“I have heard she is already in communication with the Archduke Balarizaaf of Chaos. She seeks his help in fulfilling her ambitions.”
“And what would an archduke’s price be, I wonder?” The Master of the Rolls was now even more concerned.
“A high one, I would guess,” said the Land Prince Ottro quietly. Deliberately, he folded his arms across his chest.
“Do such creatures really exist?” von Bek wished to know. “Or do you speak figuratively?”
“They exist,” said the Master of the Rolls gravely. “They exist in uncountable numbers. They seek to rule the multiverse and would use mankind’s folly and vice to that end. The Lords of Law, on the other hand, seek to use mankind’s idealism against Chaos, and to further their own schemes. Meanwhile the Cosmic Balance seeks to maintain equilibrium between the two. So much is commonly understood by those who recognise the existence of the multiverse and who travel, to some degree at least, between the realms.”
“Do you know of a legend concerning a sword?” von Bek asked. “And a creature said to slumber within it?”
“The Dragon in the Sword. Aye, of course I have heard of the Dragon Sword. It is a terrible weapon, by all accounts. Forged by Chaos, they say, to conquer Chaos. The Lords of Chaos would give much for that…”
“Could that be the Archduke Balarizaaf’s price?” von Bek suggested.
I was impressed by how swiftly he came to understand the logic by which we now lived.
“Indeed,” said the Master of the Rolls, his eyes widening, “it could be!”
“And that’s why she wants it. And that is why she was so glad to hear of it from us!” Alisaard clenched her ivory fists. “Oh, what dolts we were to tell her so much. We should have guessed that the person we really sought would not ask so many questions.”
“You communicated with her that successfully?” I was surprised.
“We told her all we knew.”
“And doubtless she had information of her own to add to yours,” Ottro said. “But surely you do not want the Dragon Sword in order to strike a bargain with Chaos?”
“We wanted it so we might rejoin our own people in a far realm. The Eldren have no truck with Chaos.”
“Is there anything else I should know?” asked the Master of the Rolls. “We must call a Hearing and we must try to prove Sharadim evil. But if we cannot, if the vote goes against us, we must consider other means of stopping her.”
“Surely our evidence will sway the Court?” said Alisaard.
Von Bek looked at her almost as if he envied her innocence. “I have but lately come from a world,” he said, “whose rulers are masters at turning lies to truth and making the truth seem the foulest lie. It’s easily done. We cannot expect to be believed simply because we know we do not lie.”
“The problem is,” added the Master of the Rolls, “that so many wish to believe Sharadim the paragon they all desire. Often people fight hardest of all to preserve a delusion. And they will frequently persecute those who challenge that delusion.”
We debated the matter further until the Master of the Rolls told us that the time had come for our meeting with Sharadim. Alisaard, von Bek, Land Prince Ottro and myself left the chamber and were escorted through the now deserted hall, still full of rose petals, and up a short flight of stairs into a series of rooms, some of which formed a kind of aviary, and finally to a circular room whose windows overlooked flower gardens and formal hedgerows and lawns, the inner courtyard of the palace. Here the Princess Sharadim sat. On her right was a long-jawed fellow with thin, unkempt light-coloured hair. He wore a surcoat of orange and a jerkin and breeches of yellow. On her left, leaning a little on her large chair, was a bulky, plump creature whose tiny eyes were never still and whose jaw moved slowly, like a goat chewing cud; he wore a mauve surcoat and dark blue underneath. The last was a youth of such decadent appearance I could hardly believe my eyes. He was almost a grotesque parody of the type, with thick wet lips, drooping eyelids, pale, spotted unhealthy skin, twitching muscles and fingers, and reddish curly hair. They announced themselves in a sulky, challenging manner. The first was Perichost of Risphert, Duke of Orrawh in the distant west; then Neterpino Sloch, Commander of the Befeel Host, and lastly Lord Pharl Asclett, Hereditary Prince of Skrenaw, but better known as Pharl of the Heavy Palm.
