Chapter 18

Quite a picture. About three meters underground. In a stone cubbyhole that had been converted into a “guest room.” Nine people sat there—all of different ages and sizes—looking at one another and sizing each other up.

Among them were: 1. A rogue famous throughout all of Existence, who changed his names as often as his gloves. Perhaps that was the whole point of his “roguery,” who knew… 2. A fugitive old court mage in a purple robe, grumpy, distrustful, and possessed of a fierce dislike for anything “blue.” 3. A gorilla. 4. A crane. 5. Two silent brutes who could barely fit on the little wooden stools and looked more ridiculous than threatening. Their master, although he had come around somewhat by now, still could not walk properly. 6. And finally, two “illegal mages”—or rather, mages—who had been stripped of their homes, their property, and their licenses, and nearly burned alive.

With a squad like this, you could go hunting Colored Witches. True, the result would not be especially encouraging.

“So… what are you proposing?” Sovt asked coldly.

“I propose…” Yan began.

“But we were supposed to deliver him to Queen Illida!” The knight slammed his fist against the table around which they were all sitting.

“Exactly! I told you! Blind dogs on a leash! They don’t give a damn about the safety of Existence or its future!” Zolotoros chimed in.

“It is not for you to tell us what we do or don’t give a damn about!” the knight replied angrily. “Who knows the value of Existence better than our Order, huh?! We—the Blue Paths—have preserved balance and order across hundreds of worlds since ancient times! Our Order defended Existence long before Veradia became a kingdom!”

“Then what stops you from defending it again?! Right here and now?!” Zolotoros refused to let up. “Where is your vaunted former glory, Guardians of the Wild Waters of Annarath? Where?! You have nothing in common with your great past. You drank it away and became obedient slaves of mad monarchs who want to carve a giant hole in this vaunted Existence of yours—the very Existence you swore to protect thousands of years ago?!” the sorcerer exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Only deathly silence answered him. Sovt said nothing. Julius carefully tugged Zolotoros by the sleeve and asked him to sit back down and calm himself.

The silence continued for a while. Then Yan spoke:

“Listen, Sovt, I understand that this was an order from your queen, whom you serve faithfully like a true knight, but…”

“You’re in no position to lecture me about honor, rogue, Yan Di Wonderwalk,” Sovt enunciated.

“Who?” Morik asked in surprise.

Everyone ignored him.

As we recall, Yan had introduced himself to Morik and Chadun as Lim.

“But it was precisely this ‘rogue,’ Yan Di Wonderwalk, whom you invited into your party because you wanted an outside perspective, wasn’t it?” Yan continued.

“I never told you that,” the knight remarked dryly.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Yan shot back. “So, if you wanted an outside perspective—you got one. The Beyond isn’t something you play around with. Devils know why your mistress decided to open a passage into it, but she cannot be allowed to do that under any circumstances! Do you understand?”

Sovt did. As a knight of the Blue Paths, he understood it better than anyone.

Silence once again settled over the table.

“Well, actually, Faraday’s talking sense, slap-dash,” Chadun suddenly spoke up. “The Beyond is no small potatoes.”

“I’m not Faraday,” Yan immediately snapped, threatening the mage with a finger.

“Yeah, sure. I believe you. Ptooey.” Chadun spat and burned a huge hole through the nearest gravestone.

Everyone grimaced in disgust.

“Besides,” Yan immediately continued. “Weren’t you the one who told me this whole thing looked strange? You finally got clear answers. What else do you need?”

“Ten sacks of gold and whores, YAN!” the knight roared and abruptly rose from the table, heading toward the stone staircase that led outside. “I’m going to get some fresh air…” he tossed back over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget to close the door behind you, or we’ll get a draft!” Morik called after him, but Sovt was already gone.

“Damn… this turned out harder than I thought,” Yan sighed, taking a mug of beer from the table and having a long drink.

“I told you…” Zolotoros chimed in.

“You shut up altogether,” the rogue snapped, putting the mug back down. “What do you two think, Lekh, Mekh? What are your thoughts on all this?”

The silent adepts exchanged glances. Then the one called Mekh let out a heavy sigh, pulled out from behind the table the same notebook they had used for their game with Yan, and wrote the following:

“You have to understand, Mister Yan, that this isn’t just about orders and duty.”

