I raised the Trump. “What?” I said.
“I’d be willing to wager, you won’t get through to him.”
“We’ll see.”
I concentrated and I reached. I reached again. A minute or so later I wiped my brow.
“How’d you know?” I asked.
“Luke’s blocking you. I would, too… under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
She gave me a quirked smile, crossed to a chair, and sat down.
“Now I have something to trade with you again,” she said.
“Again?”
I studied her. Something jiggled and fell into place. “You’ve been calling him ‘Luke’ rather than ‘Rinaldo,’” I said.
“So I have.”
“I’d been wondering when you’d show up again.”
She continued to smile.
“I went and shot my eviction-notice spell,” I observed. “Can’t complain, though. It probably saved my life. Do I owe you that one, in some roundabout fashion?”
“I’m not proud. I’ll take it.”
“I’m going to ask you again what you want, and if you say it’s to help me or to protect me, I’m going to turn you into a coatrack.”
She laughed.
“I’d have guessed you’d take whatever help you could get right now,” she said.
“A lot depends on what you mean by ‘help’.”
“If you’ll tell me what you have in mind, I’ll tell you whether I can be of any assistance.”
“All right,” I said. “I’m going to change clothes while I talk, though. I don’t feel like storming a citadel dressed like this. May I lend you something tougher than a sweat suit?”
“I’m fine. Start at Arbor House, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, and I proceeded to fill her in while I garbed myself in tougher fare. She was no longer a pretty lady to me, but rather a nebulous entity in human form. She seated herself while I was talking and stared at the wall, or through it, over steepled fingers. When I was finished, she kept staring, and I went over to my drawing board, took up Coral’s Trump, tried again, but couldn’t get through. I tried Luke’s card, also, with the same results.
As I was about to replace Luke’s Trump, square the deck, and case it, I glimpsed the next lower card and a lightning chain of recollections and speculations flashed through my mind. I removed the card and focused on it. I reached…
“Yes, Merlin?” he said moments later, seated at a small table on a terrace — evening skyline of a city behind him — lowering what appeared to be a cup of espresso to a tiny white saucer.
“Right now. Hurry,” I said. “Come to me.”
Nayda had begun to make a low growling sound just as the contact occurred, and she was on her feet and moving toward me, her eyes fixed upon the Trump, just as Mandor took my hand and stepped through. She halted when the tall, black-garbed figure appeared before her. They regarded each other without expression for a moment, and then she took a long sliding step toward him, her hands beginning to rise. Immediately, from the depth of some inner cloak pocket where his right hand was thrust, there came a single, sharp, metallic click.
Nayda froze.
“Interesting,” Mandor said, raising his left hand and passing it in front of her face. Her eyes did not follow it. “This is the one you told me about earlier — Vinta, I believe, you called her?”
“Yes, only now she’s Nayda.”
He produced a small, dark metal ball from somewhere and held it upon the palm of his left hand, which he extended before her. Slowly, the ball began to move, describing a counterclockwise circle. Nayda emitted a single sound, something halfway between a cry and a gasp, and she dropped forward to her hands and knees, head lowered. From where I stood I could see saliva dripping from her mouth.
He said something very fast, in an archaic form of Thari which I could not follow. She responded in the affirmative.
“I believe I’ve solved your mystery,” he said then. “Do you recall your lessons on Respondances and High Compellings?”
“Sort of,” I said. “Academically, I was never exactly swept away by the subject.”
“Unfortunate,” he stated. “You should report back to Suhuy for a postgraduate course sometime.”
“Are you trying to tell me…?”
“The creature you see before you, inhabiting a not unattractive human form, is a ty’iga,” he explained.
I stared. The ty’iga were a normally bodiless race of demons that dwelled in the blackness beyond the Rim. I recalled being told that they were very powerful and very difficult to control.
“Uh… can you make this one stop slobbering on my carpet?” I said.
“Of course,” he replied, and he released the sphere, which fell to the floor before her. It did not bounce, but began immediately to roll, describing a rapid circuit about her.
“Stand up,” he said, “and stop releasing bodily fluids upon the floor.”
She did as he ordered, climbing to her feet, her expression vacant.
“Seat yourself in that chair,” he directed, indicating the one she had occupied but minutes earlier.
She complied, and the rolling ball adjusted itself to her progress and continued its circle, about the chair now.
“It cannot vacate that body,” he said then, “unless I release it. And I can cause it any amount of torment within my sphere of power. I can get you your answers now. Tell me what the questions are.”
“Can she hear us right now?”
“Yes, but it cannot speak unless I permit it.”
“Well, there’s no point to causing unnecessary pain. The threat itself may be sufficient. I want to know why she’s been following me about.”
“Very well,” he said. “That is the question, ty’iga. Answer it!”
“I follow him to protect him,” she said, her voice flat.
“I’ve already heard that one,” I said. “I want to know why.”
“Why?” Mandor repeated.
“I must,” she answered.
“Why must you?” he asked.
“I…” Her teeth raked her lower lip and the blood began to flow again.
“Why?”
Her face grew flushed and beads of perspiration appeared upon her brow. Her eyes were still unfocused, but they brimmed with tears. A thin line of blood trickled down her chin. Mandor extended a clenched fist and pened it, revealing another metal ball. He held this one about ten inches before her brow, then released it. It hung in the air.
“Let the doors of pain be opened,” he said, and he flicked it lightly with a fingertip.
Immediately, the small sphere began to move. It passed about her head in a slow ellipse, coming close to her temples on each orbit. She began to wail.
“Silence!” he said. “Suffer in silence!”
The tears ran down her cheeks, the blood ran down her chin…
“Stop it!” I said.
“Very well.” He reached over and squeezed the ball for a moment between the thumb and middle finger of his left hand. When he released it, it remained stationary, a small distance before her right ear. “Now you may answer the question,” he said. “That was but the smallest sample of what I can do to you. I can push this to your total destruction.”
She opened her mouth but no words came forth. Only a gagging sound.
“I think we may be going about this wrong,” I said. “Can you just have her speak normally, rather than this question-and-answer business?”
“You heard him,” Mandor said. “It is my will, also.”
She gasped, then said, “My hands… Please free them.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“They are freed,” Mandor stated.
She flexed her fingers.
“A handkerchief, a towel…” she said softly.
I drew open a drawer in a nearby dresser, took out a handkerchief. As I moved to pass it to her, Mandor seized my wrist and took it from me. He tossed it to her and she caught it.