by Gail Merritt
‘Of course,’ I felt her move on her couch. ‘What would you like to know?’
‘The guardian, who lives deep within the marshes, told me that you could help me find the truth about the terrible sickness that is killing the young people of the estuary. Gwythin also said you could have the answer for me, if anyone can.’
‘The fact that you have communicated with those below the marsh and you are still alive, is impressive. I think Gwythin must want you to see the Window of Truth.’
I opened my eyes. She was resting on her arm facing me. ‘Will it show me the truth about everything, or can I ask a question of it?’
She shrugged cheerfully. ‘Both, but there will be time for that later. Enjoy the afternoon. When you join our order, you will have access to the window whenever you wish.’
‘Join?’ I struggled to sit up. The languid air soothed and tempted me to close my eyes but I forced myself to remember Tamora’s face, and the memory of her struggle. I bent towards my hospitable companion. ‘Forgive me, Sister, but I am not here to join the Sisterhood. I am a Mantle, a member of the Souran. I have sworn to devote my life to the College of the Mantles. I don’t know what Gwythin told you, but I would never forswear my Mantle vows.’
‘Gwythin spoke of you as a child. She only told us of the power you would command once you grew to womanhood. Such qualities are rare, and we hoped you would see your life with us. This is most disappointing.’ She frowned, but only for a moment. I noticed that behind her other sisters were sitting up too. I wondered if I had offended them enough for them to refuse to help me. ‘She told us that you would come someday, and we assumed that you would become one of us. Of course, a Mantle cannot easily leave the College, although it can be done. We force no one to join our order, although while you are our guest, you might change your mind.’
‘Thank you, but no.’ As I spoke some of the sisters sighed and returned to their rest. ‘My visit is urgent for I have come with the lives of many people in my hands. I must learn the truth that your window can show me.’
‘So be it.’ She returned to her repose. ‘We will speak of it at dinner tonight.’
‘But…’
‘Megwin!’ a heavy sigh brought my companion to a sitting position. ‘The afternoon rest is necessary for our order. It is by the sun’s rays that we keep our honey complexions. We must rest until the pipes end. Then we bathe, drink our elixir, exercise at sunset and meditate until dinner. However, since your quest is so urgent, I will excuse you from our ritual and escort you to the window now.’
‘Should I speak with your elders? I do not know how to interpret this window?’
She smiled kindly and placed her hand on my shoulder. ‘I am the senior Sister of our order. I am older than your great-grandmother and I have seen the passing of many kings in Vellin.’ She was prepared for the look of disbelief that spread itself across my face. ‘We dedicate our lives to the preservation of our bodies while we study sickness in those less fortunate. Once we join the order, we never leave this place again. If we did, we would die.’
‘You help to cure the sick?’ My spirits rose.
‘Not exactly!’ She stood and beckoned me to follow, speaking to me as we strolled through the garden. ‘We study ways to improve our own bodies and our longevity. From time to time, the sick are sent here, and we endeavour to cure them but what occurs beyond the white bridge is of no concern to us.’
She led me to the perfumed door of their sanctuary, under the vine-like veranda and into the coolness of a hallway. The air was heavy with strange aromas. She told me that the order was reclusive by choice. They had no desire to serve kings or countries, no urge to right wrongs or to pass on their knowledge to those beyond their walls.
‘We die, eventually,’ she confided, ‘but only two have done so since I came and that was over two hundred years ago. We have no need for postulants and only invite those who come to us as you did, or who have the natural beauty that we prize. In your case, my dear,’ she touched my cheek, ‘you are quite pretty, but it would be your unique powers that would gain your entrance.’
I was about to reaffirm my allegiance to the College of the Mantles when she moved off ahead of me and I had to scurry after her. We strode and scuttled down a long corridor which ended in a shimmering wall. It moved like the surface of a pond but appeared to be nothing but light and I marveled that it remained in place. She walked into the wall and disappeared, but I hesitated.
‘If you wish to see the window, then you must follow me Megwin.’
