“I have always known that it might be you, Kerish-lo-Taan,” agreed Elmandis, “but there were others among your kin who might have freed the Saviour. Their own choices barred them from the quest. With the power of my key I can look forward and see the choices that will confront you, but I cannot see your changing thoughts and feelings, so I have no certainty. I do not know you deeply enough.”
“Perhaps if we stayed a while...” began Kerish.
“A while! It would require a lifetime and you do not have my immortality. Don't look so desolate, Prince,” said Elmandis softly. “There is a way. If you will let me, I can look into your past and from that judge your future.”
“Then do it,” urged Kerish.
“You speak lightly. You will need all your courage to spend one night in the Chamber of Seeing.”
“Take me there,” said Kerish-lo-Taan.
* * *
Forollkin soon noticed that Kerish was missing but he was not disturbed. Someone told him that the King had taken Kerish to his own chamber to talk. Forollkin sat contentedly listening to the singers and musicians and sipping his wine till past midnight, when the torch dance began. Either arm grasped by a laughing Ellerinionn, he was whirled through gardens and orchards up into the hills to watch the sunrise. At dawn, Forollkin returned drowsily to his room. Kerish was not there but a message was brought to say that he was sleeping in a nearby chamber. Forollkin thanked the messenger, rolled into bed and slept till an hour before noon.
* * *
While his brother was drinking and dancing, Kerish lay on a hard couch in the Chamber of Seeing. There were no windows in the chamber and Kerish heard Elmandis lock the single door behind him. Floor, walls and ceiling were carved with huge, closed eyes. A single lamp hung over the couch.
Kerish was almost afraid to settle, imagining that the moment he stopped looking at them the closed lids all around him would suddenly open. He lay gazing up at the lamp, a dazzling light that swung gently from side to side. He stared fascinated into the fiery depths, forgetting even the ominous eyes till the brilliance became unbearable. Kerish's lashed fluttered down and he slept.
Almost at once, he was trapped in a vivid dream. He was still lying in the Chamber of Seeing but the room had changed horribly. The light of the lamp was gone. Instead, the chamber was faintly lit by the green glare of a hundred eyes. They were all around him, green irises veined with pulsing red, black pupils slit with yellow fire. Kerish tried to scream but the sound choked in his throat. He tried to move but was frozen to the couch. Yet, even at so slight a movement, the eyes swivelled round and focused on him.
Kerish knew they were not looking at his face. He felt the green glare strip away the skin, flesh and bone and lay bare his mind and memory. All the years, the days, the hours and the minutes of his life were mercilessly exposed. Every action he had ever taken. Every word he had ever spoken. All the petty lies; all the small forgotten crimes. Every thought or speech he had ever been ashamed of came flooding into his mind and the eyes saw. The defences he had built up so carefully over the years were stripped away, leaving him naked.
He could not bear it. He knew that unless there was one place left in his mind where he could hide from the eyes, he would go mad under their pitiless gaze. Then from the mass of memories, one image stood out. The face of his father, the face of the Godborn, and the Emperor's voice saying, "And this gift I give you, the cruel gift of seeing truth through the mists of illusion."
“I am in a dream,” whispered Kerish. “This is only a nightmare.” The eyes were all around him. “Illusion. This is illusion.” He tensed every muscle in his body and concentrated with the strength of desperation. “This is illusion. I am dreaming. I will wake!”
Kerish felt a stab of pain. The eyes closed. The darkness dispersed and he was looking up into the brilliance of the lamp. Kerish found that his hands were clutching the purple jewel so tightly that its facets had cut into his fingers. The pain must have woken him. The Prince sat up and looked around.
The eyes were closed but he dared not lie down again. He knew that if he slept he would be lost in the same hideous nightmare and this time he might not have the strength to wake. He leaped off the couch and ran to the door. It was still locked. He hammered at it but his hands seemed to make no sound.
“Zeldin, how many hours till dawn?”
He could not know and he must keep awake. With dragging feet, Kerish paced round and round the silent chamber, his hands clutching painfully at the Jewel of Zeldin.
Some four hours later, Elmandis unlocked the door. Wide-eyed and pale, Kerish was leaning against the wall. They stared at each other for a moment. Kerish took a few steps toward the king and quietly fainted.
* * *
The Prince woke just before noon. He sat up and stared at his unblemished hands and then tried to remember the reason for his surprise. The horror of the Chamber of Seeing came flooding back. The horror of failure. Somehow he had said the right things to the Enchanter King but now that Elmandis knew what a despicable person he was, he would never win the key.
There was a knock on the door and Soreas entered carrying a cup full to the brim with golden liquid. It was the same Blood of the Sun that Kerish had tasted in Zeldin's temple. He drank it gratefully.
“You must get up quickly,” ordered Soreas. “Elmandis is waiting. It is rare that he commands instead of asks. He has changed since you came here, Kerish. What have you done to him?”
“I don't know,” said Kerish wearily.
Soreas helped the Prince to fold the length of white cloth correctly round his body and they left the room together without speaking another word.
