by Jim Grimsley
7
I must have fallen asleep for a while. When I woke he was watching me, stones framing his face. When he saw I was awake he laughed softly. “This is my court magician, this sleepy child.”
I yawned. I had not known I was so tired, though it had been almost two days since I slept. Nestling close to him, I listened not only to his strong heartbeat but also to the wind on the High Place, the smell of shadow keen in my nostrils. Kirith Kirin let me lie against him. He asked, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m listening.”
“What happened on the High Place? Drudaen was aware of you?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“We saw the stars going out,” Kirith Kirin said. “We saw the shadow come up and retreat.”
“The Tower’s a strong place to stand. He chose not to fight.”
He watched tonight’s stars beyond the tatters of cloud. “In the Book of Curaeth the prophet says, ‘A night will come when a hand will be extended and withdrawn, when a shadow will fall on Laeredon but not on Immorthraegul. One standing in a strong place will have a voice for many. But still the shadow will fall on Laeredon.’ I’ve read the book so often I have most of it by heart. Tonight the shadow is on Laeredon and all lands south.”
He wrapped his cloak around my back till I was buried inside against him. Beneath the thin riding tunic I could feel his breath coming faster. His heart was pounding. He said, “We should go back soon and find the others, they’ll want news. But I don’t want to go anywhere. Do you have a magic for that?”
“I can make the moment linger for myself. Only the Sisters can bend time for others.”
“I’ve known wizards enough to understand that for myself. But still one wishes.”
Stretching his strong arms along the smooth stone, he let somberness cover him like a cloak. My hand rested on the sheet of tensed muscle at his midsection, quivering with blood and breath, the leather belt warm as his skin. I leaned over him and felt as if I were staring into a seething cauldron, fires licking the rim of his face. Breathless, I kissed the maelstrom. His mouth was tender and trembled. “I can make the evening live in memory,” I said. “I can do that without any magic. The shadow may have fallen but it doesn’t cover everything, Kirith Kirin. Tonight it won’t cover you.”
From a place deep within, next to the bone, some long-held tension released. The return of his spirit into his whole flesh was palpable to my hands. He watched me instead of the sky. “Imral won’t like that, will he?”
My jaw set. “I’m your Thaanarc, and the cloak I’m wearing now has no sleeves. I’ve walked on Ellebren where few others have ever walked. Nobody can tell me where to sleep any more.”
“Not even me?”
“Except you,” I said, tracing the line of his jaw.
“You have one thing wrong, though.” He gazed thoughtfully upward at the Tower summit. His fingers moved on my shoulder. “No one has ever stood on Ellebren. Kentha only completed the Tower, no one ever used it. The Sisters didn’t tell you that?”
“The Sisters claimed they didn’t know much about Tower magic.”
He laughed, raucously. “The Sisters know whatever they want to know. They chose not to tell you maybe. They are crafty.”
I watched him with what felt like a stupid look on a my face. “No one? No one at all?”
He shook his head. Some sadness returned to his face, though no distance intervened between us. “Kentha was able to use the lower rooms for the casting of the Eyestone lattice and other purposes when they were complete, but by the time she placed the Eyestone on the Height her time had already passed, as she said. She was pregnant with the child and returned the Tower keys to me after she and the Tervan specialists raised the stone.” He paused, still touching my shoulder. “That was the day she told me she had prepared the place, and one would come to stand in it. She meant you.”
He named the various parts of the Tower with ease. I remarked on it and asked if he had ever been taken inside. His face became firm, almost imperceptibly shifting to sternness. “Ellebren is within my realm, in my house. I have been as high as the Room-Under-Tower. There is no part of Inniscaudra where I can’t go.”
“Yes, my lord,” I said, and the sternness dissolved. He did not object to the ‘my lord’ in this case. That made me smile.
“It’s a lot of stairs to climb, you understand. I don’t use it as a picnic spot.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye but did not allow even the glimmer of a smile.
We returned down Falkrigul afterward. The whole walk I was listening to the Height, shifting more of myself into kei. In some manner Kirith Kirin understood this and asked, “Do you hear anything? Is Drudaen changing?”
“Shadow’s stable and growing, that’s the main difference. He’ll be stronger. I’m afraid of what’s happening beneath.”
“He’ll be making fear,” Kirith Kirin said. “He eats it like food.”
“How could Queen Athryn let this happen?”
Mist droplets had settled like a jeweled veil over his black curls. “I don’t know. It may be that she has no choice.”
We passed beneath the bulk of Evaedren, its marble face shuddering with the shadows of watchfires on the high wall. The wind moaned, both here and where it was shredding clouds. He sighed and pulled me against him. In every move, sadness and happiness were mixed but not blended. One could read moments of both on his face, one could feel each coursing through his body. His mind was in the clouds, too, hovering over the south. “I know from reports what Drudaen did in Turis when he put the shadow there, when he rode through the country on storms and fires. I’ve never seen it for myself. Now, the whole south…”
A fire was burning on the terraces below Thenduril. Shadow figures moved on the perimeter of the blaze. The Finra Brun and the Nivra Kaleric stood with wine cups held loosely. Hearing our footsteps, they turned. Brun called, “Good evening, gentlemen,” in her throaty voice, and Kaleric bowed politely to Kirith Kirin.