With a deep breath, I stepped through the light, feeling a slight tingling sensation in my fingers and cheeks as I passed. It was pleasant and I was about to ask about the structure of the light wall but found something else drew my attention. We were standing on a narrow ledge spanning a deep crack in the limestone headland. Far below us, the sea swirled and thundered. Gingerly, I followed the sister across it to a slender white tower. The door opened for us and we entered a lofty room, which stretched higher than a mountain ash tree, higher than the tower that held it. A single window of coloured glass cast its reflection on the limestone floor. The image was of a girl, her back to the observer, her outstretched arms supporting many birds with exotic plumage, in a lush wilderness. Beside her, a tiger and graceful deer looked on, a silver-grey eagle soared overhead, while from the many shrubs and trees creatures of every size and shape and colour peeped out. I gasped.
‘It is beautiful,’ the Sister agreed. ‘Gwythin was very moved by it.’ I had no doubt of Gwythin’s amazement for, although the girl’s face was hidden, a tendril of dark red hair escaped from the grey hood of her cape and at her side, half hidden by the protective cloak, a fox looked up at her with warm eyes.
‘It is older than the Sisterhood. No one knows who built this fortress or who this image represents, but we feel drawn to her beauty. This is what you came to see. This is The Window of Truth. I will leave you here to gain the knowledge that you seek. Ask a question if you wish. The window will answer, or not. If there was ever a certain ritual for gaining truth from it, that ritual was lost many centuries ago. I will wait beyond the star curtain.’
I sat on the floor, not knowing what to do. It seemed too foolish to speak. I did not ask a question. I was too preoccupied driving wild thoughts from my brain. It had to be a coincidence. It could not be my likeness in this ancient work of art. I gazed at the scene, stunned by the workmanship, the thin snakes of lead that separated the millions of glass fragments. The sun streamed through the window, spreading the colours across the floor in a blurred counterfeit. I stood and walked slowly around to see this strange copy, stopping below the window. The colours shifted and merged, making new images that told their own tale. The figure continued to stand with outstretched hands, but the birds looked like disemboweled hearts and brains. The lush jungle became a shifting landscape of blue and green, water and land, and the cloak of the figure blended with stains on the floor to become muddy and no longer grey. But most chilling of all was that, where once there had been a fox, there was now a face. It was Llewid. He haunted me, even here. I felt myself choke and I turned my face to the wall in horror. The sun passed behind a cloud and when I looked down again, the vile images were gone. The creatures of the natural world had returned.
17. - Gwythin
I watched the fortress slip away out of sight until all that was left were the white cliffs. The memory of the Window of Truth haunted me, and I trembled. I had said little to Sandor before we left the shore and he had asked nothing. He spread out his own cloak for me and, with my cheek buried in its familiar scents, I slept.
I did not dream, or if I did, I do not recall their substance, and when I woke it was early morning. ‘You slept like an old sheepdog,’ Sandor assured me. ‘You twitched and snored until I had to turn you over.’
‘I did not!’ I sat up, sensitive to every nail and scrap of rope that had made its mark on my skin. I longed for my little bed in the cottage. As we ate the last of our
food I was grateful to see the familiar wetlands on our port side. My head had cleared, and the air felt fresher, pure, with a salty tang to it. I sat and looked out at the marshes, feeling my strength returning. I had been burdened and troubled with the mystery of the sickness. Now that I knew the answer, I must do battle with this malignancy and defeat it. I smiled at Sandor. ‘I would not like to join the Sisterhood. They never leave their fortress and think only of themselves.’
‘Could they help you?’ He drew in the sail a little as the wind freshened and we gained speed.
‘No but they had something that did.’ I looked at the distance coastline. ‘I solved the riddle myself.’
‘You know the cause of the illness?’
‘I know.’
