts from her? That bothered him. Suppose he thought something negative—or, worse, erotic?

Precisely. It is not good to burden other parties with undisciplined thoughts. Treat the matter as you would spoken things in your own plane.

Certainly he would not go around telling every attractive woman he encountered how sexy she was!

I asked you not to do that,
she thought reprovingly.
I have as I explained no interest in repetition of the obvious.

Brother! He concentrated on the basic times-tables, trying to blot out any thought of the way she looked.

No, this is uncomfortable for me,
she protested.
I do not care to rehearse your mathematics. Simply direct your thoughts appropriately.

I'm trying to!
he thought.
But I'm an impetuous youth!

True. I shall make an allowance. Now I must try to alert the others. You may sleep now, so as to provide no further distraction. Remember: do not express this matter verbally.

Why not? I think it's a great thing, communicating telepathically!