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and take her apart later. Or frighten the hell out of her, like you did out of
Deighton. Nice bit of acting, that or would you have carved little pieces out
of him until he gave in?"
Karl smiled. "I'll never tell."
And I'll never know. I know that I could have killed him without any regret;
torture is something else
. "Apology time, Ari if I'd leaned on him a bit harder, we might have been
able to get better out of him than a couple of spell books."
Clutching the leather-bound volume tightly, Aristobulus' lined face broke into
a smile. "You haven't heard me complaining. For someone with no talent for
leadership, you haven't done a bad job. Besides, I'm not the one who's wanted
in Pandathaway now I can go back, and qualify for the guild, and "
"
Not necessarily
," a low, reedy voice said from behind Karl's back.
Karl turned, his weight on the balls of his feet, forcing himself to move
slowly. The throne wasn't empty anymore.
An almost impossibly thin woman sat there, faintly glowing white robes
gathered about her. The collar of her garment was different from Doria's or
the acolyte's; it covered her head as a sort of cowl, casting her face into
shadow, her features, if any, hidden as well as if she were masked. "
Greetings. You may approach me
." There was an eerie quality to her voice; it had the airiness of an old
woman's, but no hint of fragility or weakness. And it was loud; if this was
her normal speaking voice, her shout could well shatter stone walls.
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Karl bent to pick up the bag containing Ahira's body, then straightened. They
all walked across the floor, Karl carrying the bag in cupped arms. "We're here
to "
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"
I know why you are here
."
They stopped in unison, ten yards from her throne. Karl's forehead wrinkled;
she hadn't given a command, she hadn't said anything or made the slightest
gesture, yet all four of them had stopped suddenly, as though responding to a
compelling order.
"
The issue at hand
," the Matriarch said, "
is whether or not we shall honor your wishes. Clearly, the
Society is in debt to you to some extent; you have done us a service by
protecting one of our own, and bringing her here
."
"Then " Karl started.
"
But that is not sufficient payment for what you ask. Reviving the dead is
immensely difficult, immensely draining. We require further payment
.''
Aristobulus took a halt-step forward, then stepped back. "What sort of
payment? I've still got some spells in my "
"
That is insufficient. Your spells are trivial by my standards, wizard. Did you
look about our preserve?
Once, the entire Waste was that lush, that fine. I protected this tabernacle
against the magic of greater than you
."
Walter raised his hands. "Look, Lady instead of telling us what isn't enough,
why don't you just tell us what you want? You want gold? I'll go steal you a
few tons. You want diamonds? I'll "
"
Be silent
." The Matriarch raised her hands to her face, the first motion they had seen
her make. "
The one who spoke of you, Karl Cullinane, was correct. You are not terribly
bright. But this one, this Walter
Slovotsky, is worse
." She lowered her hands. "
Then again, that is hardly your fault. You are, after all, merely a human
."
And what are you, old lady
? Karl thought.
God? Or is it just that you think you
"
No. And yes. It's simply that
..." Her voice trailed off into gibberish. She sighed. "
But you do not understand the High Tongue, and that is the only language in
which I can clearly explain myself. My requirements are so necessary and so
obvious but this Erendra and this English of yours... the words do not cover
the territory. So I shall speak as simply as I can, so that you each can
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understand what I
require of you, if not why I require it
"
Aristobulus
."
The wizard shook himself. The voice was somehow different now, less...
diffuse?
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"
True. I speak only to you, wizard. Only one of the others can hear me, and
will know if you decline to offer your portion of the payment
."
Aristobulus nodded.
Very well
, he thought.
You don't want what my spells can do for you what do you want
?
"
Your magic. All of it. Your... Aristobulus-ness. Your portion of the payment
is to be but Louis Riccetti evermore. An ordinary human, unable to even read a
word to even see a word in that book you clutch so tightly. Agree to that, and
Ahira may live again. Decline, and he will surely stay dead
."
How could she be sure of that? Certainly, the Healing Hand wasn't the only
sect in the world; possibly there was some other cleric, somewhere, who could
raise the dead.
"
No. There is not. And soon, there may be none at all who can
."
His aura wrapped him tightly, seething. For James Michael, could he give that
up?
"
Your reasons don't matter to me. It's... the distance between us that makes
our communication so difficult, just as you could never teach your cat to
fetch. You may give up your magic for whatever reason you wish. Or not
." She sighed. "
But I see that you will not. You do not see enough worth in your other self,
in that engineering nonsense you used to almost worship
''
"Nonsense? Listen to me, you: There's more magic in a suspension bridge than
in all these books, and "
"
Then you agree
?"
To hell with her. "Engineering nonsense" indeed. "Yes," he snarled. "I'll give
it up."
And I'll build bridges, here. I will. And horsecollars, and steam engines
"
As you wish
." She gestured lightly with one hand, murmuring words that could only be
heard and then forgotten.
He changed
. Aristobulus' slim form bulged out, the old, dry skin of his body becoming
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once more firm with youth. It dizzied him; he stumbled...
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