The Hero of Varay (19 page)

Joy brought back a plate with huge ham sandwiches and the Varayan answer to potato chips and french fries—half-inch-thick slices of potato fried so that they were crunchy on the outside and soft inside.

“The choice of drinks seems to be beer, wine, or coffee,” Joy said.

“That’s usually the choice, unless I pick up a case of Pepsi and bring it over.”

“Maybe I’ll go get some this afternoon while you’re busy.”

The idea of her going off alone like that made me nervous, but I finally nodded. “You’ll probably find it easier to go through Louisville,” I said. I reminded her which doorways to take, told her where my mother kept the spare keys to her van. We had to go back upstairs to get a set of house keys for her. I also gave her one of my bank cards and the code number to use it and told her how to find the bank machine and then the supermarket. “It’s in a big shopping center. If you think of anything else we need, go ahead and get it.”

“In that case, I could use someone to help carry things.”

I thought about it for a second. “Lesh and Harkane will both be busy, but go ahead and take Timon. He’s been there a few times and he knows enough English to get by.”

“What do you mean? He speaks perfect English. Everyone here does.”

I laughed. “You mean you haven’t noticed?” I asked.

“Noticed what?”

“Watch people’s lips when they talk. The only people in Varay who speak English fluently are you, me, my mother, and Uncle Parthet. Lesh is pretty good at it, but he slips into Varayan quite frequently. Harkane’s almost as good as Lesh, and he tries harder. The rest of the people here speak no English at all, except for Timon.”

Joy got a bewildered look on her face.

“You ever see a foreign movie dubbed in English?” I asked. “Seen the way words and lip movements don’t match?” She nodded. “It’s like that here.” I switched into Varayan for the last sentence and Joy’s eyes got wider.

“And everybody sees me like that?” she asked.

“Except for the people who speak English well enough to avoid having the translation magic kick in. Part of the magic of this place lets everyone hear his own language, no matter what language a speaker uses. You get used to it in time.”

“I think I’d rather learn to speak Varayan.”

“You can’t, not here. The translation magic makes it impossible for anyone to learn a foreign language in the buffer zone. I had to take my lessons back in our world, and that’s where I taught Lesh, Harkane, and Timon what they know of English. Well, Harkane knew some English before. He was my father’s last squire.”

For a time, I knew that Joy would be staring at people’s lips whenever they spoke. I went through that too.

“Ah, you’ll find that Timon’s English is pretty sports-oriented,” I said. “I’ve taken him to see all the Chicago teams in action. But he can get by around food too.” Timon loved football and hockey most of all, hard contact sports. Soccer and basketball were lower on his list, and baseball still confused him a little. His proposed remedy for a called third strike was for the batter to take off the umpire’s head with his dandy warclub. I could see the temptation of that myself.

“Just remember,” I said, getting more serious. “Keep an ear on the news and don’t waste time there. If I get the mess straightened out here, maybe we won’t have to worry so much about what might happen in the other world, but I haven’t started yet.”

    I waited around to see Joy and Timon off through the doorway. Timon had changed to blue jeans and a Chicago Bears jersey, number 50, Mike Singletary’s number. Timon liked Singletary’s approach to the game. “He looks like he’s ready to bite their heads off,” Timon said one Monday night while we were watching the Bears play on television. The networks always liked to show a close-up of Singletary looking out over the line.

After Joy and Timon left, Lesh and I went to Castle Basil to get going on our work.

“Since we’ll probably be going to the mountains first, we’re going to need a lot of rope, as much as you can lay your hands on,” I told Lesh as we walked from the doorway toward Basil’s great hall. “A couple of grappling hooks if you can find them.” I had done a little climbing with Dad—we had sampled a little of almost everything, it seems—but not a lot. I tried to describe pitons and some of the other climbing gear I thought we might be able to fake. I didn’t know of anywhere in either Chicago or Louisville where I could just walk in and buy climbing equipment off the shelf, and I was positive that we wouldn’t have time to do any traveling or to wait for the items to be delivered by mail order. If the place we had to reach in the Titan Mountains was really at the very limit to which people could climb, we were going to have to leave our horses behind at some point and finish on foot, which also meant that there was a limit to how much gear we would be able to take along.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it all fixed up,” Lesh said, and I knew he would. Within his own limits, Lesh was as efficient as Baron Kardeen.