I chose a high point on the sand dunes. A sharp wind whipped the sand in my face and stole my breath, but it helped to heighten my elation. Silver Mantle sat in the lee of the dune, watching me, though her face was lost in the cowl of her mantle. Sandor sat beside her his arms wrapped around the fox. They waited and watched. It was time for me to face the thief who had stolen so many innocent lives. I turned my face to the marshland and spread my arms wide. There was a tightening in my chest as the image of the Window’s reflection haunted me, but I banished it.
The ancient words came slowly, from the depths of my Green Mantle memories, from the early ones who had shared knowledge with the Sisterhood when they too knew the world’s dark secrets. The words formed into phrases and spread across the wasteland on the wind. They crossed the peat mires and the reed islands, until they found the dead forest, where birds no longer sang, where the piper sat rehearsing his tunes for his single audience. I saw the deformed apple trees, heavy with fruit. I saw them, in the secret place, on the enchanted island in the lake and my words swept over them.
She stood, rising slowly, wrapping her brown cape about herself as she listened with disbelief. She heard the words and she knew. She knew I had found her and that I would try to bind her to that place, perhaps forever. The little island trembled but she could not change her shape, she could no longer take to the air and become a dragon or sooth the bewildered piper by taking the image of a fawn. She raged and I felt her rage, but my magic was strong. I felt her fury, as he lay down, suddenly weaker as I took back the strength that she had given him. I took back the strength that had been sucked from young innocent lives to give him life.
Silver Mantle closed her eyes and threw her head back. She was following my words, feeling the stolen lives returning to their rightful places. On the small island, Brown Mantle heaped curses upon me but she knew her words were useless. All she could do was to build protection about her precious creation and keep the false Llewid safe. I would not destroy him. I could not. She knew that too. Angry and unrepentant, she drew her brown robe about herself and held him close. I felt her anger and her relief that I had spared him. He lived because lives had already been sacrificed for him. The dead had given up their gifts, gifts which could not be returned. He lived because I could not bring myself to destroy a life, even if that life had been conjured from the dying king himself, robbing him of the last of his strength as he lay dying in my arms. I could not kill him, and she knew it. She knew me far better than I knew her. Her face, my face, was defiant. My enchantment grew stronger. As I drew the power from deep within the past, in Vellin an army was setting out to search the dead forest. Silver Mantle sent her thoughts to the Souran to guide their hunt. I kept to my own purpose. I knew that the army would find nothing.
When the last child slept peacefully, I stumbled and slept too. Sandor carried me back to the cottage where I slept for many days. When I woke, Silver Mantle was bending over me.
‘This reminds me of when we first met, in your tiny bedroom in Brak.’ She took my hand.’ How are you feeling?’
‘Rested.’ I struggled to sit up. I felt as if several horses had ridden over me. ‘Is there news of the sickness?’
‘Gone!’ She patted my hand. ‘Your power destroyed it.’
‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘I couldn’t destroy it. I just neutralised it for a while.’ I looked up at her. Did she know who had been responsible for the plague?
‘You are not responsible for it.’
‘The Brown Mantle is part of me. We were once the same person. We both fell in love with Llewid. She brought him back to life by stealing the lives of innocent children.’ I looked down at the patchwork quilt and I remembered the Window of Truth. A shiver passed through me.
‘She is no longer part of you, she has not been part of you since she left for Dereculd and that abomination she has made cannot be Llewid. Did you see it?’
I nodded, remembering his face, more innocent, open than the courtly Llewid but it was his face. I wanted to believe with all my heart that this was the same Llewid that I had lost to her. The alternative was too painful. I knew the real king was dead, but I could not resist the vain hope that a new one lived.
‘We will intercept them.’ Silver Mantle withdrew her hand. ‘And to ease your mind I have made arrangements for Llewid’s body to be brought up from the tomb, to prove to you he is dead.’ Her face grew stern. ‘Make no mistake, when we find them, we will destroy them both.’ She stood. ‘I return to Vellin today and I have instructed the gypsies to take you home to Brak. Channa will care for you better than anyone, and you will recover when you are well away from here.’
