Artifacts Of Power - Dhiammara Part 19

"I'm coming too."

Forral and Tarnal spun to see Grince standing in the doorway. "How long have you been there?" the swordsman demanded.

"You woke me with all that yelling." The thief looked at Forral gravely. "The Lady Aurian was kind to me. If she's in some kind or danger, then I want to help."

Forral shrugged. "Suit yourself." He strode off down the pa.s.sage, leaving the others to follow as they might.

Although Forral did not count himself a cowardly man, he was unable to suppress a shudder of awe as he set foot on the sloping turf of the hallow. Last night's wind had dropped and the sky was pale with cold, predawn light. The flat sea below him was the color of iron and lost dreams. On the hill above, he could see the top of the tall stone, towering black and sinister against the dreary sky. There was no sign of Aurian.

"She must be at the top," Tarnal muttered, as though he had read the swordsman's mind. "We wouldn't see her from here."

"No, but she would see us," Forral replied doubtfully. "Which must mean either that she's hiding something from us, or she's hurt in some way, and can't call out." Without another word, he set off quickly up the slope.

A finger of blood-red light touched the top of the standing stone as the rim of the sun reared itself above the horizon. A hawk swooped low over the swordsman's head and hovered over the top of the stone, hunting the small creatures of the dunes. Forral was unconcerned with such details. As he reached the brow of the hill and came in sight of the summit, he encountered a sight to chill his blood. Aurian's body lay on the ground beside the stone, composed as if for burial with her hands clasping the Staff of Earth at her breast. The great cat was standing over her, guarding her seemingly lifeless form.

The swordsman acted without thinking. With no sight for anything but the Mage, and no thought of her guardian, he ran toward Aurian, calling her name. s.h.i.+a's head came round. She left the Mage and stalked, stiff-legged, toward him, snarling menacingly. Swearing, Forral slowed his pace and drew his sword. The cat circled warily, her blazing, baleful eyes never leaving his face. Tarnal tried to creep past her while her attention was fixed on the swordsman, but the cat sprang toward 272Maggie Furey him with a growl, forcing him into a swift retreat. The thief had vanished-the little rat probably ran away, Forral thought. While s.h.i.+a was distracted, Forral had managed to get a few steps closer to the Mage. She darted back toward him, trying to watch the two men at once.

"Stay away from her!"

"What?" Forral shook his head. Where had that voice come from? It sounded nothing like Tarnal. Had he imagined it?

"Stay bock, human! If you disturb her body while she walks Between the Worlds, Aurian may die!"

Glancing past the threatening cat, Forral saw the thief creeping out from behind the great stone. While the others were preoccupied, he had worked his way around the back of the hill and crept up behind s.h.i.+a. He reached Aurian, knelt over her still form, and took her hand. His voice came clearly to the swordsman in the stillness of the dawn: "Come back, Lady! Don't leave us now-come back, please."

Then everything seemed to happen at once. With a savage snarl, s.h.i.+a sprang at the thief, knocking him away from the Mage and bowling him over on the gra.s.s. Dark clouds came boiling across the sky on an icy wind from the north, and gathered in a dark, coiling ma.s.s, the color of a bruise, right above the stone. The air turned icy cold, and stinging flurries of hail and sleet blew across the exposed hilltop. With an ominous rumble, the monolith stirred and s.h.i.+fted, rocking back and forth on its base. The Mage's body gave a convulsive heave, and a great breath sucked into her lungs with a ghastly wheezing sound. Her eyes, huge with panic, shot open, and her staff rolled away as she tried to rise, grasping frantically at the air with empty hands. The hawk that had hovered above the hill came plummeting down from the sky as though shot, and thudded to the turf close to Aurian's outstretched hand.

The Mage scrambled to her hands and knees, and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the Staff. "Run1." she screamed at the top of her voice. Grince scrambled up, took one look at her face, and obeyed. Reacting to her urgency, Forral, no longer hindered by the cat, grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet, and together they fled down the hill, s.h.i.+a flanking them and Tarnal and Grince running ahead of them down the slope, their feet slipping on the wet and frozen turf.

