She reached out to move aside one of the black moiré curtains, hoping to recognize some landmark, but Allora stopped her. “No, child, leave it be.”
So—she was not to know where she was going. Once again Lili was uncomfortably reminded that the interior of the berlin, lined as it was with black leather, curtained in black silk, bore an unfortunate resemblance to the interior of a coffin. She suddenly felt oppressed, as though the walls were too close and the coach too full of shadows.
“You are very quiet, Lilliana. And you appear—melancholy. Do not tell me you have wasted this journey thinking about that graceless husband of yours!”
“And if I have? Isn’t this an appropriate time for me to be thinking over my entire life up until now?”
Allora opened her mouth to speak, but how she might have answered was to remain a mystery. Just then the berlin rattled to a halt, and both women sat up very straight, exchanging a glance of bright expectation. There came a sound of voices outside: two deep ones, unknown to Lili, and the voice of the driver.
“We have arrived.” Allora began to gather up her things: her muff, her cane, her gloves, the lantern. She gave Lili a keen look across the coach. “You will not mind if I abandon you for a time?” Lili shook her head.
“Then stay here until someone calls you.” Even as she spoke these last few words, the old woman pushed the door open and slipped through the gap. Closing the door sharply behind her, she left Lili to wait alone in the dark.
As Allora disappeared from sight, Lili heard a spirited discussion start up outside the coach. More than once, she thought she heard her aunt raise her voice as if in protest, but it was impossible to distinguish any of the words. At last the sounds of debate fell to a dull murmur.
She was just nodding off to sleep when the door flew open, and a glare of torchlight dazzled her eyes. “Come, Lilliana, your hour is approaching.”
Wide awake now, Lili obediently stepped out into the torchlight. Shivering a little in the pre-dawn chill, she wrapped her cloak more closely around her.
She saw that the berlin had stopped at the edge of a broad grassy field, surrounded on three sides by shrubs and willows. Behind the trees, only partially concealed by them, was the faint outline of a large country house, and somewhere off in the darkness Lili thought she heard the sound of running water. About thirty feet to her right, there was a white marble folly, shining ghostly pale in the faint moonlight.
At first, she had difficulty finding her aunt. Allora had retreated to a short distance, and when Lili finally located her she was standing encircled by five mysterious figures. Concealed behind masks of beaten gold, hidden under long white wigs and black satin dominos, each unknown magician held a lighted torch in one black-gloved hand.
Lili went suddenly weak in the knees. Up until now, she had either been dozing or thinking of Will, but these ominous disguises of jackels, lions, and rams, this evidence of deliberate mystification, finally impressed her with the serious nature of her strange journey, of the wonderful and possibly terrible events that were about to unfold.
“You may approach, Lilliana.”
As she advanced, the circle opened up and Allora reached out, drawing Lili into the center with her. As the entire group began to move in the direction of the folly, Lili looked down at her great-aunt, surprised by the old woman’s unusual agitation, by the nervous clasping and unclasping of one thin hand on the ivory head of her cane.
“Aunt, are you well?”
“I am perfectly well. It is only—” Allora hesitated. “It is only, dear child, that they mean to initiate you at a higher level than I had anticipated. This means the tests you must pass will be a little more difficult, a little more dangerous—but there is not a doubt in my mind that you will meet the challenge.”
By now they had entered the confines of the folly, were moving within a broken circle of cracked marble columns. At the center of the “ruin” a great white slab had been pried up out of the ground and moved to one side, leaving a deep gash in the earth. As Lili drew nearer, she saw that a circular staircase of white stone had been built into the sides of the pit, a stair which appeared to lead down and down, into the depths below.
Quite suddenly, Allora was no longer there at her side. At the same moment, the masked figures at the front and to both sides of Lili disappeared as well. Slightly dazed by this abrupt defection, wondering how they had all contrived to move away so quickly, Lili stood alone among the marble pillars. Alone, until a quiet voice commanded her to turn around, and doing so, she found herself facing a single masked man.
He was disguised as the rest were, yet there was something familiar about the dark grey eyes behind the sinister golden mask, about the thin straight figure under the black satin cloak. When he spoke again, she knew his voice.
It was Sir Bastian Mather, only just recovered from his long illness, and still, for all that he held himself so carefully erect, bound to be very weak. Lili felt a rush of gratitude, knowing what it must have cost the old gentleman to be there with her on this important night.
“Lilliana,” he said quietly, “this is a solemn moment. You face a tremendous ordeal, one from which you cannot possibly emerge unchanged. I would be deceiving you if I did not tell you there is considerable danger, and that none of us—no, not even your aunt—can or will aid you at your moment of greatest peril. I have also to tell you that not all who enter the Temple of the Mysteries survive the experience. Yet even so far as you have come to arrive at this moment, you have still a choice. Will you decide to go immediately from this place, or will you hazard your life by entering the underground temple?”
“Sir, you tell me nothing that I have not known for years,” Lili answered steadily. But hearing the familiar cautions spoken in this strange place, her peril seemed far more real than it ever had before.
