CHAPTER 18

“No,” Sharya-Rana said after some thought. “I mean – no, it won’t be a hint. Tell me your solution.”

“Please tell me about the palantíri first, all right?”

“As you please. Those, too, are magical crystals; with your magical limitations they can only interest you as means of communication. Anything surrounding one crystal can be transmitted to another – images, sounds, smells. Let me stress: it is the phenomenon itself that gets transmitted, rather than information about it. How this happens is rather difficult to understand, nor do you need to. Thoughts and feelings don’t get transmitted, that’s a fairy tale. A palantír can work in sending, receiving, or two-way mode; in principle, it is possible to set up contact between more than two crystals, but that is very complicated.”

“What do they look like?”

“A ball of smoky crystal, about the size of a child’s head.”

“So they’re portable, at least, that’s a big plus. Then here’s the idea. The seven palantíri and the Mirror are a complementary pair and can’t exist without each other, right? So instead of the Mirror we can drop the palantíri into Orodruin, with the same result! You will tell me where to look for them; would that be legal?”

“Hmm… Ingenious! Unfortunately, this is technically impossible, at least as far as I can see. The thing is, you need all seven to succeed, and some palantíri are quite out of reach.

We have only one in Mordor, that one’s not a problem. I surmise that Aragorn grabbed Denethor’s palantír, and Gandalf has Saruman’s. Those are at least within theoretical reach, so that’s three. But then there’s the palantír of the Western Elves; their ruler Kirden keeps it in the tower of Elostirion in Emyn Beraid – how is that any better than Lórien, it’s only further away? Finally, there is the palantír of Osgiliath, tossed into Anduin ages ago – who knows where it is by now? – and the two of Arnor, from Annúminas and the tower of Amon Súl; those are in a sunken ship at the bottom of the Bay of Forochel. I can give you exact coordinates if you wish, but I really don’t see how that will help you.”

Haladdin felt the tips of his ears burn. Impudent whelp – to think that you could solve in three minutes a puzzle that the greatest mathematical mind of all time must have been pondering for many years… He was incredibly surprised to hear Sharya-Rana say:

“Great job, Haladdin. Honestly, only now am I somewhat at peace. This means that you have actually started working on this puzzle, and nothing will stop you now.”

“Yes, you’ve suckered me in quite deftly, no question,” he grumbled. “By the way, where is our palantír, of Mordor? Just in case.”

“Try guessing. Tzerlag must’ve taught you a few things over the last month, no?”

“Some guess! At least tell me when it was hidden?”

“Right after the Battle of Cormallen, when it became clear that Mordor will fall.”

“All right…” He thought for a couple of minutes. “So. To begin with, where it certainly can’t be is all your hideouts, guerilla bases, and the like. Should I explain?”

“Not to me. Next?”

“No way you’d hide it in Barad-Dur, for all of its wonderful hiding places, because of the coming siege and fires.”

“That’s logical.”

“To move it abroad is dicey. First, it was precisely at that time, right after Cormallen, that the roads were at their riskiest; second, who knows what the local agents will do after the defeat? Although it would be tempting to hide it in Minas Tirith!”

“Well… All right. Accepted.”

“Caves, abandoned mines, old wells are out: there are a lot more accidental observers around such places than is commonly known. For the same reason, can’t sink it under a buoy in some pretty cove of Núrnen – the fishermen are curious folks.”

“Right again.”

“In other words, I would bury it in some faraway, unpopulated, and undistinguished location, in the mountains or in the desert, noting the landmarks really well. Of course, this carries its own risk – in a few years the boulder under which it’s been hidden might wind up in the river together with the entire bank after a landslide… Actually, wait – there’s a better alternative! Abandoned ruins with real hiding places, far from human habitation, where a normal person would never go, like Minas Morgul or Dol Guldur.”

“Yeah…” drawled the nazgúl, “you’re real sharp. Dol Guldur it is. I took it there myself.

Used a glider and walked back, as no one else was there to operate the catapult. The palantír is in ‘receive’ mode and so is invisible to the other crystals; it’s in the hiding place behind a six-sided stone in the rear wall of the fireplace in the Great Hall. It’s in a pouch made of sackcloth woven with silver, so it can be handled safely. The handles opening the hiding place appear when two stones are pushed simultaneously: a rhombic one next to it and the lower left one in the fireplace’s arch, which can only be reached with one’s foot.