Suddenly Aurian turned her head, as though reacting to Dh i a. m m a. r a.

2 73.

some call that only she could hear. With a stifled cry she dragged her arm free of Forral's grasp and ran back up the hill.

"What the . . . Come back, you idiot!" The swordsman spun on his heel and hared back up the slope in pursuit. Aurian ran to the stunned bird and scooped it up, then came racing back the way she had come.

Lightning sheared down from the crown of tenebrous cloud and struck the monolith with deadly accuracy. With a tearing crack like a thunderclap, the great stone split asunder and a ma.s.sive explosion ripped the top off the hill.

The distant deathsong of the Phaerie was like the whine of a sword blade splitting the air. The fierce, wild cries of their silver horns were like the raw breath of winter on the wind. Vannor, in his sleep, turned restlessly and dreamed of the Valley, and the Lady Eilin with a glowing sword clasped in her hand. Then he awakened, bolting up from his blankets with a hoa.r.s.e cry of dismay. The horns and cries were louder now. This was no dream-the attack on h.e.l.lorin's city must have failed, and the Phaerie had come to Nexis to extract their vengeance.

Pulling on whatever garments came to hand, Vannor ran to the window. Already the Wild Hunt could be seen as streaks of glittering light arcing down through the sky like shooting stars. In the city, the bra.s.sy calls of horns arose to combat the sounds from the sky, while the great forewarning bell of the Garrison had begun to ring, alerting the Nexians to their peril as it had done in times of danger throughout all the centuries since the Cataclysm itself.

Much nearer than these sounds came a tumult of voices from downstairs, where Vannor's household staff were beginning to panic. Through the window he could see manservants and housemaids running out into the garden to witness the spectacle, as they mingled in terrified knots with the gardeners and grooms. Vannor threw the window open with a bang. "Get inside," he bellowed. "Get into the house, you fools- and stay there." s.n.a.t.c.hing up his sword, he ran downstairs. For the first time since her angry departure he was glad that Dulsina had left him. At least in the secret caverns of the Nightrunners she would be safe.

As Vannor watched from the vantage of his hilltop mansion, the Phaerie came down on the city like a firestorm, their s.h.i.+mmering robes shedding drifts of sparks that swirled in the 274MzggieFurey air behind them. The exultant horns had taken on a deeper, more menacing note. Spars of light leapt from the top of the Mages' Tower as the immortals rode past on their great horses, the luminescence spreading rapidly down the curving sides of the building and throughout the Academy complex, outlining in scintillating starlight the splintered sh.e.l.l of the weather dome and the rococo ornamentation of the great library. Similar patches of glimmer were springing up and spreading rapidly throughout the city, wherever the Pnaerie touched down.

For the s.p.a.ce of a few heartbeats it was a vision of breathtaking beauty. Then harsh angry light dispelled the dreamlike radiance as hungry flames leapt up in a dozen places, and the shrilling of the horns was drowned by screams.

Then Vannor was running, running through the burning streets, seeing a man cut in half by a Phaerie sword, his guts spilling out across the cobbles ... A little girl clutching a rag doll and weeping over the body of her mother ... A young lad running from a burning house, engulfed in a ball of41ame. A woman shrieking as her children were s.n.a.t.c.hed away from her and borne aloft, screaming, by a Phaerie woman with burning sapphire eyes ...

The victims all had their eyes fixed on the High Lord of Nexis; accusing, condemning . . . Scenes of torture, torment, and slaughter were repeated over and over again before Van-nor's eyes, while Phaerie stalked everywhere, cold-eyed and terrible, veiled in the coruscating glamourie of their magic ...

"Vannor is trapped within his own mind," D'arvan muttered. "He's a prisoner of his guilt, unable to face the slaughter he caused." His eyes flashed with anger as he looked at his father. "Judging from some of the outrages I've found in his memory, he'd be better off placing the blame where it truly lies. How could you revel in such atrocities?"

