The Way of Light

by Storm Constantine

  Snopard had agreed to accompany them, and he now bowed several times to the holy mother, his hands steepled at his brow. After a moment, Mavana lifted a rattle carved into the shape of battling serpents and shook it vigorously. At once, all noise within the chamber ceased. Mavana addressed Snopard in abrupt, almost aggressive tones. She rocked upon her cushions, her head weaving upon her neck like that of a snake.

  Snopard indicated Taropat who stood a few paces behind the Nugrid. Mavana stared at him beadily for some moments, then closed her eyes. Her weaving motions became more agitated. Beside her, the row of seers began to utter high, wailing cries, their hands thrown up over their heads. Mavana, shuddering as if in the throes of a fit, barked out a furious stream of babble. It sounded as if she were damning Taropat with a curse. This continued for several minutes, during which the others vanas present became increasingly excited and noisy. Then, Mavana slumped with a sigh and silence descended.

  Varencienne glanced at Taropat. He was smiling slightly, but surely he must be unnerved by what could only be bad news?

  Snopard, who had been standing with head bowed, straightened up. He spoke to Taropat in a soft voice.

  Varencienne moved closer to them. ‘What did she say?’ she asked. ‘It looked as if she was banishing us from her lands.’

  ‘She says that we will find that which we seek,’ Taropat replied. ‘Apparently, if I only pay the proper reverence to Paraga and his consort, all my hurts will be healed.’

  ‘That is a stock answer,’ Varencienne said. ‘It could apply to anyone.’

  Then the High Vana spoke again, and Varencienne knew instinctively that the words were addressed to her. She heard nothing but a series of syllables that made no sense, but turned to the woman. The High Vana beckoned, ‘Come here, my child.’ She spoke Caradorean.

  Casting quick glances at Shan and Taropat, Varencienne went to kneel before the dais. Mother Mavana stared at her inscrutably for a few moments, then made a jerky movement with her chin. ‘People come here in search of answers, of knowledge, of wisdom,’ she said. ‘You come here for none of those things. Neither were you brought against your will, as you wish to believe. Hamagara is not part of the world in which you live, and your world may not touch us. You are an avatar of the greedy Foy, who coveted our lands and sought to subdue Paraga. Foy has learned hard lessons, and now lies disempowered. It is the will of They of the Peaks that she should rise from her maundering lair and take her place, as is right, in her quarter. Too long has she lamented over her defeat, which her pride brought upon her. Her self-pity turns bitter the oceans. You are touched by her feelings, and do not know it, yet you are strong and can overcome this weakness. You will go to Aranepa and he will give to you something of worth, which you will carry back to Foy. Know now that your son acts in your place and that Paraga is with him. Your son is in danger, for the one who directs the forces is ignorant, a proud and vain woman, who believes she has great knowledge and experience, but who in fact is lacking both. Paraga is his only defence, for Foy is weak. You should make offerings to Paraga before you leave here, for in his wisdom he bears no grudge or malice to the covetous mistress of the waters.’

  Mavana dipped her hand into a bowl of dried rice, dyed blue and green. She drew out a handful and threw it into Varencienne’s face. The grains stung as if they were a host of tiny insects attacking her. Varencienne gasped and put her hands to her eyes.

  ‘Pay attention to your calling,’ Mavana said. ‘The Dragon Lord turned his back on his queen, in the name of giving her peace, yet he was afraid. He is a man of this world, comfortable only with what his senses can perceive. You too are afraid. This land is full of the memories of Foy, her journey here. Remember her. Come to Paraga and Venotishi as an ally not a foe. They will help you.’

  Varencienne was compelled to press her forehead against the floor. The ancient wooden boards were warm beneath her flesh. She was trembling uncontrollably. ‘Thank you, holy mother,’ she said.

  Mother Mavana now spoke in a thick Hamagarid accent, but Varencienne perceived that she was calling for tea to be brought for her guests. Varencienne felt hands upon her shoulders and glanced round. Shan had come to her. It took all her will not to fall into his arms. She felt as if she’d been beaten, her mind buffeted by invisible blows.

  ‘She knows so much,’ she said, as she got to her feet.

  Shan led her back to Taropat and Snopard, who were seated upon cushions. ‘It sounded like the grunts of an animal,’ Shan said.

