Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sometime later, back on Slicewind, Xerak opened the folded parchment, scanned it, then began reading aloud. Only the fact that his voice was going faster than it should betrayed how nervous he was.


Dear Xerafu Akeru-va. If you’re reading this, it’s possible, just barely possible, that you might be able to reach where I am—which is also where Uten Kekui-va, your master is. If you can complete the journey, then you will at last find him and learn why he departed as he did.

If you cannot, then you will have been proven unworthy, and perhaps will have the sense to give up on a futile waste of your young life. I will give one hint. Your journey will be easier if you bring with you the heart of the Library of the Sapphire Wind.

This letter will serve as a map to where your journey will begin.


That was it. Not even a signature. Xerak handed the letter to Peg, who was nearest.

Peg turned it over, held it to the light. “I don’t see any trace of a map. I suppose this is another of those wizard things?”

She handed the paper to Meg, who gave it a quick inspection before passing it along.

Xerak nodded. “I think it is. However, I’m beat. There’s no way I could work the spell to activate the map now. In any case, we don’t have Ba Djed of the Weaver with us—I’m sure that’s what whoever wrote this meant by the ‘heart of the Library’— so there’s no benefit from my risking to kill myself awakening the map.”

“First, though,” Vereez said, “I need to go change the accounts my parents’ promised to set up for us to some other bank.”

“And we need to do some shopping for Nefnet, Ranpeti, and my mother,” Kaj added. “Let’s split up. Grunwold, why don’t you bodyguard Vereez? I don’t trust her parents not to try something if they think they can get away with it.”

“Then let’s both of us go,” Grunwold said. “We’ll handle the shopping on the way back, and the mentors can make sure Xerak actually rests.”

Vereez nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. Peg, you have the list?”

“I do,” Peg said, pulling it from a pocket on her knitting bag. “Let me come with you. I promise to stay in the background and keep my mask on, but I want to be there so I can check over any paperwork.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Vereez admitted, folding her ears into a soft puppy expression. “I learned a long time ago how to handle accounts, but I’d appreciate another set of eyes.”

Xerak fell asleep almost as soon as the others left. Teg decided to rest on one of the benches in the lounge, since her own expenditure of mana had left her a little wobbly. She fell asleep and was awakened by the sound of the others coming aboard.

“It went well?” Meg was asking when Teg came on deck.

“It did,” Peg said, dropping a few fabric-wrapped bundles on the deck. “Vereez handled the transfers like a pro. We all have nifty little bank books, too. I haven’t seen anything like them since I was a kid. These are even real leather, not vinyl.”

“Maybe we were too worried,” Grunwold said, reaching to take a box Kaj handed to him from shore. “Maybe the threat of mange kept Inehem and Zarrq from trying anything.”

“Maybe,” Kaj said, bringing aboard the last of the shopping. “But I’d rather be too worried than trying to rescue Vereez.”

“Me, too,” Xerak said, hauling himself up the ladder and joining them on deck. He still looked far too tired, but moved with a bit more energy.

“Me, as well,” Vereez said, “which is why I bought myself some new clothes while we were out, rather than going home to raid my own closet. I have permission, but it didn’t seem worth the risk I’d be delayed.”

“Then it will be back to the Library of the Sapphire Wind?” Grunwold didn’t so much ask as state. “I hope Sapphire Wind doesn’t fight us for Ba Djed. Or Ohent.”

“If either of them does,” Xerak said—even in his exhaustion, his determination made him fierce—“I’ll fight back.”


But Sapphire Wind didn’t fight them, and Ohent actually encouraged them to take the reassembled Ba Djed.

“Truth be told, I’m glad to be rid of the Bird,” she said. “Nefnet’s medicines are helping me sleep and, without that thing in my charge, it’s real sleep, not drugged unconsciousness. With the artifact farther away, I might even be able to sleep without any drugs at all. I’m feeling more—myself—although given that I spent as many years as custodian as I did before, I suppose that’s ridiculous.”

“Mother,” Kaj said with a strange, stiff fondness, “you are always ridiculous.”

Meg had been communing with Sapphire Wind. “Sapphire Wind would like Ba Djed of the Weaver returned, but it has stored sufficient power for now, especially since Nefnet agrees that waiting to release the Archived would be wise.”

