It could not have been more than three miles, yet I ached everywhere before we finished. Too old. Too out of shape. And the weather was one-hundred-ninety-proof misery. I had had enough rain to last me the rest of my life. Tracker led us to a place just east of the Barrowland. I could walk downhill a hundred yards and see its remnants. I could walk a hundred yards the other way and see the Great Tragic. Only the one narrow stretch of high ground barred it from reaching the Barrowland.
We got tents up and boughs inside so we did not have to sit on wet earth. Goblin and One-Eye took the smaller tent. The rest of us crowded into the other. Once reasonably free of the rain, I settled down to probe the rescued documents. First to catch my eye was an oilskin packet. "Case. This the letter Raven wanted you to deliver?"
He nodded sullenly. He was not talking.
Poor boy. He believed he was guilty of treason. I hoped he wouldn't get a case of the heroics.
Well, might as well keep busy while Goblin and One-Eye did their job. Start with the easy part first.
Chapter Thirty-Four: BOMANZ'S STORY
Croaker:
Bomanz faced the Lady from another angle. He saw a ghost of fear touch her matchless features. "Ardath," he said, and saw her fear become resignation.
Ardath was my sister.
"You had a twin. You murdered her and took her name. Your true name is Ardath."
You will regret this. I will find your name…
"Why do you threaten me? I mean you no harm."
You harm me by thwarting me. Free me.
"Come, come. Don't be childish. Why force my hand? That will cost us both agony and energy. I only want to rediscover the knowledge interred with you. Teaching me will cost you nothing. It won't harm you. It might even prepare the world for your return."
The world prepares already. Bomanz!
He chuckled. "That's a mask, like the antiquarian. That's not my name. Ardath. Must we fight?"
Wise men say to accept the inevitable with grace. If I must, I must. I will try to be gracious.
When pigs fly, Bomanz thought.
The Lady's smile was mocking. She sent something. He did not catch it. Other voices filled his mind. For an instant he thought the Dominator was awakening. But the voices were in his physical ears, back at the house. "Oh, damn!"
Wind-chimes mirth.
"Clete is in position." The voice was Tokar's. Its presence in the attic enraged Bomanz. He started running.
"Help me get him out of the chair." Stancil.
"Won't you wake him up?" Glory.
"His spirit is out in the Barrowland. He won't know anything unless we run into each other out there."
Wrong, Bomanz thought. Wrong, you insidious, ungrateful wart. Your old man isn't stupid. He responds to the signs even when he doesn't want to see them.
The dragon's head swung as he hurtled past. Mockery pursued him. The hatred of dead knights pounded him as he hurried on.
"Get him into the corner. Toker, the amulet is under the hearthstone in the shack. That damned Men fu! He almost blew it. I want to get my hands on the fool who sent him up here. That greedy idiot wasn't interested in anything but himself."
"At least he took the Monitor with him." Glory.
"Pure accident. Pure luck."
"The time. The time," Tokar said. "Clete's men are hitting the barracks."
"Get out of here, then. Glory, will you do something besides stare at the old man? I've got to get in there before Tokar reaches the Barrowland. The Great Ones have to be told what we're doing."
Bomanz passed the barrow of Moondog. He felt the restlessness within. He raced on.
A ghost danced beside him. A slump-shouldered, evil-faced ghost who damned him a thousand times. "I don't have time for it, Besand. But you were right." He crossed the old moat, passed his dig. Strangers dotted the landscape. Resurrectionist strangers. Where had they come from? Out of hiding in the Old Forest?
Faster. Got to go faster, he thought. That fool Stance is going to try to follow me in.
He ran like nightmare, floating through subjectively eternal steps. The comet glared down. It felt strong enough to cast shadows.
"Read the instructions again to make sure," Stancil said. "Timing isn't critical as long as you don't do anything early."
"Shouldn't we tie him up or something? Just in case?"
"We don't have time. Don't worry about him. He won't come out till way too late."
"He makes me nervous."
"Then throw a rug over him and come on. And try to keep your voice down. You don't want to waken Mother."
Bomanz charged the lights of the town… It occurred to him that in this state he did not have to be a stubby-legged fat man short on breath. He changed his perception and his velocity increased. Soon he encountered Tokar, who was trotting toward the Barrowiand with Besand's amulet. Bomanz judged his own startling swiftness by Tokar's apparent sluggishness. He was moving fast.
Headquarters was afire. There was heavy fighting around the barracks. Tokar's teamsters were leading the attackers. A few Guardsmen had broken out of the trap. Trouble was seeping into the town.
Bomanz reached his shop. Upstairs, Stancil told Glory, "Begin now." As Bo started up the stair, Stancil said, "Dumni. Um muji dumni." Bomanz smashed into his own body. He seized command of his muscles, surged off the floor.
Glory shrieked.
Bomanz hurled her toward a wall. Her career shattered priceless antiques.
Bomanz squealed in agony as all the pains of an old body hit his consciousness. Damn! His ulcer was tearing his gut apart!
He seized his son's throat as he turned, silencing him before he finished the cantrip.
Stancil was younger, stronger. He rose. And Glory threw herself at Bomanz. Bomanz darted backward. "Don't anybody move," he snapped.
Stancil rubbed his throat and croaked something.
"You don't think I would? Try me. I don't care who you are. You're not going to free that thing out there."
"How did you know?" Stancil croaked.
"You've been acting strange. You have strange friends. I hoped I was wrong, but I don't take chances. You should have remembered that."
Stancil drew a knife. His eyes hardened. "I'm sorry, Pop. Some things are more important than people."
Bomanz's temples throbbed. "Behave yourself. I don't have time for this. I have to stop Tokar."
Glory drew a knife of her own. She sidled a step closer.
"You're trying my patience, son."
The girl jumped. Bomanz uttered a word of power. She plunged headlong into the table slid to the floor, almost inhumanly limp. In seconds she was limper still. She mewled like an injured kitten.
Stancil dropped to one knee. "I'm sorry, Glory. I'm sorry."
Bomanz ignored his own emotional agony. He salvaged the quicksilver spilled from the bowl that had been atop the table, mouthed words which transformed its surface into a mirror of events afar.
Tokar was two thirds of the way to the Barrowland.
"You killed her," Stancil said. "You killed her."
"I warned you, this is a cruel business." And: "You made a bet and lost. Sit your butt in the corner and behave."
"You killed her."
Remorse smashed in even before his son forced him to act. He tried to soften the impact, but the melting of bones was all or nothing.
Stancil fell across his lover.
His father fell to his knees beside him. "Why did you make me do it? You fools. You bloody damned fools! You were using me. You didn't have sense enough to make sure of me, and you want to deal with something like the Lady? I don't know. I don't know. What am I going to tell Jasmine? How can I explain?" He looked around wildly, an animal tormented. "Kill myself. That's all I can do. Save her the pain of learning what her son was… Can't. Got to stop Tokar."