Doom Of The Darksword Part 16

Without stopping to wait for an answer, Gwen hurried away, dragging the excited cousins with her.

"What will your mother say?" gasped Lilian when she had heard as much of Gwen's story as Gwen felt capable of telling.

"My heavens! What will will Mama say?" Gwen had never considered that. To suddenly float in the door with houseguests! And of such an unusual nature! Mama say?" Gwen had never considered that. To suddenly float in the door with houseguests! And of such an unusual nature!

Lilian and Majorie were hastily dispatched to City Above with news that the renowned Simkin was going to honor the Samuelses with his presence. Gwen hoped fervently that news of his arrest and subsequent disappearing act had not reached her parent's ears.

Then, in order to give Lady Rosamund time to have the guest rooms opened and aired, the cook informed, and a servant sent to apprise Lord Samuels of the honor in store for him, Gwen returned to the cafe and offered to show her guests the wonders of the city.

Although the catalyst appeared reluctant, the young men agreed with an eagerness Gwendolyn found quite charming. Obviously this was their first trip to Merilon, and Gwen discovered she was looking forward to showing it off. Floating up into the air, she waited, expecting them to join her. They did not, however, and - glancing down - she was astonished to see them looking at each other in some confusion. It instantly occurred to her that they had been walking everywhere and she wondered why. Of course! They must be tired from their journey, too tired to expend their energy in magic....

"I'll hire a carriage," she offered before any of them could say a word. Waving a white hand, she motioned to a gilded blue eggsh.e.l.l drawn by a team of robins. It flew over to them, and they each climbed in, Gwen finding - to her embarra.s.sment - that Joram managed to be on hand to a.s.sist her in entering.

She ordered the driver of the carriage to take them through the shops and stalls that had sprung up around Earth Gate like a ring of enchanted mushrooms. More than a few people glanced at them as they drove by, many pointing them out as Simkin's companions and laughing heartily. Leaving the area around Earth Gate, they drove past the tropical gardens, admiring the flowers that grew here and nowhere else in Thimhallan. Enchanted trees on the Walk of Crafts were singing in chorus, and raised their limbs as the carriage flew beneath them. A unit of Imperial Guards mounted on seahorses bobbed through the air in perfect unison.

They could have spent hours in the Grove, but the afternoon sun was nearing the point designated by the Sif-Hanar Sif-Hanar as twilight. It was time to start home and - at Gwen's command - their carriage joined others circling upward to reach the floating rock pedestal of City Above. as twilight. It was time to start home and - at Gwen's command - their carriage joined others circling upward to reach the floating rock pedestal of City Above.

Sitting in the carriage across from the young men, Gwendolyn thought how time had flown by all too rapidly. She could have stayed here forever. Seeing Merilon's wonders reflected in the eyes of her guests - particularly the dark eyes of one of the guests - she seemed to see the city for the first time and she couldn't remember having noticed before how beautiful it was.

And what did her guests think? Mosiah was wrapped in a spell of enchantment, pointing and gaping at the splendors with a naivete and childlike wonder that made him a figure of fun to all observers.

Saryon didn't see the city at all. His thoughts were turned inward. The fabulous sights brought back nothing but bitter memories to the catalyst, and only made the knowledge of his secret more burdensome.

And Joram? At last he was seeing the city whose wonders his mother had described in such vivid detail every night of his childhood. But he wasn't seeing it through Anja's half-mad gaze. Joram's first glimpse of Merilon was seen through eyes of blue innocence and a mist of fine, golden hair. Its beauty made his heart ache.

3.

The Guildmaster's Home "Mama," said Gwen, "may I introduce Father Dunstable."

"Father." Lady Rosamund gave the catalyst the very tips of her fingers, curtsying slightly. The catalyst bowed, murmuring words of appreciation for milady's hospitality which milady returned cordially, if somewhat vaguely, her gaze fixed expectantly on the gate beyond him. Lady Rosamund greeted her guests in the front court garden as was customary in Merilon, the garden - of which milady was justly proud - providing a beautiful setting of ferns and rose trees.