"They're only Mortals," h.e.l.lorin said mildly. "After the endless misery of their long imprisonment, would you begrudge my folk a little sport?"

D'arvan sighed and kept his thoughts to himself. Right now, his father's goodwill was all-important. It would serve no purpose to start a quarrel. h.e.l.lorin, he knew, would never change; he was too accustomed to seeing the Mortals as nothing more than low, brute creatures, fit only to be slaves-or quarry.

Dhizmmara 275.

"It won't be easy to release Vannor," he said instead. "His mind is locked into a cycle that relives the horrors of that night over and over again. I'm sorry, but I can't find any clue as to why he mounted his attack on you-he seems as genuinely baffled by his own actions as the rest of us." D'arvan turned away from h.e.l.lorin so that his father would not see the depth of his dismay. In Vannor's memory there had been horror unending, and it had shaken him badly. The last thing he wanted was to go back into the mind of the tormented man and experience it all again. "I wish Aurian were here. She would know what to do-she's been properly trained in the skills of healing."

"There is no reason why you should not succeed." There was an edge of impatience in h.e.l.lorin's voice. "And if you do not-well, the world will keep on turning. One Mortal more or less will make no difference."

"Except to Vannor," D'arvan said firmly. "My Lord, surely there's no need to pursue this further? I've searched all that I can access of Vannor's mind and memory-no matter how much you wish it, I can't find any reason for his attack on the city. Let him go, I beg you. He is no further use to you here. Let me take him to Aurian-it may well be that she can help him where I have failed."

"No. Try again, D'arvan," the Forest Lord insisted, Vannor lay in the tower chamber that had been given to D'arvan, on the same low couch from which, three days earlier, Maya had produced her audacious plan. The Mage sighed. Unfortunately, h.e.l.lorin had liked her idea all too well-he was anxious both to extend his bloodline and obtain his son's help in ruling the Mortal race, and for this he was willing to forfeit a slave or two, or even make the greater sacrifice of releasing the two Xandim.

Putting off the evil moment when he must enter Vannor's mind once more, D'arvan turned away from the stricken Mortal and went to look out of his window at the spectacular city-a dazzling blend of Phaerie magic and Mortal labor- on the lower slopes of the hill. Over the past few days, events had moved with dizzying speed. Over the years of their long exile, the Phaerie Healers had become expert in the manipulation of Mortal fertility, for the Forest Folk themselves had been unable to reproduce with their own kind, thanks to a cruel twist of the Magefolk spell that bound them. Already, Maya was carrying the tiny mote of life that would one day 276M. aggie F u r ey become their child. At his insistence she had been moved into the comfort of D'arvan's chambers, away from the slave quarters and their ruthless guards. Panic, still bristling with hostility toward the Mage, had been perforce left down in the caverns until it was time to leave, and now there was only one task remaining-the reconstruction of Vannor's mind- before h.e.l.lorin gave them his permission to depart.

D'arvan, in the meantime, was being torn in two by the cruel turn events had taken. On the one hand he was anxious to obtain the release of Parric, Vannor, and the two Xandim, and go to the a.s.sistance of Aurian, who had a right to expect his aid. On the other, he was desperate to remain with Maya, especially now that she was expecting his child. She was the one with all the courage. She insisted that Aurian needed him, that she herself would be fine during his absence, yet he dreaded leaving her behind, unable to escape with h.e.l.lorin's sorcerous chain around her neck, and at the mercy of his father's capricious whims. What would become of her if he perished at the hands of Eliseth? And if he should return- what then? He had given his word to his father that he would conquer and rule the city of Nexis, as h.e.l.lorin wanted.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" h.e.l.lorin barked, dissolving D'arvan's troubled reverie. "I thought you were in desperate haste to abandon us and return to your friend the Mage."

