Goddess of the Ice Realm

by David Drake

  As he waited, he looked into the cave. He couldn’t tell for sure because of the changes stonemasons had made on the shrine in Carcosa, but he’d be willing to bet that the original cave there was as like to this one as twin lambs.

  The rock wasn’t, though. This valley’s walls were granite, not basalt like the ridge above Carcosa. Chunks of mica glittered coldly in the stone.

  Though the sky was bright, the sun was about to dip below the saw-toothed crags across the valley. The night would be pretty cold, and the only shelter Cashel could see was the cave they’d just come out of. He figured he’d rather stay out here on the slope if that was the choice.

  Kotia rolled over and raised herself on an elbow. She stared at Cashel with the expression of a drover buying mutton on the hoof.

  “Mistress,” he said simply, since she didn’t seem ready to start a conversation.

  “You really are a big one, aren’t you?” Kotia said musingly. She twisted her legs under so that she was sitting upright, facing him. “I thought it was just the image your soul projected. You don’t see real bodies in that realm, you know.”

  “I don’t know anything about that, mistress,” Cashel said. So long as he remained squatting, their heads were pretty much on a level. “Where am I, please?”

  Kotia got up with a fluid motion that meant she’d recovered completely. She was young and seemed in good health, but Cashel suspected she was also a very powerful wizard. He rose also, holding his staff out crosswise in front of him to balance his weight.

  “You’re in my world, where I brought you,” Kotia said. “My father cast my brother and me out of our manor. I intend to go to our neighbor, Lord Bossian, but there’s a... a spirit hunting me. He’s already killed my brother. I need you to protect me from the spirit.”

  Cashel frowned. “Spirit?” he said.

  “All right, then, a demon!” Kotia said with a flash of anger. “His name is Kakoral. But you’re sworn to protect me. I warn you, your oath has power here!”

  “I don’t need threats to make me keep my word, mistress,” Cashel said. “I just needed to know what I’d be dealing with.” He took the wad of raw wool out of his belt wallet and began rubbing his staff down with it. The hickory felt as smooth as glass to his familiar touch.

  “If you help me...,” Kotia said, sounding a little unsure of herself. Cashel had noticed lots of times it bothered people because he didn’t get upset and carry on when they thought he should. “That is, Lord Bossian is a great wizard. He may very well be able to send you back to your own world. But you’ll have to save me from Kakoral first.”

  “I’ve already said I’m going to help you, mistress,” Cashel said quietly. He looked at the sky, indigo in the west and in the east a silky violet in which stars already glittered. “Is Lord Bossian’s place close enough that we can get there before dark? Because we don’t have much time if we’re going to do that.”

  “No, no,” said Kotia. “I’m too exhausted to travel farther anyway. We’ll stay here for the night, then in the morning....”

  She knelt beside the pack leaning against the rock at the cave mouth. It was a small thing, no bigger than the satchel in which Tenoctris carried the books and tools of her wizardry. Kotia took out a bundle no bigger than her clenched fist, then bit her lip and looked up at Cashel again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “My shelter is only big enough for me alone. Will you be all right...?”

  “I’ll be all right,” Cashel said. And he would. It was going to get nippy, of that he was sure, but at least he didn’t have to contend with rain or sleet. “I probably wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, seeing’s as this Kakoral’s hunting you.”

  “Oh, he won’t attack tonight,” Kotia said briskly. She’d undone her little bundle and was spreading it into a tube as long as she was. It was as fine as gossamer and of the same shimmering material as her shift. “He’ll come in the light. My brother and I built a fire. When the flames burned a particular shade of red-orange, Kakoral appeared and... took my brother. While I ran.”

  “Oh,” said Cashel. He gave his staff a practice spin. When he and the hickory reached the right rhythm, there was no finer feeling in the world. It was like the way sunlight sparkles on a waterfall, all shimmering beauty and he was a part of it.... “Well, we don’t have a fire, so we’ll be all right.”

  “He will come,” Kotia insisted angrily. “I went into the Place of Souls when I knew I couldn’t reach Lord Bossian before morning, but I doubt you’ll be able to really help. I was desperate, that’s all!”

