by Ian Irvine
She called for a healer, and an extremely short man toddled up with his bag. Snoat could not recall his name. He bathed Snoat’s ruined fingers in a sequence of coloured lotions – a stinging orange one, a burning mustard lotion and a soothing green balm, and bandaged them. He did the same for Snoat’s nose and chin, picking away pieces of carbonised skin and flesh with stubby little fingers. Snoat cringed at his touch.
“The scarring will be… bad,” said the healer. He leaned away as if expecting Snoat to strike him.
“And my fingers?”
The healer shook his head. “Only powerful mancery will be able to restore them.”
Snoat squirmed at the thought of having mancery done on himself, but appearance was everything. Until then he would be a monstrosity and he would have to hide himself away.
Ifoli unpacked her manuscripts and laid them out in order. Snoat studied the covers one by one. They were all there and, apart from minor smoke stains and smears of blood and charred skin, were undamaged. He did not care about the stains; they were part of the Histories of the Great Tales now.
But when he looked at the empty space at the end, where the Tale of the Mirror belonged, a knife twisted in his guts and he let out a howl of grief.
“Cumulus?” croaked Ifoli. Her voice had also lost its beauty. She sounded like a desiccated frog. “What is it?”
She didn’t know! Ifoli, who normally had his world at her fingertips, was ignorant of his loss. She would have been woken in the night by the fire and had run straight to the library to try and save his treasures.
“There’s… been… a break-in,” he choked. “It’s gone!”
“What’s gone?” She looked at the empty space on the blanket. “You don’t have Llian’s manuscript?”
“It’s gone, and so is he!”
“Who broke in?”
“You tell me! My perfect collection is ruined!” he wailed.
That expression was back in her eyes again.
“My private telling has been desecrated,” said Snoat self-pityingly. “Someone emptied the Beacons barrel onto the floor and struck me down with the decanter of Driftmere.”
“They might not be gone yet.”
Ifoli ran to the guard captain and gave swift orders. He bellowed at his men, who pounded towards the villa, but before they reached it the far end went up in a tremendous blast that blew out every window and scattered the silvery roof slates like brittle confetti.
“My brandy room, gone,” Snoat said limply.
Brandy-fuelled flames leaped above the rooftop. They would soon consume the Little Theatre and everything else. Snoat watched his life burn. He felt empty, lost, ruined.
Ifoli came back. She had washed her face and brushed her hair, and changed into a red kimono. She looked almost beautiful again, but he could not erase two memories: how haggard and ordinary she had allowed herself to become during the rescue, and the look of contempt on her face when he had been at his worst. She had let him down and, as soon as he could find a suitable replacement, he would have to get rid of her.
“Llian is gone,” said Ifoli, her voice still a little hoarse. “Also Thandiwe and Tallia, and the intruders.” She hesitated. “And… Unick.”
Another bitter blow. “Unick has bolted?”
“Ten minutes ago. He took three of your best horses.”
Curse him! “And, presumably, the Origin, Identity and Command devices.”
“He was carrying a large bag.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
She did not reply at once. She was staring at the flames. Finally she said, “I did not know, Cumulus. I was saving your perfect collection.”
Fury surged through him. He would have struck her but his hands were too painful. “Who’s my most reliable assassin – the fellow who cut Wistan’s throat for me?” He could not remember the man’s name; he could hardly remember his own name.
“Jundelix Rasper. But he’s a day away, south-west.”
“Find him! He will get my manuscript back and the devices Unick stole, and bring me the heads of Llian and Thandiwe, preserved in salt – or lose his own.”
“What about Unick?”
“He’s a danger to my plans. Tell Rasper I don’t need Unick’s head – just his face.”
Ifoli shivered but went to give the orders. Snoat called for a chair and someone brought him one. Ifoli returned, and suddenly he could not bear for anyone to see him brought so low.
“Clear everyone away!” he screamed. “Then get out of my sight! You’ve failed me. Everyone has failed me tonight.”