We parted at the entrance to the great hall. Lesh went off toward the courtyard and I went into the hall. This trip, I was properly accoutered for public display, blades hanging off of me like icicles from a Christmas tree. As usual, there were a few people lounging around the great hall, and others who were working. But neither Parthet nor Kardeen was in evidence, so I went on to Parthet’s workroom.

Parthet wasn’t there either, but Aaron was sitting at the wizard’s desk, reading. It
was
Aaron, no doubt of that, since he was the only black in the seven kingdoms, but he looked so different that he was almost unrecognizable. It wasn’t until he stood up that I realized why.

“You look like you’ve grown six inches since yesterday,” I said.

“Yes, sir, all of that.” He grinned very briefly, but it was a happy grin, not self-conscious. His voice was different too, with an adolescent harshness to it. To all appearances he had put on five or six years of age overnight.

“Has Parthet been conjuring over you?” I asked—sharply, I suppose.

“No, sir. He was surprised too this morning.”

“You’re taking it pretty good.”

“Ain’t
that
much fun being a little kid.” It was just another adventure to him, no worries about the impossibility of all the things that had happened to him. In a way, I envied him.

“Where’s Parthet?”

“Upstairs, sleeping, I think. He was up all night.”

“I know. What are you reading?” I gestured at the scroll he had been going through.

“It’s about some dude named Vara. You know about him?”

“I know. When Parthet gets some free time, ask him to take you downstairs to show you where Vara is buried.”

“He was for real?”

“He was for real, but I don’t know how much of that stuff he really did,” I said, pointing at the scroll again. “Things get exaggerated over the years.”

I went out and climbed the tower stairs to Parthet’s other room. He
was
sleeping. I could hear his snoring even through the six-inch-thick wooden door. I opened the door and hit him with a screeching whistle. Parthet woke immediately and popped up to a sitting position.

“Is that any way to treat an old man?” he demanded.

“What happened to Aaron?” I asked.

“Not my doing. His parents died, his grandmother died, he suddenly appeared in Varay—twice. Why should the fact that he’s growing up overnight be any different than the rest?”

“Let’s just say that I’m suspicious of wizards who want apprentices.”

“If you’ll think back, I didn’t want an apprentice, but I recognized the signs when he showed up here.” Parthet cleared his throat, coughed a couple of times, and got out of bed. He had slept in his clothes.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“After noon.”

“It worries me in a way,” Parthet said, his voice lower, almost somber. “The fact that he’s growing up so quickly may mean that he will be needed before he could grow up naturally. I’m old, but I had planned on getting a lot older.”

“Maybe it’s just part of the general weirdness, like two full moons in the sky at the same time, or the dragon eggs.”

“Perhaps.” Parthet shrugged. “Anyhow, the lad’s a positive genius. I worried that he might not be able to understand some of the texts he’ll have to master to become a wizard. The translation magic can’t reduce complex formulas into language so simple that someone who doesn’t have the vocabulary can understand. I mean, how would you explain calculus to someone who had no concept of numbers? But the lad reads. He comprehends. He asks more intelligent questions than you do sometimes.”

“Okay, he’s smart. Have you come up with any way we can do this other thing without the elf?”

“No.” Just the single word, without any futile protest against what I was going to have to do. But Parthet had undoubtedly stayed at his work all night making absolutely certain that there was no other way. And then he had slept because there was nothing else he could do about it. The way I had slept after I finally made my decision to meet the elf’s terms.

“Have you figured out what I’ve got to do with the family jewels once I’ve got them?”

This time he shook his head. “Possession alone
may
be enough, though I doubt that. Possession may impart the knowledge, the instinct to use them. Or the elf may have some idea. If nothing else, I may be able to conjure up the answer once you bring them back here.”

