by Glenda Larke
'Yes. No. I don't know.'
'There's nothing here to hold you back.'
I was silent a long while, looking out of the window at the conglomeration of crazy buildings, now just curious shapes in the darkness. I said finally, 'It is his son too. He has a father's rights…'
I heard the faint expelling of his breath: a sigh, acknowledging his acceptance that there was no gain for him in my loss.
'Don't tell Temellin about this pregnancy, Brand. I'll tell him in my own way, in my own time.'
'I won't say anything to anyone. This is between the two of you.'
Oh, Goddess, I thought. If only it was. But there were the Mirage Makers… Did they want the child in order to destroy an abomination? Or for some other reason? Did they need a child to bring them new blood, to rejuvenate whatever it was they were? A new Mirage
Maker to become one with them? I had never heard of a mother surviving the trauma of having a child and womb lifted from her body. The Magor had healing powers, I knew that, but I doubted they included the skill needed to save a woman from such a mutilation. What was it Garis had said? They were healers, not miracle workers.
And then there were the Magor. When it became known I was pregnant, and if it were true Solad had gained a sanctuary within the Mirage in exchange for a future unborn Magor child, then they might consider my life to be forfeit.
I wondered how many people knew about the required sacrifice. Temellin, certainly. I'd seen his face when he spoke of Solad's bargain and his own responsibility to fulfil it. What was it he had said? J believe we must pay, whatever the suffering it causes. He was probably the only one the Mirage Makers had told, although he could well have passed on the knowledge to others. To Korden. To Pinar? After all, she had a right to know. She was going to marry Temellin, and the logical sacrifice would be a child of the Mirager. And the woman who carried it.
I shuddered. I was the outsider, the expendable one. Who would care? Temellin, when he believed the sacrifice was necessary and others called for my death, as they most certainly would? Pinar would actively pursue my murder, I had no doubt of that. Quite apart from the prompting of her jealousy, sacrificing me and my child might save her own hide if ever she conceived Temellin's child.
J won't do it, I thought. No one is going to kill me. I won't let them. And I am not going to run away, either.
You are the Miragerin… Words whispered in the sand. 'There's something that doesn't quite -' I
began, and then stopped. Could the Magoroth be wrong? Could I not be the other woman they had mentioned – Sarana? 'I want to talk to – to Zerise would be best, I think. Can you get her for me, Brand?'
'Certainly. If I don't get lost, that is. Damn place has more passageways than a fish has scales.'
I continued to stand at the window after he had gone, but I wasn't seeing the view. I was back in the Shiver Barrens, hearing the song of the Mirage Makers, trying to fan a spark of hope. Anything was better than the alternative.
An hour later, Brand entered with a heartfelt look at me indicating he had indeed managed to lose himself. He ushered Zerise in and then left us. The Illusa moved through the dimness of the room to the table and lit the candle there. I didn't see what she did, but she used her cabochon to do it. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. 'We didn't understand at first,' she said. 'We all thought you would be glad. To be the sister of the Mirager -'
'You knew he was also my lover?'
'We do now. We do not feel your revulsion. Such unions are usually blessed with a lasting love. The children of sibling unions are also much blessed. You and Temellin are the children of such a union -'
'Oh, sweet Melete help me! My parents?' I wanted to be sick. I warred with my body to halt the reflex, to keep the food in my stomach. Inbred! And my son… the grandchild of siblings, the child of siblings, inbred to a point of insanity.
'Temellin is the strongest Magori we have,' Zerise said. 'His powers are strong within him, as yours will be when you are taught how to use them. There is nothing wrong with such a union, Magoria-shirin. A marriage between you would be cause for great
happiness, and your children would be very, very special. Perhaps the greatest Magoroth ever born. Healthy, intelligent and Magor-strong.'
But I didn't want to hear. I said, 'This other Magoria, this Sarana -'
'If she had lived she would be Miragerin, and Mirager-temellin would not hold the sword of the Mirager. She was your cousin, the only child of your oldest uncle, Mirager-solad. There were five siblings, you know: Solad who was the eldest, then a brother and a sister, Ebelar and Niloufar, who were Sarana's and Temellin's parents, then another brother who was Korden's father, and finally another sister, who was Pinar's mother. Sarana was the heir, but she died before the Madrinya Shimmer Festival massacre. The massacre was not the first attack on our people; it was just the worst.'
I was stilled, remembering the expression on Temellin's face when he had thought I might be Sarana; remembering the emotion that had twisted his voice. He had almost hated me then. Wryly, I thought to myself that here was something else we shared besides a love of power: a marked reluctance to relinquish the power we had. I asked, 'There is no possibility -?'
'None.' She shook her head sadly. 'It was a terrible time, Magoria. The Mirager worshipped his daughter from the moment of her birth. Some said she was his obsession. Her mother, Magoria-wendia, thought so. She thought the Mirager was ruining their daughter to the point of idiocy, and I must say I agreed with her. Sarana was fast becoming an unpleasant little brat. Wendia decided to take the child and leave Madrinya. She wasn't the Miragerin-consort – Solad wasn't married – so it wasn't all mat hard for her to go. Unfortunately her howdah was ambushed and
everyone in her party was killed. I thought the Mirager might die with grief when he realised Sarana had died.'
