Free KNIGHT OF SHADOWS by Roger Zelazny Page A

much farther it’ll be?
    Nope.   I’ll know when I see it, though.
    The sun is going to slip behind the mountain fairly soon.   Will you be able to see it to know it then?
    I believe the sky actually brightens here when the sun goes away.   Negative space is funny that way, Whatever, something is always bright here and something is always dark.   There’ll be the wherewithal for detection.
    Any idea what we’re actually doing?
    One of those damned quest-things, I think.
    Vision? Or practical?
    It was my understanding that they all partake of both, though I feel this one is heavily weighted toward the latter.   On the other wrist, anything you encounter between shadows is likely to partake of the allegorical, the emblematic-all that crap people bury in the non-conscious parts of their beings.
    In other words, you don’t know either:
    Not for sure, but I make my living as a sensitive guesser.
    I reached high, grabbed handholds, drew myself up to another ledge.   I followed it for a time, climbed again.   At length the sun went away, and it made no difference in my ability to see.   Darkness and light changed places.
    I scaled a five- or six-meter irregularity and halted when I finally got a look into the recessed area it rose to.   There was an opening in the face of the mountain to its rear.   I hesitated to label it a cave because it appeared artificial.   It looked as if it had been carved in the form of an arch, and it was big enough to ride through on horse-back.
    What do you know, Frakir commented, twitching once upon my wrist.   This is it.
    What? I asked.
    The first station, she replied.   You stop here and go through a bit of business before moving on.
    That being?
    It’s easier just to go and look.
    I hauled myself up over the edge, got to my feet, and walked forward.
    The big entranceway was filled with that sourceless light.   I hesitated on the threshold, peered within.
    It looked to be a generic chapel.   There was a small altar, a pair of candles upon it sporting flickering coronas of blackness.   There were stone benches carved along the walls.   I counted five doorways apart from the one by which I stood: three in the wall across from me; one in that to the right; another to the left.   Two piles of battle gear lay in the middle of the room.   There were no symbols of whatever religion might be represented.
    I entered.
    What am I supposed to do here? I asked.
    You are supposed to sit vigil, guarding your armor overnight.
    Aw, come on, I said, moving forward to inspect the stuff.
    What’s the point?
    That’s not a part of the information I’ve been given.
    I picked up a fancy white breastplate which would have made me look like Sir Galahad.   Just my size, it seemed.   I shook my head and lowered the piece.   I moved over to the next pile and picked up a very odd-looking gray gauntlet.   I dropped it immediately and rooted through the rest of the stuff.
    More of the same.   Contoured to fit me, also.   Only-
    What is the matter, Merlin?
    The white stuff, I said, looks as if it would fit me right now.
    The other armor appears to be of a sort used in the Courts.   It looks as if it would fit me just right when I’m shifted into my Chaos form.   So either set would probably do for me, depending on circumstances.   I can use only one outfit at a time, though.   Which am I supposed to guard?
    Il believe that’s the crux of the matter.   I think you’re supposed to choose.
    Of course! I snapped my fingers, heard nothing.   How slow of me, that I need to have things explained by my strangling cord!
    I dropped to my knees, swept both sets or armor and weapons together into one nasty-looking heap.
    If I have to guard them, I said, I’ll guard both sets.   I don’t care to take sides.
    I’ve a feeling something isn’t going to like that, Frakir answered.
    I stepped back and regarded the pile.
    Tell me about this vigil business again, I said.   What all’s