Shadow Blizzard (27 page)

“Another restraining force?”

“Not only,” the Messenger replied evasively, and asked, “So what answer will you give me? Do you agree to forget about the Rainbow Horn?”

I said nothing, thinking very hard, then came out with: “And what will happen if I don’t agree?”

“Why, nothing!”

“Nothing?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“What did you expect? That I would try to frighten you? Nothing will happen! You will sit there until you die of hunger. Of course, you will be reborn in the House of Love . . after a while, when everybody has forgotten all about the Horn. Do you think that artifact is so very important to the Master? Everything you see around you, all your friends, the entire world—it is all just one big Game that you will never understand. If the Horn stays here, the Master will win. If you take the Horn, the master will still win anyway, although it may be ten times more difficult. Even if the Gray Ones do nothing, even if the balance is disrupted, even if the Fallen Ones break out and destroy Siala, the Game will simply move on to the next turn of the spiral. Nothing depends on you. It is simpler if the Horn remains untouched. It is easier to win the Game, that is all there is to it.”

I didn’t like anything about our conversation, all these stories about the Fallen Ones, other Masters, some stupid Game. I didn’t believe the Messenger.

“Why don’t these Fallen Ones take what’s lying under their very noses?”

“Question time is over now, I need your answer.”

“Since nothing depends on me, my answer is no.”

The golden eyes studied me closely. Eventually, after a long silence, the Messenger said, “Well, the Master knew that would be your answer. That is a pity, thief. But in that case I would like to make a deal with you.”

“What sort of deal?” I asked cautiously, suspecting a trick.

“I will offer you two ways of getting out of this trap, and for that you will carry out a Commission for the Master.”

“What sort of Commission?”

“Who knows what might need to be stolen for the Master in the near future? All I need now is your word.”

I didn’t say anything.

“So you agree?” he asked with a note of annoyance in his voice. “If the Horn is destined to reappear in the world, let it be by the hand of another Dancer. We’ll liven up the Game.”

What risk was I taking? The Master obviously had some kind of plan, otherwise he wouldn’t allow me to take the Horn, even if I was a Dancer in the Shadows three times over. But I couldn’t give a damn for the games of the gods, or whoever it was that controlled the world.

“I agree.”

“Wonderful! The first way of getting out of here is to kill yourself. Do you have a knife? You are a Dancer, and you are immortal. As soon as you die, you will find yourself in the House of Love.”

“That option doesn’t suit.”

Of course, it’s delightful to learn that you’re immortal (although I didn’t believe it), but the last thing I was planning on doing was to slit my throat from ear to ear.

“Then you will prefer the second option. Below you there is a pool. If you dive into it and swim, you will come to the Level Between Levels. From there you can reach any place in the Palaces of Bone. Look for a door with a red triangle on it. Walk through it, and you will find yourself on the eighth level, very close to Grok’s grave. Keep straight on without turning off the path and you will reach your goal. Until we meet again, thief, I leave you in pleasant and trustworthy company.”

“Wait! Who is Player?”

“You’ll find out in good time. Do you have any more questions?”

“If you’re here, why don’t you take the Horn yourself?”

“If I could, this conversation would never have taken place.”

“How long do I have to swim underwater?”

“Oh, not very long! Six minutes at the most.”

An instant later, he was gone.

And that was when I started getting the shakes. I still couldn’t believe I’d been talking to the Messenger, I still couldn’t believe he hadn’t laid a finger on me. I still couldn’t believe I knew who the Master was and what he wanted.

*   *   *

Six minutes without air! I sent a curse after the yellow-eyed beast, hoping that it would catch up with him. For another hour I couldn’t bring myself to do anything.

In the first place, I didn’t trust the Master, who was always scheming and intriguing, and now had suddenly decided to help me. If he wanted me to get the artifact now, why not send me straight to him?

