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Of course she would think of that. Library-trained, Dhulyn Wolfshead the Scholar. Her mind would work like his. Gun looked at them, Mar smiling, the two Mercenaries watching with guarded faces. He had to tell them, he realized. It would change everything, he would lose all the ground he'd gained, but he would have to tell. No more secrets. No more lies.
"I can Find the Green Shadow," he began. "Because it . . . it touched me." He looked up again into the silence. Mar, white-faced, lips trembling; Parno Lionsmane, the killing look back in his face, a knife in his hand. Dhulyn Wolfshead . . . Dhulyn Wolfshead calm and nodding?
"I'd lost some memory," Gun said. "There was time I couldn't account for, so I looked for it, and when I Found it . . ."
"You Found the Green Shadow. I Saw," the Wolfshead said. "When One-eye was questioning me. The Green Shadow was there, looking through your eyes." Parno Lionsmane made as if to move forward, but stilled at the Wolfshead's raised hand.
"But it only looked through my eyes, I swear it! It never lived in me as it did Lok-iKol." Relief at having finally told them warred with fear that they would not believe him.
"And when it comes back?" Lionsmane's voice was a snarl.
"It can't."
"How can you be sure? Convince us." Dhulyn Wolfshead spoke with the voice of command.
How to make them understand? "It's not Marked. I've hidden myself. not Marked. I've hidden myself. It It can't Find can't Find me me."
"Dhulyn, we can't be sure," Parno Lionsmane said.
But the Mercenary woman was nodding. "Yes, we can. He is probably the one person we can can be sure of. Who better to hide, than the one who Finds?" She looked up at her Partner and took hold of his sleeve. "The boy's right. It was not the same. I Saw it in him, and I Saw it in Tek-aKet, and it was not the same." She frowned and then looked at Gun once more. "Still, the Green Shadow has touched both you and Tek-aKet. Can you use that link somehow to Find the Tarkin?" be sure of. Who better to hide, than the one who Finds?" She looked up at her Partner and took hold of his sleeve. "The boy's right. It was not the same. I Saw it in him, and I Saw it in Tek-aKet, and it was not the same." She frowned and then looked at Gun once more. "Still, the Green Shadow has touched both you and Tek-aKet. Can you use that link somehow to Find the Tarkin?"
Could he? Did he dare? He looked at Mar's face, calm now, but wary. If he didn't try, would she ever smile at him again?
"I'll need Mar's bowl."
"I have Seen this," Dhulyn Wolfshead said, her hand on her Partner's arm.
Gun took a couple of deep breaths and focused on the water. He'd found Tek-aKet before, but that was just . . . the water shimmered, and the image broke. Gun steadied his breathing and tried again.
Parno Lionsmane sighed and Gun jumped in his chair.
"I'm sorry," the Mercenary began, but Gun held up his hand.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "All I'm getting is the Tarkin in his room."
Mar put her hands on his shoulders. "Relax," she said. "Try again."
Gun blinked, his eyes suddenly threatening tears. He dragged in another breath and let it out slowly.
It's not water, it's a bright page of paper. What should he write there? The story of Tek-aKet. Suddenly he's back in the Library. Of all the lines on the floor before him, he needs to choose one in particular. Dark red it should be, the color of carnelians. He frowns. It's there, but it's stained, as if someone spilled green ink on if and didn't clean it off fast enough. He shudders; the last thing he wants to do is follow anything green. He takes a deep breath, looks around him at the ghosts and shadows of other Scholars and steps out, following the red line. Concentrating on the red. He walks swiftly now, down the main aisle, shelves and scroll holders branching off to left and right. The place is enormous, the silence broken only by the sound of his bootheels on the wooden floor.
He turns a corner and the thread of color is gone. The floor is covered in a thin carpet. The shelving is darker, too thin to carry the weight of the countless tomes on it. He reaches out a tentative finger. It's cold, painted metal. He turns around. The shelves behind him are exactly like these. There is no sign of the Library he came from.
There is a red mark like a small square of paint on the spine of one of the books. Gundaron looks around. There are similar marks on other books as well. Clean red marks with no green stain. He sets off again. This is only a Library. There is nothing to be afraid of.
