Empty Places

  Empty Places

  by Richard Parks

  Jayn of Laksas was widely acknowledged a thief and rogue, but no one had ever accused him of incompetence. So it came as quite a surprise to him on one warm summer evening to discover someone was following him. He was on his way home to Laksas after a very successful pass through several of the border towns near the foothills of the White Mountains. Jayn’s purse was heavy and his heart, as he slipped through the wooded hills near Laksas, was light.

  Perhaps I was careless, he thought, ruefully. Or … am I getting old?

  He didn’t really think so, at least not yet. When Jayn washed his face in a quiet pool that very morning he hadn’t noticed anything of an alarming temporal nature—his hair was still red, the face still unmarred except for a touch of windburn. His hands, when he’d tricked locks and pried doors in the last few days, were still steady and his grip firm. It didn’t make any sense that someone could follow Jayn without him knowing. Unless…

  Perhaps whoever is following me is really, really skilled. Jayn considered the matter as he strolled ever so casually along the woodland path. He had two choices: either run or try to ambush his follower. Since he didn’t know who was behind him or how well armed, running was the sensible thing. Yet Jayn’s curiosity wouldn’t allow him to run; he wanted to find out who was following him.

  He waited until the path led him by the foot of a tall cliff and a tumulus of stones left by some ancient rockslide; he quickly checked the path behind him to make certain no one was within sight and then he slid quickly and quietly into a narrow crevice between two great boulders, where he waited. And waited.

  And waited.

  The last of the sunlight faded into darkness, and it was out of that darkness that a voice finally reached Jayn within his crevice. “Are you going to stay in there all night?”

  Jayn sighed. So much for stealth. “Show yourself!”

  “If you insist.”

  There was a spark in the darkness, then a small flame, then a bigger flame. It took Jayn a few moments to realize he was looking at a campfire. Behind the flames, sitting casually on a small boulder, was a man of about thirty. His hair was black and nearly shoulder length. He was wearing a plain brown cloak pulled about him against the night’s chill, so Jayn couldn’t tell much else about him, though it was clear his build was slight. Jayn judged him to be an inch or two shorter than Jayn’s own six-foot height.

  “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

  “My name is Timon, and I have need of your professional services. That being the case, obviously I intend you no harm.”

  Jayn wasn’t convinced. “How do I know you’re alone?”

  Timon smiled. “Obviously, you don’t know. I could be surrounded by archers waiting for you to appear, or some other such rot, but do you really think the bounty on your head is so great for me to go to all that trouble? I’m alone, Jayn of Laksas. Either believe me or don’t, but the alternative is for you stay in there and starve. I can assure you it’s far warmer and more comfortable out here.”

  The man’s name sounded vaguely familiar but Jayn couldn’t place it. He peered cautiously out of the rocks, but no arrows twanged out the night; there was no sound at all except for a faint crackle from the campfire and the small sounds of frogs and insects that Jayn would normally expect at this time of night.

  “Your name is somewhat familiar. Do I know you?”

  “I doubt it, but you may have heard of me. I’m usually known as Timon the Black.”

  For several long moments Jayn just stared at the smaller man. After a little while he finally remembered to breathe.

  “No offense, but I don’t deal with wizards,” Jayn said a little unsteadily. Timon looked a little surprised. He also looked a little relieved. “You believe me? Most people would need convincing, you know. Forgive my immodesty, but that’s no small claim I just made.”

  “You tracked me for a considerable time without my realizing it, and forgive my immodesty, but there are not many people who could do that. Besides, I can’t imagine what advantage you’d gain by such a wild story.”

  Timon nodded. “You’re as clever as your reputation. Good. We can skip the tedious proofs and arguments and get down to what matters.”

  “No, we can’t. Didn’t you hear what I said? I don’t deal with wizards.”

  Not that Jayn had anything against them as a group; he considered wizards self-sufficient and untrustworthy, which were traits he respected. It was more that, beyond the two traits already mentioned, he didn’t understand them. He didn’t know what they wanted or why they wanted it, and in Jayn’s line of work, that was very dangerous. Greed, Jayn understood. And lust, and avarice, and spitefulness and a host of other petty sins—those all made sense. Yet, if the stories were true, Timon the Black had committed some of the worst crimes imaginable simply because he wanted to, and he could. For instance, he was reputed to have kidnaped a princess of Morushe and murdered the hero prince who came to rescue her, all on a whim. Such a person was capable of literally anything.

  “You can decide after we’ve spoken, but refusing to listen is not an option,”

  Timon said, then added, “Well, not a good one, anyway.”

  Jayn put his hands on his hips. “Timon, I know your reputation as I trust you know mine. How do you plan—”

  Timon didn’t even wait until he’d finished speaking. Thinking back on it, Jayn still wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. All he knew was that there was a blur of motion that might or might not have been Timon’s right hand. The next moment a small ash tree not ten feet away from Jayn burst into flame and exploded with a sound like thunder. Jayn found himself on the ground, his ears ringing. It took him a few moments to be certain he was still alive. He got up, slowly. He would have run, if he thought for a moment that would have worked.

