The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha) Read Free

“traitor to one’s lord,” or even “man who knows the secrets of women,” this latter indicating that among some Eastern cultures the practice of witchcraft is considered a woman’s skill, although no other evidence has been found to support this belief.
    In this case, however, when we call this traveler a warlock, we mean simply a man who has studied the heathen arts of Eastern witchcraft. In fact, though initiated into these arts, this young man had not progressed in them to any great degree, but, rather, had only recently come to the point where, according to the “school” of witchcraft practiced by this young man and his teachers, he had to undertake a journey and attempt to find a guide or a path into what the Easterners called the “spirit world.” Upon the actual meaning of this term, if any, the author will not speculate, this being, after all, a work of
history, not a treatise on magical philosophy or a study of primitive superstitions.
    The young man had not, in fact, traveled far, his home was in the manor house of a minor noble not twenty miles away, so upon his arrival at Blackchapel, which he conceived as only the first leg of his journey, he was well rested and eager for whatever adventures might await him. We need hardly add that he did not anticipate these adventures, or, in fact, any other that might await him in Blackchapel; and yet, as the reader has no doubt surmised by the fact that we have taken it upon ourselves to make reference to this place, it chanced that he was incorrect.
    The day having nearly reached evening when his feet brought him to Blackchapel, his first order of business was to procure lodgings for the night, which he set about doing in the simplest and most natural way: he made a polite greeting to the first Easterner he met, and inquired as to any inn that let rooms by the evenings, or of any persons who might take in strangers for a pecuniary consideration. As it turned out, however, the first Easterner he met was a certain man named Erik, who was unable to be of much help to him. This Easterner could be described, by any standards, as ignorant. In fact, he could be described as ignorant not only by any standards, but upon any subject. While everyone is, of course, ignorant upon some subject or another, Erik maintained his ignorance in any and every matter he came across, and even improved upon it when he could.
    The traveler, then, spoke to this fellow, saying, “My good man, I wish you a pleasant day, and hope indeed you are finding it so.”
    Erik considered this for a moment, then said, “Well?”
    “Well, there is a question I would wish to ask you, if it is no trouble: Do you know a place where a traveler such as myself might secure lodgings in this charming village?”
    “How, lodgings?”
    “Yes. That is, a place where I might spend the night, enjoying more or less of comfort.”
    “Ah, yes, I see. Well, I must consider this question.”
    “Yes, I understand that. You, then, consider the question, and I will wait while you do so.”
    “And you are right to wait,” said Erik promptly, “for I have even now begun considering.”
    “And I,” said the young warlock, “have begun waiting.”
    In the event, it seemed that the traveler had far more success in waiting than Erik had in considering; for his waiting was accomplished with considerable skill—that is, not a shift of feet nor a quiver of an eyebrow betrayed impatience, whereas, after the span of some ten or fifteen minutes had elapsed, the considering had yet to bear fruit. At the end of this time, Erik, still with a countenance that spoke of deep consideration, turned and wandered off. The traveler, initially startled by this action, at length concluded that the other had discovered an answer, and the traveler determined to follow Erik, who wandered through Blackchapel on some errand of his own, and at just about the time the traveler realized that Erik would not lead him to what he sought, he