The Redemption of Althalus (98 page)

“Were
you
the one I met here last time as well?”

“Obviously. Dweia was waiting for you in the House, and she hates to be kept waiting—or had you noticed that? You needed directions, so I came here and gave them to you. That’s part of my job. You already know the way this time, so I’m here to give you some advice instead.”

“Advice? Don’t you mean commands?”

“That isn’t the way it works, Althalus. You have to make your own decisions—and accept the consequences, of course.”

“Dweia gives us orders all the time.”

“I know. She even tries to give
me
orders. I usually ignore her, though.”

“Doesn’t that make things awful noisy?” Gher asked.

“
Very
noisy, but that’s part of the fun. She’s absolutely adorable when she flares up like that, so I nudge her in that direction every so often. It’s a game we’ve been playing for a long, long time, but that’s a family matter that doesn’t really involve you.” Then the old man’s face grew deadly serious. “You haven’t seen the last of Ghend, Althalus. You’ll meet him one more time, so you’d better be ready for him.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You’ll have to decide that for yourself. When you chose to go back and change things, you changed other things as well. Your scheme was very clever, I’ll grant that, but it’s also very dangerous. When Ghend comes at you, he’ll be so desperate that he’ll be opening doors that aren’t supposed to be opened, and you’ll have to respond in kind. If you stop and think about it, you’ll know what has to be done. Please be careful when you do it, though. I spent a lot of time and effort on this place, and I’d rather you didn’t nullify it.”

“Nullify?”

“The word isn’t too accurate, but there
isn’t
a word that describes what’ll happen if you aren’t careful. Now, then, if I were you, I’d stay away from those doors right now. You’ve been using them to alter reality, and you’re starting to dislocate some things that’d be better left alone. It wouldn’t be a good idea to shift the seasons right now.”

“I was sort of wondering about that myself, even before we left Hule.”

“You managed to get
something
right, at least. You reached the House at the onset of winter last time. I’d keep it that way
this
time. Everything has a proper time and season, and the more important something is, the more crucial the time is. You don’t want to reach the House late, of course, but getting there early could be just as dangerous.”

“I had a feeling it might be. I’ll make sure we reach the House at exactly the same time.”

“Good.” Then the old man looked rather quizzically at Althalus. “I can’t really see why Dweia objects to your tunic so much,” he said. “I think it looks rather splendid myself.”

“I’ve always liked it.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to sell it?”

Althalus floundered a bit.

“Never mind, Althalus. I won’t make an issue of it. There’s something I
will
make an issue of, however.”

“Oh?”

“Treat my sister well. If you disappoint her, or hurt her, you’ll answer to
me
for it. Do I make myself clear?”

Althalus swallowed hard and nodded.

“I’m glad we understand each other. It’s been very nice talking with you, Althalus. You have a nice day now, hear?” And then the old man sauntered off, whistling as he went.

“Now
that’s
something that doesn’t happen every day,” Gher said in a shaky sort of voice. “You said that something important was going to happen on our way back to the House. This was it, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t think anything’s likely to come along to top it.”

“Do you think we ought to holler at Eliar and have him tell Emmy that we’re going to be a little late?”

“Not
this
old dog,” Althalus replied. “The old man kept using the word ‘advice,’ but I got his point. He told us to stay away from the doors—and he probably meant the windows as well. I’m not going to take any chances at this point.”

“Emmy was probably watching from the window anyway, don’t you think?”

“Almost certainly. She likes to keep an eye on me. Let’s gather up our things and get ready to move out. We still have a ways to go, and we don’t want to be late.”

They took a quick breakfast and rode north toward the precipice Althalus still thought of as the Edge of the World.

“I thought that tree was dead, Althalus,” Gher said, frowning. “It doesn’t look very dead to me.”

Althalus looked sharply at the Edge of the World. The tree was still gnarled and twisted, and it was still bone white. It had leaves now, however—autumn leaves of red and gold that crowned the tree in glory.

“It wasn’t like that before, was it?” Gher asked.

