It could have been worse, of course. For example, they could have faced a hard, driving rain rather than this billowing grayness. But it was quite bad enough, even if Brandark hadn’t been right about the unseasonable nature of it. This was the third straight day, with no end in sight, and the sense of being closed in, half-blinded, was enough to make a man’s skin itch.
‹ Especially when both of us know something ’s on the other side of it,› Walsharno murmured in the back of his brain. ‹ And Vaijon, too.›
‹ Well, it’s not as if it was after being the first time we’ve smelled such as that,› Bahzell replied silently. ‹ Mind, it’s happy I’ll be to have Vaijon along this time, but there’s times I wish as how himself could be telling us just a mite more before we’ve stepped full into it.›
‹ I wish that, too, Bahzell,› a far deeper voice said. ‹ Sending those who trust you and who have proven you can trust them, even to the death, into battle without all the knowledge you possess…that’s a hard thing, my Swords, even for a god. Perhaps especially for a god.›
Most people, perhaps, might have flinched just a bit when a god’s voice rolled through their brains with no warning at all. Bahzell and Walsharno, however, had become accustomed to it over the years, and the hradani’s ears didn’t even twitch in surprise.
Anymore, at least.
‹ As to that, it’s no god I am,› he said, ‹ yet I can see as how it could eat on a man.›
There was no recrimination in his tone, only acceptance of the way it must be, and he felt a vast, immaterial hand rest lightly on his shoulder.
‹ I don’t think you have anything to worry about today, › Tomanak’s voice rumbled in his mind. ‹ I can’t be certain of that, however. You’re right that there’s something ugly, something powerful, behind this rain, yet my nephews and nieces have prevented me from seeing as clearly as I might otherwise. What I do see is bad enough, though.› The voice was deeper, grimmer. ‹ When it comes, my Swords, it will demand all that all of you have to offer…and perhaps even that will be less than enough this time. I know you’ll give all I could possibly ask of you, yet the Dark has planned better this time, and I see too far and too deeply to see clearly. There are too many possibilities, too many strands weaving together, for me to see any one of them unambiguously, and this time battle is fully joined beyond the edges of your universe, as well as within it.›
Bahzell’s ears flattened and he turned his head far enough to meet Walsharno’s eye, remembering a cold, windy night in the Empire of the Spear when Tomanak had explained to him why the gods dared not contend openly with one another, strength to strength, lest their unleashed power destroy the very reality for which they fought.
‹ No, Bahzell, › Tomanak said. ‹ We do not contend in your universe, nor for this universe alone. We meet between them, beyond their fringes, and it’s less a matter of sheer strength than of…leverage, perhaps. Balance. The proper grips and counters.›
It was evident Tomanak was seeking the best way to describe something in terms a mortal might grasp.
‹ When a mishuk grapples with another mishuk, the outcome depends far less on who has the most powerful muscles, the longer reach, than on who has the superior technique,› Tomanak continued. ‹ All of those other factors matter, but in the end, he who’s more skilled-and experienced-has the greatest advantage. Yet in the struggle between Light and Dark, there are still more factors which must be taken into consideration. There’s a tide, a current-a flow-to the seas of possibility and the current of history. Deities see that flow far more clearly than mortals, and with that clarity we can assist the mortals who must contend with it, yet we ourselves can never lay hand upon it and shape it as we will. For us, much of the struggle lies in not simply what we can perceive but what we can prevent the other side from perceiving. And when too many strands, too many possible outcomes, flow together it becomes harder for us to see clearly ourselves…and easier for the other side to blind us to critical possibilities.›
Bahzell gave a slow mental nod and sensed Walsharno’s understanding along with his own.
‹ For the last twelve centuries of your universe, › Tomanak continued in the voice of someone choosing his words with exquisite care, ‹ events have been spiraling through the echoes of the last great clash which doomed Kontovar and gave birth to most of the evils which have afflicted Norfressa since. It took far too many of your years for those echoes to be damped, but now they have, and they’re poised to rebound. There are literally uncountable variations on how they may rebound, but there are really only two basic outcomes. Either the Light will hold its ground, strike back, and reverse the verdict of Kontovar, or else the Dark will conquer all. One way or the other, my Swords, the decision will be reached in your time. If you fail, if you fall in your current struggle, the Dark triumphs; if you succeed today, then it will only be to face another and still sterner test in the uncertain mists of your future, but that other test will come to you. All I can tell you is that you have the strength-the strength of will, of heart, of mind and courage-to meet Evil sword-to-sword. You have my trust, and my confidence, and you have the power of your own belief in what’s right and your willingness to fight-and die-for it. That, my children, is all anyone, god or mortal, can ask of anyone else or demand of themselves, and I know-I know, if I know nothing else in all the universes that may ever be-that you will give it. And when you do, I will stand beside you and give you of my strength. There’s no shame in defeat, my Swords; there is shame only in surrender, and that is something neither of you, nor Vaijon, know how to do.›
Neither hradani nor courser said anything. They simply reached back to their deity, feeling the bonds between them, the interweaving of their very essences with Tomanak’s, and that was enough.
Bahzell never knew exactly how long the entire conversation had lasted, although he was confident the interval had been far briefer for Brandark than it had for him and for Walsharno. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, as Tomanak withdrew once more, and then he turned to look at his friend.
“Well, I’m thinking we’ve splashed about mud enough for one day,” he said.
“Really?” Brandark cocked his ears. “Odd, I didn’t think it was my idea to go out and squelch around all day.”
“No more it was,” Bahzell agreed. “Still and all, I’m thinking that was because it’s so very rare for you to be having an idea at all.”
“Given the handicap under which you labor, that actually wasn’t such a bad effort,” Brandark said judiciously. “Not very subtle, a little heavy-handed, but overall, and bearing in mind it had to work its way through a Horse Stealer’s so-called sense of humor…”
He shrugged, and Bahzell chuckled and swung back up into Walsharno’s saddle.
“Such a small, nasty attitude,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll not be making any comments about lack of size and the smallness of brains that might be coming along with it. But I will mention as how I’ve just this morning taken delivery of a brand-new bottle of thirty-year whiskey-the Silver Cavern Granservan Grand Reserve, as it happens-courtesy of old Kilthan. If it should so happen you could be minding that silver tongue of yours-aye, and leaving that curst ‘banjo’ of yours in its case! — it’s pleased I’d be to share it with you while I’ve the writing of a letter to Leeana.”
“Granservan Grand Reserve?” Brandark’s ears perked up instantly, and he squared his shoulders and gathered up his reins. “Well, if that’s the case, why are we still standing here?”
“It’s good to see you home, Brayahs,” Baroness Myacha said, smiling as her husband’s nephew entered the sunny breakfast chamber. “It does Borandas’ heart good whenever you can find time-and whenever the King lets you go long enough-to visit us.”