“No,” Stephen said, his head whirling, “but I wouldn’t give it to you, either.”
“I’m not asking for it, you half-wit,” Fend snarled. “I’m only asking you take it for yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the only way,” Fend replied. “The only way to save our world.”
“I still don’t understand what you expect me to do.”
“I am at your command,” Fend replied. “The woorm is at your command. These warriors are at your command. Simply tell us what to do.”
“You expect me to believe all this?” Stephen snapped, his frustration reaching a boil. “I was brought here against my will. Now you claim you’ll follow my orders? It doesn’t make sense!”
“We had to bring you here,” Adhrekh said. “I’m sorry we had to use coercion to get this far, but we cannot force you any farther. You are Choron’s heir. If you want to leave, leave. But if you do, this other one will take your place.”
“Are you saying you would obey Hespero?”
“It’s the geos of this place,” Fend said. “If you do not take up the scepter, someone else will. And when they do, we must follow them. You must decide.”
“If I agree, and if I tell you to destroy Hespero and his forces?”
“We will try,” Fend replied. “I think we will win. But as I said, his power waxes. Unlike you, he has dreamed of this place for decades.”
Stephen glanced at Zemlé, then turned his gaze to Adhrekh.
“I want to be alone with Sister Pale for a moment,” he said.
“Don’t take too long,” Fend warned. “A decision delayed may be a decision denied.”
“There’s something really wrong here,” he told Zemlé once they were alone.
“It’s certainly confusing,” she admitted.
“Confusing? No, it’s more than that. It’s madness. Do you know who Fend is? The things he’s done? Whatever else I know or don’t know about this situation, I know Fend can’t be trusted.”
“That may be so, but if they’re right about Hespero, maybe we should worry about the Sefry later.”
“You mean I should do what they’re asking? Order them to attack Hespero? INo, this makes no sense. If Fend is eager for me to do something, that’s an excellent sign that I shouldn’t do it. Besides, Fend and Adhrekh seemed agreed on the matter of the praifec. Fends been riding the woorm, so I assume he has some control over it. Adhrekh and his people have been acting pretty freely. So why do they need me to tell them to do what they already want to do?”
“They said something about a geos—”
“Yes,” Stephen said, “I know. Yet it sounds wrong.”
“Maybe…” Zemlé began, then shook her head.
“What?” he said.
“You’re already—”
“What?”
She let out a long breath.
“It’s what you were saying, days ago. About how you keep getting off your path. You’ve been living for other people, Stephen. Even the way you talk about Aspar—you were his companion, never his equal. Could youjust consider this—could you possibly be afraid of the power you’re being offered? Could it be you don’t trust it because you can’t, because if you’re in command, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself if things go wrong?”
“That’s not fair,” Stephen said.
“Maybe it isn’t,” Zemlé said. “I haven’t known you that long. But I think, ah, I think I know some things about you. I think maybe I see some things about you far more clearly than you see them yourself.”
She reached out and gripped his hands in hers.
“Think, Stephen. Even if Fend is lying, even if Virgenya Dare was never here, still, what secrets might this place hold? What might you learn? I can feel the power here, so I know you must, as well. This is what you came for, and all you have to do is submit to leading.”
He closed his eyes.
Zemlé was certainly right about the terror he felt at the idea of taking command. How could he send anyone to fight and die? And yet what if his other uncertainties were, as she said, merely his way of trying to justify inaction?
After all, Fend and Adhrekh weren’t saying anything terribly different from what Fratrex Pell had said. Maybe it was true. Maybe he was the one who was supposed to do this.
He just hadn’t ever believed it. He had supposed all along that he would find Virgenya Dare’s journal and translate it, and if he found something of use, he would do what he had always done: take it to someone else, someone who would know how to use the information.
And yet, how had that worked out? Desmond Spendlove had used his translations to commit abominable acts. He had given Praifec Hespero the benefits of his research, yet more people had died horribly as a result. Now Hespero was coming to get him.
Maybe it really was time he stopped being the source of someone else’s power. Maybe it was time he took charge.
Zemlé was right. When the threat posed by Hespero had passed, then he would have the leisure to come to a full understanding of his situation. Then he could consider how to deal with Fend.
He took Zemlé by the shoulders and kissed her. She stiffened, and at first he thought she would push him away, but then she loosened up, returning his gesture with enthusiasm.
“Thank you,” he said.
He found the others waiting for him, more or less as he’d left them.
“If you’re serious about this,” Stephen said, “then let it be done. Stop Praifec Hespero—no matter what, don’t let him enter the mountain. Take him captive if you can, but do what you must.”
“Now, that’s the way it’s done,” Fend said. He bowed. “As you command, pathikh, so it shall be accomplished.”
Stephen felt his teeth clench, and he waited, fearing that he had unlocked some secret curse, walked straight into a trap. But nothing happened except that all the other Sefry bowed, too, which was certainly strange enough in its own way.
“Where is the woorm?” Stephen asked.
Fend smiled and made a long, low whistle, and behind him the waters parted. Two great green lamps rose above them all. A faint, appreciative murmur went up among the Sefry, who were clearly collectively insane.
Stephen stumbled back, trying to shield Zemlé with his body.
“Th-the poison!” he stammered.
“Has no effect, here,” Adhrekh assured him. “The sedos power in the mountain creates it harmless. And we have proof against it once we are outside.”
Stephen couldn’t tear his gaze off the thing, but after a long moment he realized they were still waiting for him to say something.
“Fine,” he said. “There’s the woorm. Where are your warriors? How many do you have?”
“There are twelve,” Adhrekh said.
That, finally, was enough to make Stephen look away from the monster to see if the fellow was joking.
“Twelve? But there are more than twelve of you here now.”
“Yes. But most of the Aitivar are forbidden to fight. Twelve will have to be enough. And we have the khriim with us, as well as the khruvk-huryu.”
“The what?” Stephen began, but he was too late. They were already in motion. Fend sang out again, and the great head dipped down so he and Ashem could mount. Adhrekh and eleven other warriors set off at a jog toward the far end of the cavern.
Suddenly Stephen was full of doubt again. Someone was plucking at his sleeve, and he turned to see who it was. It was a Sefry he hadn’t noticed before, one so ancient that even in torchlight Stephen fancied he could see the bones through his skin.
“Pardon, pathikh,” the man wisped, “but do you wish to watch? There is a higher vantage.”