Wrath of a Mad God. Raymond Feist

accelerate its unfolding many times, until we reached a point at which time was meaningless,’ observed Pug.

      ‘True, and while I lacked your talents in that regard, I also lacked the skills to manipulate time as the Pantathians had.’

      ‘In all our encounters with the Serpent Priests,’ said Pug, ‘we found them clever, but hardly brilliant, dangerous in numbers, but never individually.’ He mused for a moment, then added, ‘I never considered that the time trap was actually a spell of majestic complexity and required skills beyond their abilities. At least one of those priests was inspired.’

      ‘All things return to the Nameless One,’ said Nakor. ‘As he has touched Leso Varen, he must have so done with a Pantathian high priest. There was your inspired genius.’

      Macros waved his hand. ‘Yes. Had they all had that level of talent, the war would have turned out very different, but other than that one savant, they were always a nuisance at most—’

      ‘Nuisance?’ interrupted Pug. ‘Tens of thousands died over the course of two wars because of that nuisance.’

      ‘You mistake my meaning,’ said Macros. ‘They created chaos, but as Nakor observed, it was the Nameless One at the root of it all.’

      Macros stood and walked a pace, turned and said, ‘There is so much to tell, and it’s difficult to know where to begin.’ He glanced from face to face. ‘Should a question occur to you, perhaps it were best if you leave off asking until I make this following point.’ He waved his hand in the air, and a globe appeared, an illusion that Pug instantly recognized, for he had used such things to teach students at the Assembly on Kelewan, the Academy at Stardock, and upon Sorcerer’s Isle.

      ‘Consider this globe to be all that can exist,’ said Macros. ‘Surrounded by the void, it represents all of what we comprehend.’ He waved his hand and the globe was now banded with shades of grey, from a nearly black band at the bottom to an off-white one at the top. ‘Each layer represents a plane of reality, with the centremost one being our own … your own,’ he corrected himself. ‘As you noticed on Kosridi, it’s a physical match for Midkemia, as this world is a match for Kelewan.’

      ‘Kelewan,’ said Pug. ‘I had no inkling.’

      Macros nodded. ‘You sit within a garden that is roughly in the middle of the great hall in the Emperor’s palace in the Holy City of Kentosani, if I remember my Tsurani geography. There’s an affinity between physical creations that I do not pretend to understand – it can even be argued that there is but only one physical expression and that the planes are overlays, spiritual realms that actually exist in the same space. It’s all very difficult and borders on the abstract debates ordinarily suitable only for students of natural philosophy. But I can appreciate your not recognizing Omadrabar being analogous to Kelewan, because this world has been occupied by the Dasati a great deal longer than Kelewan has been home to humanity.

      ‘Were you to rise up to a great height, you would find that while the seas would look familiar far more of this world is covered by construction.’ He paused. ‘Did you know that given the manner in which the Dasati farm, they’ve been forced to include gigantic farming enclaves within the cities, so they can feed the populace?’

      Macros shrugged. ‘Enough digression. These levels or planes of reality have been stable for … well, I guess since the dawn of time and as you see them.’ He waved his hand, and suddenly there appeared a distortion, as if someone had stuck a long needle through the sphere from the bottom, pushing a small part of each layer upward, until it intersected the layer above. ‘Then came something I can only call the Disturbance.’

      Pug glanced at his companions, but said nothing.

      Macros continued. ‘Like the cause of the upheaval that brought humanity to Midkemia, we’ll never know the cause of the Disturbance.’

      Nakor grinned. ‘Are they the same?’

      Macros frowned like an annoyed schoolteacher. ‘If you find out, please let me know. This Disturbance is an … imbalance, a pressure upwards from the lowest to the highest realm of reality. Just as the Dasati are attempting to manifest themselves into our … your realm, so are creatures from the third realm attempting to rise up into this one.’

      ‘You’re describing a cataclysm of unprecedented scope,’ whispered Pug.

      Macros nodded. ‘Yes, my friend. The entire fabric of the universe is being rent apart, and we must stop it before it gets worse.’

      ‘How?’ asked Magnus quietly.

      Macros sighed, a very human sound coming from a Dasati. ‘I have no real knowledge, just intuition, and even that is … not compelling.’ He waved his hand and the conjured sphere vanished. ‘The Chaos Wars appeared to have been an attempt at reordering the balances within the entirety of reality, from the highest to the lowest plane. We can only speculate on what occurred in the other realms of reality, but I suspect balance was restored, else the crisis we face would be even more catastrophic. We’ve had no evidence of any interaction between your native realm, the one I used to live in as well, and the one above it, the first heaven.’

      ‘Because the Nameless One is imprisoned?’ suggested Nakor.

      ‘Most likely,’ said Macros. ‘So, the chaos comes from the lower realms. His Darkness, the Dark God of the Dasati, is so powerful in his supremacy that whatever incursions from below threatened this plane have almost certainly been dealt with.’

      ‘If I might ask a question?’ inquired Magnus.

      ‘What?’ asked his grandfather, barely hiding his impatience at the interruption.

      ‘Why here? Why Kelewan and Midkemia?’

      Macros paused, then said, ‘Not a bad question.’ He smiled. ‘I suspect there must be a locus somewhere, or loci, where the incursions from one realm to the next manifest first, analogous to the first Tsurani rift into Midkemia, in the Grey Towers Mountains.

      ‘Remember, the gods of each realm are local expressions of a much vaster entity, spanning universes. The Nameless One is a manifestation of evil on an unimaginable scale, one that spans the entirety of the universe within which Midkemia resides, a universe of billions of worlds, with countless creatures on them, multitudes having visions of that evil, giving it a legion of guises. Yet, we can assume with some degree of certainty that just as the Nameless One was confined in Midkemia, so he was in many other places, the result of the conflict which seemed to centre on that world.

      ‘I expect the further one travelled from Midkemia, the less likely it would be that the history of the Chaos Wars remained unchanged. Remember the sphere? If you were at the extremities the ordering of the planes of existence seemed normal, unchanged. Yet if you were at the point of the incursion, you would be amidst chaos.’

      ‘You build a persuasive argument,’ said Pug. ‘But what I wish to know is how this applies to us, finding ourselves here?’

      Macros nodded and smiled. ‘To the heart of the matter.’ He looked directly into Pug’s eyes. ‘The Nameless One is confined, but as you have witnessed, not without influence, even some power, albeit limited by the other surviving Greater Gods, the Controllers.

      ‘He doesn’t appreciate the incursion from ‘below’ by the Dark God of the Dasati. As much as possible, he’s working in concert with the other gods of Midkemia to restore the proper order of things.’

      ‘We’re working on behalf of the Nameless One?’ asked Nakor.

      ‘In a manner of speaking, yes,’ replied Macros. ‘It is my belief that ultimately we all play a part in the Nameless One’s plans.’

      ‘That plan being?’ asked Nakor.

      Macros’s expression became grimmer than before. ‘I believe we are seeing a struggle between gods, my friends. And I believe in some fashion we are weapons.’

      ‘Weapons?’ echoed Magnus. ‘We are just three