The Heart of the Mirage

by Glenda Larke

  ‘Is he always so good-humoured?’ I asked Garis once as we rode side by side.

  ‘Temellin? Most of the time, yes. That’s the kind of fellow he is.’ He looked across at the Mirager with an expression that was almost tender. ‘But he’s got a temper, too. Cabochon help you if he ever loses it. His tongue could sizzle a carcass over cold ashes, and he’s not beyond lashing out physically, either, when he’s really riled. Takes a lot to get him that mad, though,’ he added. ‘And his anger always has an understandable cause.’

  ‘You look a lot like him. Are you related?’

  ‘Only distantly. My parents were not Magoroth. I’m one of those odd cases where a higher rank emerges from marriage between lower; it happens occasionally. But the others—they are all related. Each rank tends to marry people of their own rank, you see, because no one likes to dilute the Magor blood they have, especially not now. Korden and Temellin and Pinar are all first cousins. Jessah and Jahan are brother and sister, Ungar is Korden’s wife’s cousi—’

  ‘But Jessah and Jahan are married, surely!’ I protested.

  He nodded, unconcerned. ‘Yes. That’s common enough among the Magor. It makes for strong children, both in body and Magor abilities.’

  I was shocked. Brothers married sisters? ‘That’s disgusting. It makes for idiots, too,’ I said finally, my distaste as strong as bile on the tongue. In Tyranian mythology, our nation had been brought close to ruin by the incestuous love of Cestuous and Caprice, Tyr’s early founders. Although repeatedly warned by the gods, they had been defiant, continuing their relationship until the gods had punished them—and Tyr too, for condoning their behaviour. Their children were born crippled and warped. They’d grown up to rule the fledgling nation, but their lives of corruption, heedless dissipation and final madness had brought the city to financial and military ruin. Plague and famine had followed. It had taken Tyrans generations to prosper after that.

  ‘Idiots?’ Garis smiled. ‘Among common folk perhaps, but not with us. In fact, it is encouraged as a source of strength.’

  ‘It’s—unnatural. Horrible!’ Some of my revulsion must have communicated itself to my mount because it shied nervously and flapped its feeding arms. It took me a moment to bring it under control again.

  ‘Why unnatural?’ Garis asked. ‘You are judging Kardis by Tyranian laws, but such rules are meaningless to us. To be able to reinforce sibling love with sexual love is considered a blessing among the Magor.’

  I was silent, unable to find the words to convince him how wrong he was.

  ‘Derya, Temellin said I could explain to you anything to do with our customs or history, as long as I don’t tell you about how Magor powers work for us. You tell me what you don’t know, and I’ll try to explain so you can understand us better.’

  Wary, I thought: Even Temellin has his reservations…there are some things he doesn’t want me to know yet. Be careful, Ligea. The Mirager is no fool. Aloud I said, ‘Anything you tell me will be new. Perhaps—tell me why Temellin is the Mirager. What makes a Mirager?’

  ‘His birth. The eldest child of the Mirager becomes the next Mirager or Miragerin when the Mirager dies. If there is no child, then it goes to the next in line, male or female. Temellin has been Mirager since he was a child, when the last Mirager, his uncle Solad, died during the Tyranian invasion. Naturally, a new Mirager has to be of the Magoroth.’

  ‘What happened to Temellin’s parents?’

  ‘The same thing that happened to all Magoroth adults during the invasion. They were killed. By a treachery we don’t really understand. Did you know the Tyranians like to call those times the “Kardi Uprising”? As if their invasion of our soil was legitimate, and our defence of it was illegal!’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Well, it started with several different invasions. The first was turned back at the Rift. It was followed by various skirmishes over the next couple of years or so, one of which killed the heir to the Mirager—Solad’s only child. A cousin to both Temellin and Korden. But otherwise none of these small battles seemed particularly dangerous.’ He frowned, angry emotion ripping through his barriers in a cresting wave, even as his ire broke through in his words. ‘They were so stupid, our forebears, Derya! They were so sure of their powers that they failed to plan, failed to keep a proper watch on the coast, failed to train the ordinary Kardis as support troops and so on. Mirage be thanked, Temel has ten times the sense of his uncle, Mirager-solad. And he has learned by watching the legionnaires.

