“Is that all?”
Gulls wheeled on the wind, and distant clouds drifted on the horizon above cobalt water afar. A sailing ship clove the waves. “Birds. Clouds. A ship.”
“Is that all? Look more closely.”
“What do you mean, Dodona?”
“Look at the glass.”
“Oh.” Faeril looked at the glass itself. “I see bubbles in the glass, its greenish-blue tinge, dirt on the pane.”
“Is that all?”
Reflected on the glass was a vision of the chamber behind. “I see the room mirrored.”
“Is that all?”
Now Faeril looked and saw her own reflected image, a golden flame, and at her side was a free-standing flame of silver. “I see you, Dodona, and I see me.”
“Exactly! One window: four views. Beyond. At Hand. Behind. Self.
“We can shift to a different window”—of a sudden they were at a tower window looking over the city—“and what we see is different, the views Beyond, At Hand, and Behind. Self stays essentially the same, unless we somehow have changed.
“But most important, though Self stays the same, note that all is seen through the reflection of Self. The Vision Beyond is seen through Self. The Reflection Behind is seen through Self. Even the View At Hand is seen through Self.”
Suddenly Dodona looked upward. “Wait!” he shouted. “It is too dangerous. Move her not!”
* * *
Aravan looked at the others, surprise in his eyes. “We must not move Faeril.”
Gwylly looked at the Elf. “But, Aravan, she’s gone into a coma again. Last time, she was unconscious for three days.”
Aravan shook his head. “I know, Gwylly, yet we must wait. All we can do is nourish her, give her small sips of water, care for her needs. We must not take her from this glen. Else she will be in jeopardy.”
Riatha glanced at Aravan. “How know thee this?”
“I touched the stone.”
* * *
Faeril was startled. “Wait for what?”
“Oh, child, I was not speaking to you. It was to one of your companions: the Friend.”
“Aravan?”
The eld Man nodded. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, views—”
They fell among the crystal panes, mirroring, reflecting, views Beyond and Behind, wind chimes sounding in the swirling aethyr.
“Tell me what you see.”
“I see crystal panes, Dodona.”
“No, child. Look in large. See the overall. What is the pattern?”
Faeril tried to take in the broad view. At first, all was a glittering confusion. But then—“Why, it is something like a honeycomb, Dodona. A six-sided pattern running throughout.”
“Good, child. You have seen…but not all. Look again at the pattern.”
Now that she knew what to look for, Faeril peered about as she and Dodona tumbled downward. “There seems to be three honeycombs, staggered, interlaced.”
The eld Man clapped his hands. “Exactly, three patterns interlocked. Yet that is not all. Take my hand, I will be your guide.”
As they flew downward, Dodona again called, “Wait!”
* * *
Aravan looked up at the others and shook his head. “Not yet.”
Gwylly wrung his hands. “But, Aravan, it’s been a whole day.”
“Nevertheless, Gwylly, we must not move her.”
Urus stepped from the camp and into the ring, for they had relocated next to the circle of trees. “Is there aught else we can do?”
Bleakly, Gwylly looked up and shook his head.
Aravan spoke. “All we can do is watch over her, tend to her, and care.”
* * *
Dodona flew down to a corner of one of the hexagonal surfaces, the damman holding on. The plane seemed to grow as they approached it.
“Why, this is not a corner at all,” exclaimed Faeril. “Instead it’s a…a pyramid. A three-sided pyramid.”
“Four sides if you count the bottom. Look up. Look down.”
Affixed to one another at their points, tetrahedrons twisted upward beyond seeing, spiralling downward as well, each face a plane, a window, a mirror.
The crystal surfaces of tetrahedrons reflected their images as they flew onward, now for a point of a pyramid where something tiny glowed, pulsating; and in the pyramid’s center was suspended another glowing mote, this one…different. At the point they found a shimmering sphere, a glittering sphere, spheres within spheres.
Passing through the shells, they came to a tight cluster of glowing globes, each made up of even smaller motes—spinning, whirling sparks, seemingly interlocked.
“Wait!”
* * *
Halíd voiced what all knew. “We are running out of time. This is the third day. Two are left ere we must start back.”