When Xerak held the Library’s “heart” in one hand and the mysterious letter in the other, an image appeared on the back of the missive. It reminded Teg of the sort of simplistic map that had adorned boxes of Captain Crunch cereal when she’d been a kid. This map, however, didn’t lead to a treasure chest filled with golden nuggets of oversweet cereal. It didn’t lead to any final destination at all, but only indicated a direction into what otherwise remained blank paper.

“More details will show up as we need them,” Xerak explained, folding the map and tucking it into his robe. “I’ll keep checking but, for now at least, we have a direction in which to begin our journey.”

“If we don’t know exactly where we’re going,” Grunwold said, “our first stop should be the next town or city with a decent-sized market. I’d like to stock up before we go off into who knows where. Now that I have some extra money, I’d like to get another couple of bags of stored wind to replace the one we used when we stole Slicewind. We may well need it if we get becalmed.”

Xerak frowned impatiently, then sighed. “You’re right to plan ahead. Let’s go back to Rivers Meet. It’s not that much out of our way, and my mother has connections that just might get us a discount.”

“I don’t want anything chancy,” Grunwold protested, “especially not something we’ll be trusting our lives to.”

“I trust my mother for something like this,” Xerak said. “After all, if we find Uten Kekui, I’m likely to finally settle down.”

“Not ‘if,’” Peg said firmly. “When.”

“When,” Xerak repeated obediently, but Teg had grown enough accustomed to reading his expressions that she knew he was still very uncertain.


A few days later, they once again berthed Slicewind on one of the many rivers that gave Rivers Meet its name. After the four young people had gone into town to shop, Meg settled herself on one of the stern benches to write in her journal, and Peg drew Teg aside.

“We’ve assembled Ba Djed, sure, but I’m more worried than before. Everyone is being too cooperative. Were we right to leave Ohent there? She’s a real wild card. Will she be a good influence on Brunni? What do we really know about Ranpeti, except that Vereez likes her? Our girl isn’t exactly the world’s best judge of character. Is Nefnet truly worried about what will happen if the Archived are set free or is she using this time to build a power base? Are she and Sapphire Wind plotting something?”

Teg shielded the cigarette she was lighting with one hand. “If so, what can we do? Should we do anything? This is their world, not ours.”

“Huh!” Peg snorted in disgust. “I keep forgetting, you’re from the disco generation. Self-obsessed. Focused on getting ahead.”

“What did you idealistic hippies ever achieve?” Teg retorted. “How many of your heroes died from overdoses? How many went on to become rich stoners? At least my generation was honest—and hardworking.”

“You’re saying I’m lazy?”

“I’m saying I’m not buying that guilt trip,” Teg replied tartly. “I’m fed up with hearing the eighties described as boring and materialistic. Whether you get stoned at Haight-Ashbury or Studio 54, it doesn’t matter. Both are cop-outs.”

“This from a woman who can’t go two hours without a smoke!”

“At least I’ve gotten dirt under my nails and earned my own keep. I haven’t relied on a string of husbands to provide me with alimony!”

“At least I’m not a commitment-shy antisocial hermit who . . .”

“Ladies!” Meg dropped her reading glasses on their lanyard onto her chest, and set her travel journal onto her lap. “You’re scaring the youngsters.”

She motioned with her free hand to where the four had just come up the gangplank, laden with boxes and bags.

Meg continued, “May I remind you, we mentors have not completed our mission. Until Xerak locates his master or at least learns something decisive about what happened to him, I believe we owe him our attention, not degenerating into trivial bickering.”

Teg and Peg looked at each other uncomfortably but, for once, even voluble Peg seemed to lack words. Meg tsked at them, for all the world as if they were at the book club and had gotten into a heated disagreement over the relative merits of Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers.

“I believe,” Meg said with a gusty sigh, “that the correct response would be saying something like, ‘I’m sorry. I must have gotten out of the wrong side of bed.’”

“Hard to do in that cabin,” Peg grumbled. “But you’re right. I am edgy. There’s so much we don’t know and every time we seem to have things figured out . . .”

Teg nodded and took up Peg’s thought. “We learn something that puts everything we’ve learned before in a new perspective.”

She might have added more but, at that point, Xerak chose to insert himself into the discussion.

“I’ve actually been thinking about whether your job might actually be done. You three humans—as well as Vereez, Grunwold, and Kaj—have helped me get me this far, but I’m not sure any of you can go the rest of the way. From what I know, the location we saw in the Font of Sight is restricted: a place for wizards only.”

