Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [76]
“What you say makes sense, Mosiah,” Eliza agreed. “But the Darksword is not mine and so any decisions concerning it are not mine to make. I am taking the sword back to my father. I will make that clear to this Smythe. My father will make the decision as to what to do with the sword.”
“Place the Darksword in the hand of its gloomy and doomy creator, and you might be surprised at what happens,” advised a sepulchral voice from underneath my stool. “Personally, I think he should give it to my friend Merlyn. I did mention that I knew Merlyn, didn’t I? You’ll find him hanging around down by that moldy old tomb of his. Quite a depressing place. I can’t think what he sees in it. Merlyn’s been looking for a sword for a number of years now. Some dolt tossed his into a lake. This isn’t it, but the old boy’s a bit dotty now and he probably wouldn’t know the difference.”
We had forgotten Teddy.
I fished him out, dusty and indignant, but otherwise unharmed.
I signed, “Simkin has a point. Not about Merlyn,” I added hastily. “About Joram. Once the Darksword is in Joram’s hand, it might be used to defeat the Technomancers.”
“Have you forgotten that this Darksword is not magically enhanced? No catalyst has given it Life. The Darksword stands no chance of getting anywhere near Joram’s hand,” Mosiah stated bitterly. “Kevon Smythe will take hold of it and that will be an end. We go upon a fool’s journey.”
“Just like old times,” Teddy remarked with a nostalgic sigh.
“YowYe not coming!” Mosiah said firmly.
“I wouldn’t leave me behind,” Teddy warned us. “I can’t be trusted. Not in the slightest. Much better to have me where you can keep an eye on me as the Duchess of Winifred said regarding the table where she kept her eyeball collection. She had one for every day of the year, different colors. Used to pop them out after breakfast. I recall the day one got loose and rolled across the marble floor. The house catalyst mistakenly trod upon it. You can’t imagine the squi—”
“I’ll take him,” Eliza said hurriedly. Snatching Teddy from me, she tucked him securely into the pocket of her skirt. “He can stay with me.”
Mosiah glared around at all of us. “Are you determined to do this? Reuven?”
I nodded. My duty was to Father Saryon. And even if it had not been, I would go wherever Eliza went, support her in whatever she did.
“I go with Eliza,” said Scylla.
“And I am going to Zith-el,” said Eliza.
“If you are resolved on this, we should leave. You said you have an air car?” Mosiah looked at Scylla. His expression was not friendly.
“You’re coming with us?” she asked, delighted.
“Of course. I will not leave Joram and his wife and Father Saryon in the hands of the Technomancers.”
“You will not leave the Darksword in our hands, isn’t that what you mean?” Scylla said with a sly grin.
“Take my words however you want,” Mosiah returned. “I am tired of arguing with the lot of you. Well, are you coming? Even with the air car, we will be lucky to arrive in Zith-el before dark.”
“And will your friends, the rest of the Duuk-tsarith, be joining us there?” Scylla asked, raising the eyebrow that was pierced with the tiny gold ring.
Mosiah stared out the window, into the distance, a far distance, that only he could see. “There is no Life in Zith-el,” he said softly. “Only death. Countless of our people died there when the quakes struck and the ground shifted, toppling the buildings. They lie unburied, their spirits troubled, demanding to know the reason why they died. No, the Duuk-tsarith will not go to Zith-el. There they would suffocate and their magic would be stifled, smothered.”
“But you will go,” Scylla said.
“I will go,” Mosiah said, and he was grim. “As I told you, my friends are being held captive there. Besides, it doesn’t make much difference to me whether or not my magic is stifled. After the battle I have little Life left within me. Unless we bump into a catalyst on the way, I will be good for nothing except