She gazed at him for a moment, almost in pity, then gave the orders. He choked. How dare she pity him! He turned his chair to face the library fire and sat down, alternately looking down at his manuscripts and up at the fire.
Why had his guards not prevented this attack? And how had they allowed the attackers to get away? Ifoli should have known it was coming; she should have stopped it.
Pem-Y-Rum was valueless to him now. After tonight he would be a laughing stock. He would head east to his coastal estate, Morgendur, and take command of his army.
He had made a mistake by overthrowing the Magister and simply plundering Iagador. Predators like Thyllan the Impotent, a former warlord and perennial troublemaker who had been banished from Iagador long ago, were already taking advantage of the chaos Snoat had created over the past month to carve out little empires for themselves. He should have conquered Iagador and ruled it with a steel fist. Well, it was not too late.
But how was he to protect the manuscripts? He could not bear to let them out of his sight ever again. Distrust raised its head like a maggot through the skin of a peach. The twenty-two Great Tales had the worth of a nation, and anyone could take them from him with a knife thrust in the back, or a poisoned morsel at his dinner table.
He could only trust himself. He would protect the manuscripts the only way he could, with a spell tailored for the purpose. But for that he needed Unick’s Command device, since his artisans had signally failed to copy any of Unick’s mechanisms.
He stared at the empty place on the blanket. The loss of the twenty-third Great Tale was a cancer eating him from the inside. He had to have his perfect collection back.
And then he was going to burn Iagador from one end to the other.
If his enemies no longer envied him, let them fear him.
59
IT’S ALMOST BEYOND CONTROL
“The mongrel!” screamed Karan. “The slimy, treacherous bastard.”
Her head felt as though it was about to explode. How could Llian do this to her after all she had gone through to save him? How could he do it to Sulien after she had sacrificed herself to the Whelm for him? When Karan caught him she was going to drag him off his horse, beat him until he wept for mercy, then start on that bitch Thandiwe. How she was going to pay!
They hurried through the forest to their hidden horses. The starlight was barely enough to see. She scrambled into the saddle and whirled Jergoe to ride after Llian.
Shand grabbed the reins. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Let go!” Karan said icily.
“Damned if I will.”
She knew she was behaving badly but was too overwhelmed to care. “I’ll ride you down.”
Ussarine shoved Shand out of the way and took Jergoe’s head in both hands. “You won’t ride me down.”
Karan considered it. Her heart was pounding, there were bright flashes inside her head and she was shaking so badly that she could barely stay in the saddle. Tears welled. She fought them and failed.
Inside Pem-Y-Rum, part of the main building collapsed with a crash that sent sparks whirling a hundred feet into the air.
“Until his dying day Snoat won’t forget what we’ve done to him tonight,” said Shand. “Come on!”
“One of the finest libraries in Meldorin is burning to the ground,” said Lilis, distraught. “How am I going to tell Nadiril? My life is all about saving books,
not destroying them.”
“Later.” Shand went across to Tallia. She was propped up against a tree and did not look well.
“I’ll be all…” She groaned and slid sideways to the ground.
Karan dismounted and ran to her guiltily. She had nagged Tallia ceaselessly about rescuing Llian. Was that why she had gone to Pem-Y-Rum while she was still unwell?
“Back to Chanthed,” said Shand. “We’ll tell Nadiril what’s happened and decide what to do.” His eyes flicked sideways towards Karan, then away.
About Llian! She felt sick.
Ussarine lifted Tallia onto Lilis’s horse and boosted her up behind. Lilis put her arms around Tallia’s waist.
“How are you feeling?” said Lilis.
“None too good,” said Tallia. “If I collapse, let me go.”
“I’m not letting you go,” Lilis said stoutly.
They reached the house at five in the morning. It was dark at the front though a lamp glowed in the back room. The stable boy took their horses, then Ussarine plucked Tallia off, carried her inside, laid her on a settee and wrapped her in blankets.
