Part 15 (1/2)

”I do not need a name. Names are reserved for the faceless ma.s.ses, like yourself, who are not unique enough to be differentiated by merit alone,” she answered.

For a moment Myranda marveled at the creature's ability to concentrate so much condescension into so few words.

”If you haven't got a name, then how would you prefer that I refer to you?” Myranda asked through clenched teeth.

”I would prefer that you did not refer to me at all,” came her predictable reply.

”Well, I must refer to you occasionally. Why don't I give you a name?” she asked.

”Because names are labels, and labels are intended to describe. I do not maintain a single form long enough for any name to remain appropriate for long. Perfection is the only term that can consistently be applied to me, and even that falls short, as perfection is static and I am ever-changing,” she said.

”Call it a limitation if you must, but I have difficulty conversing with a being without a name. Will you at least allow me to choose a name that I shall call you?” she asked.

”It is clear that you will not rest until I have allowed you to demean me thusly. Since your thoughts and actions do not matter in the slightest, I suppose I will permit you to a.s.sign me a t.i.tle. Anything to aid your addled brain,” she relented.

”You are a woman, correct?” Myranda asked.

”I typically a.s.sume a female form,” she corrected.

”Well then, I shall call you Samantha,” she said.

”Absolutely not,” she said.

” . . . I thought it didn't matter,” Myranda grumbled.

”I will not be a.s.sociated with so common a name. Choose something more fitting,” the s.h.i.+fter replied.

”Then . . . Alexia,” Myranda offered, feeling that the att.i.tudes offered by her own alter-ego and the shape s.h.i.+fter were quite in line.

”No,” the s.h.i.+fter said.

” . . . Gwendolyn,” Myranda attempted.

”No,” she replied.

”Well what do you want?” Myranda asked.

”Something that reflects my nature. I am fluid, I am eternal, I am ethereal . . . ” she began.

”Then why don't I call you Ether?” Myranda asked.

”Ether . . . Ether,” the creature repeated, as if to test the sound. ”Well, it is hardly unique, but it will suffice.”

Myranda smiled at the minor victory.

”Tell me, Ether, why did you have to take a simple form to recover? Why didn't you just step into a fire as you did before?” she asked.

”I suppose this was to be expected. I allowed you a single concession, and now you expect me to answer your every question,” Ether said.

”You do not have to answer if you do not want to,” Myranda said with a sigh.

”No, no. I shall answer. Perhaps if I address your ignorance you will become a more reasonable creature. It taxes my strength to exist in the form of wind, fire, or water, and though I can exist as stone effortlessly, it requires great effort to move and restores strength slowly. With the whisper of energy that I had left, were I to s.h.i.+ft to flame, I would have pa.s.sed my breaking point and lost my form completely before I could be exposed to a pure enough or strong enough flame to recover. Had I turned to stone, I would have had to remain motionless for many months in order to regain the strength to change back. By taking the form of a small, simple creature, I can regain strength at an acceptable rate while not becoming completely helpless,” she said.

”It doesn't require effort to be in the form of a squirrel?” Myranda asked.

”It does, but it requires less than it restores. Anything smaller or less complex than, say, a large horse, will allow me to recover,” she said ”Anything larger is taxing.”

”Do you have to eat or sleep?” she asked.

”Only if I remain as a completely faithful replica of a creature with such impairments for a period long enough to incur such a price. I typically alter a form to remove such weaknesses,” she said.

”Do you know what the creature knows?” she asked.

”No. I am privy neither to memories nor instincts of my form,” she answered. Her tone indicated that her patience was flagging.

”If you do not have the instincts, how is it that you know how to move and behave in a new form?” Myranda asked.

”In the same way that one who builds a device knows how to operate it. I am exerting my influence over untold millions of component parts, each infinitesimal in size, to allow myself to a.s.sume such a form. Determining how the end result should function is comparatively no task at all,” she said.

”What would happen if you lost form?” Myranda asked.

”Now I simply will not respond to questions to which you most certainly know the answer. You were present at the very ceremony that revived me from such a state,” she snapped. ”Honestly. How is it that you have survived so long if you do not even recall what little you have learned?”

”I did not realize that . . . ” Myranda said, attempting to defend herself.

”Enough, focus on walking, lest you forget how to do that as well,” Ether ordered.

Any attempts to foster further conversation with the creature were fruitless. Myranda resorted to one sided conversations with Myn and herself to keep her weariness at bay. The sun was just beginning to rise, shedding some level of natural light on the mountainside. Myranda, though relieved of the task of providing her own light, immediately wished that the darkness had remained. In the light of morning it was clear that there was still a long way to go before she reached her goal.

Desmeres sat at a poorly lit table in yet another of the many safe houses and store houses that he and Lain had maintained over the years. He scratched the last stroke of a very official looking doc.u.ment and rolled the expensive parchment into a scroll. Heating blue sealing wax until it dripped onto the doc.u.ment, he opened a well locked box and pressed the seal hidden within into the soft wax. When he took it away, what remained was the official seal of the king of the Northern Alliance. For such a seal to be applied by any hand other than his royal majesty's was a treasonous act, punishable by public torture and execution. He laid down the doc.u.ment beside a half dozen just like it, each identically sealed. As he did, he noticed a similar doc.u.ment had appeared and, though weathered, it also bore the seal of the king. This one, unlike those beside it, was not a forgery. Knowing that it had not been there a moment ago, he knew that only one person could have placed it there.

”How long have you been here, Lain?” he asked.

He stood and turned to find himself face to face with the man he addressed. The a.s.sa.s.sin did not answer.

”Managed to escape that shape s.h.i.+fter, I see. Unless, of course, you are the shape s.h.i.+fter . . . no. Somehow I feel that she would not have been able to resist the fanfare of a noisy forced entry,” Desmeres considered.

”They are preventing me from performing my task,” Lain said, his voice fairly shaking with anger.

”Yes, Lain, that is a fact of which I am keenly aware. I have dispatched messages to a half dozen prospective sellers. All six returned, accompanied by a message from the king recounting the terms of his new policy. More disturbing than their return was the fact that they were returned to the entrance of the storehouse we had taken Myranda to prior to her capture by Epidime. I paid a man to find a courier to send the messages. Neither I nor he had been anywhere near that place at the time. We did not take the care to keep that girl in the dark, and now he knows far too much about us. Right now, I am attempting to send messages claiming special exception from the king's ruling. If they meet a similar fate then I am afraid that we shall have to either move to Tressor and try our luck there or pose as emissaries of the king. That is, unless you can find a new way to spend your gold,” Desmeres said. ”Which I suggest.”

”He is taking back their lives. The people I freed are being taken back,” Lain said, his fury dripping from every word.

”Yes. That is regrettable. Nothing can be done, short of bringing the war to an end,” he said.

”Then that is what must be done,” he said.

”Lain. You and I both know that if such a thing can be done, you are the one to do it. At any other time I would support you fully. But they are clearly trying to elicit precisely this reaction. The most fundamental lesson learned on the warrior's side of Entwell is to never give your enemy what they want from you,” Desmeres reprimanded.