by Jim Grimsley
Last of all, Brun joined Karsten to sing one of the holy songs that had fallen out of use, “Kehan Kehan,” which means, “Dead of Winter.” I had never heard the song before, nor had I heard Brun’s rich alto blended with the soaring soprano of Karsten. She kept the song in the lower modes of our music, for Brun’s sake; the Anynae cannot sing or even hear the higher measures. The harmony seemed richer than could be possible from two voices only, and I wondered then, as I would again, whether Karsten knew magic herself. This thought was fleeting, however, and soon was overwhelmed by the tender beauty of the melody.
In older days, according to those who remember, we better understood the proper place of death in life better than we did now. Maybe that was the reason “Kehan Kehan” was no longer sung very often. But Karsten was not among those who had forgotten, and Brun’s life had taught her the place of loss. The song tells the story of a time when a shadow falls over the world, the beauty of the death of seasons, the decay of flowers, the final dying of the Mother herself, the light that will withdraw from all places and times. The words are so much a part of our thought and of the depth of High Speech itself that they cannot be adequately rendered into another tongue. “Kehan Kehan” speaks of the end of time as if it is only a moment away; the song almost rejoices in the notion. I, having recently gained so much, did not want to think of loss; but the song stirred me deeply. Maybe some of that came from the knowledge of shadow. Or maybe it was the vision of my mother, motionless on the white bier in Cunevadrim’s Tower.
When the song ended I turned to Kirith Kirin, in whose side I was sheltered; his face was stained with tears. The music faded in the air. Idhril, after the moment of respectful silence which is one’s gift to singers, said, “That was a sad choice, my Lady Karsten, for a night when we should be happy for the gifting-couple.” One could see the disturbance on her face.
Kirith Kirin answered, “No, it was a good thing, Idhril. It’s too long since we’ve heard ‘Kehan.’”
Brun said, “I wasn’t born to YY-worship, but I have learned, over the years, that her beauty is in all things. Even in what is taken. My father taught me that song.”
“Your father was a brave man,” Imral said. “He paid a high price.”
Later I would learn that story, from Kirith Kirin. Brun’s father died in Arroth, at the hand of the Wizard. He was one of the last of the Finru to oppose Drudaen; his death was a horrible affair, to make a point, and at the end of it Drudaen ate the man’s soul and denied him his crossing into Zaeyn. It is a death so total it is hard to contemplate.
Above us, wheeling and spinning, the lights of Ellebren shadowed and danced against the night sky, and beyond the tower, the stars of tonight, different than the night before.
No one took up the guitar after that last song. We sat before the fire till it burned low. Soon folks began to drift to bed.
Tomorrow the army would come, and other armies were marching here, too. As if we knew this, as if we knew there would be no other night like this for us, we two left the fire hand in hand. In answer to some need of his, I took him to the one place in Inniscaudra where he had never been. Together, as lovers, we entered Ellebren and in my company he rose up the kirilidur, as close to flying as a person can come. One rises by reading all the runes one has stored in the kei. We mounted to the Height, where the stars shone clear as his spirit. Holding hands across the Eyestone, I showed him his Kingdom, all of it that I could reach, from sea to shadow to mountain. No one else had ever given him that. While we were there, I protected him from all malevolence, as he had once protected me. Drudaen, far in the south, saw Kirith Kirin’s presence on the High Place and quailed. Nothing I had done so far troubled the Wizard more.
He showed me something I had not seen before, without a word. Beneath shadow, points of light where shrines had stood, throughout the south, and I understood what Kirith Kirin had known all along, that the Queen had not dismantled the shrines by accident but because that was what Drudaen required her to do.
We never spoke of that journey, then or later. We descended from the High Place and found our bed. Even a twice-named Prince needs strength to stand on the shenesoeniis; Kirith Kirin never returned to the summit with me again. But I gave him that gift that night, and later I gave him others. It was as if we both knew. That was the only day of perfect peace we had, as lovers together, for many years.
Chapter 15: SHENESOENIIS
1
Next morning, we heard the sounds of the Army marching through Durassa’s Park.
We climbed to the battlements of the high walls to watch their approach, a sight to remember, the column stretching for two stades or more, crimson cloaks, bright-armored horsemen, banners unfurled and horns washing the air. All morning, in perfect order, the column crossed the Park, rounding the shore of Lake Thyathe and beginning the ascent of the hill. The spectacle filled us with pride. Kirith Kirin, beside me, said, “I wondered if even I would live long enough to see this sight again.”
He would present himself from Krafulgur Gate where the soldiers could see him as they neared the top. I helped him bathe and dress, with Imral waiting in the outer room.
When time came for him to stand on Krafulgur’s summit, I made myself scarce. The soldiers should see him and his commanders; his magician should be elsewhere. I ascended Ellebren and went to the high chambers beneath the pirunaen; from those airy windows I watched the red ribbon of the army wind round and round the hill, mounting the harsh flank, toward their Prince in his perch on impregnable Krafulgur. The army let out a cheer that reached past me to the clouds, and if I had my way, Drudaen himself would have heard it. Though in fact the Army moved under my veil, which by now had become entrenched in the skies over the Three Hills. The procession continued, the column moving through Krafulgur and beneath the High Walls to Haldobran Gate.
