Shadowy Collector

The white marble palace in the middle of an emerald green park seemed light and airy. But I knew it was a real fortress, armed with the latest technical and magical equipment. I had studied this sort of thing before, so I had noticed every hidden camera, every trap in the park and in the house yet on my first visit to Norn's residence. After my third visit, I was able to draw the defense plan and even get into the house, but I didn’t hurry to tell Parsel about it. The reason for that was that I still hadn't figured out where Norn lived, in which world of the Lace.

This man didn't want to risk showing someone like me the way to his home. That's why every time I went to see him, I had an escort and my eyes were tied. After years of playing cat and mouse with the Coordinating Council, one had the right to be a little paranoid.

Norn's personal secretary, tall and thin, led me through several rooms and stopped at one of the doors.

"Wait a minute," he said as he opened the door, and announced, "Arthur Corney, the Hunter of the Lace!"

It sounded like "His Highness the Prince of Denmark''. I looked in the old mirror on the wall. The reflection was familiar: a tall, long-haired brunette with dark blue eyes and sharp features. The long scar on his right cheek stood out against his pale skin.

"When I finish this mission, I'll go to a tropical island somewhere," I promised myself, smoothed my hair, straightened my collar and went inside.

The chic cabinet was decorated in the classical style and contained many treasures.  Van Gogh’s ‘Poppies’ was worth a lot! As far as I knew Norn, this was definitely the original. And I wasn't the one who brought it here. One of the walls was made of glass, and I could see an amazing view of a harbor.

Norn got up from the table and took a step toward me.

"How was it?" he asked.

I put my bag on the table. Norn unzipped it impatiently.

The collector's face was covered with a plaid scarf, and his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. I heard that many years ago, Norn had a terrible accident and could have burned to death if help hadn't come. He survived, but his face was disfigured. By the way, his hair was completely white, even though he wasn’t too old.

Norn removed the Cube of the Mind as carefully as if it were made of glass, and began to examine it, turning it with his long fingers. Finally, he put his new toy aside and asked me to sit down. I moved the leather chair to the table and sat down comfortably, crossing my legs.

  "So, Arthur, you did it. Again," Norn said, sitting down as well.

I nodded.

"So, how was it?"

I could say "It was okay," and that would be enough for someone else, but not for him. Norn was a recluse and a homebody, but he loved adventure stories. Sometimes I thought those stories were as valuable to him as the artifacts themselves. Once I understood this nuance, I began to color my reports with picturesque details. After that, Norn's attitude toward me became friendlier.

"You're incredibly lucky," Norn said after I finished, adding, "I've already transferred the rest of the money to your account."

I nodded. In this case, money wasn't my main interest, but I never refused to be well paid. No hunter would work for an idea.

"Let me ask you a question, Arthur," he said with the soft voice of a predator ready to unleash its claws, "what do you plan to do now?"

"Plan?" I said absentmindedly. "The sea, the sun and a girl – that's all I’ve planned for now. I need a vacation."

My vis-a-vis chuckled. "To be honest, I expected something more original from you."

I grimaced, "I have such an original life that I prefer to take at least a vacation as a normal human."

"Oh, I see," Norn nodded. "I do understand. I think I can even help you with your vacation."

"Thank you, but I can manage on my own."

Norn smiled.

"Don't refuse the offer, Arthur, before you know it."

"Okay, I'm listening," I nodded gloomily.

Norn took the pen and wrote down the number with several zeros. Then he handed me the piece of paper. I looked at it and whistled. That sum would have been enough to buy Alaska and Hawaii, with some change left over for beer.

"Well?" Norn leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers. The spider ring on his finger glowed blood-red.

"What artifact must I steal this time? King Solomon's ring, the Great Master's slippers, or Excalibur?"

"Your last guess is really close to the truth," Norn said calmly. "I am interested in the legendary sword. One of the Great Master's artifacts that has survived to this day."

I raised my eyebrow questioningly and leaned forward to show my interest.

"The sword of the Great Master?" I asked again, openly surprised.

"It is mentioned in the legend," Norn said with the tone of a school teacher. "Do you know the legend?"

"Everyone does!"

Norn chuckled.

"I will allow myself to remind you of its main points."

"I'm listening."

I was curious to hear his version of the story. The legend of the Great Master had many variations. From the way he told it, I could roughly figure out Norn‘s home world. As far as I knew, even the Coordinating Council didn't know that. So I was ready to listen.

"Well, about the Great Master," Norn began. "Who was he and why did he do what he did? The legend says nothing about that, so I won't guess. We can't judge the one who created the universe. Nevertheless, the Formless One, who still resides beyond the Edge, has not given up the idea of atomizing the Lace. I doubt, however, that he will ever be able to do so," Norn paused, tilting his head to the side and watching the play of light in the ruby. He seemed pensive.

I thought he was from the Dark Edge. Neither in the Middle Worlds nor in the Center would one speak of the Master in such terms.

"Oh, I got distracted again," Norn returned to our conversation. "After the Master had divided the Light and the Darkness,created the Lace of the Universe, placed worlds on it and populated them with humans and animals, he decided to take a rest."

"And on the seventh day he rested from all his works," I quoted from the Bible.