She felt her mouth go dry. Well—and so she might die here. She might also die another day of a perfectly ordinary accident or a perfectly ordinary complaint. At least if she died tonight, it would not be for some trivial cause.
“I will not lie to you,” she went on, “and say that I am not afraid—I believe I am terrified. But for all that, I am no less prepared, no less eager to confront this danger.”
“Then, as you are resolved—you have already taken various oaths of silence, and if you survive your ordeal tonight you will be called on to make a most solemn vow. But in the meantime, I would ask you to swear again: If, for any reason, you should walk away from this place not as a Specularii magician, you will still preserve perfect secrecy in regard to the events of this night.”
He held out his gloved right hand, the palm facing her, and Lili put her own palm to it. She knew the ritual; it had been enacted and reenacted at every stage of her training. “I do so swear, by the blood of the last Maglore Empress, by the glorious deaths of all those who were martyred in the cause of Human freedom, by the deeds of those who struggled for knowledge in the dark years of our ignorance.”
Sir Bastian stepped aside and gestured toward the gleaming white staircase leading down into the earth. “The way is before you, Lilliana. I wish you good fortune on your journey.”
By the second turning of the stairs, the light had entirely disappeared. Lili was forced to feel her way cautiously, one step at a time, her fingers brushing against the rough earthen wall.
Down and still down she went, circle upon circle, until at last there came a time when there were no more stairs, when there was no wall to guide her—there was only a vast darkness, stretching out endlessly on three sides, leaving Lili with no idea which direction she was expected to move.
Then an invisible hand reached out and took one of hers in a firm, masculine clasp.
“Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Blackheart. I have been sent here to guide your steps for a time.” The voice was deep and sonorous, completely unfamiliar.
“I—do not know you, sir?”
“We have never met. Nor will you be permitted to see my face or learn
my name until after the ceremony. Nevertheless, I hope you will trust me and follow my instructions.”
Lili nodded, without thinking how useless the gesture was in total darkness. “I have been brought here, sir, by those I trust. I’m perfectly willing to place myself in your hands.”
His grip tightened ever so slightly, and she felt herself being pulled gently forward. “Then permit me to lead the way. Do not fear that you will stumble; I will warn you of anything that might trip you up.”
Some ten or twelve steps later, they entered a narrow passageway. Lili’s skirts brushed up against something on the left-hand side; her unknown escort moved closer on the right. “Pardon me, if I am about to tell you things you already know, to ask you questions you have already answered. I can assure you that none of this is done in vain, that there is a purpose in everything.”
“Yes, sir,” Lili answered calmly. These repetitions had been a feature of her magical education from the beginning; she understood that those who instructed her were required to test her resolve again and again.
“I will begin by acquainting you with the history of the Specularii—but Mrs. Blackheart, I caution you now to watch your step. We are about to descend another long staircase and the steps are treacherous.”
As he spoke, Lili felt a damp chill rise up through the soles of her shoes; a strong odor of wet earth assaulted her nostrils. The steps, however, were broad and shallow if a little slick. By moving slowly and carefully she was able to descend safely, at the same time listening attentively to what he was telling her.
“In the last evil years of the Maglore Empire, many secret societies came into being. Their purpose was the education and advancement of the Human race, which until that time had not only been slaves but had been kept by their Goblin masters in a state of the most abject and degrading ignorance. How the founders of those secret societies—of which some hold the Specularii to be the most ancient—were first able to acquire the knowledge they would subsequently pass on to others—what shifts they were forced into, what dangers they were required to face, in order to gain even such simple skills as every schoolroom child is taught today—all that is a story for another time. It is enough to say that had they been discovered, had there been even a suspicion of what they were about, they would have been punished with a swift but terrible death.”
By now, Lili and her escort had reached the foot of the second staircase; she thought they must be at a level far below that of any ordinary cellar. Setting off at a brisker pace, they moved down what felt like another narrow passage.
From time to time, a breath of colder or of warmer air told Lili she was passing an intersecting corridor, either ascending or descending. From time to time, she and her escort turned into one of these intersecting corridors, and she felt the floor rise up or tilt downward beneath her feet. She began to marvel at the size and the complexity of what seemed to her a great maze under the earth.
All this time, the deep voice continued to speak in her ear: “The complete overthrow of the Maglore Empire became the ultimate goal of these secret societies, yet they bided their time. The Empress Sophronispa had ruled for nearly three hundred years and was generally regarded as having long outlived her allotted life-span—for she had not suicided at the usual age and lived on to a state of advanced decrepitude. Indeed, her nearest relations, her logical heirs, had all reached the Age of Suicide and effectively removed themselves. By the time Sophronispa finally died of natural causes, there was considerable uncertainty about who would succeed her. In the confusion that followed, Humanity recognized an opportunity that had not existed in five thousand years. The result was revolt and mass insurrection.
“In the years of revolution and reform that followed, the Specularii took an open and active part. Many of the precepts we live by today originated in debates inside Specularii lodges. Yet after almost a century of recognized service to Mankind, it was decided the time had come to play a less prominent rôle and to assume once more the cloak of secrecy.”
