by William King
“It is lady, but I have read only a tiny fraction of its volumes. My duties are of a more active than scholarly nature.”
“Of course,” she said. “They would be. I will see to it that you are brought a selection of the scrolls pertaining to your quest. The knowledge they contain may prove useful to you.”
“Thank you, Lady Olivia.”
The Prince said, “We should eat now and I would question Sir Kormak about his career. There is a lot he can tell me and I would get it down while I have the chance.”
Luther seemed as keen about this as his sister did about her scholarship. They were an odd couple with strange enthusiasms and a languor about them that seemed to fit their surroundings.
He began to suspect that they were perhaps more typical of the Sunlander aristocracy in this land than he had at first thought. There was a doomed quality about them, as if they were simply passing through this land, shadows in the light of the harsh sun, destined to vanish with the coming of night.
A servant brought in parchment and quills and Luther rose and sat himself at table. He began to ask Kormak about his life and his training and his travels. He was interested in the oddest things. Was he afraid when he confronted his first demon? What did it feel like to kill an immortal? Did he sometimes find himself sympathising with those he killed?
The last question obviously had a resonance with Luther. He clearly identified with the ancient immortals whose lives were being extinguished by one whose lifespan was an eyeblink to them. He wondered about the lost knowledge and what those eyes might have looked on. Certainly far more than Kormak would ever see no matter how far he travelled.
It was late when the servant finally showed Kormak to his chamber, illuminating the way with a lantern. The room was as luxuriously furnished as the rest of the mansion. A large four-poster bed in the western style was there, decorated with carvings in the ornate local fashion that were seemingly Elder Signs intended to ward the sleeper as they dreamt but which were so ornate that Kormak doubted they would function as intended.
He stripped off his armour but made sure his scabbarded sword was within easy reach on the bedside table. He threw open the shutters and looked out into the night. The moon rose huge and strange over the towers and minarets of the city. The Tower of the Sun loomed gigantically over everything. At its peak something burned like the beacon in a lighthouse. Kormak remembered being able to see that light from leagues away across the desert. He thought about Taurea and the lands of the West he had left behind. It would be winter there now. It was winter here but it just did not feel like it. He was a long, long way from home and he felt it.
There was a gentle knock on the door. Kormak picked up his scabbard and walked over to the door, unbolting it. Olivia stood there. She carried a bunch of scrolls tied up with a ribbon. Her dress was lighter than the one she had worn downstairs, revealing her figure. Her hair was pinned up revealing her neck.
“I brought you the works of Eraclius I talked about,” she said.
“It was not necessary for you to bring them yourself, my lady,” Kormak said.
“It is my pleasure to do so, Guardian,” she said. “Do you mind if I come in?”
For a moment Kormak was reminded of stories of Old Ones who could only cross thresholds when invited. He had seen this woman in daylight though and he thought he would know if it was an elder being wearing her shape.
“You may.” She entered the room, closed the door and put the bar in place. They looked at each other across the length of the room. The bed was a looming presence between them. She swallowed and then smiled as composedly as she had done in the atrium downstairs.
“I hope my brother did not keep you talking too long,” she said. “He does not get the opportunity to speak with a man like you very often.”
“It is unusual for a Prince to be so interested in my work.”
“He is not really a Prince and I am not really a Princess,” she said. “In the west we would be minor nobles at best.”
“You would be wealthy ones,” Kormak said. “Not many of the nobles I have encountered live like this.”
She walked over towards him. He was very aware of the swishing her nightdress made as she moved. She stood in front of him, offering him the scrolls submissively. The smile on her face was anything but submissive.
“Why are you here?” Kormak asked.
“Do you find it so hard to believe a woman might find you attractive?”
“Many women have,” Kormak said. “As I am sure many men have found you beautiful.”
“I do not encounter many men,” she said.
“Why would that be?” Kormak asked.
“We are not popular with our neighbours or with the local nobility in general. My father is regarded as a degenerate, my brother an effete poet. Some of his verses are regarded as scandalous. Many think him mad and that madness runs in our family.”
“Do you think so?”
She shook her head. “He has morbid interests. They stimulate his imagination. He is not mad though. He really is a poet. I think he is going to offer to accompany you to Tanyth.”
“Why would he do that?”
She leaned so close he could feel her scented breath.
“He is curious and they say only madmen visit Tanyth, that the place is accursed. He wants to go to the place that all men are afraid of, and he wants to return and write about it and so win fame.”
“He is already famous. I had heard his name in Taurea.”
“He wants to be remembered, to make his name immortal. It’s the only certain form of immortality men will ever have, is it not?”
Kormak reached out and touched her cheek, ever so gently. She shivered and then leaned her face against his callused sword hand. “And you do not want him to go?” Kormak asked.
“On the contrary, I want to go with you.” Her eyes were very large and wide and innocent and Kormak found that he did not trust her in the slightest. It did not stop him wanting her though.
“Why?”