"I'm not sure it was the seventh day," Norn admitted.

"It was from the legends of my home-world," I explained.

"Sometimes it's amazing how similar the religions of different worlds are," Norn nodded. "I used to be interested in comparative theology. It was really fascinating."

This time it was my turn to nod, even though religions and myths had never really interested me.

"So the Master wanted to rest, but he couldn't. The restless Chaos wanted to swallow the Lace, which had no defense yet. So the Master called his sons: Irr, the Warrior of Darkness, and Oel, the Knight of Light. He gave them the blades he had forged from the material left over after the creation of the Lace. Irr received Esterlior, the Sword of Valor, and Oel received Helyswort, the Blade of Honor. His sons vowed to protect the Lace from the attacks of Chaos until their hands could hold their swords, and to give the armor to their heirs, for the Lace would exist forever. So it was, and the Master retired. In time, the sons' paths diverged. Oel founded a country in the center of the Lace and called it Oeldiv. There he created what many religions call ’paradise’."

"A gathering of nerds and snobs," I uttered, as I remembered my only visit to this "holy" world. The next moment I regretted my unintentional frankness.

"They are the upper caste, they are forgivable," Norn said sympathetically. "Now, Irr, the second brother, settled on the Edge, also called the Dark. His descendants still guard the borders of the Edge and call themselves the Guardians of the Shield. "

"Oh, I know it."

"Esterlior, Irr’s blade, still belongs to the rulers of the Dark Edge, and it is passed from father to son."

I thought he was going to offer me the robbery of King Mabert, who was said to be one of the greatest magicians of the Lace. But Norn continued to speak.

"The fate of Helyswort was worse."

"I heard it was lost many ages ago."

Norn shook his head.

"That was a bit different. Up to a certain point, the sword had been passed from father to son, as it had been with Esterlior. But one of its owners had done something incompatible with the concepts of duty and honor. What exactly – is a great mystery, long forgotten in Oeldiv. After that, however, the Blade of Honor refused to serve its owner and remained in its sheath. Since that time, the Helyswort has been hidden beneath Heroes' Rock. Only the worthy one will be able to draw it from its sheath to protect the Lace in the hour when even hope dies."

Norn fell silent, bowing his head and clasping his hands in prayer.

"Amen," I said.

Norn raised his head.

"I want it!" he exclaimed passionately. "The Helyswort, the blade of Oel! Bring it to me. I'll give you anything you want, I swear!"

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

 I scratched the back of my head.

"But... How do you imagine the mission?"

"Oh, I'll tell you. I've been studying this for a long time. I know where to look for it, and I'll give you all the information you need to accomplish this mission."

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Norn wouldn't let me say a word. He slammed the palm of his hand down on the tabletop and continued heatedly, "Oh, if I only could go for the sword myself! Up there, to the Edge, to the end of the reality, where absolute Chaos is so close!" He sighed. "It's a great shame, but my health won't let me go on such a difficult journey. But you can do it! You are the only one who can get the Helysword!"

I grimaced: I don't like flattery.

"What are you talking about?"

"Exactly what it is," Norn spread his hands. "I've been watching you for several years, ever since I heard the story of the snow dragons of Hallydar."

At that moment, I involuntarily rubbed the scar on my cheek. He saw it and nodded.

"Then I heard about the Valengridian frescoes," he went on, "and an absolutely unbelievable story about the green-haired Leah, and about the Dreameater..."

"The Dreameater is not my work," I objected, "I wasn't there."

Norn ignored my objections and added a few more of my suicidal adventures.

Okay. It was true.   All this had really happened. The peculiarities of my profession. But not everything is as jolly and romantic as the minstrels used to sing.

"Do you know what affected me the most?" Norn asked, and answered himself, "Not what you did, not how you did it. The most astonishing thing is your amazing luck!"

"My luck?" I was surprised.

"Yes, exactly! You are literally a hair's breadth away from death all the time. This can happen to anyone. Once or twice. But in your case it is a law!"

"People like to exaggerate," I objected.

"That’s what I thought," Norn agreed. "So I decided to give you a try. I think the four missions you‘ve done for me are sufficient proof."

I raised my hands.

"You're right. I give up. I have no more arguments against your words."

Norn tapped his fingers on the table and asked me, looking at the Cube of the Mind.

"So what do you say, Arthur?"

I suddenly remembered that I hadn't planned to accept any offers from him. But he managed to intrigue me again.

"Wait a minute," I said thoughtfully. "The legend says the sword is for a specific person."

Not exactly," Norn objected, "It says that the Chosen One can take the sword from its sheath. But you don't have to do that. Just bring the sword and its sheath to me."

"It looks like a temple desecration," I said with a grimace, quite forgetting what I'd just done in Aguilant.

"For the Great Shadow!" Norn exclaimed. "You don't believe in legends!"

"I thought you did."

"I am a scientist, and I only believe in what is scientifically proven!"  he said with pathos. "As for the Helyswort… Call my desire to obtain it quaintness or vanity. But do not seek mysticism where it does not exist and cannot be."

I could argue with him about mysticism. By the way, my intuition told me that there was something wrong with this mission. But…

"It seems like you talked me into it," I finally said.