In the second place, I was afraid of what might be hiding in the black water. And I wasn’t at all confident that I could stay underwater for so long. But I couldn’t just do nothing, could I? The walking dead were still waiting for me to come down to them, and they seemed to be showing signs of impatience. I didn’t want them to climb up to me.…

*   *   *

I’d have to dive in my boots. Yes, swimming like that would be awkward, but it would be even more awkward wandering round the Palaces of Bone barefoot. I’d have to sacrifice something for the sake of the boots. In order to make it a bit easier to swim. Of course, my jacket! I took it off, and I was left in just my white shirt. I took out the vials with spells that had got into the pockets of my jacket when I was sorting out my things in the Hall of the Kaiyu.

Three items. Two “frighteners”—the same kind I’d used in Ranneng, when the Nameless One’s gang was chasing us. The third one … the third one had black liquid in it, and Honchel had thrown it in free of charge (which was strange, to say the least, for a tight-fisted dwarf). Until now I’d thought I’d never have any use for it—the vial was intended to let you breathe freely underwater. But it would be very useful to me today, even if its effect did only last for a minute.

After the jacket, it was the crossbow’s turn. My hands touched my faithful friend for the last time and then, without the slightest regret, I put it down on the sarcophagus. Without bolts it was useless anyway, and I didn’t need any extra weight underwater.

What next? The knife? Probably not; parting with all my weapons would be the ultimate stupidity. I took my trusty razor out of my boot and put it beside the crossbow. It was the canvas bag’s turn next. I’d have to take it with me. If I made it to the Horn, I’d have something to carry it in. I ought to keep the tightly folded sweater and the drokr, too. As for the emeralds—away with them! Not all of them, of course. I kept the “eye” and just a quarter of the small stones. They didn’t weigh all that much. And I was delighted when my eye fell on the one and only light that had survived by some miracle in the bottom of the bag.

What else should I keep? There wasn’t really anything else. Kli-Kli’s medallion, Egrassa’s bracelet, and the elf-king’s ring weighed next to nothing, and I certainly couldn’t say the magical trinkets were unnecessary.

Well, that was it. I hoped that someday somebody would find the things lying here and they would help him.

It was time.

I stood on the edge of the coffin with my face to the wall and my back to the hall, went into a handstand, holding onto the edge of the tomb of the duke’s favorite cupbearer, opened my fingers, and fell five yards through the air, down into the pool.

10

THE LEVEL BETWEEN LEVELS

Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. A hundred!

I surfaced, gulped in the air, and coughed. The evening sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon and there was no warmth in it at all. After an hour spent in the water, I was trembling and the only thing I wanted to do was to get out of the River of the Crystal Dream, dry off, and have a drink of something hot. Mulled wine, for instance.

“How long?” For’s voice asked, distracting me from my daydreams.

“A hundred forty-seven!” I lied, without batting an eyelid.

“Lies, you weren’t under the water for more than a minute.”

I gave my teacher a sulky look. For was squinting at the setting sun through half-closed eyes, like a cat, and gnawing on a little green apple.

“A minute’s a long time,” I protested, refusing to back down.

“Not long enough!” objected my teacher.

“It’s cold,” I said, trying to play on his pity. Uh-huh, some chance! It was easier to coax a gold piece out of a dwarf than to soften For’s heart during a lesson!

“What do you mean, it’s cold? It’s an exceptionally fine day.”

“Just try climbing in the water with me, and I’ll see how fine you think it is,” I muttered peevishly to myself, but For heard me.

“You’re a fourteen-year-old ignoramus, and you talk too much,” he remarked good-naturedly, and threw his apple core, which hit me right in the middle of the forehead.

“Why am I wasting my time on this nonsense, but Bass isn’t?”

“Because Bass will never make a decent thief.”

“And I will?”

“If you didn’t lie and argue so much, you might just manage it.”

“I don’t lie all that much!” I exclaimed indignantly.

“And you don’t argue much, either, I suppose?”

I had enough wits not to answer that.

“Come on, kid, carry on. You’ve still got time for another couple of dives before it’s time to go home.”

“All right, teacher,” I sighed miserably. “But what good is all this to me? I’m not a fish!”

“Being able to hold your breath is very important. Every second improves the chances of saving your life.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, if you get into a house and a trap with poisonous gas goes off, and you have to avoid breathing until you get out of the danger zone. Or if some sly fellow throws you off the pier. Tied up. And you need a little time to untie yourself. Or you have to dive under the water and sit there, so that no one can stick an arrow in you. See how many reasons there are to stop whinging and get on with your studies!”