“Stop giving yourself airs, Raggedy Mane,” Grunwold replied. “I’m coming with you until I can’t go any farther. Then, and only then, do I plan on stopping. Even then, I’ll wait to sail you home when you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I’m not leaving, either,” Vereez said, words as incisive as swipes from her twin swords.

Kaj just folded his arms across his chest and glowered.

Meg smiled gently at the young wizard. “I don’t think such restrictions may apply to the three of us. Who is to say whether or not we’re wizards? Teg certainly seems to have some gift for magic. I have spoken with spirits, and Peg . . . who knows what surprises she holds?”

Peg grinned, her usual equanimity restored. “I’m full of surprises. That much is sure. Why don’t we give coming along a try at least? What do we have to lose?”

Xerak sighed, but there was grateful resignation in the curl of his whiskers as he set his share of the shopping on one of the lockers. “According to lore, wizards who go to this place usually don’t return. Those who do often have lost their power or are distorted in some way. Just warning you . . .”

“But,” Kaj said roughly, “didn’t you just say that none of us except you are wizards? By that logic, we have nothing to lose—or rather, what we have to lose is you.”

“Well then,” Xerak said, “if I can’t stop you, I can’t, but don’t say I didn’t try.” He indicated a bag printed heavily with glyphs that was stirring sluggishly on the deck. “Let’s get that into the locker before it decides to test its wards.”


A few days later, Xerak tried again to ditch them.

Teg was on watch with Xerak when he attempted to jump ship. When, after the others had turned in, the young wizard offered her a glass of wine after pouring one for himself, Teg was immediately suspicious. Not only had Xerak been curbing his drinking since the successful rescue of Brunni had made his inquisition the group’s focus, but once the Font of Sight had displayed the paired visions he’d been—as far as Teg could tell, and she’d been watching—completely dry.

With this in mind, as soon as Xerak was occupied making a course correction, Teg poured her wine over Slicewind’s side. She didn’t think Xerak would try to poison her, so she assumed that if he’d put anything in the wine, it would be something to make her sleepy.

After she noticed Xerak covertly checking on her, she tested her hypothesis by stretching and yawning.

“I must have eaten too much for dinner, but those flying fish Kaj caught were amazingly tasty. He’s a good cook.” She yawned, and hoped the gesture wasn’t too theatrical. “I’m so sleepy.”

Xerak shrugged. “You spent a lot of magical energy when we were practicing earlier. That takes a while to rebuild. I thought you were overly optimistic about how quickly you’d bounce back.”

“You seem fine,” Teg said, stifling another yawn.

“I have a lot more practice,” Xerak said. “Also, I channeled my energy directly.”

“So did I.” Teg had no trouble sounding offended. “I wrapped my hand around the sun spider amulet and used it as a focus.”

Xerak glanced at the map, then made a minute course correction.

“Think of it this way. What you did was like shooting water from a hose. Directed sure, but with a lot of potential for spray once the ‘water’ left the pipe. What I did was closer to hooking one pipe into another pipe. Still used a lot of energy, but without the opportunity for waste.”

“Hmm . . .” Teg yawned again, then flopped down on some folded sails, rolling onto her back and putting her feet up. “Makes sense.”

She asked a few more questions about channeling magical energy, perfectly in keeping with her newfound role as sorcerer’s apprentice. Letting the gap between questions get longer, she eventually “drifted off.”

“Teg? Teg?”

Xerak set the autopilot, then came over, and laid a hand on her arm. Teg moved restlessly, as one might who was almost, but not completely, asleep. She heard Xerak sigh. He padded away, and Teg risked a glimpse from between her lashes. He was making adjustments to the elevation controls, shifting so that the ship would sink slowly. In this way, it was highly unlikely that any of the sleepers below deck would be alerted. Grunwold, in particular, had shown an amazing sensitivity to any alteration in Slicewind’s workings.

Teg fought the urge to “wake up” and confront Xerak, but she knew she had to delay until there was no way Xerak could make excuses for his behavior. Essentially, she had to wait until he was ready to jump ship, then hope she’d be able to stop him.