He walks faster, following the red-marked books as they lead him across a wider lane with a metal cart in it. The cart holds books with green marks on their spines and Gun averts his eyes as he crosses the aisle into the next wall of shelves. There's a man at a desk farther down, his elbows on the tabletop, his head down between his hands. Just a shadowy figure at first, but he comes clearer as Gun advances. Gun knows the man won't look up, that he's afraid to. Gun puts his hand on the man's shoulder, wondering whether he knows the book the man's reading. He can see the writing, but it's a language he doesn't know.
"My lord Tarkin," are the words that come out of his mouth. "Tek-aKet. You must come with me."
Twenty-four.
"THERE IS A PRECEDENT for madness."
The next morning, Tek-aKet Tarkin's voice sounded even more gruff than usual, as if someone had been sanding his vocal cords with a metal rasp. Dhulyn frowned. Or as if someone else has been using them. Or as if someone else has been using them.
"Madness is not considered grounds for the Ballot. Tau-Nuat Tarkin was always restrained to prevent him from harming himself," Gun said from where he stood, shifting from foot to foot, near the door of the Tarkin's bedroom.
"True," Tek-aKet said. "And he's an ancestor of mine, as it happens, so neither Guard nor Houses will be too shocked if they see me chained to the throne." He lifted his hands the scant inches allowed by the silk ropes to ill.u.s.trate his point.
It may have been a trick of the light, but Dhulyn could have sworn there was a smile hovering on the man's lips. When Gun had come out of his Finder's trance, they had all rushed immediately to the Tarkina, and they had found her, with tears in her eyes, already in Tek-aKet's room clutching his bound left hand in both of hers. Now, Zelianora still sat on the edge of the bed, across from where Dhulyn had dragged up the chair that had been standing closer to the window.
"Do you remember anything of the Shadow?" she asked.
Zelianora raised her face from where she'd laid it on Tek-aKet's hand. "Give him a chance to rest-" Her words died away as Tek-aKet tried to raise his hand.
"We may not have time, Zella. If it should come back . . ."
The Tarkina swallowed, and nodded her understanding. She reached up and smoothed back a lock of hair that had fallen into his face.
"Your pardon, Dhulyn Wolfshead. Pray proceed."
Dhulyn looked at where Parno leaned with his back against the door of the room. He raised his left eyebrow, and lifted both shoulders the merest fraction. She inclined her head to the same degree.
"Lord Tarkin?"
"The first I remember is the pain in my head. I'd banged it once as a child, falling from my pony, and I thought-" He cleared his throat, "I thought that somehow I was there again, or there still. Thank you." He raised his head to sip at the water cup the Tarkina held to his mouth. "I realized after some time had pa.s.sed that I did not actually feel the pain." Tek-aKet frowned. "It was as if I stood to one side and watched watched it more than felt it." He turned to his wife. "I've had the same feeling when I've been fevered." it more than felt it." He turned to his wife. "I've had the same feeling when I've been fevered."
And there were drugs, too, Dhulyn thought, that gave you the same feeling of detachment.
"Suddenly I wasn't off to one side, but inside inside. Inside, looking out through my own eyes as if they belonged to someone else. Pushed to the back like a pa.s.senger in a carriage." The Tarkin swallowed, but he shook his head when Zelianora lifted the water cup. His voice dropped to a thread of sound. "More time pa.s.sed, and-some of that time-I wasn't inside. I was . . . nowhere." He looked up. "It, the thing I was inside, is nowhere."
"NOT" Dhulyn said. Dhulyn said.
"What do you mean?" Gun took a step into the room.
"When I knocked it out, before I knocked it out. I saw it changing changing the room, and the s.p.a.ce around itself, making it nothing." She looked over the boy's shoulder to Parno. the room, and the s.p.a.ce around itself, making it nothing." She looked over the boy's shoulder to Parno.
"The damaged part of the floor, in your bedroom, Zelianora," Parno said. "The end of the bench that looked melted."
"Like the Dead Lands." It was no question, but Dhulyn nodded to Gun just the same.
"It is not simple damage," she said. "He makes a nothing. No." She shook her head, the words not making sense even to her. "Not nothing, for that's the opposite of something, and therefore a thing in itself. Unmaking it, as if it never was."