Remember this, I won’t repeat it.”

“Could I use this palantír?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, you said that it’s a magical crystal and I’m not supposed to use any magic.”

“The crystal is magical,” Sharya-Rana explained patiently, “but the communication is not.

For example, if you use a palantír as a sinker, the fish you catch will not be magical.”

“Then can you tell me how to use one?”

“Who are you going to contact – Gandalf? Although that’s your business… It’s not complicated, actually. Are you familiar with optics?”

“Yes, from a university course.”

“Then I’d better keep it simple. There are two constantly glowing orange sparks within a palantír. The line connecting them is the main optical axis of the crystal…”

Haladdin listened to the explanation quietly, marveling at how the nazgúl was neatly slotting all that complex and voluminous information into his memory. Then, weirder things began.

The tempo of Sharya-Rana’s explanations kept increasing (or, perhaps, time was slowing –he would not have been surprised by that now), and although at any given moment Haladdin’s brain perceived only one phrase – a glyph completely out of any context – he was absolutely certain that whenever necessary all this information about guerillas in the Mountains of Shadow, palace intrigues in Minas Tirith, topography of Lórien, passwords to contact Mordor resident spies in all the capitals of Middle Earth, and all the rest, will immediately surface in his memory. So when suddenly it was over and a thick silence, as if congealed with the morning chill, filled the camp, his first thought was that he had to immediately find some poison in Eloar’s medkit and always have it on him. Who knows what might happen – he now knows so much that he must never be captured alive.

“Haladdin!” Sharya-Rana called; his voice was unusually quiet and halting, as if the nazgúl was catching his breath after a long climb. “Come here, please…”

He’s in a really bad way, Haladdin recognized belatedly, how could I not have seen it myself, selfish bastard… what’s wrong with him? Looks like heart trouble. Somehow, the idea of heart trouble in a ghost did not seem ridiculous to him either then or in the next moment, when he realized with terrible clarity: this is it! He has seen too many dying men during those last few years not to be sure. The head of the sitting nazgúl drooped listlessly, and he touched the shoulder of the man now kneeling in front of him.

“Did you understand everything I’ve told you?” Haladdin could only nod; something caught in his throat.

“I have nothing more to give you. Forgive me. Only the ring…”

“Is this because of me? Because you… for me…”

“Nothing is free, Haladdin. Wait; let me lean on you… like that… The time was almost up, but I made it. I did. The rest is not important. It’s you who will walk this path now…”

Sharya-Rana was silent for a while, gathering strength. Then he spoke again, and his voice was almost as even as before:

“I will now remove the spell from my ring, and… I will be no more. You will take it; it will empower you to act in the name of the Order of the Nazgúl when necessary. Our rings are made of inoceramium, the most rare noble metal, a third again as heavy as gold, can’t confuse it with anything else. People fear those rings, with good reason; yours will be clean, free of all magic, but you’ll be the only one to know that. Will you be afraid?”

“No. I remember it well: nothing can happen to a person who is not afraid. Is this really ancient magic?”

“None more ancient.”

Suddenly he understood that Sharya-Rana was trying to smile but could not: the darkness under his cowl, alive and flowing like a spring in the night not so long ago, now resembled a brick of coal dust.

“Farewell, Haladdin, and remember: you have everything you need to win. Repeat it as an incantation and don’t be afraid of anything. Now, take this… and turn away.”

“Farewell, Sharya-Rana. Don’t worry, everything will be as it should be.”

He carefully accepted a heavy dim ring from the nazgúl’s hand and stepped away obediently, so he did not see the wizard slowly push back his cowl. Only when he heard behind him a moan filled with such anguish that his heart nearly stopped (so that’s what “all the World’s pain, all the World’s fear, all the World’s despair” means!), did he turn around– but there was nothing except quickly melting shreds of the black cloak where Sharya-Rana just sat.

“Was that you screaming?”

Haladdin turned around. His comrades, up in flash (the baron was still whirling the wickedly glinting Slumber-maker over his head), were looking at him gloomily, awaiting explanations.