Silver Mantle’s wishes were carried out within a few days and I was still too weak to object. We rode part of the way and then took a boat up the Listi, passing through Vellin but not stopping. Black Mantle sent his thoughts to me often. He had given a lot of thought to Brown Mantle’s restoration of Llewid and the stolen lives. It did not surprise him in the slightest when Llewid’s coffin contained nothing but bags of sand. In fact, he doubted that Llewid was ever truly dead in the first place. It would have needed only simple magic for her to make his body appear dead and even simpler to spirit him away while Vellin mourned their King. She had drawn strength from others to return the half-dead Llewid to full strength once more. We both agreed that once revived Llewid could probably survive without the need for further help and the lives of children were safe, for the time being. Neither of us believed it was the last we would hear of them. As we passed through Wyke, my friend from the cave reminded me of my promise. As for Gwythin, I tried many times to find her but there was no trace.
When we reached Brak, Tregrin and Tamora had a surprise for us all. During the long days of her recovery they had sat together in the garden and she had listened to his dreams and delighted in his enthusiasm. Without either of them knowing it, they had fallen in love. Tregrin chose the family banquet to celebrate my arrival as the best time to ask Deni for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Beryl cried and Channa dropped her tray of tartlets, but the rest of us were overjoyed.
The following day Sandor and I went for a walk among the elder bushes that grew on the hillside above the town. It was time to renew my friendship with the small birds and rabbits that lived there. The fox and vixen ran merrily through the undergrowth, rolling and playing their own games.
‘A letter came for me yesterday,’ Sandor began hesitantly. ‘It was from the Palace.’ I said nothing but turned my attention to a clump of convolvulus. I could read his mind too well. He was about to leave me.
‘I’ve been offered a commission in the King’s Company.’ He addressed the elder flowers. The Company was an elite band of officers who served His Majesty. Such positions were given to young men who had shown their abilities in battle, through acts of bravery or through their academic prowess. It was always considered a great honour. ‘I don’t know if I should accept.’
‘You should,’ I faced him, ‘if you want to.’
‘The King is reforming his navy, the navy that once belonged to Dereculd, and he wants me to be part of it. Apparently there are very few people who can sail, except fishermen and they won’t join the navy. He wants me to train other young men.’ He squinte
d at me. ‘What do you think?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I’d like to do it but what about Mari and Matt? What about you?’
‘What about me?’ I was carefully examining the veins of an elder leaf. I couldn’t look him in the face, or I would have become selfish.
‘I don’t want to leave you.’
‘You must not think of me in all this, Sandor.’ It was time to face him and be strong. I had always known that we would need to have this conversation sooner or later, but I had hoped that it might be in the future. Now, I knew the time had come. ‘I am a Mantle and bound to the Souran. I can have no life outside the Souran and my calling. I hope we will always be friends, but we can never be anything more than that.’ I tried to take his hand, but he withheld it, at first.
‘The fox warned me about becoming too fond.’ He tore at a leaf. ‘He told me that I should think of you as the morning sunshine, a wonderful thing that belongs to no one.’ He looked up at the sky.
‘The fox waxes too lyrical sometimes.’ I scowled at the russet tail peeping from a nearby rabbit hole.
‘Is this because of the King of Dereculd?’ he asked.
‘A little, I suppose.’ I took whatever excuse he was offering me. ‘I cannot rest until I have hunted down that other part of me that Llewid stole. Silver Mantle is searching for them, but I have a feeling that they will escape her once more.’
‘Will I see you again?’ Now he took my hand.
‘All the time! You can use your mind like a Mantle. I’ll teach you how to strengthen that until we can share our thoughts no matter where you are. We’ll never be apart.’
He held me close and I savoured the scent of his body, wondering if it would be for the last time. In my mind I knew who had engineered his appointment. Perhaps she had done it to reward him and perhaps she had done it to remove him from me. Only Silver Mantle herself could explain her reason. Whatever it was, she had stripped me of another dear friend and I ruefully recalled that it had been her arrival in the cottage that had driven Gwythin away. Was this also Silver Mantle’s intention?