The Ellerinionn led Kerish to a small sunken garden where a group of people were seated on the grass beside a stream. Elmandis himself was leaning over the bank, trailing a hand through the water. Forollkin stood up a little unsteadily to greet his brother and Reahno ran towards him with garlands of fresh flowers. Ideao was softly playing her lyre and Gannius was setting out bowls of fruit.
Forollkin came forward and hugged his startled brother.
“Kerish. I'm sorry. I'd forgotten till the king reminded me. I've had no opportunity to get you anything.”
“What?”
“Kerish, happy birthday,” said Forollkin simply.
He was joined by a chorus of good wishes. Kerish stared blankly. His birthday. He came of age today and he had forgotten. In Galkis, it would have been an occasion for intricate ritual and costly celebration. Kerish returned his brother's hug with fervour.
Soreas was smiling now. “Come and see your presents.”
“Presents?”
Reahno grabbed Kerish's hands and led him to his place on the bank. Beside a bowl of yellow and red fruit was a great heap of leaves and flowers.
“You must scrabble for them,” explained Reahno.
Kerish knelt and swept away the top layer of leaves and petals to discover a scroll of exquisitely written Ellerinionn poems, a finely-carved flute, and a pottery flask, made by Gannius, painted with winged circles, the Galkian symbol of the soul. Soreas had worked all morning to finish it. The delight in the Prince's face amply repaid the givers.
Suddenly, Elmandis turned round and said, “I wish you joy on your birthday, Kerish-lo-Taan. What gift can the King of Ellerinonn give to the Prince of Galkis?”
“My Lord, you know,” murmured Kerish, not daring to look into the sea-green eyes.
Elmandis unclenched his left hand to reveal a slender golden key set with a purple-gem and hanging from a golden chain.
“I wish you courage. Here is my gift. Take it if you can!”
Kerish stared at it for a moment and then at Elmandis' tortured face. He reached out for the key.
In the second that he touched it, Kerish saw lovely Ellerinonn desolate. Tir-Rinnon was a ruin, its walls and columns cracked and fallen. Grass choked the courtyards and half hid the broken slabs of bloodstained marble and the yellowing bones.
Kerish
's hands closed on the key and the vision was gone. The sun gleamed on beautiful Tir-Rinnon and there was something very like peace in Elmandis' eyes.
“Lord King,” Kerish's voice shook a little, “I thank you for your great gift.”
“Prince, the pain of receiving it will be greater than the pain of giving it. Do not thank me yet,” said Elmandis. “Now, let us break our fast and be happy while we can.”
Kerish looped the golden chain around his waist.
The Ellerinionns, who had been standing tensely during the Prince's exchange with their King, sat down on the grass and began passing round a cup of wine and eating fruit from each other's bowls. Forollkin started his own awkward thanks to Elmandis but the king cut him short.
“Lord Forollkin, I hope you will show your gratitude by granting me a favour.”
“You have only to name it, your Majesty.”
Elmandis scooped up an amber fruit and began to peel it as he spoke. “I do no more than ask. The favour may be greater than it seems. Will you take a travelling companion? I warn you, he has been soured by suffering and now only the strongest or the sweetest can digest his company. He came to me asking for a spell to be performed. What that spell was you must never ask him.”
Puzzled, the Galkians nodded their assent.
“When I refused him,” continued Elmandis, “he tried to reach the sorcerer of Tir-Racneth and failed. Now he waits in the Bay of Rindiss for a ship north. Kerish, promise me that he shall travel with you for as long as he wants.”
“To the world's end,” said Kerish lightly.
“Prince, I will hold you to that. May you never have cause to regret your promise,” murmured Elmandis, a glimmer of amusement in his green eyes.
Forollkin wiped some juice from his mouth and said, “Lord King, you mentioned a sorcerer of Tir-Racneth.”
Soreas, who was sitting next to Forollkin, jabbed him with his elbow as if he had said something dangerous but Elmandis answered calmly, “Ellandellore, Lord of Tir-Racneth. You must visit him tomorrow, Prince. The key at your waist unlocks the casket of the second key.”
“What must I do?” asked Kerish.
“We will sail together through the Straits of Rac. You alone must visit Cheransee, the Isle of Illusions, and confront Ellandellore.”
“The two of us alone,” said Forollkin.
“No, the danger to you would be too great,” announced the King. “Ellandellore is a master of illusion and capricious as a wilful child. He would destroy you, my worthy soldier.”
“If it is too dangerous for me it is too dangerous for Kerish!” protested Forollkin.
“Not so. “ Elmandis delved into his bowl and then opened his hand. “Forollkin, what do you see?”
“A fruit. A round, reddish-brown fruit.”
“And you Soreas? Gannius? Ideao?”
They answered in chorus, “The same.”
“Though I would have said it was more purplish-brown than red,” added Ideao.
Reahno opened her mouth to say something but was nudged into silence by her father.
Elmandis shook his hand.
“Do you hear the seeds rattling, Forollkin?'
“Yes.”