“No,” Althalus replied in a puzzled voice.

“What do you suppose made it come alive?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea, Gher.”

“Do you think it means something?”

“I don’t know. Now I’ve got something else to worry about.”

“Should we stop and see if something happens?”

“We don’t have time. Let’s keep going.” Althalus turned his horse in an easterly direction to follow the edge of the precipice.

“It looks different out there,” Gher said after a while, pointing north. “It didn’t look that way from Emmy’s House.”

“No ice,” Althalus told him.

“There isn’t, is there? What happened to all the ice we used to see off to the north?”

“It hasn’t got here yet. We’re still back ‘then.’ ‘Now’ won’t get here for a couple thousand years.” He broke off. “Now you’ve got
me
doing it,” he scolded the boy. “This fooling around with time does funny things to a man’s head.”

Gher grinned at him. “That’s what makes it so much fun.”

“I think I’ve had enough fun for a while.” Althalus looked around. “Keep your eyes open for rabbits or marmots. We didn’t bring very much food with us, so we’ll have to live off the land for the rest of the trip.”

Evening was settling in over the far north, and Althalus and Gher were rounding a jutting spur of rock when they saw a campfire in a small grove of stunted pines just ahead. “We’d better be just a little careful,” Althalus cautioned. “That fire’s something new. It wasn’t there last time.”

They scouted around, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in the vicinity.

“Who built that fire, Althalus?” Gher demanded. “Fires don’t just start themselves, do they?”

A familiar odor coming from the campfire, however, hinted at a distinct possibility. “Supper’s ready, Gher,” Althalus told the boy. “We’d better go eat it before it gets cold. You know how Emmy is when we’re late for supper.”

Gher gave him a puzzled look, and then his eyes widened. “You know, sometimes Emmy’s so clever she makes me sick. She wanted to let us know that she saw us talking with her brother without coming here and telling us right to our faces, so she fixed us supper instead.”

Althalus sniffed at the fragrance coming from the fire. “She’s managed to get
my
attention,” he said, swinging down from his horse. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m ready,” Gher agreed. “When you get right down to it, I’m way past ready.”

There was no question about who’d prepared the feast at the lonely campfire, since every bite had the familiar taste of Dweia’s cooking. There were also several large bags of additional food near the fire. Althalus and Gher both ate too much, but it’d been quite some time since either of them had tasted decent food, so their enthusiasm was quite natural.

They continued along the Edge of the World for a week or more while autumn marched inexorably toward winter. Then one evening after they’d eaten, Gher looked off toward the north. “That fire out there seems awful bright tonight, doesn’t it?” he said.

“Why don’t we go have a look?” Althalus suggested, standing up.

“Why not?” Gher said.

They left their camp just as the moon was rising and walked over to the Edge of the World.

The moon gently caressed the misty cloud tops far below, setting them all aglow. Althalus had seen this before, of course, but it was different here. The moon in her nightly passage drinks all color from the land and sea and sky, but she could not drink the color from God’s fire, and the seething waves of rainbow light in the northern sky also burnished the tops of the clouds below. It seemed that they almost played there among the cloud tops with the moon’s pale light encouraging the amorous advances of the rainbow fire. All bemused by the flicker and play of colored light that seemed almost to surround and enclose them, Althalus and Gher lay in the soft brown grass to watch the courtship of the moon and the fire of God.

And then, far back in the mountains of Kagwher, they heard the sweet sound of the song of Eliar’s Knife. Althalus smiled. All manner of things were different this time.

He fell asleep easily that night. The fire of God in the northern sky and the song of the Knife rising from the forest seemed perfectly matched, and everything fit together just as it should. It must have been along toward dawn when thoughts of shimmering fire and aching song were banished by yet another dream.

