Through the Ice (8 page)

Because I have sensed hostile elements within the castle. I presume these are agents of the sorcerer we are to oppose. Our physical expressions may be monitored, but I think this is not so for our mental ones. If we are to succeed in our joint mission, we must not only develop such a linking, we must conceal it from those agents. I have ascertained that the Emperor himself is not aware of the precise nature of my mental ability; it would be best to keep that private.

That made so much sense that Seth had no further question.
But I don't know how to tune out,
he thought.

Now that telepathy is possible, I'll be thinking of it constantly. How do I sleep?

I will help you. Use your relaxation technique for your body, and I will pacify your mind.

Seth attempted to do that, fearing that it was impossible. He told the light to turn off, and relaxed his individual muscles, but his mind was raging with excitement. Then abruptly he felt her presence, like a bath of warm oil, and before he knew it he sank out of awareness.

He woke refreshed, to the natural light of morning. What a dream he had had! Tirsa, telepathy—what could have sent him off on such a notion?

He had to smile. It required no psychoanalyst to fathom that he had met a beautiful and intelligent woman who was as much a stranger to this weird magic world as he was himself. Naturally he was interested in her! She was a sharp contrast to the teenage girls he had encountered on his own plane, and of course wouldn't have been part of his social world even if she had lived next door to him. But here she was like a beacon, an ideal figure, and he couldn't help thinking about her. What was more natural than dreaming that she had made secret contact with him? He loved the idea of telepathy; he had always been interested in ESP and the study of paranormal powers. It would be a dream come true to be able to practice it himself. Especially with such a person as Tirsa, whose mysteries became more intriguing as they were explored.

But he had always schooled himself to know the difference between dreams and reality. A dream might be of the perfect woman; the reality was that if such a woman did exist, she would hardly be interested in an impetuous youth. So he could dream all he wanted to, at night, but by day he would deal with reality. It had always been that way, with dreams that had become increasingly fanciful as the reality turned increasingly grim. The dreams were, he realized, his way of compensating for a life that was not living up to expectations. That was all right, as long as he never confused the two.

Yet what a turn reality had taken! He had been about to drown—and then turned up on a world where magic governed. Now he was committed to a quest whose nature he knew virtually nothing about, except that it would be dangerous. Now that he was here, his main desire was to return to the dull world of his origin. Emperor Towk said he could not do that—but perhaps the Emperor merely wanted him and the other Chosen to undertake the mission, and knew that they would not do so if they had a real choice. If they succeeded in dealing with Nefarious, it well might turn out that there
was
a way for each to go home, that the Emperor had somehow forgotten.

He had been dressing as he considered these things. Now he touched the door panel, and the door slid open to admit him to the hall which led to the main chambers of the castle.

The others were already having breakfast, served by the buxom maid Domela, though they did not seem to have been there long. He should have paid more attention to his preparations, instead of lost in his thoughts. Rame greeted him with a smile, but both Tirsa and Vidav ignored him. What else should he have expected?

He ate quickly, catching up, hardly paying attention to the odd appearance and taste of the fruits. The Emperor had promised that there would be much to do, and Seth believed it; he wanted to be ready.

The Emperor's adviser Turcot appeared. "First we shall instruct you in the use of some of the magic items we have prepared for you," he said.

The items were impressive. There was a miniature tent that could fit inside a pack; when invoked, it expanded to become a full-size tent for four, complete with sleeping bags and insect netting. There was a stove that was just a foot-long rod; when stuck upright in the ground and invoked it radiated enough heat to warm the tent, even in a snowstorm. There were tools that expanded similarly: a shovel, axe, heavy hammer, and an assortment of knives. There were boots that greatly facilitated walking; in fact, each step in them was the equivalent of thirty paces of the mundane kind.

"Caution," Turcot warned. "Never invoke these inappropriately. If you invoke the stove-pipe while it is
in
your pack, it may set your pack on fire and destroy everything else that is in it. If you invoke the tent while you are within it, it will close to its small size around you. This could be awkward. It will not actually harm you, but it will tear and destroy itself in its effort to complete its imperative. These are only items; they have no human discretion."

The four nodded. They would be very careful about using such artifacts!

They were taken out to a nearby countryside, where they rehearsed their travel technique. Each in turn had to invoke all of the magic items, and practice using them. They had to don their boots, which had magically perfect fits, but which were as awkward as skates or stilts to use the first time. "Take small steps," Turcot warned.

Seth took what he thought was a small step—and abruptly found himself almost crashing into a tree. That tree had been fifty feet away; now it was close enough to touch! He would have to watch where he was going, if he didn't want to bash his head in! But once he got the hang of them, he found the boots marvelously competent. They did not exactly speed him up; it was more like matter transmission, with his body phasing from the rear foot at one location to the forefoot as much as a hundred feet away. There could be, he learned to his surprise, trees or even houses between the two spots; it didn't matter. Just so long as there was no tree at the spot he landed! He would not, it turned out, actually merge with the tree; his body would be shunted aside, by a protective spell associated with the boots. But the effect would be like slipping on a banana peel, as he was abruptly set down where he hadn't planned to be.

Rame was very quick to become proficient with the boots. His goatlike hoofs disappeared into them, and it looked as if he had normal human feet, which was strange. But his natural agility enabled him to adapt rapidly, and in moments he was stepping from region to region, without passing through the spots between.

Tirsa had no trouble about banging into things, because she took very ladylike steps and did not go far, but that was a problem in itself. "Farther, woman!" Turcot directed. "You must keep up with the others." She frowned, and forced herself to take a giant step that would have been disastrous in a skirt, but wasn't in the pantaloons. She got there, but did not seem comfortable. Seth could have sworn that her hair-stripes were more intense than before, as if they reflected her concentration.

