JESSAN - A TALE OF WIZARDRY Chapter 12
Copyright 2006 Trewin Greenaway All Rights Reserved
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Chapter 12
WHEN I ENTERED THE SHIP MASTER'S REST, I looked about and saw Alfrund waiting in a distant corner, even as he saw me. When he did so, he drained his flagon and rose from the table, flinging some coppers onto it as he did so.
"All that time," he said, "and you carry nothing."
I had slipped the small volume into one of the pockets in my vest. It occurred to me that my plan might not meet Alfrund's approval, and that it would be best to confront him with it after - rather than before - it had been carried out.
"Have you seen this new style of book, in which the words are somehow imprinted with a device?" I asked.
"I'm familiar with them," Alfrund said. "But they're of no use to anyone in my trade and even less to a practitioner of magic."
"Why so?" I asked. "They seemed ingenious things to me."
"Ingenious, without doubt," he said, "but they're dead things nonetheless. What value is writing when you don't have the writer's own hand before you? It would be like listening to someone talking in another room. You may hear what they say, but think how much would be lost - the facial expressions, the gestures, even the tone of voice. If I sent you a letter, would you rather I penned it myself, or had one these machines imprint it instead."
"The former," I answered, for it was clearly true.
"There you are," Alfrund said. "And in a book, the difference is many times greater. A book of spells that is not written by the magician who cast them is not worth the paper upon which they appear. That's why we herbalists will always write out our books ourselves."
"In any case, I spent most of your coins on such a book, and then presented it to the clerk who sold it to me, since he desired it so much." We were walking along as we talked and had already passed out of the market area into the quiet lanes that bordered it.
Alfrund looked at me quizzically. "That was a princely gift to give a stranger. And did he offer you a princely reward?"
I flushed. "Yes, although all I asked for in return was a simple kiss." And then I explained exactly what the gift had been.
Alfrund gave a shout. "Jessan!" he said. "With a shop boy no less. Goddess Mother give me strength - to think I've restrained myself with you because of your innocence."
"You know of this method?" I asked, surprised.
Alfrund groaned. "Your shop boy did not invent it, idiot. And did you think of what it was you fed him, O Nithaial? No doubt, he is right now discovering he can make his rod rise and fall by simply passing his hands above it."
I giggled. "Telo would require no magic for that act, I assure you. But," I went on more seriously, remembering his drunken condition, "do you really think...?"
"For that," Alfrund replied, "you'll have to ask Orien, and I hope to be there when you do. And, behold, is that not he standing at our door?"
It was, and when we reached and greeted him, he said, "Onna invited me in, of course, but I told her I would wait for you here. We need to have some words without worrying that she might overhear them."
"Let us go to the house of Fendal then," Alfrund said. "He'll be busy at work, and we can freely use his living space."
Naturally, it was not as simple as that, for hospitality demanded that Fendal send out for ale, and then to drink some with us. But after that he left us to our own counsel, closing the door to the sail yard behind him.
"What exactly does this Fendal know?" Orien asked.
"As much as I choose to tell him," Alfrund answered, "whether you approve or not. He's my lover, and I trust him easily as much as I trust you."
Orien raised his eyebrows. "I meant no offense," he said, "but these are dangerous matters."
Alfrund nodded in agreement. "Dangerous to know, and dangerous to not know. Fendal is brave and true, and deserves to learn what trouble he has been cast into, by no choice of his own. It may affect him soon enough."
"Very well," Orien said. "What you say is true, although that doesn't mean it's wise. But now, listen carefully. We're again in the same situation that you faced when you went up the coast to rescue Jessan."
"I feared as much," Alfrund said. And then he turned to me. "The same mountains that crowd your village against the sea isolate Gedd from the rest of the kingdom. There's but one pass, and the king maintains a great fort there, the Gates of Karn, where soldiers carefully check all who pass through.
"This, of course, is to restrain smuggling, which flourishes nonetheless. But it's one thing to find a sack of salt or some other thing brought by ship up the coast from the land of Pharros, and another to find you."
"Why did we not leave for that at once," I asked, "when they still thought I might be drowned?"
Orien answered. "First, there was the necessity of reawakening Sondaram. As dangerous as that was, it would be even more dangerous to try to return later to do so. Secondly, our enemy is no fool. He has long stationed extra troops at the Gates of Karn, just in case you might slip through His net here.
"Once Sondaram sprang into existence, He no doubt decided to have the gate shut and come here Himself."
Alfrund turned white. "Say not so," he whispered.
Orien looked grim. "That is my fear," he said. "Although He does not travel much these days. His powers remain intact, but after almost a thousand years His physical condition weakens. He was never meant to last so long."
There was silence in the room for a while. Finally, I gathered up my courage and asked, "Can you not tell me who my enemy is?"
Orien sighed. "I thought you might have already guessed," he said. "He Whose Name Cannot Be Said. But of course you don't know who that designates or why He has such a name. He's your predecessor and in His creation some dreadful error was made."
Alfrund interrupted him. "Orien, perhaps it would be best to start from the beginning. Even many in Gedd know nothing of this history, since it's to risk death to tell it."
The mage nodded. "As we know it, at the creation of man, The Great Mother also made the Twin Guardians, the Nithaial, to watch over us, guiding us when necessary and protecting us both from the fell forces that already roamed this world and, as needed, from ourselves, for we proved easily seduced by such.