  ‘She speaks Caradorean well,’ Varencienne replied. ‘I think the earlier part, with Taropat, was a sham.’

  Shan frowned. ‘I’ve heard Taropat speak his native tongue. What I just heard didn’t sound at all like it.’

  ‘Well it was,’ Varencienne said. She sat down next to Taropat. ‘What did you think of the Mother’s words? She does not regard you as a kidnapper, clearly.’

  Taropat gazed at her, a strange tight smile on his lips, and did not speak for several seconds. Then he said, ‘You had better relate what you heard. To us, it sounded as if the High Vana spoke only in the most unintelligible Hamagarid.’

  That night, Varencienne dreamed of Foy. She woke in the middle of the night, Shan’s arms still about her, shuddering at the memory of the dream. Surely the images had been evoked purely by what Mother Mavana had said to her earlier in the day? She dearly wanted to believe so, but the chill in her flesh advised her otherwise.

  In the dream, she had swum once more in the brooding underwater temples of the Ustredi, dwarfed by the cyclopean stones. She had found the great bulk of Foy sleeping among her treasures, at first indistinguishable from the broken spars of ransacked ships. Varencienne, small as a minnow, had swum to one of Foy’s spined, equine ears and whispered into it. ‘We must both awake,’ she had said. ‘It is time now to reclaim the seas.’

  Foy had exhaled plumes of bubbles from her nostrils, and her body had heaved in a gigantic sigh. Slowly, one of her enormous eyes opened. ‘I am broken,’ she said in Varencienne’s mind. ‘My body ruined. The Dragon Heir forsakes me.’

  ‘There is a smaller, younger voice,’ Varencienne said. ‘Our son. I know that he is ready and willing for you. Can you hear him, oh queen?’

  Foy breathed out bubbles until she and Varencienne were surrounded by them. ‘Yes,’ she said at last.

  ‘Go to him, oh Foy,’ Varencienne said. ‘I am apart from him and cannot help him. I have learned he is in danger.’

  ‘I have no power to go to him,’ said Foy. ‘But I will send my daughters. They will be pleased to do this, for they already know and love him, as they love his father.’

  ‘No!’ Varencienne cried. ‘You must not do that. They are unpredictable and terrifying. He is only a child. They will swamp him.’

  But Foy exhaled furiously and pushed Varencienne away from her. Perhaps, as a mother, even a divine mother, she was blind to the faults of her children.

  Before Varencienne woke from the maelstrom, she fancied she heard an echo of mordant laughter: the joyless hilarity of Misk, Thrope and Jia, dragon daughters, mistresses of chaos and ruin.

  Chapter Fifteen: Family Business

  Pharinet came to meet her brother in the stable yard of Caradore Castle. All he noticed before he concentrated wholly on unstrapping his meagre luggage from his horse was that his twin’s countenance was wild, her fists clenched by her sides. Her hair was a riotous black mass around her shoulders, and she wore the garb of man, which, if anything, accentuated her femininity. ‘Val, thank Foy you are here!’ she exclaimed. What is going on? Ren and Elly are snatched on the road, with no explanation. What steps have you taken to get them back? Oltefney is virtually mindless with fear and we can get no sense out of her. We’ve heard nothing since the kidnap, no ransom demand, no threats. Everna and I cannot sleep for worry. Is this connected with Gastern’s coronation? Is Bayard’s hand behind it?’

  ‘Hush, Pharry!’ Valraven said. ‘I have much to tell
you, but you need have no fear Bayard is involved in the kidnap.’ He hoisted his bags onto his shoulder.

  ‘You know something, though, don’t you? I can tell.’

  ‘Yes I do, but I want to speak to you and Everna together.’

  ‘No, tell me now! I demand it! Who has been here for your wife and children while you spend all your time away? I know them better than you do and I have a right to know what’s befallen them. And I can’t believe you left Rav in Magrast.’

  ‘If Rav hadn’t been in Magrast, he would have been taken along with his mother and sister,’ Valraven said. ‘I will get them back, Pharry, but none of us can act in haste and panic. Allow me some time to refresh myself and I will tell you and Everna all that I know.’

  Pharinet exhaled impatiently through her nose and folded her arms. ‘Don’t play with me, Val.’