  ‘Anyway, one night, at the height of the Shimmer Festival—that was our major yearly celebration in those days—someone led a small band of the enemy into the heart of the Pavilions in Madrinya. This was about, oh, twenty-five, twenty-six years ago now. The Magoroth were seated in the main hall for the Shimmer Feast, all of the Magoroth gathered from all over Kardiastan. Tyranian archers shot them down from the gallery. Every wearer of the gold cabochon over the age of ten was killed. Archers have a greater range than cabochon magic, you see.’

  Damn it, I thought, Rathrox must have known this! Why in all Acheron’s layers of hell didn’t he tell me?

  But no matter how hard I tried to think of a rational reason, none came to mind. Rathrox had always been secretive, but to send an agent out into the field with inadequate knowledge was foolhardy, and Rathrox was no fool. He’d done it deliberately…why? So that I’d fail? Be caught? Killed? Or did he think I’d succeed anyway, and the reason he hadn’t told me had something to do with my past history?

  Garis hadn’t noticed my abstraction, and was still telling the story of the Shimmer Festival feast. ‘And none of the Magor were armed with weapons: it was customary not to bring weapons into the feasting hall. With the Magoroth dead, including the Mirager, Solad that is, the Exaltarchy was able to claim the land as theirs.’

  ‘And the younger Magoroth children?’

  He counted them off on his fingers. ‘Pinar, Temellin, Korden, Miasa, Jessah, Jahan, Selwith, Berrin, Markess and Gretha. Ten of them. They were all somewhere between three and ten years old. They had been sent to the Mirage just before the Festival—on, well, training I suppose you could call it. They went with their Theuros and Illusos teachers. It’s strange they were away at the time of the Festival, and in retrospect no one can understand why Miragersolad sent them. Some people think he must have had a premonition. Anyway, it saved their lives. And mine too, perhaps, because I am the son of two of those teachers, although I was born much later.

  ‘Those wearers of the gold under three years old didn’t escape the massacres. They weren’t old enough to be sent away, so they were all in the palace for the festivities. They were killed in the nurseries by the legionnaires. They slaughtered all the babies, Derya. Every one.’ His rage whirled around him, unrestrained. ‘Someone betrayed those who attended the Festival. We have never found out who. It has always seemed unbelievable, because the betrayer must have been one of the Magoroth. Only a Magoroth could have raised a ward around the feasting hall strong enough to hide the approach of legionnaires, only a Magoroth could have removed it to allow them entry.’ He shook his head in a mix of distress and rage. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out who now. By the time the legionnaires had finished, all the Magoroth in the Pavilions were dead.’

  ‘What’s a ward?’ I asked.

  ‘A kind of magical barrier. An invisible wall that can stop people, or even Magoroth power, from passing through.’

  He stopped, obviously wondering if he’d said too much, so I changed the subject.

  ‘Did any of the lower-ranking Magor—the Illusos and the Theuros—did they escape?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Most of them. Most weren’t at the feast. But they don’t have Magoroth powers. They tried to resist Tyrans, but they weren’t powerful enough. Sporadic fighting occurred for years, but once the tradeways were built and the legions could ride from one end of the land to the other in a matter of days, there was little hope. Worse still, until Temellin grew up a bit, no newborn M
agor children received their cabochons. Oh. Um, I guess I can’t explain about that just now, though.

  ‘Gradually the lower-ranking Magor gave up the fight and came to the Mirage for safety and to offer their services to teach the Magoroth all they knew. We have been trying to strengthen ourselves ever since, to make our powers even greater than those of our parents, until the time when we are strong enough to sweep the legions into the sea. For some time there have been those who have thought we have sufficient power, but Temellin still won’t allow a full-scale insurgency. He says we have to ensure the next generation first, in case we are killed.’

  ‘But it is beginning, isn’t it, your rebellion?’ I asked. ‘Your aim is first to disrupt Tyranian society in Kardiastan. To make Tyranians uncertain, nervous.’