"As I've already told you, control of the great forces was divided between you, mostly because one person, even of spirit birth, couldn't contain them all and still be able to relate to humans as closely as was needed. But this was also a precaution, so that one twin could counter the other, if this became necessary.
"Well, for eons this never happened, and when it did, the unimaginable happened. The twin who is The Unnameable One ate the soul of the other, thinking in doing so He would attain all four powers. It's believed He hoped to become the equal of the Great Mother, to overthrow her and become a god in her stead.
"This is not what happened. To His astonishment and rage, He lost both His own powers instead of gaining those of His twin. And that might have been that, but Ra'asiel, God of the demons and, once, husband of the Great Mother, saw this as an opportunity to extend His influence over the world of men.
"Ra'asiel appeared before Him and granted Him great powers, including rule of the demon race, who now gladly serve Him. Conversely, magicks once only practiced by demons have been adopted by men, and such as warlocks and necromancers have appeared among us.
"He has used these powers to become the ruler rather than the guardian of men, reducing the king to little more than a lackey. The race of our kings is a proud one, and this greatly chafes at them, but they have well learned to hide it, for they have no other choice."
Orien paused for a swallow of ale, wiped his face with his sleeve, and continued. "The story grows only worse. For while the normal life span of your kind is five hundred years, He has already lived twice that. And He spends this time frantically searching for some fell magic that will allow him to live forever. The lives of men would be far worse if He were not so obsessed - and they'll become far worse if He ever succeeds.
"Now, after His first five hundred years had passed, a new pair of twins appeared, as if none of this had happened. He tracked them down and ate their souls as He had His brother's. And so He'll continue to do until we men find a way to keep them safe from Him until they're strong enough to try to bring Him down."
The room seemed to have grown darker as Orien told this tale, and it may have indeed have done so, or it may have been terror draining the blood from head. I felt as if I might faint. I closed my eyes for a bit, looking for the power to overcome my fear.
I found some, at last, and opened my eyes again. "And why is He called 'He Who Has No Name'?" I asked.
"Because He has cast spells that bring death to anyone who speaks it aloud," Alfrund said somberly. "To know a name is to have power over the possessor of it, and so He has done His best to stamp out all memory of it. To speak it is to die, to write it is to die, and to know it without speaking it is very dangerous indeed. All this, of course, was to keep one such as you from ever learning it."
"So," I said, "that means that after a thousand years, no one knows it anymore."
"True," Alfrund said.
"False," Orien said. "We mages aren't so easily cowed. We have that discipline and we learned the name letter by letter, each one a year apart, so that they remain in separate parts of our mind." He looked at me. "When the time comes, I'll spell it out to you."
"When will that be?" I asked. "I need every weapon I can use, and as soon as possible."
Orien looked at me in surprise. "A moment ago I thought you might faint from fear," he said.
I nodded. "And a few days ago, I might have done so. But, as you see, today I did not. When we're alone, I'd like you to start spelling it out to me."
"Very well," Orien assented. "I've no good argument against it. But meanwhile we must decide what to do next."
"Leave at once," Alfrund said. "Obviously. The question is how. I've spent many days trying to discover if the smugglers have other routes over the mountains. But none will speak to me if I wouldn't reveal my purpose, and to do that - well, the reward for Jessan is so great that it would overcome the scruples of any man, let alone a smuggler's."
Orien nodded. "I feared as much. Our possibilities are to go over the mountains or around them, and each is fraught with danger."
"Can't we go under them?" I asked in jest.
Orien smiled grimly. "Don't think I haven't considered that, too," he said. "But the kobold have never mined these mountains, only those to the east. And if there are demon underways, which I doubt, we would be well advised to keep our distance from them. The demons would be almost as happy as The Unnameable One to get hold of you."
"So it's by sea then," Alfrund said, his heart visibly sinking.
Orien nodded. "Although that way, too, is full of risk. The people of Pharros aren't completely under His dominion yet, and don't wish to be. They'll do nothing to provoke Him, least of all helping us. And getting there is not easy. It's a long sail. I've bought us a boat that, with luck, is large enough to carry us there, but I've yet to locate a sailor that I would trust to do so.
"If worst comes to worst, we will try it on our own. I'm familiar with the ways of boats, as is, of course, Jessan. But it would be very risky, and must be done only as a last resort. When we have word that The Unnameable One approaches the Gates of Karn, we will sail regardless. But not until then. I think we have at least a week yet."
"You have someone up there, then," Alfrund said.
"Yes," Orien answered, "a king's messenger. He regularly rides from the Gates of Karn to the fort here and back again, carrying dispatches. In this instance, I almost - almost - wish we had a Summoner at our beck and call."
He turned to me and added, "You do have friends, more than you would believe. Even after this great time, many still yearn for your return, and will do what they can in aid of it.
"Meanwhile," he continued, getting to his feet, "I think it best for me to not return with you to Grysta's house," he said, "as much as I would like to greet her. Even someone as thick-headed as our Lord of the Fort will eventually notice my presence and have me watched. And I imagine, after Sondaram's rebirth, the Unnameable has already used the Summoner to order him to do so. Our enemy knows nothing of you, yet, Alfrund, and I would dearly like to keep it that way."
"I pray it's still true," Alfrund said.
Orien then took my shoulder, bent over, and whispered in my ear, "M, as in 'murderer.' There's the first letter. Remember it well."