"Yes," the Tarkin said dreamily, his eyes unfocused. "It unmakes, it returns the world to the never was."
"Lord Tarkin." Dhulyn tapped Tek-aKet sharply on the side of the face. "Do not drift away from us."
The Tarkin pressed his lips together and took a deep breath through his nose. "It's so old," he said. "It wants its home. It loathes the body, the . . . the shape, shape, and would destroy it." and would destroy it."
"Your body?" It was true the man looked older and worn, as though he'd been faded through too many washings.
The Tarkin nodded, but slowly, face contorted with the effort of making himself understood. "Yes, but also . . . the body of the world."
"And the Sleeping G.o.d?" Gun asked.
"It fears the Sleeping G.o.d. Hates and fears it. It was the Sleeping G.o.d who broke it. Into parts. It knew nothing of parts-do you know, I just realized that. That's the reason it hates the world and everything in it." Tek-aKet dropped his voice as if he were sharing a secret. "We're all made up of parts. Shapes within shapes."
Dhulyn looked at Parno, saw her own confusion mirrored in his face. Shape and edges. That's how she'd she'd Seen it when she was close to the Green Shadow. What Tek-aKet saw as Seen it when she was close to the Green Shadow. What Tek-aKet saw as parts parts. But if what made up the world was strange to the Shadow-how could that be? Unless the Shadow was not of this world.
Then she Saw it. The mirror window that was the night sky. The sword cut that opened the doorway in the stars. The entrance of the mist. The entrance of something not of this world.
A Sight from the past, past, not the future. She'd realized with her Vision of the Finder's fire from Navra, and the circle of Espadryni women that the Sight was showing her the past as well as the future, but, fool that she was, she'd never thought to examine her other Visions. Parno's voice brought her back to the present moment. She would have to consider what the Vision of the doorway could tell her later. not the future. She'd realized with her Vision of the Finder's fire from Navra, and the circle of Espadryni women that the Sight was showing her the past as well as the future, but, fool that she was, she'd never thought to examine her other Visions. Parno's voice brought her back to the present moment. She would have to consider what the Vision of the doorway could tell her later.
"Does it know how the Sleeping G.o.d is called?" Parno was asking.
"It's ironic. It knows irony. Only the Marked can call the Sleeping G.o.d. But they've forgotten how. He's He's the only one left who knows. The Shadow." the only one left who knows. The Shadow."
"But he kills them anyway."
"Surely." The Tarkin nodded, his eyes still focused on his memory. "What if they remember?"
"Now we know," Parno said from the doorway.
The Tarkin licked his lips. Dhulyn leaned forward again with her cup of water. "You frightened it, Dhulyn Wolfshead. It knows what I know. When it rode Lok-iKol, it only suspected, but it knew you were a Seer as soon as it entered m-" He clamped his mouth shut as if against a scream. Dhulyn knew he was drawing upon the rags of his strength to be able to speak to them at all, to tell them what he must. Worse than any rape, the Green Shadow had been inside inside him, inside his mind. He had watched it wear his body, him, inside his mind. He had watched it wear his body, use use it. Such a thing could do more than make a man mad-it could drive him to his own destruction. it. Such a thing could do more than make a man mad-it could drive him to his own destruction.
"Enough, Lord Tarkin," she said. "Now you must rest."
"No." It was a command, no matter how faint the voice. "It had to wait to destroy you," Tek-aKet said finally, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. "It had to wait until the effects of the blow to my head had worn off, and the body-my body, was strong again."
"Lucky it hadn't finished, then," she said.
"You were too fast for it. Then, when the Scholar found me, its attention was turned away; it had gone to look through someone else's eyes for a while."
They all look at each other. "Beslyn-Tor?"
Tek-aKet lifted his right hand as far as the silk bindings would let him and waved it from side to side. "Not then. It was-oh the blessed Caids, it was Far-eFar. Who else?" His hand clutched and Dhulyn grasped it, wincing at the sudden strength of his grip. "Hid-oHid the Steward of Keys and Korvolyn the guard. It can look through their eyes, and," his eyes locked on hers, "it can visit them."
"Parno!"
But her Partner was already on his way out the door.