D'arvan frowned at the rancor in his father's tone. "I am also a Mage-or do you choose to forget that? And am I not proof that you don't detest all Magefolk? I fail to understand why you, of all people, would persist in continuing this ancient enmity. None of the Mages living now had anything to do with the imprisonment of the Phaerie." He met his father's eyes, glad of a chance to revenge himself a little on the Forest Lord. "Or can it be, my Lord, that your grievance is not with all of the Magefolk, but only with Lady Eilin, Aurian's mother?"

"Do not mention that woman's name to me!"

"According to what I hear from Parric, she seems less than impressed with you, also," D'arvan retorted dryly. "Now, my father," he went on with a malicious smile. "Shall we resume our work with the Mortal?"

"Do as you please. You may report to me when-and if- you succeed." Glowering thundrously, h.e.l.lorin stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

Dhizmmarz 277.

D'arvan stood a moment longer, relis.h.i.+ng his small victory. He triumphed over his powerful father so seldom that these rare moments were worth savoring. Maya emerged from the bedchamber, stretching and rubbing sleepy eyes. The changes the Phaerie healers had made in her body would balance themselves out as her pregnancy progressed, but for now their magical intervention had left her tired, and a little more fragile than her normal, robust self.

"What was wrong with h.e.l.lorin?" she asked. "Did I hear the sounds of a royal tantrum?"

The Mage shrugged. "I committed the heinous offense of mentioning the Lady Eilin. On that particular subject his temper is so short it's almost nonexistent."

"He only has himself to blame, as far as I can see." Maya perched herself on the edge of the table, swinging her legs. She was dressed now in rich, silken Phaerie robes that had been altered by Mortal seamstresses to suit her smaller stature. The glowing, jeweled colors suited her dark, delicate beauty, but could not hide the glint of the abominable slave chain around her neck. In that moment, D'arvan was overcome by the depths of his love for her. He put his arms around, her, resting his cheek against her silken, scented hair. "I'll make this up to you," he promised. "When I get you out of here and we return to Nexis, that accursed chain will come off, and you'll be a Queen."

"When we return to Nexis," Maya answered soberly, "I'll be a traitor."

Vkiammara.

279.

Chapter 20 flying Sorcery.

I he thin air held no sound save the whine of the wind and the reverberant thunder of Sunfeather's immense red-gold wings. From this height, it seemed possible to see the entire world. . . . And one day, I shall rule it all, Eliseth thought. She reveled in the excitement of soaring so perilously high, with an abyss of empty air beneath her and the jagged rocks below, and luxuriated in the strength of Sunfeather's strong arms around her, bearing her securely aloft. As a Weather-Mage, it gave her an overwhelming feeling of power to touch the winds, to flirt with the suns.h.i.+ne and penetrate the clouds from which she drew the essence of her magic. How the Magewoman wished her own race had been fortunate enough to possess the gift of flight! I could have achieved so much more, she thought. Still, at least she could borrow Sunfeather's wings, and he was so besotted with her that he was always happy to oblige.

Today she needed she escape of flight more than ever, to clear her thoughts and help her gain perspective on the new challenges that awaited. The unheralded vision of Aurian had come as a shock indeed, for lately, Eliseth had been too involved in her own schemes to give much thought to her rival. Indeed, Aurian had taken so long to return to the world that the Weather-Mage had almost ceased to count her as a threat-until now.

I was lucky to be warned in time, Eliseth thought, for I'm sure Aurian had no intention of exposing herself to me that way. It must have been an accident or carelessness on her part. The Magewoman frowned. But where in the name of perdition was she? What was that colorless, misty place? There was something weird and unnatural about her surroundings . . . she didn't recognize them. And it wasn't a clear scrying, either-the vision seemed to be rippling, almost as though she looked up at the scene through water, but how could that be?

"Why so preoccupied today?" Sunfeather murmured in the Magewoman's ear.