Xerak worked his adjustments with finicky patience, occasionally going to the rail to glance down for additional visual confirmation of whatever he was doing. Eventually, he grunted in satisfaction, took the map down from the post where they’d pinned it, and tucked it inside his robe. Next, he retrieved his pack from where it had been concealed within a coil of rope. Teg waited until he had shrugged it on, picked up his spear staff, and was heading for the rail.

Swinging her legs to the deck, she snapped authoritatively, “Xerafu Akeru, where do you think you’re going?”

One hand still reaching for the side rail, Xerak stopped. He spoke without turning.

“To find my master.”

“I thought you’d agreed we were coming with you?”

“I reconsidered. This is too dangerous. Moreover, it’s my business. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to any of you because of my obsession.”

Teg shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not letting you go.”

Xerak turned to look at her. In the faint light from the on-deck lights, his eyes glinted golden amber. At that moment he looked far more lion than young man. “And how could you stop me?”

“I couldn’t,” Teg said. “But I could strike the alarm bell. Grunwold would be on deck before you could get clean away. Why don’t we just skip the part where we have to chase you down, bring you back, then tell you how we’re not letting you go anywhere alone until it’s absolutely necessary?”

“Besides,” said a deep voice from the hatchway leading belowdecks, “I’m not completely convinced that your search for your master is just ‘your business.’ I don’t believe in predestination or any of that crap, but one doesn’t grow up taking care of someone haunted by visions and nightmares, and not learn to recognize portents.”

Kaj vaulted up onto the deck, closing the hatch behind him. “I sleep very lightly. A heritage of my peculiar childhood. I felt the ship begin to lose elevation. According to the course we reviewed earlier, there was no reason.”

“But I put a pinch of tuatnehem on everyone’s bedding,” Xerak protested. “That should have made everyone highly receptive to the somnolence charm I worked right after coming on watch!”

“I recognized the smell,” Kaj said.

“Properly enchanted, tuatnehem is almost odorless!”

Almost. And I’ve used it on my mother, so I know what it smells like. I won’t remind you about my peculiar childhood again. I’ll start sounding like Peg and her two dozen children.”

“Eight,” Teg corrected automatically. She grinned at Kaj. “Though with the grandchildren and in-laws and ex-husbands, I bet we are up to something like two dozen.”

Xerak sighed in resignation, slipped off his pack, and went over to the wheel. “I had the course set to resume altitude after I went over the side, but there’s no need now.” He glanced over at Kaj. “You sense portents? I’d like to hear more about that.”

Teg nodded. “Me, too. I’ve had some thoughts about what we’re facing, but I feel as if I’m too close to things. Kaj, you have the advantage of coming in late, and getting the Cliff Notes version of our earlier adventures.”

Kaj seated himself on the coil of rope that Xerak had used to conceal his pack, then leaned back against the side of the ship.

“I think you’re right, Teg. You both may be too close. What you see as one wide river, I keep envisioning as two streams running side by side, close enough to flood each other. I have a feeling that whatever these streams are goes back farther than our parents’ shared crimes.”

“What do you mean?” Xerak asked.

Kaj considered. “Well, let’s start by focusing on you three inquisitors. When you first went to Hettua Shrine, you had no idea that there was any connection between your inquisitions.”

“But there isn’t,” Xerak protested, “except that the Library of the Sapphire Wind was the best possible place for us to find answers.”

“Really?” Kaj scoffed. “Take another look. In finding the first piece of Ba Djed, you get the story of Emsehu, of how he suspected that the Library hid something more than an amazing wealth of magical items and books.”

“And it did,” Teg said with a nod. “Ba Djed of the Weaver, the artifact that was broken when the extraction agents screwed up. The artifact that Sapphire Wind wanted reassembled.”

“Exactly. Now, let’s skip ahead, past my crazy mother, to what we learned when we went after Brunni. Not only did we find Brunni, but Teg and Vereez conveniently came across a mural that indicated that there may be another incredibly powerful artifact—the one that the Grantor used when he created the miracles that made his island nation famous. Doesn’t that make you wonder about Ba Djed? Up until then, you’d all been thinking of it only as something created to perform the potent magics that enable the Library of the Sapphire Wind to function. What if powering the Library was only a side effect? What if the miracles that made the Creator’s Visage Isles famous were only a side effect?”

“A side effect of what?” Teg asked.

“Of both Ba Djed and the Grantor’s artifact being incredibly powerful,” Kaj said. “When you light the stove to cook your dinner, you also heat the house. That’s not the best analogy, but I think it works.”

