Aces and Eights Page 7
Harvey Smith
I looked at him. "You're serious."
He was. I sighed. "Okay." Holding the card before me, I did as he had said to do. A minute passed and I felt ridiculous. Then, just as I was about to stop trying, something happened�the card got cooler against my fingertips and there was movement. Startled, I dropped it.
Luke picked it up from where it had fallen. "Try it again," he said. "It takes a couple of tries to get the hang of it."
I took the thing and tried again. It had done something before, so I did not feel foolish this time. Suddenly, I felt sure that it would work as Luke had stated. Almost immediately, his picture came alive and the figure there flowed, changing positions. He grinned.
I looked from the card to Luke and back to the card. "Amazing. This thing can take me to Earth?"
"No, that one will only take you to where I'm at. It's good for communication, too." He stood and walked across the room to the doorway. "Try it."
"How?" I stood, holding the card before me.
"Just look into the card and take my hand."
I stared at the image of Luke, who suddenly seemed to take on further definition. He reached out, and I took his hand. The color swirl effect was repeated and then I was standing beside him on the other side of the room. I walked back over to the bed and sat down again. "And this is how they got to Earth?"
"Yes. The group who attacked us got to Earth by tricking me into thinking that they were friends of my mother who needed deliverance from a tight spot. I brought them through and they attacked me."
Just then the young woman who had left earlier returned and said something to Luke.
"Are you hungry?" he asked me.
"Yes, starving."
He said something else to the woman and she left. "Lyra will bring you some clothes and show you the dining room. I'll meet you there and we can talk some more. Okay?"
"That sounds fine."
"Until then�" He smiled and walked out.
* * * * *
Little by little, Luke had introduced me to his world, or his worlds, more accurately. I had undergone a great number of highly unusual experiences, so that now�several years subsequent to my leaving Earth�I was not completely taken aback by the events of the previous night. A dying man had tracked me down and had delivered to me a Trump of unknown origin. Odd, but not in the extreme; I had been dealt a situation and I would work within its given parameters.
Focusing my attention on the matter, I pondered. Since this was an incident involving someone associated with one of the two primal forces in the universe and since it had occurred within Kashfa, I was faced with the task of making a decision about whether or not I should inform Luke. As I mentioned earlier, he is, after a fashion, my employer. We are still friends as well, though the nature of our relationship has shifted subtly since our college days, due to things being what they are. He is a king. I wondered. Was this my problem specifically or one of a more generic nature?
What the hell, I decided. This might not involve Luke at all. How could the dying man have known that I was acting as the king's agent? Besides, considering Kashfa's current affairs, I knew that he had enough on his mind without me worrying him. So I resolved to handle this one alone.
I decided against using the mystery Trump immediately, however. Such a thing would have been risky, if not downright foolish. Though I am quite a bit tougher than those I normally meet while traveling, the Trump's presence implied connections of a sorcerous nature. Because of that fact alone, I was loathe to try the thing without some preparation. Also, I was not quite through with the task that Luke had asked of me. Until I had tracked down the thieves who�in a great demonstration of gall�had taken the king's pendant, I would not feel satisfied that I had done my job thoroughly.
I was not sure whether the phoenix pendant's value was a result of its mystic potency, or mere sentimentality, but either way I knew it was important to Luke. Important enough for him to have asked me specifically, instead of any number of lesser agents he had at his disposal, to track it down. If he had not been so busy, I am sure he would have gone after the thing himself.
Under the gray light of dawn, I extinguished my fire, rolled up my sleeping bag and packed the rest of my gear. I could not bring myself to feel much sentiment for the man who had given me the Trump. For all I knew, he might have been a simple criminal hired to deliver the thing. Nonetheless, I placed a coin over each of his eyes�one from Kashfa and a quarter from Earth. The quarter made by fingers smoke where I had touched it. I wrapped the man in my blanket and secured his body within a shallow cave located at the back of the ledge where I had camped. Then I blocked it in with all the large stones I could find.
Standing on the ledge, I looked down at the valley below. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the ring stretching between the second and third knuckles on my right-hand index finger. I felt my awareness shifting to a mystic level�first sinking, root like, into the cracked and weathered stone beneath me, then branching outward to spread across the valley.
Yes. The thing I sought had passed this way recently; I could feel a faint, shimmering trace of its essence, of Luke's essence, even. The phoenix had flown�carried away by the thieves who had stolen it�but it was not too far away. I was sure of that.
I opened my eyes, allowing the ring's root structure to dwindle and withdraw. Then, in a more mundane manner, I again looked down upon the valley. I had passed this way before, several times, and I knew that the village below was one called Vilerburque. The small place was a popular stopping point for travelers heading to or from Seraph Pass, a break in the Murrakham Mountains. The mountains, which ran from east to west, separated the dukedom of Baf Durhiem from its northerly neighbor, a city called Bann Tal. Both places were fairly important within the context of Kashfa's socio-economic infrastructure, so Vilerburque, though small, saw quite a bit of traffic. Also, the locals made some of Kashfa's best white wines. I knew of a tavern below where I could obtain a decent breakfast, so first things first I began negotiating the downward trail.
The surrounding hills were alive with green vineyards. The vines, supported by stakes, grew to a height of eight feet in places. The rows were orderly and neat, running down the hillsides. Workers moved like bees within the green, occasionally popping up into sight or walking out onto a dirt trail to dump a full bag of grapes into a wooden cart. The going was fairly easy and it only took a few hours to make it to the village border.
After passing through the main entrance�which was a small, unfortified barrier manned by a single, sleepy-eyed sentry�I walked through the dusty streets, making my way past haggling merchants, open shops and midday foot traffic. There were many smells, some pleasant, others not so. Before I could make it to the tavern, a group of haggard travelers, dressed in robes and bearing religious totems, stopped me to ask directions to the nearest bath house.