  “Well, I’ll do what I can,” said Cashel.

  He turned his back and walked a few steps away to where the slope wasn’t so steep. He resumed whirling his staff, a full series of exercises this time: in front of him, then overhead and jumping to use the shaft’s spinning weight to turn him it so that he was suddenly gazing back into Kotia’s furious eyes.

  “Are you a wizard?” she demanded. “You had to be a wizard to have survived as long as you did in the Place of Souls!”

  “I’m not a wizard, mistress,” Cashel said, working the staff in a figure-eight—back under one armpit, then up over the opposite shoulder, then reversing. “My friend who was with me’s a wizard, but I think she got clear before—”

  Before what?

  “—before things happened.”

  “I don’t...,” Kotia said. She probably meant “I don’t understand,” but she didn’t bother to finish when she heard what she was saying.

  Cashel nodded approval. He’d long ago decided most people didn’t listen to themselves or they couldn’t possibly talk all the nonsense they did. Kotia had her ways, but she was better than that.

  She cleared her throat. “You’re sure you’ll be all right, then?” she said.

  “Yes, mistress,” Cashel said. “Though if you had something to eat in your wallet, I wouldn’t turn down a bite of it.”

  “No,” said Kotia. “I’m sorry, there isn’t.... I didn’t have much time to prepare, you see.”

  “Sure,” said Cashel. “Good night, mistress.”

  It was solid dark by now. The moon wasn’t up, if there even was a moon over this place. Cashel heard a rustle as Kotia got down into her cocoon.

  The stars were diamond points in the clear sky. The constellations weren’t the ones Cashel was familiar with, though one in the north was close enough to the Seven Plow-Oxen that he could imagine it was familiar if he squinted.

  A horn called, then another one from a much greater distance. The sounds were silvery and seemed to echo for many miles.

  For a time, Cashel squatted with his back to a rock, looking out in the darkness. Then he got up and resumed his slow pirouettes with the quarterstaff. The exercise kept him warm.

  And for all he hadn’t let himself react to Kotia’s warning, he didn’t in the least doubt that come morning he’d have more than just the empty air to swing the staff at.

  ***

  The bay horse skidded on the cobblestones as Garric negotiated the final left-hand switchback below the shrine. It might’ve gone down in a clash of bones and equipment if King Carus’ reflexes hadn’t taken over at the critical moment. Garric leaned right, jerking the reins and the bay’s head with him. It got its hooves under it again and hunched up the short remaining distance to the plaza.

  On this stretch of roadway there wasn’t room for two to ride abreast, so Lord Attaper, a noble from northern Ornifal and a horseman from early childhood, was following immediately behind. He grunted with approval at what he took for Garric’s horsemanship.

  In all truth Garric didn’t like to ride, but it was faster than running a mile uphill in armor to the Shrine of the Prophesying Sister. If it’d been his decision alone he wouldn’t have paused to put on his helmet and cuirass, but the Blood Eagles wouldn’t have allowed their prince to get within bow-shot of trouble without the armor.

  The dozen bodyguards ahead of Garric were dismounting in front of the shrine. He leaped from his
saddle before the bay had drawn up. His boots skidded on the cobblestones but he kept his balance with the same borrowed skill that made him a rider.

  “Your highness, the lady’s safe but your friend Cashel has vanished!” said the officer standing with his sword drawn.

  Tenoctris was all right; she sat cross-legged on the floor of the porch where she’d drawn a hexagram across the mosaic in vermilion. The officer of her escort had sent one of his men as a messenger back to his palace; the rest of the squad surrounded the wizard.

  Tenoctris chanted an incantation while tapping the symbols with one of her disposable bamboo splinters. These Blood Eagles probably didn’t like to be around wizardry any more than most other non-wizards did. They stood with Tenoctris because it was their duty to stand; and they would stand until they died or were relieved.

  “Vanished where?” Garric snarled, drawing his long sword. He didn’t bother Tenoctris—what she was doing was probably more important than anything she had to tell him—but instead headed toward the carved entrance to the sanctum. He could see a body sprawled on the floor inside.

