"Then will you tell us what we need to know? We dislike being here as much as our presence displeases you.”
Again the bone-chilling laugh. “You displease me not at all, Valheru. Of your kin I have often longed to take one to my service. But time and circumstances have never permitted. And Pug shall eventually come here, in time. Yet when that occurs, he shall be like these before me, standing in patient line for their turn to be judged. All wait upon my pleasure; some shall return for another turn of the Wheel; others shall be granted the ultimate punishment, oblivion, and fewer still will earn final rapture, oneness with’the Ultimate.
“Still,” she said, as if thoughtful, “it is not yet his time. No, we all must act as is foreordained. He whom you seek does not abide with me yet. Of all those within the mortal realms, he above all has been most astute in declining my hospitality. No, to find Macros the Black, you will need to look elsewhere.”
Tomas considered. “May we know where he is?”
The lady upon the throne leaned forward. “There are limits, Valheru, even to what I may attempt. Put your mind to the task and you shall know where the black sorcerer abides. There can be only one answer.” She turned her gaze again upon Pug. “Silent, magician? You have said nothing.”
Softly Pug said, “I wonder, lady. Still, if I may” - he waved a hand at those about him - “is there no joy in this realm?”
For a moment the lady upon the throne regarded the silent lines of people arrayed before her. It was as if the question was new to her. Then she said, “No, there is no joy in the realm of the dead.” She again studied the magician. “But consider, there is also no sorrow. Now you must away, for the quick may abide here a short while only. And there are those within my realm who would distress you to apprehend. You must go.”
Tomas nodded and with a stiff bow, led Pug away. Past long lines they hurried, as the brilliance of the goddess dimmed behind. It seemed hours they walked. Suddenly Pug halted, transfixed by recognition. A young man with wavy brown hair stood quietly in line, his eyes fixed forward. In near-silent voice, Pug said, “Roland.”
Tomas paused, studying the face of their companion from Crydee, dead for almost three years. He took no notice of his two former friends. Pug said, “Roland, it’s Pug!” Again there was no reaction. Pug shouted the squire from Tulan’s name, and there was a nearly imperceptible flicker about the eyes, as if Roland heard a distant voice calling. Pug looked pained as his boyhood rival for Carline’s affections took a step forward in the long line of those to be judged. Pug’s mind ached for something to say to him. Then at last he shouted, “Carline is well, Roland. She is happy.”
For a moment there was no reaction, then, faintly, the corners of Roland’s mouth turned up for the briefest instant. But Pug thought he looked somehow more at peace as he stared blankly forward. Then Pug suddenly discovered Tomas’s hand upon his arm, and the powerful warrior propelled his friend away from Roland. Pug struggled an instant, but to no avail, then walked in step with Tomas. A moment later, Tomas released his grip. Softly he said, “They’re all here, Pug. Roland. Lord Borric and his lady Catherine. The men who died in the Green Heart, and those taken by the wraith in Mac Mordain Cadal. King Rodric. All who died in the Riftwar. They’re all here. That’s what Lims-Kragma meant by saying there were those here who would cause us distress if we met.”
Pug only nodded. Again he felt a deep sense of loss for those whom fate had taken away from him. Turning his mind again to the cause of their strange travel, he said, “Where are we bound now?”
“By not answering, the Lady of Death answered. There is only one place beyond her reach. It is an oddity outside the known universe. We must find the City Forever, that place which stands beyond the edge of time.”
Pug halted. Looking about, he noticed they had again passed into the vast plain of bodies, all arrayed in neat rows. “Then the question is, how do we find it?”