“Who’s Yan?” Morik asked in surprise again after reading what had been written.

“Your mom!” Chadun replied.

“And your dad,” Yan snapped back, then asked the knights with interest. “What do you mean?”

Mekh wrote again:

“We agree with you, Mister Yan. And Master Sovt does too, we’re sure.” He put a period, then spent some time thinking about what to write next. “However, Master Sovt is not thinking only about Zolotoros and the fate of all Existence. He is also thinking about the fate of this world. What will happen to it if Queen Illida learns that Zolotoros is hiding here. And what will happen to all of you.” Another heavy sigh came from behind the knight’s helmet. “You saw what three knights of the Blue Paths are capable of. Imagine what will happen if the queen, in pursuit of her desires, sends the entire Order to Tsagat?”

After reading what had been written, Yan shuddered. Then he looked at Julius, Khad, and Zolotoros—they were not any more thrilled by the idea. Though the three of them had not witnessed what the knights of the Blue Paths were capable of.

“Well… this situation has taken a decidedly negative turn,” Yan grimaced, throwing himself back into thinking about the situation.

And no matter how much he thought about it, hopelessness was the only obvious conclusion. There was, of course, one other option…

Yan abruptly stopped himself: “No, there isn’t just one option. I completely forgot about the message I sent to the Thirty-Three Kingdoms today! Damn, I just hope it gets there! If it does, maybe we can still put up a fight for our lives!”

Yan smiled cheerfully.

“Well, gentlemen, if Sovt is afraid of facing the entire Order as a traitor and so on and so forth, then perhaps we’ll have a chance to stand against a force like that,” the rogue said. “Though we’ll have to wait a little. I called in some backup, if you want to know. Exactly how long it’ll take to arrive—I’m not sure. Still, the important thing is not to sit around while we wait. We need to act.”

Lekh and Mekh exchanged surprised glances. Then they nodded in understanding. Mekh took the notebook and wrote:

“In that case, if you have some kind of plan, Mister Yan, we need to tell Master Sovt about it.”

“Yes, obviously.” The rogue nodded, turning around. “Only he’s taking quite a while with that fresh air. Didn’t he overdo it or something?”

As though in answer to his question, muffled blows came from somewhere near the staircase. Then came a furious shout that made them all immediately jump to their feet.

Everyone rushed to the entrance and saw Sovt there, struggling on the floor, locked in hand-to-hand combat with some freak in a jester mask and a grin stretching across half his face.

The odds were uneven—the knight was still suffering from the effects of teleportation, but fortunately Khad reached him in time, slamming the assassin-jester into the wall of the crypt with a single blow.

“Damn, they found us after all,” Yan cursed in frustration.

“Who?!” came Morik’s same voice from somewhere behind them.

“SHUT UP!” everyone shouted in unison.

“Kont Dyu’s Jesters?” Julius asked quickly. “What are they doing here?”

“No idea,” Yan replied, helping Sovt back onto his feet. “Probably got lost.”

“If so, we should help them find their way back,” Sovt growled fiercely.

Lekh and Mekh nodded firmly and hurried outside. Yan darted after them, followed by everyone else.

Outside, the pale moon shone over hundreds of lonely stone graves. Among them stood dozens of assassins in red, black, gray, and brown robes, their faces hidden behind insane jester masks.

“Wow, a whole army showed up,” Khad remarked, quickly pulling out his staff. “Never a dull moment with you, huh, Yan?”

“What the hell does this have to do with me?!” the rogue snapped. “I don’t even know them! They didn’t even come here for me!”

“If I remember correctly, a few days ago you were saying something completely different, Yan Di Wonderwalk,” Sovt remarked, taking his place beside the lad. “And you still dared lecture me about honor…”

“All right, all right, I get it, enough with the barbs!” the rogue replied. “I shouldn’t have lectured a knight about morals. Guilty as charged. Off with my head.”

More and more of Kont Dyu’s Jesters appeared.

“But let’s continue this conversation a little later, all right?”

“Hah, as you say.” The knight smirked in response. “First—we deal with this.”