  “Your highness!” said Attaper, but he followed rather than trying to get in the way. In Garric’s present mood, that was a good thing. Cashel had been here because Garric sent him on a mission which both Liane and Sharina had warned was a bad idea.

  “Siuvaz, go with them!” ordered the commander of Tenoctris’ escort. A short soldier, bare-headed and without his spear or shield, trailed Attaper into the sanctum.

  The air inside had a vaguely sulphurous taste, enough to make Garric blink but not a problem for breathing. Attaper rolled the corpse face-up with his boot. The man was nobody Garric remembered seeing before, though his features were so black and swollen that he couldn’t be sure.

  The candles had burned almost to their sconces. There was nothing else in the chamber except a Blood Eagle helmet.

  Siuvaz snatched up the helmet. In a clear, carrying voice, he said, “I was here with the lady, the priest, and Lord Cashel. There was an earthquake and I hit my head. A giant snake came up from the floor and bit the priest. Lord Cashel told me to get the lady out. I took her out while he fought the snake. When we came back, Lord Cashel was gone. Your highness.”

  Though the soldier seemed to speak normally, his gaze was directed somewhere past Garric’s right shoulder and his eyes weren’t focused. He was terrified... and not, Garric suspected, because of what had happened in this chamber previously. His concern was that he’d abandoned Prince Garric’s friend.

  The officer of the escort had come in behind Siuvaz. To Attaper he said, “Sir, we were outside and nobody felt an earthquake. But I trust, Siuvaz, sir. I wouldn’t have sent him in if I didn’t. And he was right to get Lady Tenoctris clear.”

  The officer was sweating also. Both men were frightened because they’d done exactly what they were supposed to do in a crisis....

  Garric said, “Good work, Siuvaz. The kingdom’s lucky to have men who’ll do their duty. Captain—”

  “Sub-Captain Orduc, sir,” murmured Attaper.

  “I assume you entered this chamber immediately after Siuvaz gave the alarm. Did you see any sign of Cashel or the snake?”

  “Nothing, your highness,” said Orduc, shaking his head. “The lady was bruised and somebody’d rung Siuvaz’ bell good—you can see the dent in his helmet.”

  “From the wall,” the soldier said in embarrassment, fingering the blackened bronze. “The earthquake bounced me into it hard.”

  Garric squatted and ran the fingertips of his left hand over the floor. There were cracks in the stone but nothing that would’ve let an earthworm slip through, let alone a man-eating snake.

  He rose. “All right,” he said. “Knowing Cashel, I’d guess he was in a better place than the serpent is now.”

  He strode out of the chamber ahead of the others. Tenoctris had finished her incantation. She gave Garric a wan smile as she tried to get up. He lifted her, marveling again at how little she weighed.

  “I’m sorry, Garric,” she said. “All I can tell you now is that the person behind the attack also directed the whale that we met outside the harbor. Perhaps I can learn more from books I have back at the palace.”

  “Yes,” said Garric. “We’re going back there now.”

  He frowned and added, “Tenoctris? Who was the target of the attack? It couldn’t have been me, could it?”

  “I think...,” Tenoctris said, emphasizing the doubt because she never stated a certainty which was merely a probability. “I think that Cashel himself was meant to be the victim. Because he’d protected you against the earlier attack, you see.”

  “Yes,” said Garric. “I do indeed see.”

  As he handed Tenoctris into her sedan chair, he viewed the world through a red haze. Through his mind echoed the words, “He was there because I sent him.”

  And he was going to have to tell Sharina that.

  ***

  “Why didn’t I go?” said Sharina. Her eyes were filling with tears. She could no more stop crying than she could stop her heart beating, and it made her furious. “I could’ve gone with him, and instead I let him go alone. I knew there was something wrong!”

  “Yes, you did,” said Garric. His face was like stone. “So did Liane, and I was a pig-headed fool who wouldn’t listen to either one of you. Cashel’s gone because I sent him into a dangerous place.”