Teg nodded. “The intention is to have cooked food, not to provide heat, but you can’t avoid having heat.”

“That’s it. What if Ba Djed and the Grantor’s artifact were created for some other reason, and the power that Sapphire Wind draws on, that the Grantor of Miracles drew on, was a bonus?”

“That’s a frightening thought,” Teg said.

Xerak drummed Slicewind’s wheel with a claw tip. “Interesting theory. I’ll admit, I haven’t been thinking about anything other than that we needed to find the parts of Ba Djed to gain Sapphire Wind’s assistance. I completely ignored any possible connection between Ba Djed and that other artifact.”

Teg frowned. “I wish we’d had more time to study the mural, but Vereez was so strung out that I didn’t like to make her stand by while I did.”

Kaj grinned, sharp white teeth showing along the long line of his muzzle. “I did study it. When we were waiting to break out Brunni, I went for a walk.”

“I remember,” Xerak said. “I thought you were just edgy, needed to work off some tension.”

“I was. Maybe to distract myself from thinking about the risks we were taking to rescue Brunni, I focused on how stumbling across an interrelationship between two incredibly powerful artifacts, artifacts that apparently most people had never heard of, was a bit much. I’m not saying I’m particularly intuitive but, much as I hate to mention it again, there’s that peculiar childhood of mine. Some of what Vereez and Teg described made me remember some of my mother’s weirder ramblings, the ones that I would have dismissed as her being strung out except that there were certain . . . themes, motifs, whatever you call them . . . that she’d return to time and again.”

Kaj paused, looked very uncomfortable, then went on. “One of those themes seemed to have to do with my father. I believe Mother when she says she doesn’t remember who he was, but . . . well . . . remember what I told you about how forced reincarnation works? How blood relation is an advantage? We know who Brunni’s parents are: me and Vereez. I found myself wondering, whose blood is responsible for Brunni’s relationship to the Grantor?”

Xerak held up his hand and started ticking off possibilities on his fingers. “If we look at Vereez’s side of the family, we have Inehem and Zarrq. I know a little about Zarrq’s family. Like him, they’re not very inclined to magic so, even though Brunni resembles her maternal grandfather, she’s not likely to have inherited magical ability from him—and because the Grantor’s people would want their guardian to have magical ability, it’s likely Brunni does.”

“Point two,” Kaj leaned forward and playfully bent over another of Xerak’s fingers. “Inehem has magical ability, no doubt, but she and Ranpeti are full sisters. Ranpeti has some magical talent, although definitely not as much as Inehem. I heard her telling my mother that her parents put all their money into getting Inehem trained, since she had more potential.”

“But lack of training,” Teg cut in, seeing where Kaj’s train of thought was heading, “wouldn’t matter if the acolytes of the Grantor wanted a blood relative who had magical power. Ranpeti would do as well as Brunni—and given that she has ability, they’d probably overlook that she’s an adult, so the Grantor’s spirit would need to, well, share body space.”

“The acolytes probably would have considered Ranpeti-toh a better candidate,” Xerak agreed. “Ranpeti-toh would be a generation closer in relationship to the late Grantor, and with her magical abilities . . . Yes. I see where you’re taking this, Kaj. You think the relationship to the Grantor is through you—specifically through your unknown father.”

“I do,” Kaj agreed. “My mother has visions and sometimes sees things that other people don’t, but this isn’t because she’s inherently magical. The visions are because of her association with the Bird that is the top portion of Ba Djed. Me? I’m not certain. I have some magical aptitude—my early tests showed that—but my mother didn’t want me to have formal instruction because she feared that, if I were trained, I would become susceptible to the Bird’s aura, and she didn’t want that.”

“So,” Xerak said, “you think that whatever talent you have comes from your father’s side.”

“I do.”

Teg remembered how, when all three parts of Ba Djed had been assembled, Kaj had reacted along with Xerak, Vereez, and herself. At the time she’d thought this strange, but Kaj’s theory now explained this—especially if Ba Djed and the Grantor’s artifact were somehow related. No wonder he’d been watching the magic lessons.

“Why didn’t the acolytes go after you then?” Teg mused. “Because Brunni was closer?”

“That’s my theory,” Kaj replied. “Remember how I told you that my mother had recurring nightmares? One of them had to do with her being pressured to bring something of tremendous value to some faraway place. She always fought against those impulses. Since I knew about her past history, I’d assumed that these visions were tied to lingering guilt over something she’d stolen long ago. Now though . . .”