Nadiril, who had been dozing in his chair, heaved a couple of billets into the iron firebox and put the kettle on top.
“Something stronger is called for,” said Shand.
“Celebration or sorrows-drowning?” said Nadiril.
“The former,” said Shand. Then, with a glance at Karan, “Mostly. Where’s Yggur?”
“Snoring.”
“Are you going to wake him?”
“He hasn’t felt the need to make a contribution so far.”
Shand took a large flask out of his pack and fetched glasses.
“What’s that?” said Nadiril, a gleam in his eye.
“Spoils of war.”
Shand decanted a generous tot into each of the glasses, handed them around and held his up to the firelight. It glowed golden red.
“You forgot me,” said Tallia, sitting up. She looked a little better.
“I should not have presumed,” said Nadiril, handing her his own glass. He fetched another.
Esea quaffed her drink in a single swallow, curled up in her armchair and closed her eyes.
Karan waved her glass away. She felt like a whirlpool in a raging river and did not want to replay the events of a night that, for all its successes, she could only think of as a catastrophe. If she did not ride after Llian right away she might never find him, but since she was practically bankrupt and reliant on her allies for everything, she had to wait on their dubious pleasure.
Shand told his part of the story baldly, including the destruction of the library and museum.
“That was one of the most important libraries in Meldorin!” cried Nadiril, taking an angry gulp. “Thousands of books and manuscripts that existed nowhere else.”
“Do you think I don’t know it?” snapped Shand.
Lilis described their rescue of Tallia, the fruitless search for Llian, the explosion that had turned the villa into an inferno, and the escape. She stopped, casting anxious glances at Karan.
“Out with it,” said Nadiril.
“Your bastardly friend Llian has run off with that evil slut Thandiwe,” Karan cried, and to her chagrin the tears she had been holding back for the past two hours flooded out of her.
“Tallia has been badly beaten,” Shand snapped, “and you’re whining about Llian. You’re the very limit!”
Karan was mortified. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Tallia. “I didn’t think.”
Tallia gave Shand a cold stare. “Given all that Karan has been through over the past month, and all it’s cost her, she has every right to shout and scream.”
Shand gritted his teeth – he was building up to another of his rages – but Tallia held a hand up.
“We heard about the Merdrun threat a month ago, and in that time Karan is the only one who has done anything worthwhile about it. She’s risked her life repeatedly, her family has been torn apart, and we all owe her. As far as I’m concerned, she can say what she damn well pleases.” Tallia drained her drink, closed her eyes, then added, “Besides, she’s a sensitive! She feels things more deeply than we do. I imagine that’s why the Merdrun see her and Sulien as such a threat.”
There was a long silence. Everyone was staring at Karan, and her cheeks were burning. “Thank you,” she whispered. The fury was gone.
“We don’t know the circumstances of Llian’s going,” said Shand. “Save that, first, Wilm and his friend dug the tunnel that allowed us in, and they rescued Llian before we could get to him.”
“And second?” said Nadiril.
“Llian didn’t know we were there.”
“How could he not know after you’d set half the estate ablaze?”
“It was chaos,” said Shand. “We thought Wilm and his friend were robbers, and when they discovered our shaft they probably thought we were robbers.”
“If you had been robbers,” said Nadiril sourly, “some of Snoat’s treasures might still exist.”
“Moving on,” said Shand.
“How could Llian ride away without making sure Sulien was safe?” said Karan, incapable of thinking about anything else. “And… me.”
“He knew you and Sulien were safe,” said Tallia, “because I told him.”
“When?”
“When we talked in Pem-Y-Rum. He was beside himself when he heard what had happened to you, until I told him that you were here, safe. But when he heard that Idlis and Yetchah had Sulien, I thought he was going to drop dead at my feet.”
“Oh!” said Karan.
“You’ve been through a lot,” Tallia added, “but so has he, and what he needs now is your trust and help.”
“But he’s done such stupid things.”