Aravan merely shrugged.
* * *
“This is as far as I have gone, child. In this glitter we are looking at the marrow of creation, the core of all…the beginning and the end. Here is the hub of everything, all that is, all that was, all that will be. All things—fire, water, wind, earth, aethyr—all are made of this stuff of creation…the beat of time, the extent of space, the durance of matter, the vigor of energy.”
Faeril looked at the whirling sparks. “All things, Dodona? What of the mind, the soul, the spirit, the concerns of the heart? Are they, too, made up of nothing but mere glitter?”
The eld Man paused. “Ah, my dear, now you delve into the ultimate mysteries. Those are questions I cannot answer, but ones whose answers I eternally seek.”
Again the eld Man looked up. “Wait!”
* * *
Halíd sat with Riatha. “There is but one day left, yet I can gain us seven more.”
Riatha turned her face to the Realmsman. “How?”
Halíd gestured northward. “If I were to take only my swift hajîn and Reigo’s, and two goatskins of water, and a, small amount of food, then, switching from camel to camel, I could make it back to Sabra in six days, or perhaps even less. Hujun have been known to travel one hundred miles a day for several days.”
Riatha nodded. “Yes, Halíd. It is a sound plan. Should Faeril fail to waken in time, then we will use it.” Her eyes focused once more into the Ring of Dodona, where Gwylly faithfully tended to his Faeril.
* * *
They hovered before a crystal pane, views Beyond, At Hand, Behind, Self.
Faeril could see as if through a half-silvered glass. The Vision Beyond was that of a scarlet citadel clutched within mountains; the View At Hand was that of a Man in shackles; the Reflection Behind was that of a mountain keep.
Dodona spoke. “Time is frozen here within the crystal, yet all times are valid.
“The Vision Beyond represents the future; what is shown is not that which must be, but only that which might be.
“The Reflection Behind is that of the past, often muddled through multiple images, conflicting reflections.
“The View At Hand is a look at the present, often distorted through Self.
“The Sight of Self is self, and it frequently gets in the way of seeing anything clearly.”
Faeril looked at her own reflection, and then at Dodona’s silver flame. Suddenly she knew without knowing how she knew that she was seeing the true Dodona, and that the oracle could take on any shape he desired, eld Man, young child, Elf, male, female, whatever he wished.
Dodona laughed. “I see that you have discovered one of my secrets.”
Faeril’s eyes widened. “You have a power somewhat like that of Urus, the power of shapechanging, that is.”
“Much more, child. Much more….”
Faeril clapped her hands. “Oh, what a wonderful gift you have. I have always wanted to fly like a falcon—”
Faeril did not hear Dodona’s cry, for the transformation was already upon her.
* * *
At Gwylly’s side Halíd gave a shout of alarm, for a sudden golden light flared in the glade amid
a knelling of chimes. Abruptly the glare and ringing faded and Faeril was gone, and in her place a falcon stood, blue stone on a thong about its neck, a crystal clutched in a taloned claw.
It was a thing of wildness, untamed, great amber eyes glaring, and it unfurled its wings and crouched to launch itself.
In that instant a silver light blazed forth from the crystal, englobing the entire ring with its brightness, and neither Gwylly nor Halíd could see nor hear, for the air was filled with crystalline tintinnabulations. Rushing inward, Riatha, Urus, and Aravan were blinded and deafened as well. Yet all felt an overpowering presence step into the glade and then back out. The dazzling light faded, the ringing fell to silence, and when sight and hearing returned, Faeril lay sleeping before them, clutching blue stone and clear crystal, the falcon gone.
* * *
“Fool!” lashed out Dodona. “All shapes are possible within the crystal! You could have been entrapped forever as a falcon wild!”
Faeril shrank inward upon herself at his scathing words, then suddenly flared up in anger. “Who is it you name ‘fool,’ Dodona?” she spat. “Did you give any warning? I did not know, and you cautioned me not.”
“Ignorance is no excuse,” shot back Dodona. “Fools rush where the wise pause.”