I interrupted. 'But if Wendia and Solad weren't married, how could Sarana be the heir?'
'The first-born child of the ruler is the heir, no matter who the other parent is, as long as the child is a Magoroth and as long as the ruling Mirager or Miragerin acknowledges the child as theirs. That is Magor law. We put no store by a child's legitimacy as Tyranian law does.' She snorted. 'They try to tell us their laws are better, but we will never acknowledge their ways. Why should a child be robbed of his birthright because his parents did not marry?'
'So if Sarana had lived, she would have become Miragerin. Is there anyone else who might use that tide?'
'Well, the official consort of the ruling Mirager. If you were to marry Mirager-temellin, you would be Miragerin-shirin, the Miragerin-consort. And then there is the mother of the heir. Even if she is not the consort, she is honoured with the title of Miragerin. And then finally there's the mother of the Mirager. Your mother, yours and Temellin's, would have been termed Miragerin-niloufar, had she lived.'
The mother of the heir. Oh, Acheron's hells, I thought. My son will be Mirager in this land. I wasn't Sarana, but I truly was Miragerin anyway, just as the Mirage Makers said. I was the mother to the heir, the unborn heir. They had known that… Then a new thought blasted me. Until the baby was born, / was Temellin's heir. I was his younger sister, and the Kardis made no distinctions between the sexes where their ruler was concerned.
If Temellin died, Ligea Gayed, Legata Compeer of the Brotherhood, would be regarded by the Kardis as
their rightful ruler. I gave an ironic laugh that hiccupped into a sob. I should kill him. Then, as the Miragerin-ruler, I could bring the Magor down in ways they could never have dreamed of… and reap such glory in Tyr there would be statues of me built in the Forum Publicum. My success would be a legend handed down to the next generations. Was this the triumph Rathrox and Bator Korbus had schemed to achieve? They'd wanted me to kill or capture the Mirager. And then perhaps they'd planned to tell me who I was – and plant me, obedient and loyal Ligea, on the Kardis as their rightful ruler. A grateful vassal, to do as I was told by Tyr.
Goddessdamn.
The Oracle. Of course. They'd aimed to give my future an apparent spiritual dimension, to seed me with a sense of destiny by sending me to the Oracle. How had the poem run?
'All power in her wide embrace,
None will again deny
Ligea Gayed her rightful place.'
My rightful place. Miragerin of Kardiastan. Goddessdamn.
Zerise was watching me, mystified. 'My child -. why do you cause yourself so much grief? Your love for the Mirager is blessed. Accept it. Go gladly to his arms. Bear his children. Why cling to the laws of a land that was never really yours? You are Kardi; you are Magor; rejoice in it!' Her voice had an edge to it now, an intensity matching the rest of her. She shot out a bony hand to grip my arm. 'You have a duty to the Magor. We all have! Look at me, Magoria – I was a nurse, a children's nurse – can you see that when you look at me now? I doubt it. I haven't been a nurse
since I had to wade through children's blood, carrying the only two babies I could save, both Theuros children, my own face smashed beyond repair. Now I fight. My cabochon will burn a legionnaire to ashes one day – I, who only wanted to care for my babies. Your duty comes before your wishes, Magoria.'
I swallowed bile and said, 'Ask Brand to come in, will you, Illusa-zerise?'
She heard the dismissal and the fire damped down. Yet, just as she was on her way out, she turned back. She wanted to say something, started to say it, but changed her mind. A most extraordinary expression skittered across her face. It was so fleeting I wasn't sure I'd seen it, yet I was left with the feeling I had glimpsed a dismay so profound it bordered on panic. Then she was gone.
I thought: If I go back to the Brotherhood, I can rule this land. I can have whatever I want. Power. Wealth. Respect. The things I've always wanted. The Oracle's predictions, all come true. Goddessdamn.
Once that knowledge would have set me dreaming. Once that would have brought a sparkle of triumph into my eyes. Instead, all I heard were questions. Nasty, provocative little questions demanding answers, refusing to go away. The power to do what? The respect of whom? Why would you want more wealth than you already have? And would the puppeteer be any different this time around?
When Brand returned, I said softly, 'I have decided. I will stay here. I will learn the ways of the Magor and be Kardi. If you are wise, you will leave. Make a life for yourself somewhere else. Go to Tyr, claim the money awaiting you from my estate, then go back to Altan. Lead your own people to freedom.'
– ¦-¦¦ ' i~«Ј. – ¦-¦"¦¦:
' ' 'Just like that, eh?' He gave an unbelieving, sardonic chuckle. 'And am I still a brother to you, Ligea-Derya-Shirin?'