"And this is Mosiah and ... and Joram," continued Gwen, blus.h.i.+ng prettily. Hearing a smothered giggle from her cousins in the background, the young girl tried to appear completely unconscious of the fact that his name came to her lips like a song of joy. An astute and doting mother like Lady Rosamund ordinarily would have noted the blush and guessed the truth the moment her daughter introduced the young man. But Lady Rosamund was nervous and somewhat fl.u.s.tered.

"Gentlemen," she said, giving them each her hand and looking around them and above them at the gateway. "But where is Simkin?" she asked after a moment pa.s.sed and no one else entered.

"Lady Rosamund," said Joram, "we thank you for your hospitality. And we would like you to accept this as a token of our grat.i.tude." So saying, Joram drew the tulip - somewhat crushed and battered - from inside his tunic and handed it to his hostess.

Her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed, as if she suspected she was the brunt of some joke, Lady Rosamund coldly reached out her hand - - and touched Simkin's flowing, purple silk sleeve.

"Merciful Almin!" she cried, backing up with a start. Then, "I ask forgiveness, Father, for the blasphemy," she murmured, blus.h.i.+ng nearly as pink as her daughter.

"An understandable reaction, my lady," Saryon said gravely, glancing at Simkin, who was staggering about the garden, gasping for air and fanning himself with the orange silk.

"Almin's Blood! My dear boy" - he turned to Joram - "a bath is requisite. Egad" - bringing his hand to his forehead, his eyes rolling back in his head - "I feel quite faint."

"You poor thing!" said Lady Rosamund, marshalling servants around her with a look. In a cool and calm voice, milady issued orders and directed troop movements with the skill of a warlock. All the while, she exhibited the most tender concern for Simkin, who looked more wilted in human form than he had in tulip. Calling upon the strongest of house magi, milady ordered them to a.s.sist Simkin indoors to the best front parlor. A gesture of her own hand brought a fainting couch hurrying to Simkin's side. He collapsed on it, affecting a tragic pose.

"Marie," Lady Rosamund ordered, "conjure the herbal restoratives...."

"Thank you, my dear," said Simkin weakly, his nose wrinkling at the smell of the tea, "but only brandy can bring me out of this shock. Ah, madam!" - Gazing up piteously at Lady Rosamund - "if you only knew what a terrible ordeal I've been through! Oh, I say!" he called after the servant. "Bring the Year of the Frost Grape, will you, my dear? Duke d'Montaigne's vineyard? What, nothing but domestic? Well, I suppose it will have to do."

The servant reappeared with the brandy decanter. Leaning his head back upon the silken cus.h.i.+ons of the couch, Simkin suffered Marie to hold a gla.s.s to his lips, and took a sip. "Ah, that helps." Marie removed the gla.s.s.

"Just a touch more, my dear ..."

Taking the gla.s.s, Simkin sat up, drained it at a gulp, then fell back, exhausted, among the cus.h.i.+ons. "Might I have just one more, my dear?" he asked in a voice that - from its weakness - might have been instructing Marie to draw up his last will and testament.

The catalyst brought another brandy as Lady Rosamund gestured for a chair. At her command, one floated through the air, coming to rest near the couch where the young man lay. "Whatever do you mean, Simkin? What terrible ordeal have you have you been through?" been through?"

Simkin grasped hold of her hand. "My dear madam," he said, "today" - dramatic pause - "sink me, but I was arrested!" He cast the orange silk scarf over his face.

"Merciful Al - Heavens," Lady Rosamund stammered in astonishment.

Simkin plucked the silk from his face again. "A most dreadful mistake! I have never been so humiliated. And now I am on the run, a common criminal!" His head lolled back, weak with despair.

"Common criminal?" Lady Rosamund repeated in a voice suddenly grown cool, her gaze going to the plainly dressed Mosiah and Joram and even flicking, for an instant, over the untrimmed robes of the catalyst. "Alfred," she said to one of the servants in the hurried undertone, "go to the Three Sisters and tell Lord Samuels to return home at once...."

"Quite kind of you, madam, I a.s.sure you," Simkin said, pus.h.i.+ng himself up on unsteady arms, "but I doubt seriously if there is anything His Lords.h.i.+p could do. He is, after all, a mere Guildmaster."

Lady Rosamund's face became exceedingly icelike. "My lord," she began, "is -"

"- going to be of no help to me, I'm afraid, 'm'dear," said Simkin with a sigh. Lying back once more, he folded the orange silk and laid it carefully across his forehead. "No, Lady Rosamund," he continued before she could speak, "if Alfred is going out, please send him to the Emperor. I'm certain this can all be cleared up."