Eliseth was about to make him a short reply, but changed her mind. "It's nothing to worry you. Will you take me back now, Sunfeather?"

"Surely there's no hurry?" the Skyman breathed. His hands began to move across her body. "I had thought we might stay out here awhile.. .."

Eliseth was tempted. It had not taken her long to discover the thrill of midair coupling with the winged man. Having tried it, she hadn't been at all surprised to find that this was the way the Skyfolk usually mated. Today, unfortunately, there were other matters that must occupy her time. "No!" she told Sunfeather firmly. "That is-not today, my dear one. Take me back to Aerillia, please. I have work to do."

Having been flown back to the temple of Yinze by an aggrieved and peevish Sunfeather, the Weather-Mage returned to her secret chambers in the catacombs beneath the building. She locked the door behind her and shed her furred cloak. The roams were s.p.a.cious and equipped with every possible luxury-and it was just as well, the Magewoman thought, for she spent a considerable amount of her time in them, lurking like a spider on the periphery of her web. For though, in truth, Eliseth ruled Aerillia now, few of the Winged Folk were actually aware of her existence. Had they known, they would never have countenanced a Mage as their ruler.

Eliseth poured mulled wine from the pot that stood in a 280M-iggie furey metal rack affixed to the top of the brazier, and sat down, pulling a furred blanket over her lap against the inevitable drafts. The d.a.m.nable Winged Folk, she thought, never seemed to feel the cold at all, but sadly, she was far less impervious. Her chambers, with their curving walls, were in a hanging turret, one of several that thrust out from the mountainside below the level of the temple. The furnis.h.i.+ngs were a peculiar but comfortable blend of Aerillian and Nexian styles, for she had complained to Skua and Sunfeather until they had a proper couch made for her, in place of the spindly Skyfolk seats that she found so uncomfortable, and a proper bed in which she could stretch out. The bathing facilities, too, had been altered from the ice-cold cascade that flowed directly from peaktop cisterns. A bathtub had been fas.h.i.+oned and installed, though heating water on the brazier was such a long, agonizingly slow process that baths were a rare treat, and were shallow and tepid even at best.

The quarters were spartan by Eliseth's standards, but she supposed that she could put up with them for a littlfc while longer. Only a few months ago, this place had seemed a refuge of comfort and luxury after a long and grueling journey from the Xandim plains.

The mountains had come close to putting an end not only to the Magewoman's plans, but to her life. Eliseth had never been taught how to survive in the wild. She had been unprepared for the bitter cold, the hard, bleak surroundings, and the exhaustion that increased following day upon day of hard climbing and the strain and concentration of picking out a safe path. Had it not been for the knowledge she lifted from the minds of her Xandim captives and her ability to control the weather, she would have perished for sure.

When the Weather-Mage finally reached the vicinity of Aerillia, she had killed the two Xandim for good and all this time, enjoying the first hot meal-of horseflesh---that she'd eaten in many a long day. Then, wrapping a concealing mist around herself, she had watched the city and its surrounds in the grail, awaiting her chance. Repeating the successful ploy she'd used to gain control of the Xandim, Eliseth had struck again, finding another solitary victim in a lonely place. This time, it had been a young winged girl, out gathering berries alone on the mountainside. It had been pathetically easy to kill her-she'd scarcely put up any struggle at all. Eliseth had used her victim to take a message to Skua and Sunfeather, Dhia.mma.ra.

28 1.

then wiped the incident from the girl's memory. She was living her normal life now in the city: uninvolved, undisturbed- and waiting there as a p.a.w.n that could be brought into play at any time, should the Magewoman need her.

At first, Eliseth had toyed with the notion of using the grail to control the Queen herself. On reflection, however, that scheme had involved too many problems. Firstly, all members of the Royal Household would be guarded far too tightly for the Magewoman to gain access and use the grail. Secondly, Raven and Aguila ruled so closely and harmoniously together that if one should begin to act in an unusual manner, the suspicions of the other would be roused at once. She would be forced, therefore, to deal with both at the same time-which brought her back to the first problem. No, it would be far easier for Eliseth to do her work through enemies of the throne-and it would also mean far less risk to herself.

