Magics - Riddle Of The Seven Realms Part 46

Kestrel frowned, but Milligan continued. "The second tenet states that the entropy of luck always increases. There is no way it can be avoided. Each transfer from one to another, even each use that dilutes it back to the ether- all such transferals reduce its potency. The last thing that anyone would want is a flame that completely disorders its fine crystalline structure and renders it useless.

"Why, even an archon could become a pauper, if he approached too close to a fire. Without his luck to guard him, all of his great displays of state on the islands would be washed away by the next giant wave that sweeps across our sea. Even if he possessed the strange book of figures that Myra is reputed to have found, his ships would start to wander aimlessly, missing all of their ports. In the time of a single sigh, he would find that he had come to possess nothing, neither food for his next meal nor even clothing to ward off the chill. And each and every one who but an instant before stooped in the deepest of bows would shun his misfortune, casting him aside and letting him wander to his death, unheralded and alone.

"No, the object of us all is to find ways to increase our luck, to concentrate it into tighter and tighter confines that enhance its potency. It is the only way to survive, to move ahead, and to strive for the mantle of the archon. The fatalists cannot be right. Things should not be left to the will of the cosmos. Outcomes are determined by men with luck; he who has the greatest will certainly emerge the winner."

"I would think that skill or wit would somehow be important as well," Kestrel said. Cautiously, he placed one hand on the ladder and looked at the rungs. Perhaps, if the sidebeams were ripped apart they would serve well enough. He smiled inwardly and looked at Astron. It was something the demon probably would have thought of, and yet it came to him first.

"In the dim past, skill and wit did determine the outcome of many events," Milligan answered. "We contested by might of arms and clever strategies of state. But then, as our legends record it, wise archon Williard

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with overwhelming odds was defeated by a force a tenth his size when his horse stepped into the only squirrel hole on the field of battle. An errant arrow hit his second in command in the throat, and, without a leader, the army stumbled into a mire.

"Luck triumphed over all else; and from that day to this, everyone who strives for power concentrates on increasing his own luck and dissipating that of others. Skill and talent mean little to one who can select a marked token from a bowl of thousands with but a single thrust of his

hand."

"Then what need do you have of this experimentation?" Kestrel asked. He placed his hand firmly on each of the ladder's sidebeams and strained outward while smiling in Milligan's direction. "If starting a fire is of no use, then whatever else of value can we be to you?"

"The means for acc.u.mulating and dissipating luck are not written in stone monuments for all to see," Milligan said. "It is only by centuries of trial and error that the methods that we use have come to light. Doubtless many more efficient techniques yet remain to be discovered." He waved his hand in a wide circle. "Luck is all about us, albeit at very low pressure. Certain actions seem to compress it into smaller volumes and increase its potency to alter events.

"As I have said, when one walks under a ladder, a portion of whatever one possesses leaks out into the ether. Immediately reversing direction prevents the loss before it can transpire." Milligan paused and ran his tongue over his lips. "But what if one circled back and walked under the ladder again in the second direction, the one that prevented the loss. Perhaps then the vector of transaction would remained fixed in a positive direction, each circuit under the ladder increasing one's luck, rather than dissipating it away.

"That then is the test. The first of you, I care not which, will walk once under the ladder and then spin the top through the maze. He will be what we call the control. The second will walk once and then immediately reverse before taking the test. The third, after reversing direction,

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will continue around the mast and back under the overhang a dozen times more. The last will not reverse directions at all but rotate the dozen times in the same sense as the first."

"What will the spinning top prove?" Kestrel asked while he slid his arms up the ladder to feel another rung.

"It is a test of luck, to be sure," Milligan said. "The spinning top caroms through the compartments in a manner that no one can predict, scattering pins at random. The count of how many are felled is the measure we wish to monitor. If all the pins are toppled before the one attached to the blade, then the game is stopped and you are lucky indeed."

"And if the blade topples," Kestrel said. "What does that prove?"

"The finger you place in the hole will be severed, a most unlucky outcome," Milligan said. He looked quickly back at the maze on the table and then smiled at Kestrel. "The beauty of it is that you all have ten. We will be able to run some forty trials before we are done."

Kestrel decided he had heard enough. It did not matter if the others were fully alert or not. With or without oars, they must be away. "Astron," he yelled, "unlash the dory. Get it back over the side." With a grunt he twisted the ladder from its resting place and crashed it downward on the middle of the table, hoping that the force of the blow would break it apart.

The ladder bounced harmlessly off of the horizontal surface, however, the bottom end kicking up painfully into Kestrel's thigh. He staggered a single step and then sagged to one knee, his leg refusing to give him support. As he fell, he pushed at Phoebe, propelling her forward toward the gunwale where the dory was lashed. He rolled over on his back, expecting to see Milligan spring at him with some weapon, but he saw instead the little man feverishly fingering the brightest talisman which hung from his neck.

"Jelilac, Jelilac," Milligan screamed. "They are followers of Byron. Despite the great auras they once possessed, they follow Byron, to be sure."

Kestrel rose to kneeling and grabbed Nimbia about the

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shoulder. Crawling with one hand on the deck, he urged her in the direction he had pushed Phoebe. Looking forward, he saw Astron fumbling with the mooring knots, apparently not making any progress in getting them untied. Two seamen cautiously came forward, their fingers outflexed and reaching for the thongs of leather about Nimbia's neck. Kestrel staggered erect and pointed wildly into the sky. "Look," he shouted. "Not one shooting star, but two. Not to witness it is a great misfortune."