  ‘Exactly. Temellin says it is important to free slaves for just that reason.’

  Not to mention the murder of legionnaire officers, the terrorising of those who used the trade routes, the disappearance of caravans.

  He continued, ‘It brings the common folk to our side. After all, there is a whole generation of Kardis who have grown up having no first-hand knowledge of the people of the Magor. They had a right to feel abandoned by us. We have to dispel that feeling. Nothing Temellin does is without reason,’ he added, and there was no mistaking his pride in his Mirager.

  ‘But he hasn’t done much towards ensuring the next Magoroth generation if he himself hasn’t married,’ I replied. ‘Or has he been begetting bastards along the way?’

  He laughed. ‘Perhaps. But not Magoroth ones. Although, to be honest, I don’t think that’s likely, either. Temellin takes his duties as Mirager too seriously to flaunt himself like that. Anyway, he was married at eighteen, like many of us. His wife was Miasa, one of the original Ten. She was, um, barren for many years. Then, when she did conceive, she had a difficult time. She died, with the baby unborn, just last year. It was an awful time for Temellin, but now it seems he will marry Pinar once the mourning period is up.’ Garis the romantic sighed, his eyes troubled. ‘He doesn’t have all that much choice. As Mirager, he should marry a Magoria and Pinar is the only one of age who is not spoken for. I don’t think he likes her

  that much, although she is his cousin. It is sad.’ ‘And the others all have children?’

  ‘Oh yes. Korden and Gretha have ten! And another on the way.’

  ‘All Magoroth.’

  ‘Of course. And we have been lucky, too, in the number of such children born to Theuras and Illusas. Altogether there are forty-eight Magoroth children in the Mirage. And many more of the lower ranks. So now Temellin feels the time has come to move against the Tyranian presence in our land.’ His tawny eyes danced at the prospect. ‘Temellin says the break-up of the whole Exaltarchy will start here, in Kardiastan.’

  Goddess, the man had the gall of a gnat biting a gorclak! He didn’t really think it was possible to bring about the downfall of the greatest empire ever conceived, did he? The Exaltarchy stretched over half the known world…I decided to keep that thought to myself, and changed the subject. ‘What is the Mirage like, Garis?’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘Temellin says I shouldn’t tell you that.’

  I hid a sigh. I thought perhaps I was going to become quite tired of hearing Garis say, Temellin says…

  He went on, ‘He’ll have time for you soon. The last of the other groups leaves us today. Then there will just be you and me and him and Brand. I think he wants to know you better before you see the secrets of the Shiver Barrens and the Mirage. We risk much to show you, if you are a traitor. Anyway, you’ll see for yourself soon.’

  I gave an involuntary look at Temellin where he sat on his shleth at the head of a group of Kardi ex-slaves. He was smiling and I felt my throat tighten just at the thought of him turning that smile on me. I forced my attention back to Garis, who was asking, ‘But won’t you tell me a little about Tyr? Does water really travel from the mountains along bridges? Do they really have public games where everyone is naked? Is it true the Exaltarch has orgies every night and has an insatiable appetite for slave women?’

  ‘Well, I know he has an appetite for women, yes,’ I said gravely, answering the last. ‘And wine too. But he made the Exaltarchy what it is; he extended it from a few tributary neighbours to all the nations bordering the Sea of Iss. He couldn’t have done that if he spent his time indulging in drunken orgies. The Exaltarch is an ex-soldier and he has a soldier’s discipline.’

  He gave me a puzzled glance. ‘You sound almost admiring.’

  ‘I am. Only a fool would not respect what the Exaltarch has achieved. Approving of it is another matter.’

  ‘She’s right, Garis,’ a voice behind me said. I turned in the saddle to see Korden had ridden up. ‘But what we have to decide,’ he continued, addressing me, ‘is whether you are one of those who approves, as well as admires.’

  ‘Slaves do not usually approve of those who run the system that makes them slaves in the first place.’