“I’m not whinging! How long do I have to keep on ducking like this?”

“Until it’s no problem for you to sit there for at least two minutes.”

“Two minutes!” I gasped, horrified.

“But three’s better,” said For ruthlessly, to drive the message home.

“Three minutes!”

“Listen, Harold!” said the master thief, looking at me closely. “Did you decide to be my apprentice or not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“If you’re my apprentice, then dive! Time’s wasting.”

Uh-huh. That was exactly what I was after. The longer I could keep For talking, the less time I would have to sit under the water. The sun was almost hidden behind the sea that the River of the Crystal Dream ran into.

“I won’t be able to stay under for three minutes today, anyway,” I gloated.

“No, and not tomorrow, either. But don’t worry about it, kid, we’ve got all summer to practice, and when the cold weather comes, I’ll fill a barrel, and you can practice at home.”

A blow below the belt. I could see that my mentor would never leave me in peace until I sprouted gills and sat under the water for those damned three minutes. I looked at For resentfully, took a deep breath, and dived.

*   *   *

Ah, dear old For! Did my teacher know then that sitting in a barrel of water for hours at a time would actually save my life someday?

Because of the dim lighting, the water in the Palaces of Bone had always looked black to me. But as soon as I slipped under the surface I could see it was as clear as a teardrop. The light, attached to my left forearm with strips of cloth ripped off my abandoned jacket, lit up the vertical shaft I was falling down excellently. The shaft ended at a depth of four yards.

There was a round entrance in one of the walls. That way. And now a horizontal corridor. I didn’t need the magical lamp here, because the walls radiated a pale green light.

I swam in relaxed style, using powerful strokes of my arms and helping myself along with my legs. Forward, ever forward. One minute.

The round passage suddenly turned upward and ended. I shot out of it with the speed of a pike darting out of its burrow and found myself right under the ceiling of a hall that was completely flooded. The water was so transparent, and the walls were glowing so brightly that I could see every detail of the floor nine yards below me. Down to the smallest slab of marble, down to the images on the lids of the coffins. All this drifted slowly past below me. Here was the wall. I had to dive a bit to get through the opening into the next hall.

Two minutes.

Everything was the same in here. Dark spectres of tombs, statues, and walls. Elfin beauty. And I remembered very clearly that there was nothing of the kind on the maps. I swam on, keeping just under the ceiling, and spotted a new “burrow.” My chest was gradually filling up with lead and everything was starting to go dark in front of my eyes. I was already close to my limit. I dived into the “burrow” and left the hall behind. My lungs were on fire. I uncorked the vial, and the thick black liquid mingled slowly with the water. For a second nothing happened, and I started to panic.

Three minutes.

I opened my mouth in fright and … I breathed. The black liquid had dissolved in the water and now I was surrounded by a kind of large bubble with invisible walls. The water passing freely through the bubble could be breathed tolerably well. I had a little more than a minute.

I swam on, redoubling my efforts. The corridor seemed to be endless. An intersection. Three directions. Which one? The one in the middle! Straight ahead! That way, it had to be that way!

The magical bubble burst, giving me just enough time to fill my lungs. Another dead end ahead, and the passage turned down vertically. Three yards down the shaft, and I emerged from the gaping jaws of a gargoyle. Into a hall. There were thousands of little bubbles rising up to the ceiling, and I could hardly see a thing.

One minute.

I swam blind, unable to see the opposite wall. I tried to go down to the floor, but I couldn’t. I could feel hundreds of prickly bubbles pushing me upward. I didn’t even try to resist. There was no time for that. I swam on. The pain in my chest was getting worse.

Two minutes.

I’d already been underwater for nearly six minutes, but there was no sign of the way out I needed so desperately. Either the Messenger had lied, or I’d taken a wrong corridor. The wall! At last. I floundered from side to side like a tadpole in a boiling cauldron. No way out. And I didn’t have another magical vial! I struggled my way up to the ceiling.