  “That was a warning,” Timon said. “And, since I’m rather fond of trees as a rule, I don’t think I’ll bother with another.”

  As he spoke, Timon continued what looked like preparations for tea as if nothing at all had happened.

  “Ahh…” Jayn suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Timon, on the other hand, had no such loss. “I have plenty of tea and fire both, and I promise you that we’re going to share one or the other this night. Which shall it be?”

  “I’ll take the tea,” Jayn said.

  Timon nodded. “Good choice.”

  * * * *

  The choice, at least in the short term, turned out better than Jayn had suspected. Not only was he still alive, but his insistent host made excellent tea as well. Jayn usually preferred something stronger, but he could not remember when he’d tasted better.

  Jayn regarded his cup thoughtfully. “I would almost give up wine for this.”

  “Each has its place,” Timon said, “though a good pot of tea is usually harder to find. One reason I make my own. So. Have you considered my proposal?”

  Jayn nodded. “Yes, and all I can say is that it is a very puzzling one.” He eyed the package Timon had produced. It wasn’t much to look at—little more than a small bundle wrapped in plain cloth, about the size of both of Jayn’s open hands put side to side. Then again, it wasn’t the package that puzzled him, although of course he was curious about it. Rather, it was what Timon wanted done with it.

  “You want me to sneak into the king’s fortress at Wylandia and leave this package in the nursery?”

  “That is correct. If you wish, you may steal some identifiable item from the palace as proof of your exploit, so your reputation is enhanced at the same time. We both win. So. Will you do it?”

  “We haven’t discussed terms.”

  “Quite right,” Timon conceded. “I could just threaten you, but I’ve found that a
reward and a club get better results than a club alone.” He named a figure. Jayn just stared at him for several long moments while his tea began to grow cold. Timon, for his part, drank the rest of his with apparent satisfaction and poured another cup.

  “You’re joking,” Jayn said finally.

  “Then why aren’t you laughing?” Timon asked. “I tell very good jokes when the mood hits me. At the moment the mood does not.”

  “But … I could live like a king on that much gold!”

  “One of the poorer ones,” Timon said. “And not for long. Most likely you’ll find a way to gamble it all away or otherwise squander it.”

  Jayn raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think I would be so foolish with my money?”

  Timon smiled. “Because your history suggests that you don’t really care about the gold, Jayn. It’s the challenge and the reputation that goes with successful exploits of thievery that inspire you. You feel you have not gained the reputation you deserve for all your efforts. If there’s more to you than that it’s not commonly known.”

  Jayn was going to argue the point until it occurred to him that Timon might have said nothing less than the plain truth. The truth always made Jayn uncomfortable; it wasn’t quite so flexible as a good lie. “Even so, why offer so much? If what you say is true I would accept your challenge for much less.”

  “Because I do not wish to offer ‘much less.’ My reasons are my own.”

  “Is there an enchantment on the gift? Will it harm the child?”

  Timon shrugged. “Does that matter?”

  “I’m a thief, not an assassin. Besides, if you do mean to harm the little prince, I might not wish my part in the matter to be known. Gold and reputation together might not be sufficient shield against a king’s revenge.”

  Timon nodded. “Point taken. Be at ease—my intention is not to harm the child. If it was, I’d have no qualms about saying so, and ‘persuading’ you to act against your instincts. Do you doubt this?”

  “Even so … if I agree to perform this task, how do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “Because, at least on this one point, you needn’t depend on my word.”

  Timon reached into his pack and pulled out a heavy leather bag. This he extended and dropped within Jayn’s reach. “Payment strictly in advance. Count it if you want.”

  Frowning, Jayn untied the bag. He reached far enough down among the gold coins to satisfy himself that, even if the rest of the bag from his fingertips to the bottom held nothing but lead disks, he would still be rich enough to buy a small town and everyone in it. He bit one coin just for show, but he already knew the gold was real.

  “You must think I’m a fool,” he said.

  “I was withholding judgment,” Timon said. “Why do you say so?”

  “Because what’s to stop you from blasting me like that poor tree after I do this task for you?”

  “Not a blessed thing,” Timon said affably, “likewise there’s nothing to stop me from doing the same if you refuse, or accept and then try to escape from your obligations. Now. Which two of those three eventualities do you consider most likely to annoy me?”

  Jayn sighed. “Are there any conditions to this enterprise you haven’t told me about?”

  “Just one,” Timon said. “I’ll be accompanying you to the fortress. Once your task is complete—or you’re killed in the attempt—we go our separate ways once we’re safely out of Wylandia.”

  “I work alone,” Jayn said. Which was true usually, but he mostly just didn’t relish the idea of Timon being anywhere near him. The man was pleasant enough company, but Jayn thought that, perhaps, that fire trick might be harder to accomplish at greater distance.

  The magician shook his head. “Not to impugn your considerable skills, but you’ll never get into the fortress without my help. Consider this protecting my investment.”

  Again Jayn considered his options and again came to the inevitable conclusion that he didn’t have any. “Very well, but just so you know: I don’t trust you.”

  Timon just smiled. “Then you’re not a fool. Good. That will help.”