“We can talk about that later,” she said, leaning forward and bringing her lips close to his. They parted slightly. He kissed her and then swept her up and carried her to the bed.
The Lady Olivia lay naked on the bed. Part of her body was in shadow but that just made the white flesh and the curves he could see all the more voluptuous. She stroked his cheek with one soft hand. Her nails were long and had tiny runes worked on them in dye.
“Why do you want to go to Tanyth?” Kormak asked. She smiled at him sardonically, teeth glittering in the dark,
“No compliments, Sir Kormak. You are not very gallant.”
“I am not a gallant man,” he said.
“No, you are not,” she said. “Perhaps that is why you are attractive. You do not speak of honour or nobility. You are not a hypocrite.”
Kormak studied her face in the darkness. She seemed serious. He smiled. She obviously did not know him well. “You are projecting what you want to see onto me,” he said.
“Most men would not tell a lovesick girl that.”
“You are not a girl and you are not lovesick. Let us not pretend otherwise.”
“You do not think there is even the slightest possibility of that?”
“I am certain.”
“You do not understand what life is like here then. It is not often I see a handsome man who interests me. It is not often I have the chance to break out of here.”
“Is that what you want?” She sat up suddenly and reached out and took his chin, playfully twisting so that he had to look directly at her.
“To be a woman in this land is to be a prisoner. We may not go out unaccompanied lest the moon-worshippers ravish us. We may not do this. We may not do that.”
“You do not seem to accept many limits.”
“My situation is unusual. Within the walls of this house I am mistress. Outside of them I must go veiled. I must become invisible”
“And you wish to be seen.”
“I am not so unlike my brother, Sir Kormak. I am a scholar. I will write upon this subject. I too wish to be remembered.”
“I will remember you.”
She smiled. “That is a start,” she said, reaching over to kiss him again.
At breakfast next morning they sat like strangers. It was odd to rest in the chair and look at the woman sitting there so cool and collected and to remember the passion of the previous evening.
Prince Luther strode into the atrium, sat down at the table, picked up a sweetmeat and said, “I have been thinking about your quest, Sir Kormak. I would like to go with you.”
“It will be dangerous, Prince Luther,” Kormak said. His conversation with Olivia the previous evening had prepared him for this.
“That will only spice the dish,” said Luther. “I have a hankering to see Tanyth, to look upon its ancient wonders.”
“Why have you not done so before?” Kormak asked.
“Because those who go there go mad or never return. I think that if I go in the company of a Guardian, I may return to tell the tale.”
“My quest is not to protect you, Prince. It is to slay Razhak and end his evil. He has killed a number of people since he was freed. I will see that he kills no more.”
“Understood, Sir Kormak, but I could be of help to you. I can provide maps, guides, supplies, warriors, finance an expedition. It is not just demons you must worry about in the wastes. There are bandits and wild beasts and other dangers. If we go together you would not need to worry about such things. Nor would you need to worry about being granted permission to cross certain lands or go to certain places.”
Kormak understood the veiled threat there. The Prince could no doubt make it difficult for him to leave the city if he wanted or place other obstacles in his path. And to tell the truth he could see certain advantages in taking up the Prince on his offer.
“Will your soldiers accompany you into Tanyth? You said that men fear the place.”
“They can await us at a safe distance from the city. I do not fear to enter the city.”
“Very well, I accept your offer,” said Kormak. Olivia stared at him very hard. “On one condition…That your sister accompanies us as well.”
The Prince glanced between Kormak and his sister. His smile was slow and a little sad. He clearly sensed that something had passed between them.
“So that’s the way it is,” Luther said. “Very well. I accept. All three of us will go to Tanyth.”
He said it as a child might when considering a treat. Kormak wondered if Luther really knew what he was letting himself in for. He wondered if he knew what he was letting himself in for himself.
“We need to leave immediately,” Kormak said. “We need to stop Razhak before he can find his spell-engines and perform his ritual.”
It did not take Luther long to arrange things. His guards were well drilled and his stewards efficient. He was a wealthy man with little difficulty getting supplies. There were horses in his stables and mules. Watersacks were filled from the fountains and well. Maps were brought from the library. By noon, they were ready to go. A line of soldiers headed out with the Prince and his sister riding at the front with Kormak.
Olivia was dressed for travel in a cowled robe with a silk veil over her face. The veil was so thin as to be almost translucent and the effect was to hint at and accentuate her beauty rather than hide it. Much to his surprise she had a sword scabbarded at her waist and a bow on her saddle. On her belt were pouches for herbs and metal vials of alchemical substances held in leather loops.
Sensing the direction of his gaze, she said, “I wanted to learn as a child and my father saw no reason not to teach me. It was one of the advantages of having so unorthodox and disreputable a parent.”
“My sister is actually very good with both weapons,” said Prince Luther. “Better than many men.”
“I shall take your word for it.”