"To ... to the Emperor!"

"Yes, of course," Simkin said, somewhat irritably. "I suppose Alfred has has been granted entry into the Royal Palace?" been granted entry into the Royal Palace?"

Lady Rosamund's ice melted in the fever of embarra.s.sment. "Well, to be frank - It's just that we have never - I mean, there was the knighting ceremony, but that was -"

"What? No access to the Palace? Sink me!" Simkin murmured, his eyes closing in the most desperate despair.

During this interchange, Mosiah and Saryon stood in extreme discomfort in a corner, feeling forgotten and very much out of place. Mosiah, in particular, was overawed at what he had seen of the enchanted city and its people, who seemed so far above him in appearance, culture, and education that they might have been heavenly angels. He didn't belong here. He wasn't wanted here. He could see Gwen and her cousins smile every time he spoke. Well-bred as they were, the girls tried to hide their mirth at his uncouth way of talking - they weren't particularly successful.

"You were right, Father," he whispered bitterly to Saryon under the cover of Simkin's grand act. "We were fools to come to Merilon. Let's leave, right now!"

"I'm afraid it isn't that easy, my boy," said Saryon with a sigh, shaking his head. "The Kan-Hanar Kan-Hanar must approve all who leave the city through Earth Gate as well as all who enter. We would never be allowed to go now. We must do what we can to survive this." must approve all who leave the city through Earth Gate as well as all who enter. We would never be allowed to go now. We must do what we can to survive this."

"Survive?" Mosiah repeated, thinking Saryon was joking. Then he saw the catalyst's face. "You're serious."

"Prince Garald said it would be dangerous," Saryon answered gravely. "Didn't you believe him?"

"I guess not," Mosiah muttered, his narrow-eyed gaze going to Simkin. "I thought he was, well, overreacting. I never dreamed it would be ... so ... different! We're outsiders! Some of us, at least," he added softly, with a glance at Joram. Mosiah shook his head. "How does he do it, Father? He seems a part of all this, as though he belonged here! Even more than Simkin! That fool is just a plaything. He knows it, and laps up the attention. But Joram -" Mosiah gestured helplessly - "he has everything these people have - grace, beauty." His voice trailed off despondently.

Yes, thought Saryon, his gaze going to Joram. He belongs....

The young man stood some distance apart from where Saryon and Mosiah huddled near the wall. The separation was not intentional, but as though he, too, sensed the difference between them. His head thrown back proudly, he watched Simkin with that half smile on his lips as though the two were sharing a private joke on the rest of the world.

He belongs, and he knows it now, Saryon saw with a pang of sorrow. Beauty? I would never have said it of him, not cold, bitter, and withdrawn as he is. Yet, look at him now. Much of it is the young woman's influence, of course. What man does not become beautiful under the spell of first love? Yet it is more than that. He is a man in darkness, stumbling toward the light. And, in Merilon, that light beats down upon him, bringing a radiance and a warmth to his soul.

What will he do, Saryon wondered sadly, if he ever discovers that the brightness of that light covers only a darkness deeper than his own? Shaking his head, he felt Mosiah's warning touch on his arm, and returned to their present predicament.

The household of Lady Rosamund that had been marching forward with such dispatch and efficiency suddenly came to a halt in the middle of the road, so to speak. Simkin lay languidly on the couch, moaning bleakly about "docks and gibbets, stocks and thumbscrews" in a manner not at all calculated to endear him to his hostess. Lady Rosamund hovered in the center of the parlor, clearly at a loss for what to do next. The servants stood about, some with teacups balanced in the air before them, others holding brandy decanters or bed linens, all looking uncertainly at their mistress for orders.

The cousins, Lilian and Majorie, had retreated into a far corner, knowing that they, too, were not wanted and both wis.h.i.+ng devoutly they were at home. Gwen stood near Marie, the catalyst, trying very hard not to look at Joram, though her gaze constantly strayed in his direction. The pretty flush had drained from her cheeks at the dreadful turn of events; however, her pallor made her more lovely than ever. The blue eyes were large and l.u.s.trous with tears; her lips trembled.