The moment they recognized me was easy to guess: they each turned from me to the Tower where many-colored light was glimmering. Kirith Kirin saw this moment too. Laughing heartily, he said, “You’ll just have to get used to this, Brun. We have one among us who can be many places at the same time.”
Kaleric, a young lord with fine, strawberry-blonde hair and features that indicated he might have Venladrii blood as well as the basic plainsman stock, gave me a skeptical look, nostrils flared slightly. He asked, “What news is there from Ellebren?”
He said the name with considerable ease. I was surprised at this. Kirith Kirin gave me leave to speak by a short, royal, nod of the head.
I said, “A darkness has fallen over the south that won’t be lifted by sunrise. Lord Keerfax tried to send shadow northward as well, but we got here in time and the Tower has stopped him.”
“Shadow in the south.” Brun’s eyes were like glass, unseeing. “Over Cuthunre too?”
“Yes, my lady. Over the whole land from Bruinysk to the sea.”
“You’ll fight it?”
“As best I can.” I swallowed. “But he holds all the southern High Places. I won’t be able to do much good.”
“Shadow,” she said. “Eye in Heaven, what has the Queen done?”
Kaleric, whose family lands were in the Lower Fenax, watched her with vague sympathy. “What is shadow?” he asked.
Kirith Kirin answered before I could. “Day won’t come beneath shadow, except a kind of watered light. Crops don’t grow. The wind fouls. Animals and people die after a while, or change.”
Kaleric paled. “What do you mean, change?”
“You’ve heard of the Verm? Before shadow came to Turis there were no Verm.”
Silence fell. Kirith Kirin asked where were the others and Brun told him; Vaeyr and Idhril were napping indoors. Unril and Duvettre were with the twice-named, touring the Lower House. Imral had led the horses to Erennor Vale to graze.
Kirith Kirin brought bread and cheese
from his saddlebag, stowed here from the night before. That and the wine made as good a supper as I was likely to get. Kirith Kirin kept me near but said little, watching the fire as if he were reading signs of the future in it. Soon he had fallen asleep with his head in my lap. Kaleric went off walking by himself; one could hear his boots scuffing marble in the distance. Brun sat near us, comfortable in the silence. I found her hawkish countenance pleasant in the firelight, bright fierce eyes shifting restlessly, brocaded cap snug on her close-cropped hair. The Anynae are never without their caps, even indoors, unless they are going to bed. I might have resented her nearness if her spirit had not burned so clear, if her sorrow had not been so apparent.
A few questions passed between us and soon she was talking about her home in the south. She spoke Jisraegen very well, for a southerner, and I was careful to pitch my voice in the lower modes. She had left her husband, who still lived on the country estate in north Cuthunre; she doubted anyone was using the house in Teliar these days. That house had been her pride, a legacy of her mother’s family, designed by Ithambotl and built of the fine Briidoc marble that nobody can get any more. The house was centuries old, situated in a large garden on a hilltop. From it one could see the mountain spur on which sits Cunevadrim; one could see the descent of the Osar through verdant green, checkered fields. When Brun spoke of her house, stolen from her by royal decree when she fled north with Theduril, one could see how much she had loved her life in that strange country. She even spoke fondly of her husband once or twice, his habit of wearing his boots to bed, his love for his favorite horse. “We will see him soon I think,” Brun said, with a wry look. “My lord Chorval is one of Drudaen’s staunchest supporters. He can afford to be now that he has control of all my property.”
“It’s hard for me to realize there are people who serve and honor Drudaen.”
Brun laughed, deep and hearty. “There are folks who would swear they love him, who write songs in praise of his virtue. There are folks who do just that. Do you think he believes himself to be a bad man?”
The question surprised me. “No, I suppose he doesn’t.”
“Of course he doesn’t. He believes himself to be the best of men, to be exactly what the times require. All his friends tell him so. The people in his coterie let hardly a day go by without reassuring him that he is the great statesman of his time, that no man so gifted has been born among us in a thousand generations, that by rights he should be the ruler of Aeryn rather than Athryn Ardfalla or Kirith Kirin.”
“Can such people really exist?”
She blinked at me, as if she could not believe my stupidity. Her voice was more charitable than her expression. “One forgets how young you are. Yes, Jessex — may I call you Jessex? — yes, there are indeed such men. I know, I’ve seen it, in my house, in the houses of my friends.” She watched the fire a moment. She looked up at the sky. “Now the deed is done and the shadow lord will have his way. Athryn Ardfalla has brought about her own ruin.”