It had been child's play to recruit the two disgruntled winged men. Skua bore a long-standing grievance against the Queen. According to the High Priest, Raven had undermined his authority right from the start. Though he was aware that much of her hostility toward the Temple stemmed from the heinous acts of Blacktalon, his predecessor, Skua also knew that, if it came to a question of who held the greatest power over the common folk, the contention between Crown and Temple must one day come to a head. Sunfeather's grudge against Queen Raven had far less to do with the subtleties of politics. He had never forgiven her for that day, so long ago now, when she had humiliated him in front of the High Council. Also, he was consumed by jealousy and bitterly resentful of the lowborn Aguila, who had been raised to the exalted position of Consort to the Queen.

It had not taken the three conspirators long to hatch their plot. An ordinary, everyday harp was obtained and disguised by Eliseth with a small spell of glamourie. Then Skua announced to the congregation in the Temple that the great G.o.d Yinze had, in his wisdom, seen fit to return the Harp of Winds into the hands of his children, the Winged Folk. Eliseth, watching from hiding, had used her own powers to produce the carefully staged "miracles" that the harp had wrought.

The Skyfolk were beside themselves: delirious with joy and hope. If one of their race could recover his magical powers, why not all of them? Only the Queen and her consort 28 ZMaggie Furey were unimpressed by Skua's claims and voiced their doubts aloud, for Raven knew very well what the true Harp looked like, and was also aware that it had been claimed by Anvar in a joining that no Mortal could sunder, be he High Priest or no. Such reasoning, however, was the last thing her subjects wanted to hear.

Almost overnight, the ruler of the Skyfolk discovered that she had lost the support of her subjects. Folk started recircu-lating the old tale of her a.s.sociation with the groundlings, and Blacktalon's cohort Harihn. Once again, Raven's judgment was brought into question. Skua spoke out against her openly, with the public backing of the Syntagma and the Temple guard. Wisely, the Queen and her family had fled Aerillia-just in time to save their own lives.

Well, Eliseth reflected, sipping at her cooling wine, she was not above taking a leaf out of Raven's book. Timely action, she knew, was the secret to most success-and thanks to the warning of the grail, she knew it was high time she was embarking on the next step of her own plans. "At least it'll get me out of this dungeon of a room, and this mausoleum of a city," the Magewoman mused aloud. "I'm looking forwar^l to living in a place where I can actually be warm again."

Now that Eliseth held power here, her work was done, for she had never actually meant to make herself Queen of this wretched, freezing pile of rock at the tail end of nowhere- nor would the Skyfolk accept as ruler someone who was not one of their own kind. And who wanted to rule a city where they were not even able to go out in public? No, Aerillia had only been a means to an end, and it would serve her purpose quite well if Skua ruled-under her instruction. Eliseth was ready to leave now, and make her way toward the place she'd planned to be the true heart and center of her empire. Dhiammara.

The Magewoman rose and walked to the window, spilling the blanket from her lap to the floor. There was one thing remaining to be done before she left Aerillia. She had no doubt that Aurian would soon discover that she was no longer in the North-if the Mage did not know already. Soon the eyes and thoughts of her enemy would be fixing themselves across the ocean-and before Aurian made a move, it was vital that Eliseth set her spies in place.

Eliseth took up the grail and half-filled it with water, setting the cup down on the table. Then, seating herself com- Vh i 3. m m a. r a.

283.

fortably, she gazed into the blackened depths and bent all her thoughts upon Anvar.

For a considerable time, nothing happened. The Magewoman sat there without moving, her head aching with the effort of concentration-and still no vision formed within the cup. What in perdition was wrong? This should not be happening! Eliseth began to feel the stirrings of impatience-and a shadow of doubt. Still she persisted, until the noon sun came blazing through her windows. Its glare almost burned her eyes from her head as the rays struck the surface of the water, and Eliseth sprang back with a livid curse, her carefully constructed sh.e.l.l of concentration in splinters.