“Do you remember when those dreams started?” Teg asked. “Or has Ohent always had them?”

“Those particular dreams started when I was in my early teens. I did some comparing and that’s not too long after the Grantor died, then failed to be quickly reincarnated.” Kaj’s ears pinned back and he showed his teeth in a snarl. “I’ll admit, I’ve spent a lot of time and energy over the years being angry at my mother for the deal she’d made, for the way we lived hand to mouth when her friends were wealthy. Now, though . . . Now I think I owe Mom an apology. I think she’s been fighting for years to protect me, battling against trading my life away by keeping a low profile.”

The long silence that followed this statement wasn’t one of disbelief, but of pieces being shuffled about, theories tested. At long last, the silence was broken by Xerak.

“We know now that Dmen Qeres founded of the Library of the Sapphire Wind to both conceal and use Ba Djed. Now we suspect that the Grantor of Miracles—who could have been your father, although I guess he could have been an uncle or grandfather—was keeper of a second artifact. How do you think my master fits into this?”

Kaj shook his head. “I don’t know. But I wonder about this person who kidnapped him. Could the writer of the letter be Dmen Qeres reincarnated? Did he know that stealing your master would set in place the series of events that would lead to Ba Djed being reassembled? Is that why you were told to bring it with you?”

Teg frowned. “I’d thought it was because Ba Djed is powerful— a fitting ransom for Uten Kekui-va—but when you think about it, the mural did show other artifacts, other custodians. Could the person who wrote that letter be one of these? Or could Xerak’s master be somehow connected to them? Xerak, you did say Uten Kekui-va was extraordinarily magically gifted.”

Xerak nodded, but his usual worshipful expression when his master was mentioned was muted as he worked through the puzzle.

“Powerful, yes. Ransom, yes!” In his excitement, Xerak was becoming less articulate. “But remember what the letter said? It didn’t call Ba Djed by name or describe it—it only mentioned the ‘heart of the Library.’ If you didn’t know what that was, you’d never think to bring it. I think even figuring out that much is some sort of test.”

“Or simply more of the incredible caution we keep encountering regarding these artifacts,” Teg countered.

“What other puzzle pieces are we missing?” Xerak mused aloud. “I still wonder why the third part of Ba Djed went into Teg’s world. The fact that there’s a connection between our worlds would explain why Vereez, Grunwold, and I were sent mentors from there—but what is the connection in the first place?”

Teg rose and started pacing. “There must be one. Absolutely. All of you here have physical traits taken from creatures that are common in our world, but otherwise unknown here. Moreover, I’ve been repeatedly struck by hints of shared artistic, linguistic, architectural and other elements that are harder to pin down—but I’ve kept reminding myself that similarity doesn’t automatically indicate influence. Numerous cultures on our world have built pyramids or ziggurats, not because they share a root culture, but because the ziggurat—and its immediate descendant, the pyramid—is a stable form for a large structure, especially for cultures that lack the arch. Still, I feel certain there must be a connection beyond that of part of Ba Djed ending up in our world.”

“I agree,” Xerak stated.

Kaj stared hard at him. “Xerak, promise you won’t try to leave us behind again—swear on something you value.”

“How about on my power?” Xerak offered, clearly amused.

“How about on your master’s life?” Kaj countered.

Xerak sighed. “Let’s see. How’s this? I swear upon my master’s life that I will not try to leave you or any of my other companions—those commonly called Vereez, Grunwold, Teg, Meg, Peg, and Kaj—behind until or unless we reach a point where you cannot go with me. However, I don’t swear that I won’t try to convince you again that it’s best for me to do this on my own.”


In the morning, the others were informed of what Xerak had attempted, as well as Kaj’s revelations and the theories that had been expounded. When those complex topics had been discussed and dissected, Meg turned to Kaj with interest.

“When you went back to look at the mural, did you learn anything more about the Grantor’s artifact? Does it have a name?”

Kaj’s ears did the sort of thing a puppy’s do when embarrassed. “I did learn that, actually, and a lot more, but I was so caught up in how the Grantor might be related to me, I forgot to mention that.”

“It’s not too late now,” Peg said encouragingly.