  Sharina was glad he didn’t say, “You couldn’t have done anything.” That was probably true, but it wasn’t the point. She hadn’t been with Cashel when he went into danger.

  A cageful of birds twittered on the marble-topped serving table beside the door. Sharina didn’t remember them from the previous time she’d been here in her brother’s reception room. When her eyes cleared momentarily, she realized that they were mechanical, not real as she’d thought previously. Awareness of her mistake made her sob. She turned away, biting her wrist to stifle what would otherwise have been a scream of frustration at her own weakness.

  “There was nothing wrong with the shrine, Garric,” Tenoctris said. “Our enemy had laid a trap there, but it wasn’t because the site was dedicated to the Sister.”

  “It doesn’t matter why I was wrong!” Garric shouted. “I was wrong, and Cashel’s paid for my mistake!”

  Ilna put her hand on Sharina’s and turned her slightly so that she was facing what at first was a pale blur. Her vision cleared again: she was staring into the side of a tall urn made of gray-white stone. The instant Sharina saw it, her stomach settled. She touched the stone with her fingertips. It was smooth and soothing, like a bath in warm oil.

  Chalcus stood with his back to the hallway door, his eyes pointedly focused on the windows looking onto one of the palace’s many small internal gardens. He, Ilna, and Sharina had returned from Master Sidras in a cheerful mood. Chalcus was drawing fantasy pictures of the wonderful sights they’d see on their voyage; Ilna brought up practical considerations—clothing, the house they were staying in, arrangements for her ward, Lady Merota; and Sharina herself was feeling foolish and contrite for the scene she’d made the evening before.

  But she hadn’t been foolish. Hadn’t been wrong about the Shrine of the Prophesying Sister, at any rate.

  “Tenoctris, what should we do next?” Garric said. “In your opinion?”

  A year before, when Garric was a boy in Barca’s Hamlet, he wouldn’t have bothered to add, “In your opinion?” to make it clear that he’d make the decision no matter what anybody else thought. As prince he’d had to learn that, and the kingdom was fortunate that he had learned; but when Sharina thought of the responsibility that came with the words, her heart went out to her brother.

  And here I’m crying because Cashel’s gone but not necessarily in trouble. The priest was dead in the shrine, but Cashel had been fine the last time anybody saw him.

  Sharina stroked the urn with her palm. She was feeling more like herself again. There’d been so many changes, so many things that she’d
taken for granted had been snatched away....

  “I’ll go through the library I’ve gathered since I came to this age,” Tenoctris said. She smiled faintly. “It’s far more extensive than anything I had in my own time. I couldn’t afford... well, much of anything.”

  “Yes,” said Garric grimly. He was being polite, but he was obviously impatient. Liane moved a little closer to his side, but she didn’t touch his hand as she’d started to do. “And then what?”

  “I’ll use my art to search for references that have bearing,” Tenoctris continued. “I’ll tell you whatever I find. If that doesn’t help, I’ll seek information by other means; but until I know more, I can’t suggest a course of action.”

  “What help can we offer?” Garric said. “What help could anyone offer?”

  Only the six of them were in the room: the six who’d discussed plans at dinner the night before. The six of them, and last night Cashel....

  Sharina felt a rush of nausea and rested her forehead against the urn. She felt her fears soften, remembering many times Cashel had faced danger and returned to her side.

  “At the moment, nothing,” Tenoctris said crisply. “There may be volumes elsewhere in the city which I find I want to look at. If so, then the help of Prince Garric might be useful in getting to see then.”

  “Yes,” said Garric, grinning. “And the help of the whole royal army including battering rams, if they would be useful.”

  Despite the words, his tone was boyishly cheerful again. Tenoctris had offered him something to do instead of waiting for the next threat, the next disaster.

  That decided Sharina. She faced her friends and said, “All right, what can I do? Because I don’t want to do nothing while Cashel’s in danger.”

  “Perhaps you can help me,” Tenoctris said. “Handing me books, finding things that I’ve dropped or misplaced. As Cashel would, but—”

  She smiled softly.

  “—while I don’t expect any heavy lifting, it might be useful having someone with me today who can read.”