But she's our only hope, Saryon said to himself. Going over his idea once more in his mind, he decided to act on it. Things couldn't get much worse. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Lady Rosamund was going to send for her husband and then, though a "mere" Guildmaster, Lord Samuels would undoubtedly turn them all over to the Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith. Saryon may have been dealt a losing hand, but he was suddenly determined to play it out to its final, bitter finish. Besides, he was startled to find within himself a perverse desire to call Simkin's bluff.

The catalyst moved forward silently and un.o.btrusively to stand beside Gwendolyn. "My child," he said softly, "have you considered the Ariels?"

Gwen blinked - the tears had been just on the verge of falling; she knew her mother's intention as well as the catalyst - and then her face brightened, color came and went in her cheeks. "Of course," she said. "Mama, Father Dunstable has an idea. We can send for the Ariels. They can carry a message to the Emperor!"

"That's true," said Lady Rosamund hesitantly.

Saryon stepped backward, fading into the background as Gwen surged forward to plead with her mother.

"What have have you done?" Mosiah asked, aghast, as Saryon returned to stand next to him. you done?" Mosiah asked, aghast, as Saryon returned to stand next to him.

"I'm not really certain," the catalyst admitted reluctantly, folding his hands in his robes.

"You don't think the fool actually meant any of that nonsense about the Emperor, do you?"

"I don't know," Saryon snapped, beginning to have misgivings himself. "He knew Prince Garald ..."

"A Prince close to his own age who admits he loves a bit of partying now and then is a lot different than the Emperor of Merilon," said Mosiah grimly. "Look at him!" He gestured at Simkin.

The young man was greeting the idea with his usual aplomb - "Ariels? Capital idea. Can't imagine why I didn't think of it first. Extend my sincere thanks to the bald party in the corner, will you?"

Simkin appeared pleased but Saryon thought he detected a distinctly hollow ring in the dulcet tones.

"Well, you've made one person happy, at least," Mosiah said sourly.

Joram was looking at the catalyst with undisguised admiration. He even went so far as to nod his head slightly, and there was a flicker of light in the dark eyes, a grudging thanks, that warmed Saryon's heart even as it increased his misgivings.

"What does this do for us, besides further the course of true love?" Mosiah asked bitterly, beneath his breath.

"Buys us time, if nothing else," Saryon returned. "It will be days before the Emperor can possibly be expected to answer."

"I suppose you're right," said Mosiah gloomily. "But Simkin's certain to do something worse in the meantime."

"We have to leave Merilon before then," Saryon said. "I have an idea, but in order to act upon it I must get to the Cathedral, and it's too late now. They will be going to Evening Prayers."

"I'll leave with you, and gladly, Father," Mosiah said earnestly. "I was a fool to come. I don't belong here. But what about him?" Nodding, he turned a serious, concerned gaze on his friend, Joram, who was watching Gwen. Mosiah's voice softened. "How will we get him to leave? He's just found what he has hungered for all his life."

Prince Garald, what have you done? the catalyst said to himself. You taught him to be polite, you taught him to act as a n.o.bleman. But it is an act still - the silken glove concealing the tiger's paw. His claws are sheathed now, but someday, when he is starving or threatened, they will tear apart the fragile fabric. And the silk will be stained with blood. I must get him out! I must!

You will, he reminded himself, growing more calm. Your plan is a good one. You can have everything arranged by tomorrow or the next day. By then, we will probably have been turned out of this fine establishment. As for the Emperor....

Simkin was dictating a letter to Marie.

"'Dear Bunkie - '" Simkin began. "His nickname," he added, seeing Lady Rosamund turn pale.

Saryon smiled grimly. It didn't appear as if the Emperor was going to be much of a problem.

"You realize that if they had a barn, we'd be sleeping in it?" Mosiah said bitterly.

"What can you expect for a man on the run!" Simkin replied tragically, hurling himself upon the bed.

The young men were spending the night in what was obviously meant to be a carriage house when Lord Samuels could afford such luxury. The servants had conjured up beds and clean linens, but the small house - located in back of the main dwelling - was devoid of decoration or any other sort of amenities.

Lord Samuels, as it turned out, had heard the entire story of Simkin's arrest and disappearance during a Guild meeting that afternoon, It was the talk of Merilon, in fact, whose people always enjoyed anything bizarre and out of the ordinary.

