He had freed the Resident of the Pit by shattering the spells forming the Pillar of Night. The magma from the planet had burst upward and blown the black shaft far into space. The energies released were too great for any world to contain; the planet had been turned to rubble in one cataclysmic eruption.
He and the Resident had floated freely in space, no longer bound by body or planet. They belonged to the universe.
That was when Lan had refused to kill the Resident. Instead, he had meted out a punishment far worse than even that given to Claybore.
First had been a geas patterned after the one Claybore had so cunningly used on him. Lan applied it to the Resident, then he had relinquished all his power by transferring it to the Resident. Again the being became a god. Again the Resident of the Pit had to endure the worship of petty humans. Again the Resident became more than a pitiful, trapped creature.
And he could not kill himself or force the power back on Lan because of the geas.
Lan was happy to again have to walk the Cenotaph Road using the empty graves as his highway.
“One lifetime is enough,” Lan said, “if it’s done right.” He kissed Inyx, relishing the feel of a real tongue moving against hers. Claybore’s tongue had been cast away, hurled down the Road and hidden for all time. As a god he had that power. And as a god, he had the power to conjure himself a new tongue. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
He held his hand in front of his face and conjured a small spell. Some residual ability remained. Sharp, well- defined flames lanced from his fingertips. Since giving away the powers locked within him, though, Lan had concentrated on healing spells. He didn’t doubt he was vastly better than either of the chirurgeons back in the town.
“The cenotaph will open in another hour,” Inyx said. “Have you looked around enough?”
“More than enough,” Lan assured her. He craned his neck and asked, “Where is he? I told him this cenotaph opened at sunset, not at midnight.”
“He’ll be here. He’s probably out chasing after bugs.”
Lan looked down into Inyx’s blue eyes. “Do you have any regrets? About Ducasien?”
“None,” she said. “Well, perhaps a little. He is a good man.”
“He will rule well with Nowless and Julinne,” said Lan.
“There’ll be friction. Ducasien had his eye on Julinne. I don’t think Nowless likes it.”
“We can look in on them,” promised Lan. “In a year or two.”
He sighed as he thought of Brinke. So regal, so lovely. Her world destroyed, she had also become a traveler along the Road. One day their paths would cross. Lan knew it. He wished her only the best in her sojourn along the Road.
“Dammit,” he yelled, “where are you, Krek?”
A dark lump rose up nearby and shook itself. Long, coppery-furred legs gleamed in the setting sun.
“I rested, friend Lan Martak, nothing more. The journey has been arduous. And you insist on bringing me to worlds where there is nothing edible. Look at those grubs. Tiny!”
“Well, go back to your own web and your Klawn and all the rest,” Lan said in disgust. Krek sometimes got on his nerves.
“That will be unnecessary, at least for the time being,” said Krek. “It was so generous of you to offer Klawn one of Claybore’s arms. As the hatchlings eat it, the flesh regenerates. There will never again be starvation in my web. But I do so worry about how tainted their tastes might become.”
Inyx shuddered at the mention. Too much of Krek’s ferocity had rubbed off on Lan. He had placed the eternal arm where Claybore would feel the nip of mandibles for as long as there were hatchlings to feed. The dismembered sorcerer had forever to regret all he had done. With each piece of flesh painfully snipped off, devoured and then magically renewed, he would regret it.
Lan never said where he placed the other parts. Inyx feared they were even more diabolically hidden.
“Get into the cenotaph,” Lan said. “The gateway’s opening.”
Krek lumbered forward and dropped down. He vanished almost instantly. Lan and Inyx looked at one another, smiled as they locked arms, and slipped off the edge and into the grave.
Together, they walked the Cenotaph Road again.
