instant. “Shadowdark! No, I haven’t; I’ll call
him.”
“You call him, then; maybe he can talk sense
to Thaddeus. I’ll try and get through to Brenner, and maybe some of
the others.” Imp’s image vanished.
The name “Shadowdark” was unfamiliar to
Bredon, and he thought it had an ominous sound. “Who is
Shadowdark?” he asked.
“Thaddeus’s father,” Geste replied. He
started to say something to the floater, but Bredon distracted him
with a touch on the sleeve. The Trickster looked up at the mortal,
startled at his audacity.
“His father? He has a father?” Bredon
asked.
“Of course he has a father,” Geste snapped,
annoyed. “And he had a mother once, too, but she’s dead. We all
have parents, like anyone else. Where did you think we came
from?”
“I don’t know, I... I...” Bredon trailed off
into silence, and Geste ordered the floater to call Shadowdark.
A moment of silence ensued, during which
time Bredon tried, and failed, to gather the courage to ask more
questions. He was consumed with curiosity about what was happening
around him, and with concern for Lady Sunlight, but Geste was
obviously worried and irritable and in no mood to answer his
inquiries.
Instead, he watched the battle around the
High Castle. It continued unabated, and as far as he could tell
neither side was gaining any advantage.
“My apologies, sir,” the floater said at
last, “but Lord Shadowdark was outside, unattended. A messenger was
sent.”
An instant later another floating face
appeared.
Bredon had thought he was beyond surprise,
but this face shocked him. The other Powers had all looked young or
perhaps middle-aged, and had been clean and strong and handsome in
different ways. None had seemed all that different from mortal
humans.
Shadowdark’s face was misshapen and pale,
the left side bloated while the right sagged, both sides hideously
wrinkled, more like some bizarre fungus than the face of an old
man. Gruesome scars puckered the skin in a dozen places, tangled
among the wrinkles. Patches of black stubble were scattered along
his cheeks and jaw, but he had no real beard. Straight black hair
hung limply past his shoulders.
He spoke, harshly making a demand, but the
words were strange.
Geste replied, using equally strange words,
and Bredon realized that for the first time in his life he was
hearing another language spoken.
“What is he saying?” he asked, interrupting
Geste.
Geste waved him away.
“If I may be permitted to translate, sir, I
would be glad to do so,” the floater said.
Geste glanced up. “Go ahead,” he said. Then
he continued speaking in the foreign tongue, ignoring both Bredon
and the floater.
The floater explained, “Lord Shadowdark
demanded to know who was calling him, and why, and Mr. Geste
identified himself, and apologized for the intrusion. Mr. Geste is
now describing the situation he found at the High Castle.” It
paused, and then said, in a flawless imitation of Geste’s own
voice, “...I hoped that you might be able to intervene. Thaddeus
thinks very little of the rest of us, rightfully considering us to
be relative youngsters lacking experience, but I am sure that he
still respects you . He may well feel some degree of filial
devotion, even after so long a time. If you would consent to speak
to him, to attempt to make peace between Brenner and himself, we
would consider it a great favor, and would gladly repay you however
we could.”
Shadowdark spoke, and the floater said, in a
voice that failed to duplicate Shadowdark’s in anything but pitch,
“You told these stinking machines to drag me in here for that?”
“Yes, sir,” Geste and the floater’s
imitation of Geste replied, in two different tongues.
“You’re an idiot. It’s none of my business.
I don’t care what you people do to each other; Thaddeus and
what’s-his-name can kill each other if they like. Even if I did
care, I haven’t had anything to do with Thaddeus in... in
centuries,
him.”
“You call him, then; maybe he can talk sense
to Thaddeus. I’ll try and get through to Brenner, and maybe some of
the others.” Imp’s image vanished.
The name “Shadowdark” was unfamiliar to
Bredon, and he thought it had an ominous sound. “Who is
Shadowdark?” he asked.
“Thaddeus’s father,” Geste replied. He
started to say something to the floater, but Bredon distracted him
with a touch on the sleeve. The Trickster looked up at the mortal,
startled at his audacity.
“His father? He has a father?” Bredon
asked.
“Of course he has a father,” Geste snapped,
annoyed. “And he had a mother once, too, but she’s dead. We all
have parents, like anyone else. Where did you think we came
from?”
“I don’t know, I... I...” Bredon trailed off
into silence, and Geste ordered the floater to call Shadowdark.
A moment of silence ensued, during which
time Bredon tried, and failed, to gather the courage to ask more
questions. He was consumed with curiosity about what was happening
around him, and with concern for Lady Sunlight, but Geste was
obviously worried and irritable and in no mood to answer his
inquiries.
Instead, he watched the battle around the
High Castle. It continued unabated, and as far as he could tell
neither side was gaining any advantage.
“My apologies, sir,” the floater said at
last, “but Lord Shadowdark was outside, unattended. A messenger was
sent.”
An instant later another floating face
appeared.
Bredon had thought he was beyond surprise,
but this face shocked him. The other Powers had all looked young or
perhaps middle-aged, and had been clean and strong and handsome in
different ways. None had seemed all that different from mortal
humans.
Shadowdark’s face was misshapen and pale,
the left side bloated while the right sagged, both sides hideously
wrinkled, more like some bizarre fungus than the face of an old
man. Gruesome scars puckered the skin in a dozen places, tangled
among the wrinkles. Patches of black stubble were scattered along
his cheeks and jaw, but he had no real beard. Straight black hair
hung limply past his shoulders.
He spoke, harshly making a demand, but the
words were strange.
Geste replied, using equally strange words,
and Bredon realized that for the first time in his life he was
hearing another language spoken.
“What is he saying?” he asked, interrupting
Geste.
Geste waved him away.
“If I may be permitted to translate, sir, I
would be glad to do so,” the floater said.
Geste glanced up. “Go ahead,” he said. Then
he continued speaking in the foreign tongue, ignoring both Bredon
and the floater.
The floater explained, “Lord Shadowdark
demanded to know who was calling him, and why, and Mr. Geste
identified himself, and apologized for the intrusion. Mr. Geste is
now describing the situation he found at the High Castle.” It
paused, and then said, in a flawless imitation of Geste’s own
voice, “...I hoped that you might be able to intervene. Thaddeus
thinks very little of the rest of us, rightfully considering us to
be relative youngsters lacking experience, but I am sure that he
still respects you . He may well feel some degree of filial
devotion, even after so long a time. If you would consent to speak
to him, to attempt to make peace between Brenner and himself, we
would consider it a great favor, and would gladly repay you however
we could.”
Shadowdark spoke, and the floater said, in a
voice that failed to duplicate Shadowdark’s in anything but pitch,
“You told these stinking machines to drag me in here for that?”
“Yes, sir,” Geste and the floater’s
imitation of Geste replied, in two different tongues.
“You’re an idiot. It’s none of my business.
I don’t care what you people do to each other; Thaddeus and
what’s-his-name can kill each other if they like. Even if I did
care, I haven’t had anything to do with Thaddeus in... in
centuries,
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