Her hair was the color of autumn, and her limbs were rounded with a perfection that made his heart ache. She was garbed in a short, archaic tunic, and her autumn hair was plaited elaborately. Her features were somehow alien in their perfect serenity. On his recent trip to the civilized lands of the south, he had viewed ancient statues, and his dream visitor’s face more closely resembled the faces of yore than the faces of the people of the mundane world. Her brow was broad and straight, and her nose continued the line of her forehead unbroken. Her lips were sensual, intricately curved, and as ripe as cherries. Her eyes were large and very green, and it seemed that she looked into his very soul with those eyes.

A faint smile touched those lips, and she held her hand out to him. “Come,” she said in a soft voice. “Come with me. I will care for you.”

“I wish I could,” he found himself saying, and he cursed his tongue. “I would go gladly, but it’s very hard to get away.”

“If you come with me, you shall never return,” she told him in her throbbing voice. “For we shall walk among the stars, and fortune will never betray you more. And your days will be filled with sun and your nights with love. Come. Come with me, my beloved. I will care for you.” And she beckoned and turned to lead him.

And, all bemused, he followed her, and they walked out among the clouds, and the moon and the fire of God welcomed them and blessed their love.

And when he awoke the next morning, his heart was filled with contentment.

The days grew shorter and the nights more chill as Althalus and Gher followed the Edge of the World toward the northeast, and after about a week, they entered a region that was very familiar. “We’re getting close to the House, aren’t we?” Gher said one evening after supper.

Althalus nodded. “We’ll probably get there about noon tomorrow. We’ll have to wait a bit before we can go inside, though.”

“What for?”

“I didn’t go across the bridge to the House until late in the day last time, and I think we’d better keep it that way. Ghend’s been using these dream visions since the beginning, and every one has fallen apart on him. It sort of looks to me as if
something
doesn’t like it when we start playing with things that’re all over and done with. That’s why I’m going to make this time turn out as close to last time as I can—put my feet in the same places, scratch my nose at the same time, and all that. I’d like to get back on the good side of whatever it is out there that doesn’t like tampering with the past. Once we’re both back inside the House, we’ll be all right, but as long as we’re outside, I think we’d better be very careful.”

They arrived at home late the following morning, and Althalus realized that he hadn’t looked at the House from the outside for quite some time. He knew that it was much larger than it appeared to be from out here, but it was still an imposing place. Its location on that promontory, separated from the narrow plateau by the chasm the drawbridge crossed, silently suggested that it was separated from the rest of the world as well. Althalus was fairly certain that the House would remain exactly where it was, even if the rest of the world happened to vanish.

They dismounted and sat down on the rock behind which Althalus had hidden twenty-five centuries before.

At noon, Andine and Leitha came across the bridge with a large wicker basket. “Lunchtime,” Leitha called.

“Is Emmy mad at us or anything?” Gher asked apprehensively.

“No,” Andine replied. “Actually, she seems to be rather pleased about the way things turned out.”

“Dweia wants you to wait a bit before you cross the bridge,” Leitha told them. “It’s not quite time yet.”

Althalus nodded. “I know,” he said.

“Keep an eye on the tower window,” Leitha instructed. “Bheid’s going to flash a lantern to let you know when you’re supposed to come home.” She smiled briefly. “That’s part of his job, isn’t it?”

“I think I missed that one,” Gher admitted.

“The Knife told him to illuminate, didn’t it?”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Would I do that?” Then she smiled again. “Poor Bheid’s been staring at the floor ever since he saw you two talking with Dweia’s brother,” she told Althalus. “He definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I,” Althalus replied, “and I’m going to have a very long talk with Emmy about it. I’m sure she recognized him last time, but she didn’t bother to tell me just exactly who the crazy man was. Why don’t you girls go on back home? It’s a bit chilly out here.”

Althalus and Gher ate lunch, and then they sat waiting and casting frequent glances up at the tower window.

The sun was low over the southern horizon when they saw the flicker of light in the window. “That’s it, Gher,” Althalus said, rising to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

“I’m ready,” Gher agreed.

They led their horses across the bridge and into the courtyard, where Eliar was waiting. “I’ll take care of your horses,” he told them. “Emmy wants to see you in the tower. Take Ghend’s Book with you.”