“When I started poking around, all the time I’ve spent in necropolises turned out to be useful,” Kaj began. “I searched until I found a person I’d learned to recognize in the various religious institutions: someone with enough training to be an expert, but not enough seniority to be important. Those people like to show off. I told the one I found some of the truth, that I’d worked in a necropolis, and I was sure I’d seen a mural similar to the one that showed Ba Djed, but our mural was damaged, so incomplete. I acted as if I knew more than I did, and she . . .”

“She,” Teg thought, amused. Kaj doesn’t just know about bored junior faculty, he knows he can charm anyone who likes a good-looking man.

“. . . was impressed that I knew the name Ba Djed of the Weaver, and was very pleased to demonstrate that she knew the names of the other two. The Grantor was holding Qes Wen, the Entangled Tree, and the third figure was holding Maet Pexer, the Assessor’s Wheel. She didn’t know anything more about Ba Djed or Maet Pexer, but since Qes Wen is associated with the local big shot, she knew a little more. It’s very mysterious, and not of local origin. All their legends agree that a long-ago Grantor of Miracles brought it with her, might even have become Grantor because of it. Which came first has become muddled over time.”

“Where is this Qes Wen now?” Meg asked.

“My acolyte didn’t know for sure, but legend is that Qes Wen is hidden within the fiery heat of the volcano on Blinded Eye Isle, and that only the true heir of the Grantor of Miracles will be able to tap its power.”

“Brunni?” Vereez said softly. “That’s a hell of a lot to wish on a four-year-old. Ohent is one tough lady, and one third of Ba Djed nearly drove her mad.”

“But,” Xerak reminded her, “Ohent wasn’t the true heir of Ba Djed. Emsehu’s probably lucky that it was broken to bits before he could get hold of it.”

Grunwold said, “This is all fascinating, but there’s something I want to know that has nothing to do with any of this. Xerak, why did you try to jump ship when you did? Has the map shown you something new? Something that made you uneasy?”

Xerak forced a laugh. “Can we make that uneasier? More uneasy? If so, yes. I’ll admit it.”

He took out the letter, smoothed it so all could see the simplistic map, then made a quick gesture that Teg recognized as one of banishment or removal. Immediately, a long, complex series of glyphs, multicolored and impossibly ornate, appeared on the page.

Vereez had clearly recognized the nature of Xerak’s spell as well. “You hid these! How long ago did those appear? What do they mean?”

“They appeared yesterday evening. I was checking the map shortly before Teg and I were due to take over from Grunwold and Meg. As for what they mean, I don’t precisely know.”

One didn’t need to have been Vereez’s friend from childhood on to recognize doubt in the hard stare she gave Xerak.

“Really,” Xerak replied to the upspoken query. “I don’t know for certain. What I do recognize is that this is a gateway spell. If it is performed correctly, it will open a passage to . . . Well, that’s the part I can’t really make out. Somewhere else.”

“You did say,” Peg commented, “that the place we saw in the Font of Sight didn’t exist. I suppose that could account for your lack of ability to figure out where this passage goes.”

“Or he’s prevaricating again,” Vereez said. She turned to look at the three mentors. “Do you have a word for that? It’s a nice way of saying lying.”

“We do indeed,” Meg said. “Several variations, in fact. However, I don’t think Xerafu Akeru was prevaricating. I noticed a nicety in his wording . . . What did you mean when you said ‘If it is performed correctly’? I don’t think that was just normal caution.”

“I’d like to say that it was just me being appropriately modest,” Xerak replied, “but it wasn’t. Portal spells are inherently dangerous, since they involve violating the usual relationships between space and time. Most portal spells—including those that were employed to make the gate device we used to get from the Library of the Sapphire Wind to Sky Descry—take this into account. That’s one reason you’re more likely to find such travel done by means of a device than by a spell.”

“And the other?” Peg asked with obvious interest.

“They take so much energy that they’re likely to kill an individual caster,” Xerak said. “Or at least knock him hard on his tail. Depends on the caster.”

Grunwold shook his fist at Xerak. “And you, being an arrogant . . .” The translation spell broke down, probably because there was idiom as well as mere meaning in whatever Grunwold had just called the young wizard. “. . . figured that you could do the spell without it killing you, so you’d just ditch us all?”

Xerak huffed out his breath in an almost roar. “Well . . . I thought it was better if only one of us, rather than all of us, ended up dead. That’s what’s likely to happen if I get the spell wrong.”