“I know of you all, gentlemen,” said Ottro with poorly disguised disgust as he introduced us. “And you know Prince Flamadin. This is his friend Count Ulric von Bek. Lastly Alisaard, Legion Commander of Gheestenheem.”
Sharadim had waited impatiently through all this. Now she rose from her chair and, pushing through her companions, walked straight to where I stood and looked up into my face. “You are an imposter. You can admit it here. You know, as do most of those who came with you, that I slew Prince Flamadin. True, his body is not corrupted and lies even now in my cellars. But I am lately come from where I left that body. It is still there! I know you for the one called the Champion, who those foolish women called to, mistaking myself for you. And I can guess what you are attempting by this essay into play-acting…”
“They hope to get to the sword before we do,” interrupted Pharl, scratching at his palm. “And make their own bargain with the Archduke.”
“Be quiet, Prince Pharl,” she said contemptuously. “Your imagination is notoriously poor. Not everyone holds identical ambitions to your own!” Ignoring his flushing features, she continued: “You either wish to oust me from the throne and rule in my place,” she said, “or you merely wish to bring my plans to an end. What? Do you all serve Law? Are you employed to give battle to Chaos and his allies? I know a little of your legend, Champion. Is that not your function?”
“I’ll allow you your speculations, madam, but you cannot expect me to confirm or deny them. I am not here to give you more power.”
“You are here to steal what I have, eh?”
“If you would give up your schemes, if you would refuse any further dealings with Chaos, if you would tell us what you know of the Dragon Sword, then you will receive no further conflict from me. If, as I suspect, you do not accept my terms, then I shall have to fight you, Princess Sharadim. And that fight would almost certainly bring about your own destruction…”
“Or yours,” she said calmly.
“I cannot be destroyed.”
“I had heard otherwise.” She laughed. “This disguise, this flesh you assume, that can be destroyed easily enough. What you love can be destroyed. What you admire can be corrupted. Come now, Champion, it is unworthy of either of us to mince words when we know exactly what we are dealing with!”
“I offered you a fair bargain, madam.”
“I have been offered better elsewhere.”
“The Lords of Chaos are notoriously treacherous. Their servants have a tendency to die in horrid circumstances…” I shrugged.
“Servant? I’m no servant of Chaos. I am in alliance with a certain party.”
“Balarizaaf,” I said. “He will cheat you, lady.”
“Or I him.” Her smile was all pride. I had seen many like her in the past. She believed herself cleverer than she was because it suited others to let her maintain that delusion.
“I speak sincerely, Princess Sharadim!” I was more urgent now. I should have felt less fearful if she had been a little more clever. “I am not your brother, it is true. But I have something of your brother’s soul mixed with mine. I know that you lack the strength to counter Chaos when it turns against you.”
“It will not turn against me, Sir Champion. Besides, my brother knew little of my dealings with Chaos. You have gathered that information from elsewhere.”
This set me back a little. If I was not tapping her brother’s memories, then I must be receiving my knowledge by some other means. Then it occurred to me that I was in some sort of telepathic communication with Princess Sharadim. That was how I had known what she meant to do. I found the thought unpleasant.
Flamadin and Sharadim had been twins, a
fter all. I inhabited a body which was the exact counterpart of Flamadin’s. Therefore it might be possible that communication existed between us. And if that were so, Sharadim was as much party to my secrets as I was to hers.
What further disturbed me was knowing that a corpse identical to me was still stored in Sharadim’s cellars. I was not sure why I found this so distasteful, but it made me shudder. At the same time I had a sudden image: a wall of pale red crystal, and within the wall a sword which seemed to glow green and black and which at other times seemed to be on fire.
“How will you cut the crystal, Sharadim?” I said. “How will you tear the sword from its prison?”
