"He was seductive. That radiance of his was enough to bind the minds of lesser beings." Yoid sighed, "I miss him." He looked to Merrin. "I miss you."
"Miss me?"
There was a change. Merrin saw it, felt it. Moreover, it wove itself into a sense of deep familiarity. A warm one.
Yoid grew taller, not much, inches at least. His hair flowed long, fading into a whiter, radiant hue. His clothes, the prior dark rags, melded into a brown tunic, and a large, pooling white coat followed. In a moment, he became luminous, dazzling.
A corona of light rayed from him.
Merrin saw this and resisted the urge to bow, to worship. "Who are you?"
"I am Yoid the Truthful, and I am the eternal companion of the El'shadie." He smiled, genuine. "I don't know what to do now…" There was a shyness to him. He knelt, "Do you accept me?"
"Accept you?"
"Would you once again allow me into that beautiful splendor of a world?" His face softened, brows a certain upward bend, lips a thin line. Sadness.
Why sadness? "How would I do that?"
He moved closer, his features lightened by the other radiance: Merrin's. "Just say it. Say you allow me access. Let me in. Let me please bask in your glory again. To move through those white fields, below that clear sky. Let me in."
Clear sky?
White fields?
Merrin sensed fragility.
"That's not how the grey world is—"
"He's lying." An interruptive voice, a soft contralto. Catelyn.
Merrin peered past. Catelyn, on the floor, was crawling, gasping. Her clothes were drenched from the prior perspiration. "What are you saying?"
Yoid seized his face, eye to eye. "Don't listen to her; remember, she did not even tell you about the Telemir. She just wanted to use you, but I want to love you. Be with you. Your companion."
"You do?" Merrin tried to think, couldn't.
"He's lying," Catelyn said. "He is not Yoid the Truthful."
"Then who am I?" Yoid roared, a chaotic tremble through the chamber, dust raining.
Catelyn shouted, "Look at it!" She pointed at the stele. "There's no mention of a Yoid the Truthful, but there's another."
"Who?"
"Yoid the Deceiver."
Yoid scowled.
"The one that was split by the mighty Shaedoran: Taka!" Catelyn collapsed, weak. "He is the great deceiver!"
"Ah, that's enough!" Yoid said, standing. "That's plenty talking. I don't see what use you have for an orifice. You don't need a mouth!"
Catelyn trembled, her lips twisting back, blurring as a thing cleansed. She murmured, muffled.
"What did you do?" Merrin said, still plagued by a dull mind.
"Ah, this was too rushed, wasn't it?" Yoid rubbed his brow. "But I had to. I just couldn't wait." A wide smile curled on his face. "You practically spill your power. What can I do but fall into that seduction?"
Merrin was lost.
"El'shadie and his companion… What a joke, but I suppose there's a certain truth to that. I have known my share of El'shadies."
Merrin tried to move.
"But I tried, didn't I?" He glanced at Catelyn. "You are annoying, you know that? Also, calling me a liar? That's an insult. There is a truth to my words; I am truthful. But you, you are an annoying thing. To know the old tongue, to read the stele. I call that an anomaly. But I suppose such things would have to always happen in this odd world of yours."
"Who are you?"
Yoid regarded him. "I am Yoid. That is enough."
"Where is Kzeith?"
"Ah, always the savior." Yoid smiled, pointed at himself. "Here."
"What?"
"I did tell you he will never do anything to you." Mischief in his tone. "As I said, he is close. Very close. Practically the same."
Merrin knew logic in those words, but simply couldn't find it. "What are you talking about?"
"Surely your mind isn't that languid. Think, Merrin, think." Yoid smiled. "What did I say to you?"
He sorted the memories, and found them.
"You said you were related to Kzeith. Closer than I think. A housed family."
"Yes," Yoid said. "He is a house. My house. And I live in it. Why not offer yours?"
That stirred the deepest awareness—that identity that grew for the honorific words. A resistance arose with it. Not this one, it felt like. An envious defiance. Not this one. Not this body. Merrin bathed in that cognizance, allowed its desired ascension. His ascension.
In a moment, his mind surged with a sensory maelstrom. Disengage. Disengage. He knew danger, felt it, dreaded it. He lifted his head, met Yoid, that luminance about him, almost blinding. "No!" He achieved.
