Songs of the Dying Earth. Gardner Dozois

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СКАЧАТЬ Bo,” Joanto agreed. “Perhaps it appreciates the attention and will reward us for such kindly treatment.”

      Encouraged, they began polishing and cleaning in earnest while the magicians looked on.

      Becoming ever more zealous, Joanto finally spat on the glass as a prelude to removing an especially stubborn spot. The mirror gave a deep sigh, then, in a flash of glittering darkness, its surface heaved forward in a great pseudopodium, snatched up the brothers, and carried them off into the frame and out of sight. A distant wail could be heard from the other side, then absolute silence.

      Before any of the wizards could remark on the occurrence, a figure stepped through the golden frame: a shapely young woman wearing a form-fitting costume of black and yellow diaper. Only her face remained uncovered, showing clear blue eyes and a radiant smile. She gestured towards the mirror door.

      “Gentlemen, if you will. Eunepheos awaits.”

      “Eunepheos!” cried Tralques. Though shrewd and ambitious, the young mage had come by his magic through paternal largesse from Ildefonse the Preceptor, and was still new to matters of decorum and proper conduct.

      “Then take us to him at once!” Sarimance demanded. “We are important dignitaries and most eager to meet him.”

      Amberlin said nothing, just waited as the winsome creature—human, sandestin, some even rarer kind of eldritch wunderwaif, it was impossible to tell—stood to one side of the frame and gestured for them to enter.

      Sarimance thought on it and hesitated. “Amberlin, as this is still officially your expedition, please be so good as to lead the way.”

      “With pleasure,” Amberlin said, and approached the frame. What was there to lose? Since Eunepheos could as easily have snatched them all away as he had the brothers, there was no reason to hesitate. In a moment, and with nothing more than an odd tingling sensation along his arms and legs, he was through the doorway and standing in a vast pillared hall lit by a wash of balmy golden light. Overhead blazed a million scintillants; out through the flanking colonnades were great gulfs of shadow. So, too, darkness filled the high windows.

      Amberlin suspected the answer. Just as Venta-Valu had been a demesne of shadow in the failing light of Old Earth, this was its shadowside equivalent: a manse of rich sunlight and colour in the midst of eternal shadowlands.

      In moments, Sarimance, Tralques, and the maiden were beside him. Of the Anto brothers, there was no sign.

      “Come forward!” cried a great voice from a dais at the far end of the hall, and the magicians moved forward to meet their host.

      It was a fascinating sight that greeted them. On the dais, a long-legged, silver-haired figure in black and gold lounged on a great throne, his sharp face and hawklike gaze turned on them as they approached. At the foot of the dais were all manner of wondrous oddities from the forgotten heraldries of Grand Motholam: armored heridinks and plymays, glinting scarfades and lizard-skinned holimores—creatures either born in various undervoids and overworlds or raised in flasks, vats, and home-made vivaria. The fabulous entourage fidgeted, muttered, and groomed themselves as Amberlin, Sarimance, and Tralques followed their lovely guide to the four wide steps before the throne.

      “Great Eunepheos,” the lovely woman said, her voice filling the golden chamber. “I bring you, first, Amberlin the Lesser, leader of these three grand explorers into the underhill, then Sarimance the Aspurge from Azenomei, and Tralques Iron Star, illegitimate son of Ildefonse the Preceptor. They alone possessed the skill and ingenuity to defeat your Copsy Door at Venta-Valu and so accepted your invitation; then, against all better judgement, summoned up sufficient courage and daring to enter your most hallowed tholos in the underhill.”

      Eunepheos gazed at each as he was named. “Thank you, lovely Asari,” he said. “You may take your place.” He waited while the maiden in black and yellow bowed and went to stand between two blue-enamelled heridinks, then turned his dark eyes back to his visitors.

      “I am pleased, gentlemen, that you chose to accept our invitation, and am complimented by your attention. It was good of you to come.”

      Amberlin noted the finality in the word ‘was,’ but said nothing. Sarimance, however, felt the need to speak.

      “Great Eunepheos. A codicil to the proceedings, if I may. I must point out that my companion Tralques and I are not necessarily part of our colleague’s expedition. It was Amberlin who first conceived it, then found a way to defeat your Copsy Door by way of diligent scholarship. It was he who, without consulting sympathetic colleagues, chose to intrude in your domain. Tralques and I, concerned for his welfare in such an unknown, mysterious place, thought to keep an eye on how he fared and perhaps persuade him to re-consider his venture. Our commitment to the enterprise may be more apparent than real.”

      “I grasp your meaning in every regard,” Eunepheos said. “And it is always heartening to see friends come to each other’s aid in such matters. Still, you are here now, and, since three wizards are the stipulated minimum, the contest can proceed.”

      “The contest, noble Eunepheos?” Tralques asked.

      “All will be explained. But first, allow me to present our judges.”

      Eunepheos gestured and three great niches formed in the wall above the throne. In each rested a man-sized glass case. Two were of shimmering silver shot with veins of old rose and flashing indigo. They flanked a case of rich buttery gold filled with arcs of scintillating red and burnt orange. At first, the dazzling cases sizzled with all manner of roiling energies, but soon settled down to a quiet, almost predatory watchfulness.

      “Gentlemen,” Eunepheos continued. “Before you are the remembrance chambers of the greatest of us. At the centre, beyond equals, eternally first, stands that of Phandaal the Great. To left and right in flashing silver, you see those of Amberlin the First and Amberlin the Second. They will be our judges.”

      Eunepheos left a pause for dramatic effect, but Tralques could not remain silent.

      “These are not their bodies, surely?”

      “That is not for me to say,” Eunepheos answered, as courtly as ever. “Who knows where these great ones went upon withdrawing from our midst so long ago? What is death and extinction to the likes of such ascendants? Be satisfied that there is a residual link between our world and theirs, a vital connection spanning the ages, and that it pleases them enormously to have watched me set my little trap at Venta-Valu. Think of how it delights them that I test their successors in these latter days, some of whom are wise and generous like yourselves, others vain and grasping and interested only in self-advancement. Imagine their pleasure as I lured three legitimate inheritors like yourselves, ingenious enough, brave enough, and sufficiently determined to make the crossing through the shadow glass into Dessinga to compete in their contest. The less charitable might see it as culling, weeding out the dross, but paragons like yourselves no doubt see it for the appropriate duty of care that it is.”

      Tralques took a step forward. “As my illustrious friend and colleague just now explained, great Eunepheos, Sarimance and I are merely here in a supernumerary capacity to Amberlin’s original group—”

      “Nonsense, Master Tralques,” Eunepheos countered. “You are far too modest and it does you credit. Your resolve is as strong as his, I’m sure. Our contest is to be one of magic, here, now, in this great hall. Each of you will take turns conjuring up your finest. In three rounds, three attempts, each bout strictly limited to no more than two minutes, СКАЧАТЬ