I ascended to the Room-Under-Tower and then to the summit itself, and while the Army entered the Gate into Inniscaudra, I wandered bare-armed on the polished pavement of the High Place, but I could see whatever happened below, in as close detail as I wished. The face of Kirith Kirin and my friends, standing on the steps of Halobar Hall while the Army formed up on the lawn. The look of calm on their faces. Even the mortals.
There were some four thousand with Gaelex, the same troops who had guarded Kirith Kirin while he waited, all these years; the same troops who had won him control of the north, who had fought Nemort, who had faced the Witch of Karns. Now they stood with their prince in a storied place, and their coming here was hard won. A moment of perfect fullness transpired, a solemn silence as the soldiers formed, rank on rank, with the Marshal of the Ordinary, Gaelex, at their head.
Kirith Kirin addressed them when they were assembled; his words are recorded elsewhere, in “Kirithmar” and other places. I will not repeat them here since I did not hear him. I am told he spoke of the bravery of his soldiers, of the valor of those who won Anrex, Cordyssa, Ithlumen and Gnemorra. I am told he praised his generals and officers by name. I am told he mentioned me among those; and I guess no one who was there when Julassa Kyminax howled onto the battlefield would have disputed my place on the list. While he was speaking, I listened to the wind and walked along the aerie edge of the shenesoeniis. Birdcalls filled the sky, and the music of wind whipped the treetops in waves, like Vella said the sea would look.
But one thing I did to add splendor to the moment below, before I moved to Ellesotur to complete other tasks. Out from the Tower Horns I caused to form three eidolons of the banner of his house, Imhonyy, the Unicorn with the Ruby Eye. Slowly and like smoke the phantom banners unfurled, while the silence of the Army told me he was still speaking. When their cheer told me his words were at an end, I let the ghost-images become visible to other eyes than mine. I hear they covered half the sky.
I sat down to my work, to the Eyestone and my vigilance. Clearing my mind, breathing, I moved through the circles into fourth-level trance.
2
At once, within shadow
, I detected turbulence and change. The Wizard’s shape remained in Vyddn country, but I noted two differences. Power moved north of him in Montajhena; not a living presence but a feeling like ash or slag that pervaded the planes. Even though we had surveyed that country from Illyn Water, we had never detected movement there before. At first I was afraid the presence was the Wizard himself, that he had managed to move without my knowing it; but careful scrutiny convinced me otherwise. The disturbance in the ruined city came from the bases of the broken towers, with the major disturbance coming from the ruin of Yrunvurst, glimmering like the ghost of a beacon in my sight.
Furthermore, over the ruined city, shadow was torn and weak. Something in Montajhena diluted him. Had I known it, Venladrii messengers moved toward Inniscaudra to give us this very news.
But more momentous was a change I noted farther south, at Aerfax, from the Tower of the Change. From there, a light like a star burned across shadow. A sound of insinging could be heard, and the voice was not Drudaen. Queen Athryn was singing from the Rock of Change on the summit of Senecaur.
Neither the song nor the words were clear to me. But I thought I could guess their purpose, and felt a thrill along the spine.
My excitement made me careless, and Drudaen knew me to be on the Height. His brooding presence shifted and reached toward me. Maybe he still held me in such contempt he thought he might contest with me from that distance. A moment of chill swept me, as his hand closed onto my unattended body; but his touch was weak, his power stretched, and he could bring only paltry strength to bear. I wanted to sing my defiance to him but, as I opened my mouth and reached out my hand, I thought better of it. Let him think me too foolish and small to spy this gesture of his. I defended my body from him in more subtle ways and let the moment pass.
What part he played in the change of Aerfax I could only guess. But again I heard the song from that Tower, flowing like moonlight across the tops of clouds, a pure sound, seeming far too young for the old woman of my visions. This was news that could not wait; yet I must not hurry too much even so. Patiently I scanned Arthen for other signs, other movements; it was then I noted the coming of messengers from Drii. This was all. I returned to my body out of trance. Only a short time had passed, in real terms.
I took a deep breath and stepped beyond the colonnade, to the place where one of the silver horns rises from the side of the summit. The parade ground before Halobar was emptying, the army marching along Falkrigul toward the armories and barracks. Now was the time to find Kirith Kirin and tell him the world had changed yet again.
3
Since it was not my wish to be seen leaving or entering Ellebren, I moved on mist that kept me hidden, one of the virtues of the Cloak and my art. At the time I knew no other way to accomplish my purpose, though there were many; and I knew only the one path from Thrath Gate to the place where I would find Kirith Kirin. Along the Falkri Stair I moved, along the column of soldiers marching goggle-eyed through the House. No one saw me; and I was spared their fear.
Overhead, the magical banners of the unicorn house had begun to dissolve into air.
