"I saw them awake, Theis."
"No. They only dreamed. Only dreamed."
"But ..."
"Were Suchara here, Gathrid, you'd see nothing but a woman. A plain woman who clothes herself in gauzes of aquamarine to distract the eye from her homeliness. She uses perfumes that smell of the sea. She has eyes of green and, perhaps, a strand of seaweed threaded into her coppery hair. Her voice would be modulated to contain undertones reminding you of the whisper of the waves. She's a dramatic, and a talent, but she's just a woman."
Gathrid watched the man while he talked, startled. This was his terse, insensitive companion, Theis Rogala?
"It sounds like you knew her. Like you were maybe in love with her."
"Perhaps."
"And the others?"
"Chuchain. Her husband. Bachesta and Ulalia are daughter and son. Bachesta was a dark one. An evil one. The sleep may have been her doing. She wasn't a patient woman. Ulalia was her antithesis.
Pure, if you like. And slow, lazy, and easily fooled."
Softly, Gathrid said, "I see why he attracted my sister. This family. Is their fighting for real?
Are they just whil-ing the time?"
"It's real. Endlessly, agonizingly real. They knew, as the sleep took them, that only one of them would ever come back out. Three must perish that one may waken. Or be wakened. It'll take an outsider nearly as great as they. And in that aspect, they may unconsciously know what they're doing to the world. They may be trying to create their deliverer.''
"Ahlert. ..."
"He might have revived Chuchain. He came near succeeding without realizing what he was doing. For a while he had control of the dream, rather than the dream of him. The people of Ansorge had done most of the work for him. Had he found Daubendiek before Suchara quickened, and taken it to a certain place ..." The dwarf shuddered.
"And what about Daubendiek? What is Daubendiek?"
"A sword. A trap. The Hell wherein Suchara's soul is tormented. In those days it was the practice to hide part of one's soul in some object. So with the Staif."
"And the Shield?"
"Like your blade there, just a creation of Nieroda's. No. Not 'just.' Bachesta nurtured Nieroda forages. And, as she did with Ahlert, she turned on her master. She became capable of matching Bachesta evil for evil, on this plane."
"She seemed more lonely and unhappy than evil." Gathrid related his experiences before the Great Old Ones.
"What is evil but misery and loneliness?" Rogala muttered. "The child of those parents, surely."
Gathrid frowned. Theis had taken quite a philosophical turn.
"Even Nieroda is human, Gathrid. Dead and immortal, but human. Loneliness is the price of power.
Even Gerdes Mulenex had his good side. You saw that side in your sister so strongly you couldn't see any other. So it goes. You should have learned that lesson by being Swordbearer. You tasted a lot of souls."
"There was love in Anyeck, Theis. There was even a spark of it left in Nieroda."
"That's what I said."
"There was no love in that place we went. Only hatred."
"Hatred born of jealousy. Or envy. Or inability to handle love. Love makes a family. And love destroyed that one, yet binds them in their dreams. They don't understand."
"I'm not sure I do, either."
"To be unable to comprehend love is human too, Gathrid. They still have love without knowing it.
Only Bachesta has lost it entirely. Ulalia has lost care. His only desire is a peaceful, dreamless sleep."
"And Theis Rogala? What is he in all of that?"
"Once upon a time there was a man named Theis Rogala who was Suchara's lover. He was a whole man.
... Now he guards the blade where a jealous Chuchain chained her soul. He brings it forth to do battle when he must. To protect its existence. To help Suchara defend herself. But what's left of that man has grown weary of the whole mess. I owe, but must I pay forever?"
The dwarf seemed to be thinking aloud rather than speaking to his companion.
"Why slay the Swordbearers?"
"They become too enamored of their roles. They enjoy their might. And they grow too strong. And she grows fond of them, thinking they might set her free. She gives them knowledge and power they might wield against her. I can't permit that. It has to be me. But I dare not use the blade myself. I'd become enslaved. She knows me too well, and her desperation is too great. So I wait till she chooses, and hope that someday all the right things happen at all the right times. But despair gnaws at me like the worms of the earth. I have so little left to give- unless I do take up the blade."
Evening was coming on. Peasant women were at their cookfires. The aroma of woodsmoke teased Gathrid's nose. Soon his stomach would compel him to go down and exchange another bit of Imperial silver for another bowl of burned stew. He would remain marginally acceptable as long as his money lasted.
He had become an outsider in his homeland.
"Finally, why did you follow me here?"
The dwarf did not respond.
"Theis?"
"To collect Daubendiek." •
"I left the Great Sword in Sartain, Theis. I put it aside. I bear only the blade born in Nieroda's forge."
"You left metal. Not the attachment. There'll be a day when your path swings back to Sartain, whether you will it or not. She won't let you scorn her."
"It may have to be that only one of us will leave this hill, then, Theis."
"Could be."
"I wouldn't like that. And, Theis? I don't think I'd be the one staying. You're fast, but I don't think you're fast enough."
Rogala shrugged. "I'm getting older. Because I don't care as much as I once did. And being blind won't help, will it?"
"Does it always have to be this way?"
"I don't know what else to do."
Gathrid sighed. Silence stretched till it became oppressive.
Rogala coughed. "I like you, Gathrid. You've become like a son. I don't want to. ... Show the blind old man another way. I taught you the art of killing. Teach me the art of living."
Gathrid could find no words. The silence stretched again. Finally, he tried, "You know the secrets of the greats and near-greats of a hundred ages, Theis."
"You've looked into more souls than either of us can count, lad. I've seen them only from the outside."
"There must be something in all that," the youth agreed. Rogala was trying.
Every path led to the same destination. A death. More blood on this hill that had seen too much already. The limits seemed inflexible, the end assured.
The sun had declined almost to the horizon, growing bloated and red as it touched the distant earth. The night would be here soon, and with it, perhaps, a longer night. Rogala would sense the gathering darkness. He would move when the sight advantage had disappeared.
Gathrid thought, I should kill him now. Quick as he is, he can't outdance this sword.
He could not cut the man down. Had the victim been anyone else ... He just did not have Rogala's murder in him.
Was Suchara staying his hand?
He let his senses range... . Was that a calling, way over there, hovering on the edge of perception?
"Don't do it, Theis. You're dead if it clears its scabbard."
"I've taught too well."
"Maybe. I see two choices, Theis. We can join forces. We can find your Suchara and waken her. Or one of us can die here. Maybe both. You don't seem capable of letting it go."
"You know I can't."
"What happens if she returns?"
"The others perish."
"I know that. I mean, what would happen to you and me? And my world?"
"I don't know. I don't care about the world. It's not mine anymore. She's what interests me."