  ‘I’m not playing with you. Grant me some mercy, will you?’

  He marched towards a side entrance to the castle, Pharinet following. He was not looking forward to telling his headstrong sister that the husband she had believed to be dead was very much alive. It was inevitable that old hurts would be revived.

  Valraven went alone, after much protesting from Pharinet, to Varencienne’s chambers in the castle rather than his own. He had visited these rooms too seldom and now might never have cause to again. For some minutes, he stood in the window alcove, gazing down upon the beach below the castle. On this side, Caradore almost hung over the sea. Today, the ocean was tranquil, as if she couldn’t care less whether he’d come home or not. Waves flung themselves lazily into the sea caves and among the spires and tunnels of rock. How he’d loved that beach as a child. It had been his make-believe fantasy land. And Pharinet had shared it with him. Sighing, he went back into the room. The sight of his wife’s cosmetics and hair brush on the dressing table made his heart clench. What if she never came back to use them again? He must not betray his doubts to his sisters, but part of him was afraid that Khaster would kill Varencienne. It was perhaps a senseless fear, because the last time he’d seen Khaster, he’d been the man he always was, lacking in courage and self confidence. Apart from what was required of him as an officer in the imperial army, Khaster would never have harmed another living creature. Valraven was unsure why he thought this had changed.

  His limbs were heavy as he changed his clothes. Goldvane, the castle steward, brought him a hot drink and a snack to fortify himself for the impending meeting with his sisters. He prudently made little reference to the kidnap, other than to assure his master that he would do anything that was asked of him, if it would be any help.

  Mustering his strength for what he knew would be an onslaught, Valraven went down to the sitting room where his sisters awaited him. Everna looked so much older, perhaps dragged down by worry for Varencienne and Ellony. It shocked Valraven to see how emaciated her tall frame was, dwarfed in its chair. Her face was pleated with deep lines. Pharinet too had changed. Although he had sought to avoid her eyes out in the stableyard, now he appraised her directly. There were a few streaks of grey in her abundant black hair and she was carrying slightly more weight about the waist and hips. For a fleeting moment, he recalled the girl she had been, how he’d held her in his arms on the eve of her wedding to Khaster. He remembered their forbidden love, even though he had blotted it from his mind for many years. How could he have abandoned her? He’d shut her out of his heart, even his life, when they’d both been victims of Bayard’s power plays. Yet, staunchly she had remained faithful to him. Everyone had believed her to be a widow, so she could have married again easily. Any number of local men would have eagerly taken her for a wife, and he knew she’d had offers over the years, yet she’d refused them all. Now, blindingly, he could see why, as if she was speaking the words aloud to him. Pharinet’s love for him endured and she would fight like a dragon to protect all that was his, including his wife. Both she and Everna were growing older, gradually, inexorably, and he was barely here for them. How would he feel if, in the future, one of them should die during one of his long absences? There was so much unsaid between them. Still, now was not the time for such considerations.

  Valraven went to Everna’s chair and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. It was difficult to get away before.’

  Everna’s eyes filled with tears and her hands gripped each other in her lap. ‘Val, what are we to do? Why has this happened?’

  ‘Yes, spill everything,’ Pharinet said.

  Valraven went to the dresser and poured himself a glass of wine from the carafe that stood ready. Goldvane had made sure his favourite vintage was on hand. He took a large mouthful before he answered. ‘There is no easy way to say this. We all believed that Khaster Leckery was dead. We were wrong. It is he who is behind the kidnap.’

  There was a moment’s stunned silence, then Pharinet spat, ‘Rubbish! What are you talking about? Khaster is dead, Val. If he’d lived, he’d have sent word to his family. Also, Hamsin would have recognised him.’

  ‘Hamsin did recognise him. He thought it prudent to keep the information to himself until he had spoken to me. I assure you there is no mistake. Merlan too knows his brother is alive, and in fact spent some time with him last year. He has spoken to me about it.’

  Pharinet sat down heavily in a chair. ‘This can’t be true.’

  ‘It is. I’ll tell you what I know.’