“I’ll do the talking to the elf,” I reminded him. “You’ve decided that you’re not going along on this caper?”

“I could never climb the Titans. It’s all I can do to climb the stairs here in the castle. I keep wishing that Ihad used some of that last sea-silver you collected to connect the different floors here, like an elevator.”

“Next time,” I said with a smile. “I’ll try to pick some up on my way back from Xayber.”

“You do that. You going to talk to Xayber’s son now?”

“Not yet. I’ve got to talk to Kardeen and do a couple of other things first. Maybe an hour or two.”

“He’ll wait,” Parthet said.

“I know.”

I left Parthet and headed for the chamberlain’s office. I told Kardeen what I thought we would need and that I had started Lesh off at collecting the gear.

“There have been a few climbers here,” Kardeen said. “Some of our young soldiers like the challenge of trying something that’s supposed to be impossible. Not all of them make it back, but most give up before it’s too late.”

“So?” I asked, managing a smile. “That just means that most of the young soldiers are smarter than I am. And they had the choice. But I’ve done a little climbing. I won’t be a total novice when we get to the difficult bits.”

“I’m tempted to join you myself on this one,” Kardeen said, grinning self-consciously. “I did some climbing along the nearer heights of the Titans when I was young. Before I got married and inherited this job.” Kardeen rarely talked about his past or his family unless I asked a direct question. That was his sense of place, I guess, something that I came up against almost every day in Varay. I had been in Varay nearly six months before I learned that the young clerk who was always in Kardeen’s outer office was his son, Maldeen.

“I’d welcome you in a minute, you know that, but I think you’ve got more important work here. If I manage to complete this first trek, I’m going to need a boat stocked for a voyage and people willing to dare sailing out of sight on land into the Mist.”

“And that’s not the easiest task,” Kardeen said. “But I think we can manage. Finding a vessel safe enough for long-distance work is harder than finding the men to sail it.”

“Then it might keep you busy for a day or two?” More than once I had joked with Kardeen about the way he seemed to get everything done immediately.

“At least.” He smiled. “What are your immediate plans?”

“I have to do the deal with our elf first, but unless he comes up with new demands, we’ll probably leave tomorrow morning. As soon as I know where we have to enter the Titans, we’ll use a doorway to the nearest point and ride from there.” I told him that it would be just me, my three people, and the elf’s head.

“You’ll probably need at least two extra horses to carry supplies and equipment,” Kardeen said.

“Lesh is probably in the mews choosing them now.”

    When I left the baron’s office, I headed for the crypt again. My last visit there had been cut off when I found the workmen fixing a place for my great-grandfather. I still wanted a few minutes down there to think, and talk. Sure, the conversations were one-sided, but talking a problem out there sometimes helped me get a better perspective.

I walked slowly down the steps, thinking about Parthet’s idea of installing magic doorways as elevators. The idea felt better all the time.

This time, there were no sounds of workmen to distract me on the way down. And they had cleaned up their mess in the burial chamber. But there was a stranger there now, or most of him. I had never asked what had been done with the elf’s body. Somehow, it had ended up in the burial crypt, which probably wouldn’t have gone over very well with the permanent residents. The body was laid out on a simple stretcher, on the floor. It didn’t look as if anything had been done to the body, but it didn’t seem any worse for the time it had lain around without its head. There was no puddle of blood, no odor of decay.

“There goes the neighborhood,” I said loudly. I had to make some kind of joke. A body lying out in the open is different from a room full of headstones.

“At least you’re not likely to be hotheaded down here, even if you had your head with you,” I said, looking down at the body. The crypt was deep inside the rock on which Castle Basil stands. It was cool in the room nomatter how hot or cold it was outside, like being in a cave. I think they say it’s always fifty-eight degrees in caves back home—Mammoth or Carlsbad, or any other cave system. You get underground and you have a constant temperature. The torches burning in the crypt and on the stairs couldn’t warm it up all that much.

Deep in the heart of a rock bigger than the Great Pyramid, in a room used for the same purpose, to bury kings and heroes, I walked away from the elf’s body and over to the end of Dad’s burial niche.