"It is the Borshin," said the Lord of Bats, now extending his arms toward the squealing creature, which could not seem to decide whether it feared the bats or their Lord more, and which kept banging its head against the table's legs as it sought to avoid both.
The Lord of Bats tore the pendant from his neck and buried it against the creature, uttering an oath as he did so. With this it vanished, leaving a small pool of urine were it had crouched. The bats vanished within the dark one's cloak, and he smiled down at Jack.
"What," said Jack, "is a Borshin?"
The Lord of Bats studied his fingernails for a moment. Then, "For some time now the dayside scientists have," he said, "attempted to create artificial life. Thus far, they have not succeeded."
"I determined to succeed with magic where they had failed with their science," he went on. "I experimented for a long while, then made the attempt. I failed-or, rather, was only half-successful. You have just seen the results. I disposed of my dead homunculus in the Dung Pits of Glyve and one day that thing returned to me. I cannot take credit for its animation. The forces that restore us at that place stimulated it somehow. I do not believe the Borshin to be truly alive, in the ordinary sense of the word."
"Is it one of the items you mentioned, which will serve to torment your enemy?"
"Yes, for I have taught it two things: to fear me and to hate my enemy. I did not bring it here just now, however. It has its own ways of coming and going, though I did not think they extended to this place. I will have to investigate the matter further."
"In the meantime, it will be free to enter here whenever it chooses?"
"I am afraid so."
"Then might I borrow a weapon to keep with me?"
"I am sorry, but I have none to lend you."
"I see."
"I had best be going now. Enjoy your bath."
"One thing," said Jack.
"What is that?" asked the other, whose fingers were caressing the pendant.
"I, too, have an enemy for whom I con template an involved piece of vengeance. I will not bore you with details now, save that I believe mine will be superior to yours."
"Really? I would be interested to learn what you have in mind."
"I will see that you do."
Both smiled.
"Until later, then."
"Until later." The Lord of Bats vanished.
Jack bathed, soaking himself for a long while in the lukewarm water. All the fatigue he had accumulated during his journey seemed to seize him then, and it took a mighty effort of will to rise, dry his body and walk to the bed, where he collapsed. He felt too tired to hate properly, or to begin planning his escape.
He slept, and while sleeping he dreamed.
He dreamed he held the Grand Key of Kolwynia, which was Chaos and Formation, and with it unlocked the sky and the earth, the sea and the wind, bidding them to fall upon High Dudgeon and its master from all corners of the world. He dreamt that there the flame was born and the dark Lord was held in its heart forever like an ant in amber, but alive, sleepless and feeling. Exulting in this, he heard the sudden chatter of the World Machine. He moaned and cried out at this omen; and within the walls, infinities of Jacks twisted on sweatdrenched beds.
5
JACK SAT IN the chair nearest the bed, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, fingers interlaced beneath his chin. He wore the red, white and black diamond-patched clothing of a jester; his wine-colored slippers curled at the toes and ended in loose threads, where he had torn off the bells. He had discarded the quinopolus, and the belled cap had gone into the chamber pot.
Any moment now, he decided. I hope the Borshin does not follow him.
The remains of his thirty-first meal in that place, a breakfast, occupied the table. The air about him was cooler than he found comfortable. The Borshin had visited him on three occasions since his arrival, plumping into sudden existence, drooling and snatching at him. Each time, he had fended it off with a chair, while screaming as loudly as he could manage; and the Lord of Bats always followed after a few moments and drove the creature away, apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. Jack had been unable to sleep well since the first such visit, knowing that it could happen again at any time.
The meals appeared regularly, quite undistinguished repasts, and he ate them automatically while thinking of other matters. Afterward, he was never able to recall what they had featured, nor did he wish to.
Soon now he reflected.
He had exercised to keep from growing soft. He had gained back some of the weight he had lost. He had fought boredom by planning and rejecting many plots for escape and vengeance. Then Rosalie's words had returned to him, and he determined his course of action.
The air seemed to shimmer. There came a lone, not unlike the snapping of a fingernail against a goblet, somewhere near at hand.
Then the Lord of Bats was beside him, and this time he was not smiling.
"Jack," he began immediately, "you disappoint me. What were you attempting to establish?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You just completed some sort of weak spell a few moments ago. Did you really think I would
be unaware of a working of the Art here in High Dudgeon?"
"Only if it succeeded," said Jack.
"Which it obviously did not. You are still here."
"Obviously."
"You cannot shatter these walls, nor pass through them."
"So I've learned."
"Do you find time's weight increasing upon you?"
"Somewhat."
"Then perhaps it is time to introduce some additional element into your environment."
"You did not tell me there was another Borshin."
The other chuckled, and a bat emerged from somewhere, circled his head several times, suspended itself from the chain he wore.
"No, that is not what I had in mind," he said. "I wonder how much longer your sense of humor will hold up?"
Jack shrugged, rubbed idly at a smudge of soot on his right forefinger.
"Let me know when you find out," he said.
"I promise you will be among the first."
Jack nodded.
"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from further endeavors along magical lines," said the Lord of Bats. "In this highly charged atmosphere they could produce severe repercussions."
"I'll bear that in mind," said Jack.
"Capital. Sorry to have interrupted. I'll let you get back to your normal activities now Adieu."
Jack did not reply, for he was alone.
It was some time later that the additional element appeared within his environment.
Realizing that he was not alone, Jack looked up suddenly. At the sight of her coppery hair and her half-smile he was, for a moment, almost startled into believing.
Then he rose, moved toward her, moved to the side, studied her from several angles.
Finally, "It is a very good job," he said. "Give my compliments to your creator. You are an exceedingly fine simulacrum of my Lady Evene, of the Fortress Holding."
"I am neither a simulacrum nor am I your Lady," she said with a smile, curtseying.
"Whatever, you have brought me brightness," he said. "May I offer you a seat?"
"Thank you."
Seating her, he drew up another chair and set it to her left. Leaning back in it, he regarded her obliquely.
"Now will you riddle me your words?" he said. "If you are not my Evene nor a simulacrum
composed by my enemy to trouble me, then what are you? Or-to be more delicate-who are you?"
"I am Evene of the Fortress Holding, daughter of Loret and the Colonel Who Never Died," she said, still smiling; and it was only then he noticed that from the silver chain she wore depended the strange gemstone that was shaped in semblance of his chamber. "But I am not your Lady," she finished.