Vidav, accustomed to carrying his own weight, did not want to use the boots. "I can keep up," he protested, and demonstrated by running at a rate that dropped Seth's jaw. The guy was like a two-legged racing car!

But Turcot was unimpressed. "Keep up with them as they cross that ravine," he suggested, pointing.

The others obligingly took three steps each, crossing plain and forest and ravine without effort, to stand on a knoll and look back. Vidav ran, but could not match their magical paces, and had to stop completely at the ravine, which was about forty feet wide and hundreds deep. Grudgingly, he donned his boots, took a step—and wound up way beyond them. He had put far too much power into it.

By the day's end, they were all reasonably proficient with their magical devices. Seth was exhilarated but tired, not so much from the physical effort, but the mental: accepting and using things which he had once thought to be impossible. Those boots—not exactly seven leagues, but plenty to handle anyway.

He cleaned up, noting the darkening beard on his face. Well, Vidav was bearded; that seemed to be the best way, here. He lay down and slept almost instantly.

The sound came. Abruptly alert, Seth tuned in on it.
I am here, Tirsa,
he thought.

I tried to reach the others last night, but could not,
she thought.
Their minds are not as open as yours.

Thanks, I think! Anything I can do to help?
He did not question the contact; if this was a dream, he wanted to stay with it.

Yes, you may be able to help. But you must not dismiss this as fantasy. It is not magic, it is direct mental contact.

Why wasn't there any during the day, then?

Because of the need for secrecy. I cast about, and verified the presence of at least three spies. I did not want you to betray the nature of this communication, so did not contact you.

You don't have much confidence in me!
he protested, hurt.

I have asked you before not to restate the obvious. I fear your impulsive nature. You could have reacted in a manner that the spies would have noted, and thereby done irreparable damage.

Well, maybe it's that same impulsive nature that enables me to accept your thoughts when the others can't!
he retorted.

True. So you must join with me in making the attempt. Linked, we shall have enhanced power of communication, and this may suffice.

Seth decided that he would much rather be linked with her, than neglected by her.
I'm game.

Please reduce the romantic implication,
she thought.
It is a nuisance when there is something important to be done.

He had been caught by the broader aspect of telepathy again! If he hadn't known before that she had no interest in romance, she had certainly put him straight.
I'll try.

That is not true. I am interested in romance, but not with you.

He ground his teeth.
I got the message. Now if we can cut out the irrelevant nuances...

This time her laughter caught him, making him laugh too, involuntarily. Then they settled down to business.

She could not describe exactly what she wanted him to do, but it seemed like pushing a car out of a mudhole, so he pictured himself doing that. He heaved and heaved—and the car began to move. Tirsa seemed to be in the driver's seat, steering it, but pushing too.

What is this?
a gruff thought came.

Tirsa. Open your mind, Vidav, so I can communicate.

Get out of my mind, alien temptress! I have no need of a succubus!

Seth suppressed a laugh. A succubus, he remembered, was a demoness who came to men in their sleep, seducing them to evil. Vidav had no more interest in Tirsa than she had in Seth!

Must I remind you yet again about stating the obvious?
her thought shot back, feeling irritated.

Seth couldn't help it: he liked that irritation. She had been served as she served him.

But she was already addressing Vidav.
Please keep your crude interpretations to yourself. I know you are married and committed to your wife and children. But you will never return to them unless the four of us who have been Chosen succeed in working together. There are spies in the castle who mean mischief for us. We must be able to coordinate without alerting them. Now focus on me, and learn to speak with your mind alone.

Vidav was unimpressed.
It is the nature of empires to have spies. Have you identified them?

Do you wish their names or descriptions?

Descriptions.

She sent a mental picture of one of the scullery boys they had seen. Then another, of the maid Domela. A third, of a noble to whom they had been briefly introduced.

Now Vidav was impressed, as was Seth, both by her visual imagery and her apparent alertness. She had obviously been checking every person with whom they came in contact. If her effort had not been evident to the Chosen, it surely wasn't known by anyone else.

I wondered about that noble,
Vidav thought.
He had a smell about him. And that maid
—
the way she keeps smiling at me, and bending forward in that low dress. I thought she was interested in
—
but no wonder, if she's a spy!
Then, after a pause:
You read about my family, in my mind? Have you no honor in the use of your talent?

Tirsa was stung; Seth felt the backlash of emotion.
I found myself in an alien land with a strange language and odd customs, thrown together with others with whom I was to work closely. I used my ability to separate potential friend from potential foe. What would you have done?

Vidav considered.
I apologize, woman. I would have done what you did. But I ask you not to snoop further on private matters.

I can read only those thoughts and feelings which are uppermost, and those I cannot avoid,
she responded.
Your family has been much on your mind, and your guilt about deserting it. If you do not think so much of it, I will not be able to receive it.

How can I
not
think of those closest to me?
he demanded, and now Seth felt the pain of that separation. But he also picked up that guilt she had mentioned; there was something out of alignment here. Vidav, who had seemed so gruff and strong, was quite another person, mentally. He was tough, but his feeling was great. Seth understood it well enough; he felt love and guilt for his own family and his seeming desertion.

I can no more not receive than you can not think,
Tirsa pointed out.
I do not seek your secrets, but when I attune to you, I receive only what is there.

How is it there was none of this before?
Vidav asked.

I can read any mind on which I focus,
Tirsa explained.
But that is passive. It is more challenging to send to that mind, especially when that mind has no experience with mind talk. There has to be interaction. Your mind was closed to my approach. Now it is open, and that is much easier for me. We four Chosen must work together, and be able to talk with each other when others do not know. Only in this manner can we avoid the spies, and hope to accomplish our mission.