Free Echoes of the Goddess: Tales of Terror and Wonder from the End of Time by Darrell Schweitzer Page B

danced, awkwardly. He laughed and clapped his hands. His laughter was coarse, grating. He tried to sing, but this, like his laughter, was more like something he had forgotten and was trying to imitate than like real song.
    The boy only stared at him.
    * * * *
    “Master, where are we going?” Tamliade finally asked one night.
    An image flashed into Emdo Wesa’s mind, of a tortoise coming out of its shell, very slowly. He made a smile, remembering how to do it. Then he grew grim.
    “We are going to that city you have seen in your dream. We must find this manifestation of the Goddess and gain the power of it. Has that not been obvious all along?”
    “But how can we go into a dream by riding on a road?” Then the boy put his hand over his mouth and looked down, afraid he’d said too much. “I mean—Master—I know you can do much magic—”
    “Ah—well asked. I will tell you this much about the art. We do not move because we will come to the city that way, but so that my brother cannot see us. Did I ever tell you about my brother? No, because you did not ask. But now I shall. His name is Etash Wesa. He is a monster. He does not see as men do. He can reach out and know where everyone is, but his vision is like a fog and it takes time to settle. So when I move around, it takes him time to find me again. He is my enemy and seeks to destroy me. Do not ask the cause of our enmity. It is long and deep and more than you could understand. Not even I can comprehend all that he has become, but believe this: the world would be better off without him. He has drifted far, far into strangeness. Magic has that effect, changing the magician slowly, subtly, but inevitably. Often he must take parts of his own body and make dadars , living beings which are extensions of his will. This must be done with great care and a minimum of times, or the magician loses all that he once was. My brother has not remembered to be humane and compassionate, and the strangeness has devoured him. It has cost me much to fight him, all this time. You may wonder how you figure into all this, why you should be a part of our deadly quarrel. Yes, you are a part. Almost certainly the overseer who beat you was one of his dadars , perhaps the bandits who sold you also. I am sure that his design was to kill you before I could find you, so I would not be led to this thing we seek. I am sure the man would have beaten you to death had I not snatched you away suddenly.”
    “He looked surprised.”
    “Even my brother can be surprised. That is why I am still alive. I have eluded him many times. But he grows stronger, and I think that he could cover up the whole world like a cancer if left to himself. Therefore I must have you with me when this dream comes again.”
    The boy was silent. They sat down and ate an evening meal together. Then, as they were ready to go to sleep, he asked another question, unbidden. It was a curious thing. Emdo Wesa noted it.
    “Master, if magic changes the magician, but you are not the way your brother is, then what has it done to you?”
    “Ah…again, well asked. You grow bolder—”
    “I didn’t mean to—”
    “No, be still. It was well asked, and I shall answer. I have remembered to be humane and compassionate, unlike my brother. Therefore I have not changed as he has. But I have paid a great price. Look.”
    He took off his gloves for the first time in Tamliade’s presence, revealing that he had no hands, but instead flickering lights, like soft, sculpted flames, replacing flesh and bone up to the elbows.
    The boy let out a scream of terror, got up, and ran.
    “Tamliade! Where are you going?”
    He stopped running and came sheepishly back to the campfire.
    “I don’t know.”
    The hands glowed like paper lanterns.
    * * * *
    The dream came to Tamliade again among the hills, on the borderlands of Hesh. It was in the autumn of the year. They had been travelling for more than a month, and had left the plains behind. The forested