“Taste it then,” suggested Elmandis.
Cautiously, Forollkin took a bite. He grimaced and tried to spit it out but there was nothing in his mouth but a foul taste and nothing in his hand.
“You would starve in an orchard of such fruits,” said Elmandis with a grim smile. “Kerish, what did you see?”
“A ball of mist in your hand. Nothing more.”
“Good. Forollkin, Kerish's eyes will see through the mists of Cheransee where yours would betray you.”
“If they're only illusions they might frighten me but they won't hurt me,” said Forollkin stubbornly.
“Fear always has the power to hurt,” answered Elmandis. “The fruit tasted bitter to you. I could have made you think yourself poisoned. Cheransee is an island of nightmares and you cannot save yourself by waking up for you are not asleep.”
“But nightmares still aren't real,” persisted Forollkin.
“Reality is different for each man,” answered Elmandis. “One believes in the power of a swamp sorcerer and dies under his curse. Another does not and laughs at his gibberings. Is the sorcerer's power real or unreal? While you think of a reply, Lord Forollkin, we will walk to the harbour.”
* * *
Captain Engis hastily discarded his garland and flowery bracelets as the Prince came aboard. He and his crew knelt.
“Captain,” Kerish took Engis by the arm and raised him up, “I think for the rest of the voyage, we will dispense with such formalities.”
“As your Highness pleases,” stammered Engis.
He bowed to the King of Ellerinonn and saluted Forollkin.
“Captain, we wish to sail through the Straits of Rac to Rindiss Bay. Can we make a start today?” asked Kerish, “or do you need more time to make ready.”
“By the King's kindness we are well provisioned,” answered the Captain gratefully. “We could reach Thilik by nightfall. There's good anchorage there.”
“Thank you, Captain Engis.”
The crew went speedily to work. Soreas and his family, who had carried Kerish's gifts down to the ship, prepared to leave. They all embraced him and wished him good fortune.
“Perhaps in your travels you will meet my wife,” said Soreas. “Her name is Leahno. If you find her, tell her that Ellerinonn is not complete while she is Beyond.”
“I will.”
Kerish waved at the Ellerinionns as they ran down the gangplank. Elmandis leaned towards him and whispered, “Leahno died two months ago in the dungeons of Orze.”
Kerish forced himself to continue smiling at Leahno's family as the wind sprang at the Zeloka's sails and dragged her out to sea.
The Prince offered his cabin to Elmandis but the King refused. “I have no need of sleep. I will stay here.”
From sunset to dawn, he stood silently by the figurehead. The crew crept round him, more afraid to look at his face than at their Prince.
Kerish slept badly that night. A dozen times he dreamed that he was back in the Chamber of Seeing, beating on the door, frantic to escape from the eyes. In his terror, he cried out to Elmandis. He seemed to see the King standing on the starlit deck and to hear his calm voice. Then he was no longer afraid and sank back into quiet sleep.
Once, at the end of the long night, he had a different dream. In the darkness of his cabin, he saw his father crouching by an alabaster sarcophagus. Laughing, the Emperor dragged off the lid and reached in. He pulled out the corpse of an Ellerinionn child. Afraid to see the face, Kerish cried out, “No, I won't look at her. I won't!”
He struggled against the dream and woke.
Kerish sat up and looked around the empty cabin as the pale grey light of dawn came creeping through the window. There was no dawn in his mind. Longing for company, Kerish dressed and went on deck.
Elmandis met him with a cup of shining liquid. “Drink, you will need your strength today.”
Kerish drained the cup and sat down on the couch beneath the dew-sodden awning.
“I have filled the flask that Soreas painted for you with the Blood of the Sun,” added Elmandis. “Take it on your journey and use it sparingly. Perhaps it will be of more use to your companions than to you. You have drunk enough to strengthen a dozen men and look no better for it.”
“I'm not used to getting up at dawn, that's all,” said Kerish sulkily.
Elmandis sat down beside him.
“I would have thought that one whose dreams were haunted would be glad to rise early. We pay the penalty for seeing through illusion. We know that reality is always darker. Don't pity me, Prince,” commanded Elmandis. “That is one thing I forbid both to my subjects and my guests.”
Captain Engis, who had been steering the Zeloka through the dawn mists, left the tiller and bowed to the Prince and the King.
“My Lor
ds, will you eat? It's a cold morning, perhaps some spiced wine and a dish of kardiss will warm you.”
Elmandis courteously refused but Kerish thanked the captain for his timely thought. “Oh, and would you ask Lord Forollkin to join us?”
Forollkin soon came yawning on to deck and saluted the King. “Lord Elmandis, can you tell us more about this sorcerer of Tir-Racneth?”
After a short silence, the King replied, “Ellandellore of Tir-Racneth is great in power but he has the mind of a mischievous child. He is wilful and ruthless, yet quick to cry. You cannot reason with him, Kerish. You must treat him as you would a child. Play his games but remember that he has the strength to carry out his petulant threats.”
Prince of the Godborn (Seven Citadels) Page 17