  ‘One would think it illogical, wouldn’t one?’ Korden was nothing if not urbane. ‘And yet I have seen it happen with slaves who were raised in slavery. They know no other life. They are brought up to believe it is a just state of affairs. They may even love those who enslave them, giving up their lives for their owners if the situation arises.’ He considered me thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes people are irrational beings. I do not distrust you exactly, Derya, but you will have to prove your loyalty before I give you my trust. I do not have Temellin’s faith in the blood running in your veins. Temellin is our Mirager, but he is not an absolute monarch. He rules by covenant and must listen to others of his kind. Be warned: there will be those who watch you and who will turn the power of the Magor on you if you prove faithless.’ With that, he switched his attention to Garis. ‘I came to say goodbye. This is where I leave with my group; I will see you on the other side of the Barrens.’ He stretched forth his left hand and Garis touched palms with him.

  He made no such gesture to me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  We slept at night wrapped in woollen blankets, under the shelter of waxed sheeting strung up on poles to keep the dew off. After Pinar had left on the second day, I kept wondering if Temellin would come to me at night, but he never did. During the day, if anything, he avoided me. He didn’t have to try hard: there were always people claiming his attention, always problems to be solved concerning the ex-slaves. After Korden left on the fourth day, he didn’t have that excuse. There were only four of us left—Brand and Garis being the other two—but he only came to me the next morning.

  He woke me just at first light. ‘Come,’ he whispered, ‘I have something to show you. A wild shleth.’

  I rose and followed him, brushing the sleep from my eyes as I went. He led me out into the desert, using his sword for light, but keeping the glow of it subdued. ‘I thought you might like to have a look at this,’ he said, pointing to where a lone shleth was using its feeding arms and feet to excavate a deep hole in the sand. ‘It’s about to give birth.’

  The beast finished its digging, and knelt down in the hole. Almost immediately it began to strain, and within minutes it had passed a blood-streaked leathery sac about the size of a cat, oval in shape, into the hole. The shleth proceeded to cover up its newborn with sand.

  ‘What is it doing?’ I asked in astonishment.

  ‘They bury the sac in sand and promptly forget about it. It’s like a large, half-developed egg. When the young is fully developed, it uses its feeding arms to dig out to the surface where it can fend for itself.’

  ‘Shleths don’t feed their young?’

  ‘Kardis speak of shleth’s milk the same way Tyranians refer to hen’s teeth or Assorians talk about snake feathers. The young will grow up on the edges of the lake here, feeding on the grasses.’

  He turned towards me. ‘We have tried to raise the young from the time they dig themselves out, but we’ve never had success. They survive best by themselves for a year or two. Wh
ich has a disadvantage for us—we have to catch and tame them later on.’ He reached out and drew me to him, kissing me gently on the lips. It wasn’t the kind of kiss I wanted from him. ‘It has been hard not to…’ he said, and made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘I want you so badly. Yet I shouldn’t be here with you now. It has no future.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to have a future, Tem. In fact, I am not in the habit of considering a future for my relationships.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose slaves can. I find it hard to imagine what it must be like to be enslaved. But now? You can have a future, Derya. You can plan to have a husband, a family, lots of children…’

  ‘I can’t say children have figured much in my plans either.’ That was certainly true. I’d never considered having any, and had taken good care I wouldn’t. ‘What’s the matter with just here and now?’ At least this time I was well fortified with gameez to prevent conception.

  He didn’t need more of an invitation. The shleth had wandered away, but we stayed there on the sands and found something in each other’s arms as magical as the sword he carried.

  And yet, later, lying in my blankets back in the camp, I wondered if it hadn’t been a mistake. When he clasped his palm to mine and we joined for that moment in time, we gave something to each other and gained something from each other that changed us both. We forged connections—in Magor magic, in physical loving. We fashioned bonds that lingered on afterwards in a way I’d never experienced before in any lustful coupling.

  We forgot bonds could also be fetters.

  ‘That’s it?’ I asked Temellin. ‘That’s the Shiver Barrens?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  The two of us pulled up our mounts on the top of a stony rise. A red-rock slope of a few hundred paces led down to an expanse of sand that appeared to stretch on forever. Beside us Garis and Brand also halted, and all conversation ceased.