"Wolfshead, he must rest now. He must." Zelianora rose to her feet, ready to argue, but Dhulyn also stood. They had heard the meat of it. If the Tarkin regained his strength, there might be more he could tell them, but if they taxed the man too much now-She forced her lips to smile in what she hoped was rea.s.surance. He looked as though he'd been ill of a wasting sickness for months. As she began to release his hand, however, it tightened once more on hers.
"Dhulyn Wolfshead," Tek-aKet said, his voice suddenly strong. "Promise me. If the Shadow returns, kill me. I lived too long in the never was. I can't go back. If it returns, kill me."
Dhulyn knew the right words to rea.s.sure him and opened her mouth to say them. Things were never so dark as you thought. He was not alone in the world. He could come back from anything but death. But she remembered her own sight of the NOT NOT and the plat.i.tudes died unspoken. and the plat.i.tudes died unspoken.
"I am Dhulyn Wolfshead, called the Scholar. If the Green Shadow possesses you again, I will kill you."
"What if all we'd manage was to chase it into someone else? Even if I find it again . . ." Gun looked at the food on his plate as if he couldn't imagine how it had arrived there. "We need to know how to destroy it." He picked up his knife and fork, but did nothing more.
"We need to awaken the Sleeping G.o.d," Dhulyn said. Once Parno had returned from securing the men-all men, she noticed, and wondered if it was significant-and setting Brothers to watch them, they'd brought the youngsters once more to their own rooms.
"We don't know how," Parno said.
"What do do we know?" Dhulyn said. "Gundaron, an exercise for your scholarship, summarize what we know about the Green Shadow." we know?" Dhulyn said. "Gundaron, an exercise for your scholarship, summarize what we know about the Green Shadow."
"We know it does not have innate shape or substance, and that it views these things as foreign and hateful. Therefore, it must originate in a world other than our own." Gundaron tilted his head to one side, as if examining his own thought, before nodding in satisfaction. He sat up straighter and began cutting his food.
Mar began to protest, but subsided when Dhulyn held up her hand. No time now to describe the links in the chain of theory.
"We know it destroys the Marked to prevent them-to prevent us, us," Gun amended with a nod at Dhulyn, "from calling the Sleeping G.o.d. Even though we don't remember how," he added, his voice turning thoughtful. "We know it wants the Mesticha Stone, though again, we don't know why."
"I have a theory," Dhulyn said, "but finish your list."
The corners of Gundaron's mouth turned down. "I think I am am finished." finished."
"We'd have done better to list the things we don't don't know," Parno said, throwing his own knife down in disgust. know," Parno said, throwing his own knife down in disgust.
"We may not have that that much time," Dhulyn said. She looked over her companions. "I've not spent much of my life in Imrion," she said. "What does the Mesticha Stone look like?" much time," Dhulyn said. She looked over her companions. "I've not spent much of my life in Imrion," she said. "What does the Mesticha Stone look like?"
"Well," Mar said when it appeared no one else would speak. "Like all the Jaldean relics, it's believed to be a part of the Sleeping G.o.d."
"Like the bracelet with green stones that was in the Tarkin's treasure room?" Dhulyn picked a wing from the platter and tore it in two.
"It's green, all the relics are," Gundaron said. "But the Mesticha Stone is shaped like a hand carved from green stone. There's a treatise-the original's here in the Gotterang Library-that says there was a statue of the Sleeping G.o.d that shattered when the G.o.d last awoke, or because because the G.o.d awoke, something like that. That's what these relics really are, just bits of the statue." the G.o.d awoke, something like that. That's what these relics really are, just bits of the statue."
Dhulyn tossed down a bone. "Bits of a green statue that this Shadow absorbs into itself," she said. "Beslyn-Tor said when he collected five relics of the G.o.d together for the first time, the G.o.d appeared and spoke to him."
"Except he was mistaken," Parno said. "It wasn't the Sleeping G.o.d at all, it was this Green Shadow. And it made him keep on collecting the relics." Parno thought, his head to one side. "Pieces of itself, do you think?"
"But if it has no form," Mar said, "how can there be pieces of it?"
"Pieces of its first shape," Dhulyn said, remembering the Green Shadow's words to her. "Nothing exists in this world without form, so it must have taken a shape-been forced forced into a shape when it entered our world." into a shape when it entered our world."