  * * * *

  There were two known passes through the White Mountains: the Pilgrim’s Road and the Serpent’s Path. The Pilgrim’s Road was jointly maintained and patrolled by Wylandia and Morushe and was the main route of what uneasy commerce existed between the two kingdoms. The Serpent’s Path was little more than a mountain trail. It had watch towers and a beacon system on each end in the event that any armed groups attempted to use it to catch either kingdom unaware, but was otherwise left alone. Jayn wasn’t terribly surprised when this was the route they took to Wylandia. It was easy enough for two men traveling lightly to slip past the watch undetected; not quite so easy to make the other end in one piece.

  “You do realize that bandits—and worse—reside along the Serpent’s Path?

  It’s a natural refuge for the desperate and predatory.”

  “Yes,” Timon said. “The Pilgrim’s Road is much easier and safer, but people tend to want to know your business when you take that way. Don’t worry, Jayn. We won’t have any trouble.”

  Jayn wasn’t convinced of that until the second day after they slipped past the southern watchtower. A large group of very unpleasant-looking men appeared on a ridge overlooking the pass. Timon merely acknowledged them with a wave of his hand and they just as quickly vanished.

  Almost, Jayn thought, hastily.

  “Just what is Timon the Black’s arrangement with those men?”

  “A simple one: They don’t interfere with my business and I don’t rip the flesh from their bones. You’d be surprised at how reasonable men can be, when the alternative is explained to them.”

  Jayn thought about it. “It worked with me, and that’s a fact. Please don’t misunderstand me—the destruction of that tree was intimidating, but that was one tree. Could you really kill all of them? Are you that powerful?”

  Timon just shrugged. “You of all people should understand the value of reputation, Jayn. Mine is such that they believe that I can and would. Therefore, I don’t have to.”

  “That’s not exactly an answer,” Jayn said.

  “Since this particular answer would require proof, I hope for your sake that you never receive one.”

  The next morning Timon looked a little unhappy. “There’s been a new development.”

  Jayn, who hadn’t quite managed to find a spot of ground without something hard and unyielding under it, wasn’t in the best of moods himself. “What is it?”

  “The Queen of Wylandia will be in residence at the palace during our incursion. She was expected to accompany her husband on a state visit to Morushe, but apparently there was some … disagreement, between them. Since the way to the nursery is through her private chambers, this may complicate matters.”

  Jayn shrugged. “It would be better if she were not there, true, but I’ve ransacked entire rooms without waking the occupants … wait a moment. How do you know this?”

  “Because I’m a magician,” Timon said. “And finding the hidden is what we do.”

  After a breakfast of hard bread and cheese they were soon on their way again. It was long time before either of them spoke again, and it was Jayn who broke the silence.

  “You know what I think? I think you knew about the queen’s plans all along, and you merely announced it at the appropriate time to impress me.”

  Timon smiled. “Interesting theory, and certainly a clever way to create the illusion of true magic without actually producing any. There’s only one flaw in your hypothesis.”

  “Which is?”

  “It presumes that I have a need to impress you. Jayn, you already know what I will do to you if you betray me. What more is required?”

  “We still have a few days before we reach Wylandia. How do you know I won’t slit your throat while you sleep? There’s an end to that threat. I’m not saying I would, mind, but why isn’t it an option?”

 
Timon smiled. “Let us say for the sake of argument that you have a point. In which case it is in your interest to test the limits of my power, yes?”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Jayn said.

  Timon shrugged. “All right, but do remember: I did warn you.”

  Despite Timon’s ominous implication, nothing unusual happened for the rest of that day. Jayn and Timon made good time along the Serpent’s Path, despite the fact that they were traveling mostly uphill. The way was clear, the weather was mild, and the bandits, if any, were keeping well out of sight. They reached the highest point on their route by evening and made camp once more. From their vantage point they could see the plains of Wylandia in the distance and the backbone of the White Mountains stretching out to either side.

  The air was thin and cool; both Timon and Jayn kept close to the fire. It wasn’t much of a fire; dead wood was rather scarce in the higher levels of the pass, but it lasted long enough to heat a quick supper and now its dying coals provided at least some warmth. So it was with considerable reluctance that Jayn crawled out of his blankets, crossed the pass, and clambered up a slight rise on the left side of the trail. It wasn’t until the campfire was out of sight that it occurred to him that he didn’t have the faintest notion of why he had done so. He looked out in a distance seemingly composed of equal parts shadowed earth and brilliantly-shining stars.

  “What am I doing here?”

  “I called you, Jayn.”

  Timon was standing right next to him. Jayn jumped backward three paces and landed in a crouch, his dagger ready.

  “What do you mean, ‘called me’? What trick is this?”

  “Just that,” Timon said. “I called you out of your sleep, but left your body where it was. I didn’t need that part.”

  Jayn crept back to the edge of the ridge and looked down toward the camp. It was still there, as was he himself. Jayn saw the still form wrapped in blankets, knew it for his own.

  “What have you done to me?!”

  “Nothing. Yet.”

  “Am I dreaming?”

  “In a way. But ask yourself, Jayn—if I am privy to your dreams, how are you going to keep anything hidden from me? You have no choice here, Jayn, other than to do what I require.”