The Magewoman couldn't understand what was happening-she had no way of knowing that the spirit she had hoped to master had not returned to his body after all, and that another had taken Anvar's place, over whom she had no control. She only knew that one of her most precious schemes had failed..Snarling another curse, she hurled the grail as hard as she could in temper. It flew across the room, spilling water in a glittering arc. There was a searing flash as it hit the wall and a starburst of cracks snaked out around the impact point. Eliseth gasped in horror as a picture-all too clear-flashed across her mind, of the turret breaking loose from its moorings and cras.h.i.+ng in ruin down the mountainside. "Pox rot it-be more careful!" she warned herself. "It's not a b.l.o.o.d.y plaything!"

She picked the grail up carefully, checking it for damage and dusting it on the hem of her robe. It pulsed sulkily once or twice, and then became quiet in her hands. Cradling the precious Artifact, Eliseth began to pace the room. What could she do? She must have a means of discovering her enemy's movements! After a time, the answer came to her. She didn't really hold out much hope, but she could always try Vannor again.

The Magewoman sighed as she refilled the chalice. She had abandoned Vannor long ago. After the blundering imbecile had made such a botch of the attack on the Phaerie, then let himself get captured by h.e.l.lorin's accursed folk, he had no longer been of use to her-not to mention himself or anyone else, she thought spitefully. But it had been a long time since she had even bothered to contact him-maybe something had changed. ... It had better, she thought bitterly. A 284.

Furey Vhizmmzra.

285.

slender chance indeed, it was her last and only hope. Narrowing her eyes, EUseth bent over the grail once more and focused her will upon the former High Lord of Nexis.

Maya stood on the lush green lawn in front of h.e.l.lorin's palace and watched the early sun touch the soft gra.s.s with emerald fire. How she wished she had a sword in her hand! It might help her a.s.sume a bravery she did not feel - now, when she needed her courage as never before. This morning, her whole world seemed composed of things she did not want - she didn't want D'arvan to go, she didn't want to be left behind. And for sure, she didn't want to be carrying a child at this time - and not one conceived with the help of the arcane Phaerie magic, instead of naturally and spontaneously, as it should have been. G.o.ds - how can I possibly cope with a child? she thought desperately. I'm a b.l.o.o.d.y warrior - I'm not the motherly sort at all. The idea terrifies me - I don't even know where to start.

She had no choice in the matter, however. The child was already within her. After she and D'arvan had lain together, the Phaerie women had come, and coc.o.o.ned her in a spell of sleep. By the time she had awakened, they had quickened D'arvan's seed within her. There would be no backing out of the bargain now. It was my own idea, she reminded herself. The entire plan was mine. I have only myself to blame - me and my big mouthl Around her throat Maya could feel h.e.l.lorin's chain to remind her of her new status - a glittering circle of cold that never seemed to warm to the temperature of her skin. Was this all that the future held for her? Chains?

D'arvan's arm went round her shoulders, and she knew, with a sinking heart, that the very tension of her body had betrayed her fear and doubts. "It's all right," he murmured. "Don't worry - I'll be back before you know it."

Maya glanced up at him, storing details in her memory for when he had gone: the way his fine pale hair was blowing in the breeze, the way the early light cast dark shadowed hollows beneath the sharp bones of his face. She .tried to avoid the eye of Parric, who was standing nearby with a pair of Phaerie guards and the unresponsive Vannor, who had been given leave to depart at the last minute, as h.e.l.lorin finally conceded that D'arvan could not help him. Though the dreadful chain had been removed from his neck, the Cavalry-master was still scowling. He had been against this whole scheme from the start-he had already made it more than clear that he thought she was insane. As she was drawing breath to reply to D'arvan, there was a silvery fanfare of trumpets, and the Forest Lord emerged from the palace nodding grandly to the crowd of brightly garbed Phaerie, courtiers all, who fringed the stretch of gra.s.s. "Bring forth the steeds!"