“Teg and I helped you before, with the glyphs on the lockbox,” Vereez said, suddenly shy, clearly recognizing the enormity of what she was suggesting. “Couldn’t we help with this?”

“If I involved two barely trained apprentices,” Xerak said, “in a spell of this magnitude, I would be in violation of just about every code of ethics I have learned. Even if I did find my master at the portal’s other end, he’d be likely to beat me around the ears—hard—when he learned what I had done.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Peg asked. “We all die? I thought you people were absolutely certain you’ll be reincarnated. I’d think that would make you less cautious about taking risks.”

Xerak laughed. “We’ll save the philosophical discussion as to how reincarnation makes us view our current lives for another time. To answer your first question—death itself is not the worst consequence. How we die is. If I get the spell wrong, who knows where we might end up? I, for one, don’t like the idea of boiling to death in the heart of a volcano, or smothering in a bog, or falling into the ocean and drowning, or even appearing in the middle of city traffic and getting run over.”

“He has a point,” Grunwold admitted. “I can’t say I’d like any of those things either. I guess, Raggedy Mane, you’ll just need to get the spell right.”

“And we’ll help,” Vereez said firmly. “Me and Teg and . . .” She looked sidewise at Kaj. “Maybe even Kaj, since he’s so confident that he’s the son of some mighty wizard.”

“Maybe,” he said without looking at her. “If Xerak thinks he can teach me what is necessary. Otherwise, I’ll join Grunwold in the ‘those also serve who stand and hit dangerous things on the head’ brigade.”

“The voyage won’t be long enough for me to teach you much, Kaj,” Xerak said, with obvious regret, “but I could start teaching you concentration and focus techniques.”

Kaj nodded. “Definitely. I’ve been watching the lessons, but I can’t quite get the hang of what they’re doing.”

“Can we do the spell anywhere?” Peg asked. “Or did the map wait to show you the glyphs because you need to be in a specific location?”

Xerak rewarded her with quick approving nod. “Good question. I don’t think we should work the spell just anywhere. The map guides us to . . .” He tugged at a bit of his lower mane, as a man might his beard. “You don’t have magic in your world, but you seem to have a lot of stories. Do any of them contain references to places where magical energies flow in greater concentration?”

“Absolutely!” Peg replied triumphantly. “Ley lines. Alpha vortexes. Planetary magnetic fields. Stonehenge. The Bermuda Triangle. There’s a whole bunch of places that are supposed to have more magical power than others—or to have had that power once, even if they don’t anymore.”

She stopped. “Sorry. Got carried away there. The answer is ‘yes.’ Are we heading toward one of those sorts of places?”

“Yes, although our destination is known less as a source of power than as a place where many lines cross. This should make magical travel easier.”

“Isn’t a place like that going to be crowded?” Teg said. “It’s one thing for us to take risks with ourselves, but I don’t think we can endanger other people.”

Xerak glanced at the map again. “Whoever sent us—well, me—these instructions seems to agree with you about involving others. The location it indicates is isolated enough that the difficulties involved in reaching it outweigh the benefits. For one, it’s buried in the midst of a nearly impassable mountain range.”

Grunwold frowned. “That shouldn’t be enough to keep people away. After all, we’re not the only people with a flying ship. What aren’t you telling us?”

Xerak tugged at his mane again. “I’ve never been there myself, but legend says this particular vortex is protected by a very nasty guardian—or guardians. The details are vague.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Grunwold said. “Knowledge makes it easier to plan an attack. Let’s go scout the place out. If we need to go back to buy more gear, then we can.”

He paused to inspect their strange crew. If his eyes narrowed involuntarily when he looked at Kaj, well, Teg didn’t blame him. Vereez had remained jumpy, clearly uncertain if she wanted to spend more time with her former lover or avoid him entirely. Although they all found her shifting moods difficult, for Grunwold her indecision must be agony.

Grunwold continued, “If anyone wants to debark, we’ll be passing over several cities with good transport networks.”

But as they passed over plains and rivers, coming at last to where sharp-peaked mountains purpled the horizon, no one asked to leave. Teg didn’t think this was from fear of being thought cowardly.

We all want to know whatever waits at the other end. Ostensibly, we’re searching for Xerak’s master, but we all know—even Xerak—that we’re expecting to find something more.


Back | Next
Framed