He held his breath for an instant, but the two sailors were totally unaccustomed to such a blatant deception. As one, they turned and began searching the clouds. Kestrel limped forward a single step. As he felt his Iftg again give way, he staggered against the nearest of the seamen. A ring on the sailor's hand scratched his cheek as he fell. Concentrating as hard as he could, he managed to grab hold of the loops and chains about his neck and pull the man to the ground.

Kestrel gathered up as many talismans in his hands as he could manage. With a back-wrenching yank, he snapped them from the seaman's neck. The sailor screamed. With an almost animal fury, he began clawing at Kestrel's arms to get them back.

Kestrel flung them in the direction of the dory; although several went over the gunwale, two landed at Astron's feet. Almost immediately the knot on the last fetter unraveled. The demon quickly reached down and grasped the bow in the cradle of his arms and hoisted it up over the low railing. Phoebe and Nimbia reached the stern and lifted it up as well. In an instant, the small boat splashed down onto the waves.

Kestrel crawled forward to the gunwale, blocking out the seaman who scrambled on the deck with him to retrieve the two talismans that remained. Kestrel reached to scoop them up a second time but grimaced as sharp splinters from the deck dug into his palm.

Astron bent down, grasped the talismans tightly in one hand, and then grabbed Kestrel by the arm with the other. Kestrel reached out for Phoebe and Nimbia. Without thinking further, they jumped together over the side.

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The salt water stung Kestrel's cheek when he hit, but he paid it no heed. Lashing out blindly, he felt the side of the dory and grasped for a hold. Through sea-spattered hair, he saw Milligan leaning over the rail, cupping his hands to his mouth.

"There is little enough gain in what you have stolen," he yelled. "Basic enhancers and navigator's fetishes are all. They are organic and soon will decay. About enough to see you safely to the island in the distance and survive a wave or two, but little more. And there, if you stay out of the clutches of doubting Myra and her arcane devices, you will learn well enough the difficulty of finding food and drink with what little auras you now possess."

Milligan looked back over his shoulder and laughed. "Followers of Byron," he said. "With the spintop, at least one of you might have had a chance."

Kestrel saw the distance between the dory and the sloop begin to widen. From somewhere, a fresh breeze had begun to blow them apart. He tried to hoist himself a little higher to see the direction they should begin to paddle. Despite the aches and pains, he felt the cold of the sea and the renewed gnawing of his hunger. Basic enhancers and navigator's fetishes, he thought. Even if they were lucky, would so little be enough?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

The Darling of Destiny

ASTRON stirred with discomfort. He watched Kestrel clutch the tripstring firmly in his grasp, preparing for the moment that he would jerk away the twig that propped the splintered beam from the sandy beach. The small quail was just partway into the trap. It would be the

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dozenth try, and Astron doubted it would be any more successful than the rest.

He looked at Phoebe and Nimbia, huddled motion-(essly near the wreckage of the dory. The heavy wave that had dashed them against the beach had destroyed their only means to travel elsewhere with any speed. The small, reddish sun was almost to the crest of the hill spine that hid the interior of the island. A heavy copse of trees covered the entire slope. Only the sandy beach that curved out of sight in both directions was devoid of the thick vegetation. Perhaps in the interior, they would find bigger game or even someone more sympathetic to their plight. But nightfall was coming too soon. For the moment, they had to hope for a single meal and find what cover they could in the wreckage of the boat.

Astron twisted his shoulders, ignoring Kestrel's sharp glance to be still. He wished he could be more sure of the path they were taking, seeking out anvilwood rather than letting Phoebe summon Camonel to their aid. But which was truly the lesser risk he could not decide. The uncertainty stirred his stembrain, forcing him to tighten his control.

He looked again at Nimbia, trying to recapture the pounding emotion that had gripped him when it was Kestrel's body he had possessed. It was not the same now, of course, but the experience had touched his rational centers as well. He remembered their closeness when hiding from Prydwin's pursuit, the piercing inner sadness that she exposed to him more than any other, the strength of duty she felt to her hill dwellers that was stronger than that of any prince. Even in abstraction, sharing more of her thoughts would bring a great pleasure, perhaps as keen as the discovery of new facts from beyond the flame. What would it be like, he wondered, if their relationship went deeper than that of a broodmother and sire?

Astron stopped the direction of his thoughts short and wrinkled his nose. He shook his head in the manner of men. She was no less than a queen and regarded him in quite a different light. At no time, he recalled, had she even bothered to call him by name. She spoke with kind-

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ness and praise, but always as she would to a servant, one perhaps to be her single loyal retainer when the quest was finally done.

If only it were finally done, he thought ruefully. He had been away from Elezar far longer than he had intended. Could there still be any hope that his prince was alive? And with Caspar triumphant, his own grisly fate would only be a matter of time. Somehow, he must get the harebell pollen back to Palodad and trust that whatever he had learned would provide a sufficient clue to solve the riddle. Without that, then anything else did not really matter.

Astron pushed away the reverie. He turned his attention back to the immediacy of their problems. He watched the quail take another timid step under the overhang of the beam. Its tiny head twitched from side to side, looking for predators. Then, in two quick thrusts of its bill, it poked at the seeds that Nimbia had gathered along the beach. Kestrel yanked on the string unraveled from Phoebe's cape and wrenched the twig free. The beam seemed to hover for a moment in midair and then crashed to the ground, shearing away a few feathers from the quail as it ran clear.

Kestrel pounded his fist into his hand. "So close," he spat. "I should have waited a second more until the bird was more centered under the beam."