“As have I, though I don’t see you attacking me. And… surely you noticed how beleaguered Llian has been since the drumming began?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Anjo, Maigraith, Snoat, Unick, Turlew and Thandiwe have all attacked him, one after another.”
“And Shand!” Karan muttered.
“It’s strange how he attracts enemies. Uncanny, actually…” Tallia mused.
“To work,” said Nadiril. “Snoat is an obsessive narcissist and Pem-Y-Rum now represents his biggest failure. He’ll abandon the place and go back to Iagador, and we should head east.”
“I’m going after Llian,” said Karan. “And if I don’t leave now—”
He held up a blue-veined hand with no more meat on it than a chicken’s foot. “I was about to say you can’t go alone.”
“I know where Llian’s going,” said Tallia. “The salt lake megaliths.”
“Why?”
“He thinks there’s a connection between Mendark’s work and the summon stone. Mendark’s secret cache there might help Llian find it. And then he plans to destroy it.”
“How can Llian destroy a dangerous enchanted object?” said Karan.
“He feels that he’s let everyone down; that he hasn’t contributed anything.”
“What utter rot!”
“He can’t destroy it,” said Nadiril. “That’s up to us.”
“Us?” said Shand, an edge to his voice.
“Well, you. And you’d better be quick because I have other ill news. Two pieces of it.”
“Go on.”
“The first is from Hingis in Sith.”
Ussarine sat up, watching Nadiril eagerly. Esea’s head swivelled towards her and Karan was shocked at the fury in Esea’s eyes.
“He’s put a small army together, five thousand,” said Nadiril. “Not nearly big enough, but a start. But the storm is gathering. That perennial troublemaker Thyllan the Impotent came across the Sea of Thurkad a few days ago with a raiding party. He’s taken Dantoid, in the middle of Iagador, and declared it his. And with Snoat suffering such a humiliating defeat last night, other wolves will be emboldened to carve Iagador up between them. It’s going to get bloody.”
&n
bsp; “Did Hingis send any message for me?” said Esea. “Or ask after me?”
She looked haggard and in pain, and had visibly lost weight in the few days Karan had known her.
“No,” said Nadiril.
Esea ground her fists into her belly.
“What was the other piece of bad news?” said Karan.
Nadiril took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “This came in by skeet at midnight.” He read it aloud.
The mountains east of Booreah Ngurle
9 Pulin, 3111
Nadiril,
The drumming is getting worse; some new kind of mancery must be feeding the summon stone, strengthening it. Find the stone with the utmost urgency and destroy it. Do NOT use mancery near it. NEVER attempt to draw on its power.
I’m at least ten days away. Send word of progress, and where I should meet you, by the usual means.
Malien
“‘Some new kind of mancery’ surely means Unick’s devices,” said Shand.
“That would be my assumption,” said Nadiril.
“Then it’s all the more urgent that we find Llian,” said Karan.
“Yes it is. Get a few hours sleep, then ride for the salt lake megaliths with all possible speed. Shand, go with Karan. You’ll need a guard.” He turned to Esea.
“Not me,” she said.
“Why not?”
“My brother needs me; I’m going back to Sith.” She gave Ussarine a very cold look. “Take Ussarine. If you get to the source, you’ll need someone who hasn’t got a skerrick of mancery.”
“That’s a bit rude,” said Lilis hotly.
Ussarine laughed. “I’m glad I don’t have a skerrick of mancery; I can’t think of anything worse. When do we start?”
Karan was happy to have Ussarine, though she was uneasy about why Esea hated her so much, and what would come of it.
In Sith the following afternoon, Osseion came to Hingis’s room bearing a message that had just come in by skeet. “Tallia and the others are coming east,” he said. “Your sister will soon be back.”
“And Ussarine?”
“It doesn’t say.”
He handed Hingis the message and went out. He read the note, which summarised what had happened at Pem-Y-Rum. Esea was coming home! They had never been separated this long before and he missed her desperately, but he missed Ussarine even more. What would Esea do when she realised?