Before Faeril could reply, Dodona ground his teeth and gritted, “Don’t those impatient lackwits know that time steps here to a different drum?” And he raised his face and shook his fist upward and shouted, “Wait!”
* * *
Aravan turned to the others, shaking his head. “We yet must wait.”
Halíd sighed. “Nine days ere Legori sails. I must leave within three.”
Aravan saw that Gwylly was weeping, and he put his arm about the Warrow. “Fear not, Gwylly. Faeril is yet in good hands. That I can sense.”
* * *
The eld Man now looked down at the wee damman, standing on a hexagonal crystal plane, her hands on her hips, fuming. Suddenly Dodona laughed and knelt down and embraced her. “Adon! What am I to do with you, daughter? You are too bold!
“Too, you are right. I gave you no warning, and I am sorry for that.
“Yet list, all within the crystal is too dangerous for you, for you are of the Middle Plane and ill prepared. Seek not to use the crystal to see, for you may become entrapped forever!
“Instead, you may use the crystal as a guide, to help point the way when choices are uncertain. Use it to magnify your intuition, to aid you with vague premonition, but seek not again to fall within; for you it is nought but a door to eternal imprisonment. And you are too precious to spend that way.”
Faeril returned Dodona’s embrace, for she had become fond of this—this Hidden One, even though she had known him for only an hour or two, or for twelve days, depending on who was marking time.
Dodona took her by the hand and looked overhead. “Yes! Now! Now you may have her back!” he called up into a sky filled with hexagonal lattices interlaced, with crystal planes and windows and mirrors, with interconnected, spiralling tetrahedrons, with glowing globes of shimmering shells and clustered spheres within, those shining orbs made up of interlocking sparks spinning in a whirling glitter.
And upward they flew into this crystalline sky, hand in hand.
“But wait,” called Faeril. “What about my question? Where will we locate Stoke?”
Dodona looked at Faeril with guileless pale blue eyes, but he and the lattice began to fade, yet she heard his words most clearly among the diminishing chimes. “My dear, I have given you all the answer that I am willing to give, but it is you who must find it among your memories.”
And then Dodona was gone, and Faeril opened her eyes. Overhead a lace of kandra leaves rustled against an afternoon cerulean sky. She lay in a glade on her back, clutching a blue stone in her right hand and a clear crystal in her left. Gwylly knelt at her side, weeping with joy. Urus, Aravan, and Halíd stood back, smiling. At her other side, Riatha knelt and held a cup of gwynthyme tea.
Faeril sat up and embraced her buccaran, whispering, “Oh, Gwylly, I found Dodona and asked him a single question of import, but received a thousand answers.”
* * *
Faeril sat through the evening, telling all of what she had seen, what she had experienced, what she had learned. And it was in the retelling that she realized that Dodona had shown her at least a partial answer to her question as to where they would find Stoke.
“There was only one crystal pane that I looked through. In the Reflection Behind was a mountain keep.”
“A keep?” rumbled Urus. “What did it look like? It might be Stoke’s black bartizan.”
Faeril described the grey stone keep, ringed about with high crenellated battlements, the stone of the mountains grey as well.
“That could be any number of places,” murmured Aravan, “yet once when tracing a yellow-eyed Man, I came upon such in the mountains of Garia.”
Halíd cocked his head sideways. “Did you find your yellow-eyed Man?”
“Nay. The keep was abandoned, as was the land.”
Gwylly turned to Faeril. “Go on, love,” he urged. “What about the View At Hand?”
Faeril shuddered. “It was of a Man in shackles. No one I knew, yet he was swart and thin.”
Riatha looked at Urus. “Stoke shackles his victims for a while. It gives him pleasure to have them dwell upon their coming fate.”
Aravan added, “There are many Lands where the Men are swart and thin. Hyree. Kistan. Gjeen. Thyra. The Karoo. More. They are too numerous to name.”
Faeril sipped her tea. “The Vision Beyond was of a scarlet citadel clutched within mountains.”
“Aiee,” hissed Halíd. “That could be Nizari, the Red City of Assassins, a place of ill reputation.”
Aravan nodded. “I have heard of it. On the border of Hyree. South of here and west, across the sands of the Karoo. It is marked upon one of your maps, Riatha.”