Maya clenched her fists. Why the b.l.o.o.d.y blazes didn't h.e.l.lorin just get on with it? He could have had the Xandim waiting here, as everyone else had been, but no ... Did all kings have this ridiculous need for spectacle?

In the brief pause before the Xandim arrived, h.e.l.lorin turned to herself and D'arvan, extending his arms as if to embrace them both. If he tries it, Maya thought grimly, Phaerie or no Phaerie, I swear he'll be wearing his b.a.l.l.s up around his ears.

Luckily, the Forest Lord restrained himself. "Is it well with you, my children?" he cried.

D'arvan, in the same grand manner, flashed him a dazzling smile. "It is well, my Lord."

Maya gritted her teeth. If my child ever tries to behave like this, she thought, he won't be sitting down for a week.

Before the warrior could think of a reply of her own, the two Xandim arrived: a magnificent huge warhorse, darkly dappled in cloudy black and grey, and a somewhat smaller beast with a s.h.i.+ning bay coat and a s.h.a.ggy, crow-black mane and tail. To Maya's eyes, it was hard to imagine them as men. What did they look like in human form? What must their * lives be like, living their whole lives as two different beings? She wished she could have a chance to know them, to speak to them. She only had a fleeting, clouded memory of the one time she had seen them as humans. Then, she herself had been the one to wear the form of a beast, for h.e.l.lorin had put her into the shape of a unicorn. The warrior smiled sourly to herself at the thought. Maybe we're not so different after all, she thought. I, too, have lived as two different creatures-at the Forest Lord's whim.

Maya could feel D'arvan straining forward, anxious to be away, lest his capricious father should change his mind. This was no place for farewells-it was too public, everything was too hurried-and besides, he and Maya had said goodbye already. D'arvan exchanged a few soft words with his father, too low for Maya to hear, then he was embracing her for the last 286MaggieFitrey time in a long time-maybe forever. . . . The warrior tightened her arms around him. "You'd better be careful," she hissed at him, "or you'll have two of us to reckon with."

D'arvan smiled. "Trust me," he said. "Everything will be all right. Take care of our child, my love-no one could do it better." Then he was gone. With a wrenching effort, Maya stopped herself from holoUng her empty arms out toward him. Keeping them firmly down at her sides, she clenched her fists. Then the Phaerie guards were helping the Cavalrymaster hoist Vannor up in front of him on the big grey horse that she knew must be Schiannath, and D'arvan was mounting Chi-amh, the bay, who was clearly far from happy with the situation. He plunged and wheeled, throwing up clods of turf from under his churning hooves-until the Mage bent forward and whispered something in his ear. Whatever D'arvan had said, it seemed to work like magic. As one, the Xandim leapt into the air, heading back to freedom. A piece of Maya's heart went with them-in one flas.h.i.+ng instant, she knew joy, and sorrow, and bitter, bitter envy. Then the sky was empty.

h.e.l.lorin put an arm around her shoulders. "Come, my little she-wolf. All you can do now is care for your chi^d, and wait for D'arvan to return."

One of the beech trees in the grove had grown too tall, and had fallen to a bolt of lightning during the last of the summer storms, Yazour was chopping the earthbound giant into logs for the winter woodpile, hurrying to get as much of the task completed as possible, for the summer was sliding gently into autumn now, and it would not be too long before the sun went down. Already there was a lamp burning in the ground floor of the tower across the lake, and he could see a faint glimmer of Magelight moving like a firefly in the garden, where Eilin wandered between the rows of vegetables, picking out the ingredients for supper. The evening was still and tranquil; the only sounds were sleepy birdsong mixed with the gentle rippling murmur of wavelets by the lakeside, and the rasping sound of Iscalda tearing up the gra.s.s as she grazed compan-ionably nearby.