All the Paths of Shadow

“Use them? The only sane thing to do with them is keep them where they are. Isn’t it?”

“Indeed. They’re monstrous. Each an abomination. Combined? We’re not sure any of the Realms would survive their release.”

“Making them useless.”

“Not exactly,” said Tam. Her face was long and plain, but her eyes were merry and bright. “Often, I found that the perception of a thing was far more useful than the thing itself, if you get my meaning. Remember Covair?”

“You held off fifty thousand Vonats with a pair of silver wands.”

Tam’s eyes twinkled.

“Ten thousand, perhaps. The wands weren’t even silver. I painted a pair of sticks. I’d run right out of spells, Mage. I had a biscuit in my pocket and a knife in my boot. And not a single Vonat pikeman dared cross a line I scratched in the sand with my boot, just because I grinned at them and invited them to try.”

Meralda stared.

“That’s history for you, Mage. Half of it is misquotes and the other half is flummery. I enjoyed the flummery most of all. In fact, I highly recommend it. Am I being too mysterious?”

“You want me to use the curseworks to scare the Vonats into behaving themselves?”

“It’s just a suggestion. You’d have thought of it yourself, sooner or later. We just wanted to save you the time. Mage to mage, you know.”

Meralda’s mind raced.

“The curseworks? Weapons?”

Tam beamed. “Just so.” She took a step back, and her horse head reappeared.

“We wish you well, Mage Meralda Ovis,” said Tim, shaking his mane back into place. “Know that we are all very proud to call you sister.”

“Don’t go. Please, I have so many questions.”

“My time here is nearly spent, Mage. You face a dark hour. You will soon be forced to choose between power and stealth. Between might and wisdom. Between the easy way, and the hard. I do not envy you that.”

Tam raised a hand in salute. “Oh, aisle ten, shelf twenty-two, slot fifteen. A little something not in the Inventory. Better range than the speaking jewel you’re using now. And get yourself a new chair. That one will ruin your back.”

Before Meralda could speak again, she awoke, face down on her desk.

She bolted upright, found her arm asleep, her back aching.

Mug stirred restlessly on her desk, his eyes still closed and drooping. The Bellringers were gone, as was Donchen. Goboy’s glass was focused on the palace spire, which glowed in the first faint rays of dawn.

It was a dream, she thought. But was it just a dream?

Meralda rose, stiff and sore. Her pencil lay on her topmost page of notes, just where she’d dropped it. The paper was filled with diagrams and calculations and scribbled questions for which there were no good answers.

Something in the top right corner caught Meralda’s weary gaze.

A calculation had been crossed out and rewritten.

The hand wasn’t hers.

Below the revised equation was a note, penned in a tiny precise hand.

You dropped the Esrat variable there, Mage. I did the same thing when I was sleepy.

Below that was a T.

Meralda shivered.

“Thank you, Mage,” she said, aloud. “Thank you.”

“Crawling up the windowpanes, I don’t know,” mumbled Mug.

Meralda stroked his topmost leaves and shuffled toward the water closet.

At noon, Mug awoke.

“You see what trouble all this moving about brings, mistress,” he said, spreading his leaves to the sunlight pouring from Goboy’s glass. “Bruised stems, eyes gone missing.”

Meralda came running from the shelves, her hands full of holdstones and long silver wands.

“Mug!”

“Mistress!” Mug turned half a dozen eyes toward Meralda as she dumped the contents of her arms down on her desk and leaned over Mug’s bedraggled fronds. “How long have I been resting?”

“Two days.” Meralda stroked his leaves. “I was afraid you weren’t going to wake up at all.”

Mug gently wrapped Meralda’s wrist in a vine and squeezed. “You seem to have all your limbs. What of the lads? And Angis?”

“All fine. Donchen got the worst of us all, fighting those things in the sewer beneath us.”

“So I take it we won the day.”

Meralda nodded. “Nameless and Faceless appeared. I took them up. No more magical rope men.”

Mug turned more eyes toward Meralda. “They just swatted the nasties in a show of selfless goodwill, did they?”

“Something like that.”

Mug imitated a snort. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready, I suppose. The work on the tethers. Making progress?”

Meralda pulled back her chair and sat. “I think so.” She pushed wands and holdstones aside to reveal her latest set of notes and diagrams. “If you feel up to it, this is where I’m stuck.”

Mug sent eyes hovering over the paper, and was silent for a moment.

“Mistress. This is impressive. Tower thinks it will work?”

“Tower is cautiously optimistic,” said Tower from the glass. “Although it must be noted that the basic underpinnings of the mage’s theory are untested and, in fact, untestable.”

“Cheery as always,” said Mug. “Good to hear your voice again, though.”

“You were missed as well, Mug.” The Tower shifted the image in the mirror to avoid a shadow cast by an approaching dirigible.

Mug sighed happily in the fresh wash of sunlight.

“The Bellringers will want to say hello,” said Meralda. “They’ve been bringing you rainwater from a wooden cask out back, because they were convinced plants couldn’t possibly enjoy the taste of water from the tap.”

Mug chuckled. “I’ll be sure and thank them.” His eyes halted over Meralda’s notes. “T? Who is T? And what is he doing correcting your math?”

Meralda smiled. “Someone I dreamed up,” she said. “But never mind that now. We’ve got so much more to do.”

Back to the Tower, thought Meralda. This time, though, I won’t be caught unawares.

The army cleared the streets ahead and sealed them off behind, keeping Meralda’s armored pay master’s wagon well away from any other traffic. Two dozen mounted guards rode about her, swords drawn and gleaming, while an Army dirigible soared low overhead, ready to dispatch its soldiers via dropped lines at the first sight of trouble.

“Hello, mistress,” said Mug. “Can you hear me? Is this thing working?”

The trio of stern-faced palace guards seated across from Meralda looked warily about at the sound.

“What’s that?” asked one.

“It’s nothing,” replied Kervis. “It’s certainly not a voice.”

“What?” said Mug. “Speak up!”