Bomanz wandered into the kitchen, poured himself a mug of beer. He returned to find Snoopy on the edge of disaster again. Her play was so frenetic she had to throw fours or better to survive.
Tokar, on the other hand, played a tediously conservative game, advancing in echelon, trying to occupy his flankers’ king rows. A man much like himself, Bomanz reflected. First he plays to make sure he doesn’t lose; then he worries about the win.
He watched Tokar roll a six and send a piece on an extravagant tour in which he took three men from his nominal ally, Glory.
Treacherous, too, Bomanz thought. That’s worth keeping in mind. He asked Stancil, “Where’s Clete?”
Tokar said, “He decided to stay with the teamsters. Thought we were crowding you too much.”
“I see.”
Jasmine won that game, and Tokar the next, whereupon the antique merchant said, “That’s all for me. Take my seat, Bo. See you all in the morning.”
Glory said. “I’m done, too. Can we go for a walk, Stance?”
Stancil glanced at his father. Bomanz nodded. “Don’t go far. The Guards are in a bad mood.”
“We won’t,” Stance said. His father smiled at his eager departure. It had been that way for him and Jasmine, long ago.
Jasmine observed, “A lovely girl. Stance is lucky.”
“Thank you,” Tokar said. “We think she’s lucky, too.”
Snoopy made a sour face. Bomanz allowed himself a wry smile. Somebody had a crush on Stancil. “Three-handed game?” he suggested. “Take turns playing the dummy till somebody is out?”
He let chance have its way with the players’ throws but turned five and sixes for the dummy. Snoopy went out and took the dummy. Jasmine seemed amused. Snoopy squealed delightedly when she won. “Glory, I won!” she enthused when her sister and Stancil returned. “I beat them.”
Stancil looked at the board, at his father. “Pop...”
“I fought all the way. She got the lucky throws.”
Stancil smiled a disbelieving smile.
Glory said, “That’s enough, Snoopy. Bedtime. This isn’t the city. People go to bed early here.”
“Aw...” The girl complained but went. Bomanz sighed. Being sociable was a strain.
His heartbeat quickened as he anticipated the night’s work.
Stancil completed a third reading of his written instructions. “Got it?” Bomanz asked.
“I guess.”
“Timing isn’t important-as long as you’re late, not early. If we were going to conjure some damnfool demon, you’d study your lines for a week.”
“Lines?” Stancil would do nothing but tend candles and observe. He was there to help if his father got into trouble.
Bomanz had spent the past two hours neutralizing spells along the path he intended to follow. The Moondog name had been a gold strike.
“Is it open?” Stancil asked.
“Wide. It almost pulls you. I’ll let you go yourself later in the week.”
Bomanz took a deep breath, exhaled. He surveyed the room. He still had that nagging feeling of having forgotten something. He hadn’t a hint what it might be. “Okay.”
He settled into the chair, closed his eyes. “Dumni,” he murmured. “Um muji dumni. Haikon. Dumni. Um muji dumni.”
Stancil pinched herbs into a diminutive charcoal brazier. Pungent smoke filled the room. Bomanz relaxed, let the lethargy steal over him. He achieved a quick separation, drifted up, hovered beneath the rafters, watched Stancil. The boy showed promise.
Bo checked his ties with his body. Good. Excellent! He could hear with both his spiritual and physical ears. He tested the duality further as he drifted downstairs. Each sound Stance made came through clearly.
He paused in the shop, stared at Glory and Snoopy. He envied them their youth and innocence.
Outside, the comet’s glow filled the night. Bomanz felt its power showering the earth. How much more spectacular would it become by the time the world entered its mane?
Suddenly, she was there, beckoning urgently. He reexam-ined his ties to his flesh. Yes. Still in trance. Not dreaming. He felt vaguely ill at ease.
She led him to the Barrowland, following the path he had opened. He reeled under the awesome power buried there, away from the might radiating from the menhirs and fetishes. Seen from his spiritual viewpoint, they took the form of cruel, hideous monsters leashed on short chains.
Ghosts stalked the Barrowland. They howled beside Bomanz, trying to breach his spells. The power of the comet and the might of the warding spells joined in a thunder which permeated Bomanz’s being. How mighty were the ancients, he thought, that all this should remain after so long.
They approached the dead soldiers represented by pawns on Bomanz’s chart. He thought he heard footsteps behind him... He looked back, saw nothing, realized he was hearing Stancil back at the house.
A knight’s ghost challenged him. Its hatred was as timeless and relentless as the pounding surf along a cold, bleak shore. He sidled around.
Great green eyes stared into his own. Ancient, wise, merciless eyes, arrogant, mocking, and contemptuous. The dragon exposed its teeth in a sneer.
This is it, Bomanz thought. What I overlooked... But no. The dragon could not touch him. He sensed its irritation, its conviction that he would make a tasty morsel in the flesh. He hurried after the woman.
No doubt about it. She was the Lady. She had been trying to reach him, too. Best be wary. She wanted more than a grateful chela.
They entered the crypt. It was massive, spacious, filled with all the clutter that had been the Dominator’s in life. Clearly, that life had not been spartan.
He pursued the woman around a furniture pile-and found her vanished. “Where?...”
He saw them. Side by side, on separate stone slabs. Shackled. Enveloped by crackling, humming forces. Neither breathed, yet neither betrayed the grey of death. They seemed suspended, marking time.
Legend exaggerated only slightly. The Lady’s impact, even in this state, was immense. “Bo, you have a grown son.” Part of him wanted to stand on its hind legs and howl like an adolescent in rut.
He heard steps again. Damn that Stancil. Couldn’t he stand still? He was making racket enough for three people.
The woman’s eyes opened. Her lips formed a glorious smile. Bomanz forgot Stancil.
Welcome, said a voice within his mind. We have waited a long time, haven’t we?
Dumbstruck, he simply nodded.
have watched you. Yes, I see everything in this forsaken wilderness. I tried to help. The barriers were too many and too great. That cursed White Rose. She was no fool.
Bomanz glanced at the Dominator. That huge, handsome warrior-emperor slept on. Bomanz envied him his physical perfection.
He sleeps a deeper sleep.
Did he hear mockery? He could not read her face. The glamor was too much for him. He suspected that had been true for many men, and that it was true that she had been the driving force of the Domination.
was. And next time...
“Next time?”
Mirth surrounded him like the tinkle of wind chimes in a gentle breeze. You came to learn, O wizard. How will you repay vour teacher?
Here was the moment for which he had lived. His triumph lay before him. One part to go...
You were crafty. You were so careful, took so long, even that Monitor discounted you. I applaud you, wizard.
The hard part. Binding this creature to his will.
Wind-chimes laughter. You don’t plan to bargain? You mean to compel?
“If I have to.”
You won’t give me anything?
“I can’t give you what you want.”
Mirth again. Silver-bells mirth. You can’t compel me.
Bomanz shrugged imaginary shoulders. She was wrong. He had a lever. He had stumbled onto it as a youth, had recognized its significance immediately, and had set his feet on the long path leading to this moment.