Lord Samuels had enjoyed the story himself - until he arrived home and found it developing further in his own living room.

Simkin expounded fully upon the very great honor of having himself as a houseguest.

"My dear sir, a thousand Dukes, to say nothing of several hundred Barons and a Marquis or two, crawled - simply crawled - on their hands and knees and begged me to favor them with my presence whilst in town. I hadn't made up my mind, of course. Then there was that unfortunate incident" - he looked pained and much injured - "from which your sweet child rescued me" - he kissed his hand to Gwen, who sat with lowered eyes - "and how could I refuse her kind offer of sanctuary?"

But it did not appear to be an honor that Lord Samuels appreciated.

Furthermore, the father's guardian eye saw what the doting mother's had not. He saw immediately the danger in Joram's darkly handsome good looks. The smoldering black eyes were enhanced by the s.h.i.+ning hair which Prince Garald had persuaded Joram to cut and comb. He wore it loose on his shoulders, the thick curls framing the stern, serious face. The young man's fine physique, his cultured voice and graceful hands accorded oddly with his plain clothing, lending an air of romantic mystery about him that was further enhanced by the nonsensical story of wicked uncles and lost fortunes. As if this weren't enough to turn the head of any girl, there was a sense of a raw animalistic pa.s.sion about the man that was, to Lord Samuels, particularly disturbing.

Lord Samuels saw his daughter's flushed face and quickened breathing. He saw that she wore her best gown to dinner and that she talked to everyone but but the young man - sure signs of her being "in love." This in itself did not bother Lord Samuels a great deal. Gwen had, of late, been "in love" with some young man at the rate of about one a month. the young man - sure signs of her being "in love." This in itself did not bother Lord Samuels a great deal. Gwen had, of late, been "in love" with some young man at the rate of about one a month.

What concerned milord - and caused him to send his daughter to her chamber immediately following dinner - was that this young man was so different from the young n.o.blemen Gwen regularly was in raptures over. They They were boys, as young and flighty and puppyish as his sweet girl. This one was not. Though young in years, he had somehow acquired a man's seriousness of purpose and depth of feeling that Lord Samuels feared must completely overwhelm his vulnerable daughter. were boys, as young and flighty and puppyish as his sweet girl. This one was not. Though young in years, he had somehow acquired a man's seriousness of purpose and depth of feeling that Lord Samuels feared must completely overwhelm his vulnerable daughter.

Joram knew his enemy immediately. The two regarded each other coolly over dinner. Joram said little, concentrating, in fact, on maintaining his illusion of being Alive, using his sleight-of-hand techniques to eat the rich food and drink the fine wines with the appearance of magic. In this he succeeded well, due, in part, to the fact that Mosiah, though highly skilled in magic, was a peasant when it came to dining. The bowls that were supposed to float gracefully to his lips dumped soup down his s.h.i.+rt. The meat on its sizzling skewer nearly skewered him. The crystal globes of wine bounced about him like so many b.a.l.l.s.

Lilian and Majorie - they had been invited to spend the night - giggled so much at these mishaps that they spent half the meal with their faces hidden behind their napkins. Ashamed and embarra.s.sed, Mosiah could not eat and sat red-faced and silent and sullen.

Lord Samuels retired early and bid his guests - in a glacial tone of voice - to do likewise, saying he was certain they wished to rest before their eminent departure eminent departure. As for Simkin's a.s.surances that the Emperor would doubtless bestow a duchy upon Lord Samuels in return for his kindness toward "one whom the Emperor considered a wit and a bonhomme bonhomme of the first order," milord was not delighted at the prospect, and bid them good-night quite coldly. of the first order," milord was not delighted at the prospect, and bid them good-night quite coldly.

The guests went to their beds accordingly, the servants lighting the way to the carriage house. That night, while Saryon and Mosiah discussed plans for leaving Merilon and Simkin prattled away about the dire revenge he intended to ask the Emperor to inflict upon the Kan-Hanar Kan-Hanar at the Gate, Joram was thinking about his enemy, carefully plotting Lord Samuels's overthrow and defeat. at the Gate, Joram was thinking about his enemy, carefully plotting Lord Samuels's overthrow and defeat.

Joram had decided to make Gwendolyn his wife.

4.