  Both Pharinet and Everna interrupted Valraven’s narrative continually, so it took some time. Pharinet, particularly, remained sceptical. She grudgingly accepted her husband was still alive, but would not believe any of the story about Taropat, perhaps because she didn’t want to. ‘Sad though it is,’ she said, ‘Khaster is obviously living a fantasy. He must have been extremely damaged by what happened to him, and now believes he is someone else. I imagine any physician would tell you that is the explanation.’

  ‘Merlan is convinced,’ Valraven said, ‘and as none of us have actually seen Khaster since his disappearance, we’re really in no position to judge.’

  ‘But why would he kidnap Ren and Elly?’ Everna asked querulously. ‘It isn’t like him.’

  ‘Not like the person we knew, no,’ Valraven agreed, ‘but we have to accept he’s changed.’

  ‘But there’s been no ransom demand,’ Everna said. ‘What does he want with them?’ An obvious thought occurred to her and her hands flew to her mouth. She stared wide-eyed at her sister.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, Evvy,’ Pharinet said, ‘but I think we can comfort ourselves in one regard. If Ren and Elly had been harmed, I’m sure this new Khaster wouldn’t have been able to keep from gloating. He’d have made sure news reached us. Don’t you think so, Val?’

  ‘It seems likely,’ Valraven agreed.

  ‘What will you do now?’ Everna asked.

  ‘I must go to Cos,’ he answered. ‘Evidence points to the fact that Khaster – or Taropat as I suppose we must now call him – is in league with Princess Helayna. I have tolerated her presence in Cos, because since her brother’s capitulation she has been no threat. Now, it seems, I must root her out.’

  ‘They’re not in Cos,’ Pharinet announced.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Valraven asked.

  Pharinet clawed her fingers through her hair. ‘I don’t know for sure. Just a feeling. From what you’ve said, It’s obvious Khaster – sorry, I won’t call him anything else – was after Rav. He is the heir to Palindrake. Instead, he’s ended up with your wife and daughter. Now, why would he want the heir? Think about it. He’s now calling himself a great magus, so we must suppose he has mystical ambitions. He hates the Malagashes, who are followers of fire, the people who effectively vanquished Foy. I think he means to create a weapon to attack the Malagashes. He failed to secure the dragon heir, but now he has the sea wife. How better to attack the realm of fire than through reviving the power of water?’

  ‘He would require Ren’s co-operation,’ Valraven said. ‘He
’d never get it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be quite so confident,’ Pharinet said, glancing at her sister. ‘I have no wish to speak ill of Ren, but I’m afraid she was quite smitten with the idea of Khaster for some years. He was a fantasy to her, when she was still hardly more than a young dreaming girl. Ren is strong and capable, and no fool, but what if the reality of Khaster awakens those old feelings?’

  Valraven was shocked by the chill that pierced his heart. Pharinet’s words were totally unexpected. He felt betrayed. Varencienne had never spoken of Khaster to him, apart from once, years ago. ‘I find this difficult to credit,’ he said.

  ‘She used to spend hours gazing at his portrait at Norgance,’ Pharinet said. ‘She once even thought she saw his ghost. Ask any of the Leckerys. They’ll tell you.’

  ‘But she is first and foremost my wife and a Palindrake,’ Valraven said. ‘I will not believe she’d forget that.’

  Pharinet shrugged. ‘Think what you like. Facts are facts. Let us suppose, however unlikely, Varencienne is sympathetic to Khaster. Where would they go?’

  ‘I will not countenance that possibility,’ Valraven said. ‘Khaster will have taken Ren and Elly to Cos, to sanctuary with the Cossic resistance.’

  ‘She would take him to Old Caradore,’ Pharinet said. ‘Wouldn’t she, Evvy?’

  Everna’s fingers were still pressed firmly against her lips. Now she lowered them slowly, her expression deeply troubled. ‘Yes. I would say so. Yes.’

  ‘So forget Cos,’ Pharinet said. ‘Ren is the sea wife, Val. You refuse to accept your role, even though the secret heritage of the Palindrake males has been revealed to you. Ren was given her role, and lived it fully, yet once that ritual at Old Caradore was complete, you wouldn’t continue the tradition with her. She never spoke of it, but I believe it was always on her mind. Her view of reality was destroyed and a wondrous new world revealed to her, but you would not share it. I think Ren might even welcome the co-operation of a man who is mystically inclined. If she does ally with Khaster, it’s your own fault.’