She frowned. “You know more than I guessed. This is foolish. We should consider an alliance. They will all believe Flamadin restored. We shall marry. The folk of the Draachenheem will be overjoyed. What celebrations! Our power would increase immediately. We would share equally everything we gained!”
I turned away. “These are the self-same proposals you made to your brother. When he refused, you killed him. Now that I refuse will you kill me, Sharadim? On the spot? Here and now?”
She all but spat in my face. “Moment by moment I gain in strength. You shall be swallowed up in the storm I shall release. You shall be forgotten, Champion, and all who are with you. I shall rule the Six Realms and with my chosen companions shall indulge my every whim. That is what you refuse—immortality and an eternity of pleasure! What you have chosen is prolonged agony and certain death.”
She was foolish and because she was foolish she was exceptionally dangerous. I recognised that. I was afraid, as she had hoped I would be afraid, but not because of her threats. If she allied herself with Balarizaaf there was no anticipating the danger we faced in our search for the sword. And if she were thwarted, I thought, she was the kind who would willingly drag all down with her as she went. I preferred a more knowing foe.
“Well,” said von Bek from behind me. “We shall see what the Hearing brings. Perhaps the people will decide this issue.”
A look of secret calculation crossed Sharadim’s face.
“What have you done, madam?” cried the Land Prince Ottro. “Be careful, Prince Flamadin. I can see the meanest treachery in her eyes!”
At this Prince Pharl of the Heavy Palm uttered a peculiar snigger.
Then there came a hammering on the door of our chamber and I heard a voice cry from the other side: “My lady Empress! My lady. A message of the utmost urgency!”
Sharadim nodded and Perichost, Duke of Orrawh, stepped forward to draw back the bolt.
A frightened servant stood there, one hand to his face. “Oh, madam. Murder has been done!”
“Murder?” She displayed horrified surprise. “Murder, you say?”
“Aye, madam. The Master of the Rolls, his wife and two young pages. All cut down in the Silver Auditorium!”
Sharadim turned to me with a look of exultation in her huge blue eyes. “Well, sir, it seems that violence and terror accompany you wherever you go. And they visit us only when you—or the one you resemble—come amongst us!”
“You have killed him!” cried Ottro. He made a motion to his hip before he realised that he, like the rest of us, was without weapons. “You have killed that fine old man!”
“Well?” asked Sharadim of the servant. “Do you have any idea who was responsible for these crimes?”
“They say it was Federit Shaus and two others. That they obeyed the Land Prince Halmad of Ruradani.”
“What? The ones who came with the rest of this party?”
“That is what they say, madam.”
I was furious. “You planned this. Within an hour you have spilled further blood in pursuit of your appalling lie. Neither Shaus nor Halmad nor any of our companions was armed!”
“Tell us,” said Sharadim softly to the servant, “how did that good man and his wife come to die?”
“By the ceremonial blades kept in the Auditorium,” said the servant, darting bewildered glances at myself and my friends.
“We had no reason to kill Prince Albret,” bellowed Ottro in perplexed outrage. “You killed him to silence him. You killed him to provide yourself with a motive for destroying us. Let us continue with the Hearing. Let us speak our evidence!”
She spoke softly and triumphantly. “There’ll be no Hearing now. It is obvious to all that you came here on a mission of assassination, that you had no other motive.”
It was at this moment that von Bek sprang for Sharadim and seized her from behind, his arm across her windpipe.
“What good can that do?” cried Alisaard, confounded by all this villainy. “If we use violence, we resort to their methods. If we threaten her, we prove her case against us.”
Von Bek did not loosen his grip. “I assure you, Lady Alisaard, that I do not act thoughtlessly.” As Sharadim struggled, von Bek forced her to be still. “I have had enough experience of such plots to know that everything is already planned. We will not receive a fair hearing. We will be lucky if we are able to leave this room alive. As for leaving the palace alive, I think we have only the poorest of chances now.”