“She’s still Queen.”
“A Queen doesn’t let a thing like shadow happen to her people. Do you have any conception, any idea, what shadow is like?”
I looked at the glimmering light on the summit of Ellebren. “Yes, I think so.”
She had followed my gaze. Her expression sobered. “From above, it’s not the same as beneath. No, you’ll never quite understand that fear, I expect.”
“What fear?”
“You’re a magician. You can never know what it is to fear one like you. You can never know what it is to be helpless.”
Her face had washed clear of color. Fire danced in her eyes. She was remembering something, a vivid memory.
I had been like a boy with her through our talk. But the sight of this pain that filled her made me remember what else I was. I said a Word, softly, and took her hand in mine. One does not do this lightly with a well-born lady. She was startled and nearly pulled the hand away. But it was just plain skin and bone, toughened by hours on the rein, by practice with the sword, and it wanted warmth and comfort then. “Maybe you’ve had reason to be afraid of Lord Keerfax. I think you have. But you’ll never have any reason to be afraid of me.”
The hand relaxed. Tension fled from her face. The woman shone through, awkward, never beautiful, proud, strong, gentle. “Your heart would need much twisting before I’d fear it, I think.” She gazed at the sleeping Kirith Kirin, curls tangled in my sash, with clear fondness. “One can see why he cares for you.”
Kaleric returned to the fire and our quiet conversation ended. Kaleric was also disturbed by my news. He eyed Kirith Kirin warily as if making certain the Prince slept, and asked questions I didn’t really understand at first. This shadow I had talked about, was it really everywhere? over the whole south? Drudaen really made it, himself? Tomorrow the sky would be dark same as today, this wasn’t passing weather?
I explained what I could about it, patiently. Yes, shadow was real. Yes, it reached as far as I could see from Ellebren, which was a long way. Yes, Drudaen made it. The sky would be dark tomorrow and the day after and the day after, until Drudaen lifted his hand.
“But what about the crops?” Kaleric asked. “They won’t grow without sunlight.”
“No,” I said, “they won’t.”
“Then he’s a fool,” Kaleric said. “What will people eat if the crops don’t grow?”
“They won’t eat,” Brun said. “Many of them will die.”
Kaleric looked at her sharply. He had to remember to speak so she could hear. “How do you know?”
She smiled. “We southerners have felt shadow before. Not like you northerners who had the legend of Arthen to keep the sorcerer at a distance.”
“But nobody would knowingly cause so much destruction —”
Brun’s laugh in this case was not gentle, it was full of scorn. “You come from a family that should have taught you better, Kaleric. Have you never heard of the wars between Falamar and the Twelve? Have you never heard of the Hills of Slaughter? Have you never seen Turis? The Verm were humans only a century ago, just like you and me. Turis was green and her bounty put the Fenax to shame. But not a stick of wheat has grown there these four generations. Shadow did that.”
“You never saw anything like this for yourself, I warrant,” Kaleric said, his voice full of anger.
“No. But my grandmother did. Other folks remember it too. If you call their stories lies you might as well forget the rest of history, too; all we have is stories like those. My grandmother watched shadow smother Arroth and barely escaped with her life. First he destroyed the shrines and then he brought shadow. Few folks who lived in Turis were as lucky as my grandmother, who got out.”
Their voices had risen and wakened Kirith Kirin. I could feel the return of tension in the sinews of his neck, the quickening of pulse. He sat up slowly. “What’s all the quarreling about?” he asked.
“Nivra Kaleric doubts there is any shadow, since he can’t climb to the top of the Tower and see it for himself.” Brun’s tone was haughty, her accent impeccable, and Kaleric flushed with embarrassment.
“I only said I doubted it could reach as far as the boy claims,” Kaleric said.
“The boy claims nothing.” Kirith Kirin’s eyes narrowed. “The boy has seen. If it were not for him you wouldn’t have to doubt the power of your enemy; the shadow would be hanging over your head.”
“How can anyone, even a wizard, have such power? To blot out the sun over a whole countryside —”
The Prince sat up. “How? If I knew that I would be a wizard myself.”
“It isn’t such a great trick.” I tried to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s simply drinking the light into himself, and darkening the air, and in the process gathering energy. It’s not that he means to do it, but it’s a consequence of what he is; when he makes magic, he makes shadow. The scale on which he is doing it is another thing, but you have to remember Drudaen is master of all the High Places in the south. And now he has to defend all of t
hat from me.”
Brun nodded sagely as if she understood the principles involved and could do the trick herself. Kaleric looked at me as if I had begun speaking Upcountry. “You mean you could do it yourself?”
“Certainly. I won’t. But I could. Turning back shadow is a much harder trick, because you have to beat Drudaen to do it. Fortunately I wasn’t forced to do that; I simply let it be known I was on the High Place and that I was prepared to fight.”