Gwylly turned to Halíd. “City of Assassins? Why assassins?”
Halíd’s finger sliced across his neck, his tongue sounding a kckkk. “Because long ago it was said assassins were the city’s principal export, and some say it is yet true.”
Urus glanced across at the damman. “Describe it in detail, Faeril. Mayhap we can verify that it is indeed Nizari.”
Faeril depicted the city as best she could, portraying the mountains as well, but nothing she said confirmed that it was Nizari, though nothing told it was not. “If I could see it, I could say,” she said at last.
Urus nodded, looking ’round the circle. “At the morrow’s dawning there will be but six days left ere Captain Legori and the Bèllo Vènto set sail from Sabra. We six here tonight must decide what we are to do: head back for Sabra, Halíd riding ahead to hold the ship; or strike out across the desert, riding to Nizari.”
Riatha haled out her maps. “There is a third choice, Urus: send Halíd back to Sabra, carrying word to the High King, while the rest of us ride on to Nizari. That way, if we fail, some will follow.
“Too, the thing in the well must be destroyed. And Halíd can see that those who have the power to deal with that creature learn of its existence. He can go to Darda Erynian, the Great Greenhall, and find Tuon, for he bears Black Galgor. Find Silverleaf, too, for he is clever enough to lure the wyrm from the well where it can be killed.”
Long did they debate their future course of action, but in the end it was Riatha’s plan that was accepted. Halíd was the last to be convinced, for he would go with them to Nizari. Yet finally Riatha said, “Thou must speak with the High King thyself, Halíd, for he would hear it from the lips of one who has lived the tale.
“Too, thou must bear word to Tuon, for thou hast seen the wyrm of the well and know of its deadly song. Thou canst lead Tuon and Silverleaf and any others to the Well of Uâjii, and take revenge for Reigo’s slaughter.
“Lastly, should we fail in our mission, it will be up to others to destroy Stoke. Thou canst assure such by bearing that knowledge unto
those who will come after.
“For those three reasons, Halíd, thou must go.”
The Realmsman looked long into her steady, silver-grey eyes, and perhaps what he saw there convinced him more than did her words; finally he nodded, agreeing to the plan at last.
* * *
As they prepared for sleep, Riatha searched through her pack and located Faeril’s small iron box and silken cloth, handing them to the damman. “Thou didst leave behind when thou didst go to find the Ring of Dodona.”
Faeril took the proffered items in hand, staring down at them as if struggling to find words. At last she burst out, “Oh, Riatha, I left the camp unguarded, and for that I am ashamed. I should have awakened someone.”
The Elfess nodded, agreeing. Silence fell between them, but after a while Riatha said, “It is past, Faeril, and should be forgotten by all but thee, to be used as a guide for thine actions in the future. Yet who knows, mayhap thou wouldst not have found the ring hadst thou done otherwise than thou didst. Whether it was wise or foolish, we here cannot say. What is done is done, and we cannot recall the moment and do it differently.”
Pondering Riatha’s words, Faeril set the iron box aside and spread the silken cloth on the grass. Reaching into her pocket, she drew forth the crystal, laying it in the center of the square of black silk. As she started to wrap the clear stone, suddenly she stopped, taking up the crystal and holding it to the firelight, staring at the quartz. The perfect crystal now seemed flawed, and she turned it ’round and ’round, peering closely, trying to see what— The damman gasped, for no flaw was this. Instead, frozen in the heart of the crystal was an exquisitely detailed form, almost as if it had been incised by a master craftsman, though no jewel carver known could do such superlative work as this—it was the form of a wild falcon, wings unfurled as if ready to spring into flight.
* * *
At the coming of the light of day, Halíd readied himself to set out northward. Urus admonished him to avoid the Well of Uâjii, and Aravan advised him to enter the Oasis of Falídii only if day was on the land. He saddled his dromedary and the one that had been ridden by Reigo, placing upon each a full goatskin of water as well as a small amount of food. He had six days and nights to ride, racing to Sabra, some four hundred forty miles across the sands of the Erg.
The Eye of the Hunter Page 45