Nearer the courtyard, where Kirith Kirin stood among his officers and the twice-named, I allowed the mist to dissolve and stepped behind a column-base. To approach him at such a time was against my instincts, so I waited, quieting the Cloak to drab. Karsten saw me, caught my eye.
Within moments she detached herself from the body of those attending Kirith Kirin; discretion itself as she led me to an alcove. “The banners were a glorious touch,” she said. “You couldn’t have timed it better.” But in her eyes there was a question.
“Thank you my lady, but I would have waited for the praise. I have news for Kirith Kirin and I think he’ll want it now.”
“What is it?”
I shook my head. “I don’t dare say.”
She gave me a look that warned me I had better be serious. “You’re sure?”
“There’s a change he must know about.”
Nodding, she make a quick survey of the courtyard. “Go back to your room in the Under House, I’ll bring him as soon as I can.”
She returned to his orbit and I moved behind the column once again, assembling mist and gliding hidden into the apartment. There I removed the Cloak and tried to compose myself, sitting for a moment on the tousled bed in which we had lain, all innocence, a few hours before.
He sent Imral to find me and bring me to another place. Imral asked no questions but beckoned, noting my serious face. Without asking, I enshrouded him in the Cloak and we moved, both of us, in that cloud. By signs he gave me directions and we entered near Halobar, up a broad stair and through a series of doorways. A smell of must and disuse surrounded us. Through a pier of columns one could see the Great Hall below.
In a room full of books Kirith Kirin awaited me, and his friends were with him. When the mist released us he searched my face anxiously. “What news was so urgent?”
“I hear the voice of Queen Athryn from Aerfax Tower. She’s singing a song I don’t know.” Giving him a cautious look, I added, “When this began I don’t know either, but it’s new since last night.”
That last he hardly heard. He blanched and turned to the others. They understood the sign, as he did, and I guessed from their stricken faces I was right. For a moment Kirith Kirin did not know where he was or who was with him. He studied a gem on his hand, closed his eyes and touched it. A look of listening came to him, and many thoughts passed over his features. He murmured words, and everyone bowed their heads; after a moment so did I.
“Eye in Heaven,” he said, still touching the gem on his finger, “she’s so weak I couldn’t feel the change in the stone.”
“The song’s weak too,” I said, “or I’d have heard it before I climbed to the shenesoeniis.”
He nodded. No one spoke; and I could see them waiting for him. He said, “You were right to find me. This changes everything.”
He sat. For a moment vague shadow flickered over his features. He saw me and looked into my face. Beckoning me to his side, he turned to his friends and studied them.
No chair was close enough; I sat at his knees. He rested his hand in my hair. If this was not seemly, I hardly cared. Finally he said, “So she’s sending me a Summons to come south and take my crown.” His laughter, bitter, washed quietly over all of us. “She wants to make me King of Shadow-land.”
“You yourself said this might happen,” Imral said. “What better strategy now than to draw you out of your place of strength?”
Kirith Kirin kept touching his finger to the stone. Despair washed over him. “How weak and small she is.” Turning to me, his eyes flooded with tears. “You shouldn’t have had to bring me the news. When the Queen stands in Aerfax Tower and sets the Change in motion, her voice should reach me on its own.”
“Maybe there’s some disturbance through shadow,” Karsten offered.
He shook his head emphatically. “No. I wish that were true. But this is Athryn herself, this is what she’s come to.” Grief took his voice for a moment. “No shadow could have stopped her voice before. No shadow ever did.” Turning to me again, he said, “She’s my sister. Did you know that?”
I nodded, I had heard it said by someone. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter. “So. This is sooner than we thought, but no real surprise.”
Mordwen spoke in his firm voice, looking at me gently. “The difference is Jessex. That’s why she calls you so quickly.”
With an edge of anger Kirith Kirin said, “You can’t blame him for this —”
I saw Mordwen’s thought at once, however. “He wants me out of Ellebren.”
“Of course,” Imral said, as Mordwen nodded.
This sobered Kirith Kirin, being new. He gazed at me with eyes more like those I remembered from the morning. “He wants to deal with you on the ground and out of Arthen. He knows I have to bring you with me.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “He knows I can’t refuse the Summons either.”
A lo
ng silence grew . His fingers traced a curl idly, the touch sweet to me, troubled as I was. From above the strange song had strengthened some, and Kirith Kirin seemed to know the difference as well. “Now she’s beginning to find her voice.”
“I wonder what messenger she’ll choose to send,” Pelathayn said.
“It hardly matters,” Kirith Kirin said. “The Summons is the Summons. If we were ready, we could ride south tomorrow.”
With a glimmer of idea, Imral said, “Maybe that’s what we should do.”
“Tomorrow?” Pelathayn asked, nearly sputtering.
“Speed is everything now,” Imral said, quietly, his thought settling in. Kirith Kirin had begun to listen. “If we can move quickly we may have the advantage.”
“With the force we have here?” Pelathayn asked. “Tomorrow!”