Lili felt a slight pressure on her arm, turning her gently to the left. It felt increasingly strange to be walking so close to this unknown man. There was something curiously intimate in the touch of his hand, the sound of his voice speaking in the darkness. And despite—or perhaps because of the fact she could not see him, Lili was keenly aware of his physical presence. In the absence of sight, her other senses had become wonderfully sharp. By the direction of his voice, she knew he must be very tall; because his hand was so large and firm, she imagined he must be powerfully built. He did not wear scent as many men did, but there was a distinct aroma, as of ink and chalk, lye soap and tallow candles.
“There were two principal reasons why the Specularii magicians chose to shroud themselves in secrecy. Our vast influence terrified us. We had been instrumental in bringing down one Empire and creating a new civilization in its place; we foresaw a time when that new civilization might mirror the old one, with ourselves as the new Maglore. Only by operating outside the structure of power, only by humbling ourselves and accepting me limitations of operating in obscurity, could we hope to keep our motives pure.
“And though it was widely believed the Maglore had all been exterminated, there were those among us who believed otherwise. The Maglore were too cunning, too wise in the ways of dark sorcery, and of course, they too nearly resembled Men. Some few of them must have escaped the general slaughter, some few of them must still exist, either hidden away completely or else passing themselves off as Men and Women. And if they did exist, the time must eventually come when they would attempt to rise again in power. Their first act in doing so would undoubtedly be a concerted effort to destroy those who had so nearly destroyed them. As visible as we were at the time, we felt we made too easy a target. And so—as the Maglore were hidden, we too would be hidden. What they could accomplish by secrecy, subtlety, disguise, we could accomplish by the same means.
“I think, Mrs. Blackheart, by this time you must be very weary of hearing me speak.”
“Not at all,” said Lili. “I find what you tell me most inundating.”
“Nevertheless, I will attempt to be more concise.” They had turned into another corridor, where Lili could hear the roar and hurry of some subterranean river not far in the distance.
“Over the years, we acquired another purpose. Our civilization was stagnating. No more than anyone else did we desire rapid change, the destruction of the delicate balance we had helped to create. But rational change, gradual change—this we felt was essential. As Society was so resistant to new ideas, so cruel to freethinkers, we must be kind to them. We became the secret guardians to all men of great ideas and noble purposes. Wherever such men are known to exist, there are Specularii near at hand to guide and protect them, though they seldom if ever suspect our presence. Alas, we cannot always protect them from the harsh chances of this world. In the case of the King of Rijxland, for instance, we could not prevent his descent into madness. I might recite to you a long list of our successes and failures, but I trust I have already said enough for you to understand the goals of our society.”
“Indeed, sir, you have,” said Lili. “And more clearly than they have ever been explained before.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “Do you find that you are still determined to dedicate the rest of your life to serving those very goals and purposes?”
“I am more determined than ever.”
“It is well,” he said, bringing their progress to a sudden halt, “for we have reached the first stage of your ordeal.” He released her hand. “If you will turn to your right, you will discover a niche in the wall. Inside that niche is a drinking vessel. Before we proceed any further, you must pick up that vessel and drink the contents.”
Lili turned and groped in the darkness; her hands brushed against cold stone, then found emptiness. A moment later, her fingers closed around the stem of a cold metal goblet. As she lifted the cup to her lips, she could not resist taking a cautious sniff.
Wine, she decided, but also something more. The draught was bitter and slightly salty. No sooner had she swallowed it than a queer drowsy warmth began to spread through her veins. She put down the cup, turned, reached for the hand of her guide. But as their fingers touched, Lili gasped and drew back.
That brief contact had caused a thrill to pass through her like a shock, a shock that made her aware of every inch of her own skin, of every nerve-ending. At the same time, she had been intensely aware of him, his powerful body, his masculine solidity—aware, too, that he had shared in everything she was feeling. She knew if she allowed herself to touch him again, it would be an act more intimate than anything she had ever shared with Wilrowan.
“You have nothing to fear, Mrs. Blackheart. I am aware of your present condition and will not take advantage. It is necessary for me to hold your hand a little longer, but I can assure you there will be nothing worse than that between us.”
Lili swallowed hard. This was very like the moment when she had been obliged to trust Sir Bastian and go up to his room at the tavern.
“I beg your pardon. I was merely—startled.” She forced herself to take his hand again. This time the shock was less, but her pulse leaped, the sweat started out on her skin, and it seemed as though she could not possibly get enough air into her lungs.
“Breathe as I breathe,” he said. “Do not be afraid. Match your breaths to mine, and regulate your pulse in the same way.” He adjusted her grip so her fingers were wrapped around his wrist, so she could feel the ebb and flow of blood under his skin. “You have done this thing many times before.”
Yes, she had done it, when her patients were weak, when their spirits were failing, in order to keep them alive. But never before with a strong and virile man, standing in the dark. Yet, if she did not do this, she knew she was the one who was going to be sick, who was about to fall into a deadly swoon. Reluctantly, she did as he told her. Focusing her mind, she took a long, slow, deep breath. She drew in the pneuma, which was the breath of the cosmos, and sent it coursing through her body to purify the blood.
The Queen's Necklace Page 25