Kormak saw that they were being watched as they rode through the streets. It must have made an interesting procession for many people, the Prince and his retainers and a veiled and wealthy woman riding beside a Guardian, equipped for a long journey. Doubtless spies and newsmongers would be carrying the tale to all corners of the city within the hour. There would surely be people who would wonder what they were doing. Kormak did not care as long as it did not interfere with his mission.
He had a sense that events were coming to a close, that one way or another his hunt for Razhak would end in Tanyth. He pushed the thought to one side. In a hunt like this it was as well not to believe such feelings. He could take nothing for granted, not even the loyalty of the people he was with. They had their own agendas and he was not sure they were the ones they said they had.
One thing was certain, he would find out before the end.
The city receded behind them, the slums and hovels outside the walls gradually shrinking and vanishing until all that was visible were the gigantic walls, made pristine by distance and desert light. The Tower of the Sun loomed over them like the spear of a Titan thrust into the earth in the middle of the city.
They rode in silence, save for the whistle of the wind and the crunching of the friable ground under their horses’ hooves. Prince Luther seemed happy. He smiled as if contemplating some pleasing secret. Olivia glanced around as if she had never seen desert before. Surely that could not be the truth of the matter, Kormak thought.
His mouth had an odd gritty taste in it and his throat always felt a little dry, as if thirst was an ever present demon waiting to strike. He found himself glancing around at the mules with their cargoes of supplies and checking the skins that dangled from his own saddle.
Olivia glanced over her shoulder too, gazing north and Kormak wondered if she was thinking of her father in his cave. It seemed odd, Kormak thought, that a man should give up the wealth that so many wanted in exchange for the poverty so many had. He had chosen to become a beggar when he had been a Prince.
No. That was not strictly speaking true. His children still visited him. They brought him small gifts. In a way they showed that they still cared and that there was a path back to what he had once been should he choose to take it. That was not the same as the poverty of the true poor, who had no choices. He understood what it was that Olivia meant about her father. In his way he was still a rich man playing at being poor even if he chose to endure real discomfort.
Perhaps in the same way as, at this moment, his children were playing at being adventurers. Kormak was sure they understood the dangers of what they were doing on one level but on another they did not. They were blessed. They could opt to turn around at any point and return to their mansion and put this whole mad folly behind them.
So could he, if he wanted to. He could just turn his horse around and ride away. It was a thought that sometimes crossed his mind. Only it was not possible. He had sworn an oath to do this and his soul would be peril if he did not. If he had a soul, he thought sourly. He had seen enough in his lifetime to make him have doubts of the faith he had been taught as a boy and had sworn to serve as a man.
He would kill the demon if he could for any number of complex and individually insufficient reasons. He wanted revenge for the people Razhak had killed. He wanted to correct his own fault in letting the demon escape in the first place, and if truth be told, he wanted to kill the demon out of spite and jealousy.
Razhak had seen truly into his heart when he had spotted that. He wanted the demon dead because it was unfair that it should live and wreak havoc when he must die and walk into the Lands of Dust, if such lands there were. By killing Razhak, he would build his own small, secret monument. He would end the life of something that had existed since the dawn of history. He would achieve something, even if that thing was a negative.
He knew when he looked at things in this light that simple vanity was the real reason he had agreed to let Luther and Olivia come. He wanted witnesses. He wanted it recorded. He wanted it to be set down in a poem that would be
remembered by future generations, the only limited form of immortality he could be certain was real. He too wanted glory.
He looked again at the desert and the people and the brilliant sun over the empty land. He thought of the living city behind them and the dead city ahead.
This is glory, he thought? It did not quite seem as the epics he had read as a boy had made it to be.
“You look sad, Sir Kormak,” Olivia said.
“This desert makes me feel very small.”
“It does that to everyone,” she said. “It is a good place for holy hermits.”
That evening they set up camp amid the dunes, raising silk tents, setting watch. On the horizon, to the North a golden light glowed in the sky, the great burning stone set atop the Tower of the Sun sending out its message of light into the wastes.
“They say the ancient Solari set it there as a challenge to the Moon,” said Olivia. She was sitting by the fire, on a small intricately patterned rug, drinking water from a silver cup, eating waybread and dates from a carved platter of wood. “Its light keeps her Children at bay.”
“Why is it that the Children cannot endure the Sun, do you think?” Prince Luther asked. The guards, all of those who were not on watch, sat in a circle around the fire, silent as stones. “Is it because of his curse, as the legends say, or is it something else. Could it be that they are even more sensitive to its light than an albino eunuch would be? Could it be that it burns them in the same way as it burns us only worse?”
“This is my brother’s pet theory,” said Olivia.
“You disagree?” Kormak asked.
“It is as good a theory as any other I have heard,” she said. “And it is not impossible that both my brother and the Golden Books are correct. Perhaps the Sun’s curse is that the Children are sensitive to His light.”
Kormak shrugged.
“You disagree?” she said.
“I don’t know. I do know they are cursed. I have seen it for myself. Too long in the Sun’s holy light unprotected and they die.”