A corner smile. "And you think therein lies a choice?" Head tilted. "No. Today, a change of power must rise. A new El'shadie."
That did something.
A moment, he stormed the force; that rilling tide of power. Igniting it gave strength to the frailty. That awesome power—the seduction. Sense proved Yoid's desire. A want that would not be allowed.
Whatever this was, whatever he was. Today was not that day!
The wind howled, air rifts spiraling through the oval dark chamber. Within, two human lamps stood, casting brilliant white over its space. One, however, was brighter. Merrin reared his hands, the weaves curling through as he spun them. Caster means.
"Go!" He said. "Please go!"
Yoid rolled his eyes. "Seriously, aren't you even curious about what I know? Of what I am? The El'shadie has more mysteries than this world can handle. Silence, and I will tell you."
"Hold your silence."
"If you say so." He smiled. "Catelyn cannot breathe!"
A gurgling rattle swelled into the loudness—through the violent spinning, he heard it. He glanced, broke intentness, the wind, unreeling. Catelyn, sprawled on the searing floor, curled, legs bent, fingers clawing on her face—lips. Searching.
"Stop!" Merrin said. "Stop that."
"Simply give me access," Yoid said, features soothing.
Why does he want my permission? Merrin considered that mentation. "How?"
"Again with the dawdling… Just say it. Say the words."
Catelyn twisted, her face paling.
"Free her first," he said.
"Say the words." Yoid smiled, closed the distance. "I am trying to be very cordial now. I am old, very old. You might be El'shadie, the one who will never die. Except you do; you all always do. I, however, will persist. Forever and ever, I will persist. And I am patient. I can wait. Years, hundreds of them. I can linger." He whispered. "Can she?"
The choice bubbled now in Merrin's throat. To say them, a breeze of words, passing in a snap. Should he? Logically, she was nothing now—a teacher, yes, but in weight, nothing. The witnesses needed to live, survive these mines, and the freedom that awaited them. They deserved it.
Sacrificing one for the many. A simple choice for an Ashman. Would he? Merrin closed his eyes. But I'm not only an Ashman, am I?
No!
The other then…
He regarded Yoid, said, "If I am to die—"
"Die?"
"Isn't that what would happen?" Merrin said. "I doubt Kzeith exists within you. No. What you do kills."
"I could have answered if you had asked," Yoid chirped.
"Then answer this…" Merrin paused, then: "Who are you?"
"I am Yoid."
"Answer that, and I will give you what you want. You say you are truthful, then you would allow Catelyn to live. Firstly, answer my question."
Calmly, he stirred the internal force—this he achieved by the other. The mind provided a reality where the mellow masked the power.
Yoid smirked. "You are not like him at all," he said. "Very well. I suppose this marks your final knowing."
His light brightened. Ornamental. A thing Merrin noted served a purely aesthetic purpose. Or perhaps some secret means of casting.
With it, he answered. "Before the first creatures developed the awareness of being. Before the Maya came to these lands, before the Orvalen and their high cities, I was. And in that time, I have been many things. Deceiver to the Orvalen. Lord of Crafts to their highlords. The splitted by the wheel of Taka. I have been many things except one: El'shadie. Now I, too, will become that."
There was a certain weight to his words—a heaviness that required a mind greater than his.
Yet.
Merrin sighed. "You arranged my snapping, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Yoid smiled. "Stones infused with lightning have an odd value in this world."
Money.
Merrin understood. This had been a plaguing question: Why did the slaves watch him after the battle against Kzeith? There was no reason; certainly, before him, many had achieved such. That should have been dismissed as the act of a dying man.
They did not.
That fear for them had driven his race, and it was that race that sealed his faith. Unconnected, yet it was.
Horror, such planned control.
Finally, he met Yoid's gaze. "I believe in the Almighty."
"And you make them believe you are god." Mockery.
"Maybe. But I believe. The symbols are a thing of flux-motions. Fate, destiny. I might die here. You might get what you want… But I do not believe it. This is not my glorious purpose." Merrin glanced at Catelyn, sweat steaming off. "Neither hers."
"What are you?"