Her three lieutenants were moving uncertainly towards von Bek. I stepped between them and my friend. My head had grown muzzy. I had a series of images, of emotions, which I knew were not mine. They were doubtless coming from the captured princess. I saw the crystal wall again, the entrance to a cave. I heard a name which sounded like Morandi Pag. More fragments of words. Another that was complete—Armiad—then Barganheem…
Ottro came up beside me, then Alisaard. The three made feeble motions in our direction but did not dare advance. Noticing Neterpino Sloch slip one hand beneath his surcoat, I moved suddenly forward and struck him hard on the jaw. He went down like a stunned pig. I bent over him as he moaned and drooled on the ground. I tore back his surcoat, revealing a knife some nine inches long set between the double row of buttons on his jerkin. I pulled the blade free.
Next I inspected the other two. They glared and objected, but did not resist. I found two more knives.
“What contemptible creatures you are!” I handed a knife to Ottro and another to von Bek. “Now, Sharadim, you’ll tell that poor servant who currently bangs on your door to fetch those of our friends that remain alive. Bring them here and leave them here.”
Almost choking, she did as I ordered. Von Bek carefully placed a knife point at her side and relaxed the tension on her throat.
A few minutes later the doors opened. In came Federit Shaus, looking dazed and frightened, followed by all the others who had accompanied us to Rhetalik.
“Now send a message to your guards to search in the Eastern Wing of the palace,” I said. Scarlet with fury, she issued the command.
To my companions I said, “You must return to the courtyard and have our horses saddled at once. Tell them you seek fleeing assassins. Then wait for us or, if you think your chances are better, head for wherever you think you’ll be safest. Try to convince your own people of Sharadim’s evil ambitions. On her instructions, Prince Albret and his wife were murdered, to silence him and create a crime for which she can blame us. Armies must be raised against her. Some of you must succeed. Prepare your people for what she plans. Resist her. Ride away from here at once, if you desire. We’ll follow in a short while.”
“Go,” said Prince Ottro in agreement. “He is right. There is no other way. I shall stay with them. Pray that at least some of us are successful.”
When they had disappeared, Prince Ottro looked quizzically at me. “But how long can we hold off all the forces of the Valadek? I say we should kill her now.”
She uttered a great groan and tried to break free again, but felt von Bek’s knife at her ribs and thought better of it.
“No,” said Alisaard. “We cannot resort to her methods. There is no justification for cold-blooded murder.”
“True,” I agreed. “By acting as they would act, we become what they are. And if we are what they are, then there is little point
in resisting them!”
Ottro frowned. “A fine point, but I do not think we have time for such niceties. We’ll be dead within the hour if we do not act soon.”
“There’s nothing for it,” I said. “We must use her as our hostage. We have no other choice.”
Sharadim moved her body against von Bek’s, trying to draw back from the knife. “You would do best to kill me now,” she said fiercely. “For if you do not, I will hound you through the Six Realms, and when I find you I shall…” Whereupon she uttered a series of intentions which chilled my blood, made Alisaard look as if she were about to vomit and turned Prince Ottro white as a Ghost Woman’s armour. Only von Bek seemed unmoved. He had, after all, witnessed much of what she threatened, as an inmate of Hitler’s camps.
I made a decision. I drew a deep breath. “Very well,” I said, “we shall probably kill you, Princess Sharadim. Perhaps it is the only way to ensure that Chaos shall not conquer the Six Realms. And I think we can kill you as imaginatively as you would dispense with us.”
She looked hard at me, wondering if I spoke the truth. I laughed in her face. “Oh, madam,” I said, “you have no idea what blood is already on my hands. You cannot possibly begin to guess what horror I have looked upon.” And I let her find my mind. I let her know something of my memories, my eternal battles, my agonies, of the time when, as Erekosë, I had led Eldren armies in the utter destruction of the human race.
And Sharadim screamed. She began to collapse.
“She has fainted,” said von Bek in bewilderment.
“Now we can leave,” I said.