“Two? Pray speak fully, for no oath can be made without full disclosure of the terms and conditions of such a binding act.”
Relieved, Gord named his conditions. “First, you must swear that you will not attempt to harm me… or cause another to do so.”
“Agreed, readily accepted,” Smirtch said eagerly.
“Second, you must answer each question I ask honestly and fully, without any misleading or confusing elements in such answers.”
Smirtch shook his inky locks at that. “Not so fast, stranger. You demand much and offer naught save nonaggression. I will gladly agree to answer your questions, but in return you must likewise consent to answer those I might have of you.”
“That sounds acceptable,” Gord said after a brief pause to consider the ramifications of the pact. “But what of these others? This benighted bestiary of shadow-creatures?”
“Not one of them will linger if I tell them to be gone,” the gloam assured him. “This throng is naught but a collection of ordinary denizens of this plane, all curious, some perhaps curiosities to you, but all of no great power or peril to us. Why not let such harmless beasts be?”
Again a question with a question! Gord stepped back from the gloam and used his sword to wave off the encircling array. Those nearest the blade moved backward, seeming to float, making no sound except for the strange susurration. No wonder they had succeeded in ringing him while he slept. These things not only looked like shadows, they conducted themselves as quietly as shadows.
“These are shy and weak things,” Smirtch said. “As you proved, since your threat sent them scurrying; and this proves my veracity as well. They pose no threat to you now-though they can be used at times… Now, let us begin our discussion.”
“At your insistence,” Gord said briskly. “What is this place called?”
“Shadowrealm,” the gloam replied abruptly. So, thought Gord, the creature he had encountered earlier used the name that must be the generally accepted one for this place. “What have you done since you’ve arrived here?” Smirtch continued, getting in his first question.
Gord noticed that the manlike shapes of darkness, spirits, shades, and shadows, the smaller, dwarflike murks, and the tall, gangly fuligi, were gliding nearer as he spoke with Smirtch. The young thief knew some of these creatures from chance, violent encounters in the past, and he had heard tales and seen depictions of both the murklings and the skinny, fuliginous humanoid things of coalesced shadow-stuff. Pretending not to see this encroachment, the young man answered the gloam’s counterquestion blandly. “Me? But little, I fear. A rest, a look around, and then this chance meeting.”
Smirtch followed up with another question, perhaps hoping that Gord wouldn’t notice the impropriety. “Do you know what an adumbrate is?”
“No, I’m quite uncertain as to the nature of an adumbrate,” Gord replied politely. “Now, since you spoke out of turn, you must answer two questions for me. First, what is the nature of Shadowrealm? Second, how does one such as I come to this place?”
“It is a place much as any other of its sort,” said Smirtch, grinning at the way he had sidestepped the first of the two queries. Then he added another equally vague answer. “One such as yourself comes to Shadowrealm by various means, including those of magical nature, but I am unable to say with certainty how you arrived until you give me the details of what transpired just prior to your arrival here… which was when?”
“Time in this place is difficult to measure,” Gord countered. He didn’t really want to give a direct answer, but the question intrigued him for his own sake-how long had it been, anyway?-and he paused a moment to reflect before responding further. Watching the slowly advancing shadowfolk out of the corner of his eye, Gord continued, “I was… asleep when I arrived, and I also took another rest later, so I could have been here an hour or a day, or even longer. Now, tell me, what race rules this realm?”
Smirtch seemed to scowl a bit at the question, but it was difficult to be certain. “We gloams are the most potent of the folk who dwell here, just as duskdrakes are the most fearsome of the great beasts inhabiting the plane-I mean, place,” the gloam corrected hastily, but not before Gord noted the first noun. Smirtch hastened on, perhaps hoping that the human would forget the slip if he covered it with a flood of interesting information.
“The phantomfolk are next, although we easily defeat them, then there are the shadowilk and the murklings and the fuligi. As the adumbrates aren’t really more than monstrosities, I leave them off the hierarchy of folk. But I ramble! When we first met, you mentioned that you had recovered from what you presumed was death-indeed, I see a wound there on your arm. What do you recall of the circumstances which brought you to such a sorry pass?”
“Little… little if anything,” Gord admitted sincerely, meanwhile pondering in another part of his mind the information he had managed to glean from the gloam’s statements. Shadowrealm apparently was, as he had suspected, actually the Plane of Shadows, a plane that connected to the real world as well as to the planes of Yang and Yin, the positive and negative. He also had good reason to think that this Smirtch fellow was doing his best to keep Gord ignorant of the true nature of this place and its politics.
Smirtch had claimed to be the principal gloam, and from the deference given by the other shadowy denizens around, this seemed quite possible. Yet it was obvious that the creature desired something that Gord possessed, thus indicating that Smirtch was not the lord of much of anything. Similarly, his remarks regarding the adumbrates seemed to indicate that there was enmity at best between such things and Smirtch’s race. Enmity exists where there is competition. Adumbrates were as powerful as gloams, at least in certain aspects, it seemed, although the scale of power was uncertain.
Gord reasoned that the rivalry between the two species was a matter of concern to Smirtch, and he seemed to think that Gord might be useful in tipping the balance in favor of his own side. Interesting… but what means did a new-come human possess? The sword seemed potent here, but still… Resolving to listen most carefully, Gord asked his next question. “What king or kings are sovereign here?”
“There are those who proclaim a Shadowking. We gloams do not recognize his suzerainty. I, as Imprimus, am as great a lord as any,” Smirtch added, still frowning slightly as he droned on, but obviously drawing himself up with what seemed more than a touch of hubris. “That is of no great import at this moment, for you have a problem which I can assist you with. You said that you could remember virtually nothing of what transpired prior to your awakening in this place, did you not? Perhaps if we inventoried and examined your possessions, there would be some clue, something which would restore your mnemonic functions…”
At this, Gord smiled. “Yes, I did in fact say that I could not recall the time before my entrance to the Plane of Shadow. Now, are the gloam-folk then at war with the Shadowking?”
“You have not allowed my question!” Smirtch said with irritation.
“But I have, dear Smirtch, I have indeed. You asked if I had said a certain thing-that was your question. I affirmed that I had so said-my answer. Now, pray, answer mine!”
“No. We do not war.”
That told the young adventurer much more than he was sure the gloam suspected. The slight inflection on the last word made it probable that there was strife between the factions. That there was no war indicated that the gloams were not powerful enough to openly contest with the Shadowking, despite Smirtch’s boast that he was a lord of equal stature; certainly, this being was less puissant than the king-perhaps on the order of a powerful baron… Just then Smirtch spoke again, forcing Gord to concentrate on his words.