'No – no. That was a stupidity. Now I have felt the real thing, now I know the revulsion of real… incest. You are a friend, Brand. The best friend I have ever had, or ever will have. That is why I ask you to leave. There is nothing I can offer you. You are better away from me, building your own life.'
'My answer is the same as always. I stay, at least for now. You need a friend, Ligea. Derya. Shirin. Whoever. Perhaps now more than ever. Have you given a thought to what Temellin and the others will do when you tell them you are the Legata Ligea Gayed?'
'What will that matter? It is past. I will tell them when the time is right.' I hardened myself. 'For the past week or so I have been thinking with my loins. You were right, Brand: it was insanity. But I'm back to my senses now. Power, that's what it's all about. That was why the Brotherhood fascinated me: it gave me the power of life and death over my fellow citizens, it made me feared, even to those who had money and position and political power. As compeer I used that power – yes, and sometimes misused that power, on Tyrans' behalf.' I added, surprised at its truth, 'I couldn't do that any more. But I don't love power any less. It's what I am. And I will wield it.' And no one's going to kill me for my child, either.
I wandered over to the window again and looked down on the dark cobbled street below without really seeing it. 'I feel as if I used to walk around with my head under a pail. Why couldn't I see, long before this, that there are better ways to use power? Why couldn't I see the iniquity of slavery? The inherent injustice of Exaltarchy rule?' The shards of past possibilities scored
furrows of sadness deep into my spirit. The Exaltarchy has many fine things to offer its tribute states, but the price is too high. Kardiastan would be – will be – better without Tyrans.'
'You're too hard on yourself,' Brand said. He came to stand by me, and the gentle touch of his hand on my arm told me more about his concern than his shrouded feelings did. 'Firstly, you were brought up to be Tyranian. You were supposed to believe those things. Secondly, there was always a part of you that fought the iniquities anyway. You tried to use your power to ensure that there was no injustice. That the innocent went free. That torture was not used.'
T can't absolve myself of guilt so easily. You are too generous, my friend.'
T don't happen to think I am,' he said and his certainty was comforting. 'And so, what next, Magoria?'
I took a deep breath. T am sister to the Mirager and mother of the heir. Pinar can be his wife and consort, but it is I who will have the greater power. Perhaps this time I'll use it better. We will make something of this Goddessforsaken land.' I straightened and turned to face him. T am ready to see Temellin.' '
He shook his head, his dismay tinged with reluctant admiration. 'I might have known. You are rock-strong, Ligea.'
I was still standing by the window when Temellin entered and I didn't feel rock-strong. I felt empty, an outer shell of fragility that could be shattered by the wrong word, the wrong touch.
He entered and began to cross the room towards me.
'Don't touch me, Temellin,' I said. 'Not ever again.'
, r-. _….,-,..,… ›•-*:¦
He stopped, his body rigid. 'Der- Shirin, don't think of it as wrong. How could anything so beautiful be wrong?'
'It wasn't wrong then. It is now. I'm sorry, Temellin, but it's over. I can't bed my brother, nor ever will be able to. Any desire I felt for you has vanished.' Liar. Vortex take you, Ligea, even now your loins crawl with longing – and yet the touch of him would have you heaving up your stomach. 'Forgive me.'
His hands hung loose at his sides as though he feared what they would do if he moved them. 'I love you, Derya.'
'Just lust, Temellin. Just lust.'
He shook his head. 'No. Don't tell me how I felt. Feel. It was more than that. Is more than that. Certainly I want you on my pallet, but I also want you by my side as my partner – my consort – my wife.'
'You will have me as your sister.'
'I don't feel brotherly. It takes a lifetime to feel brotherly. We haven't had a lifetime of growing up together; we've had a week of lying in each other's arms, of talking about things that matter -'
I cut him off brutally. 'We will be siblings or nothing, Tern. I'd leave Kardiastan rather than come back to your arms. / can't. Can you understand that? I can't love you that way any more. Just as something would have died in you, had I proved to be Sarana and usurped your position.'
He opened his mouth to deny it, but his inherent honesty wouldn't allow him to give voice to the words. He was human enough not to like having it pointed out to him, though. He said, his timing a petty cruelty I knew he would later regret, 'I shall have to marry Pinar.'
'Yes, I know.' And I shall hate her.
mm
'Ravage hells, you really mean it, don't you?'
'I mean it.' I saw the slump of his shoulders and had to curb that treacherous desire to go to him. I opened my mouth to tell him about his son, and then changed my mind. It wasn't the time. It could wait. No point in adding another burden to him right then.
His eyes fell away from mine, and saw the sword I had put on the table. Confused, he touched the blade as if to identify it. He must have felt its power through his fingers because his head jerked up. 'Yours? How -?'
'I walked beneath the Shiver Barrens.'
As I had suspected he wo
uld, he accepted this as being within the bounds of possibility, but surprise flitted across his face nonetheless. His conclusion was not quite the one I had expected. 'Then you knew all along you were a Magoria?'
'No. Why should I know -?'
'Only the Magoroth have Magor swords.'
'No one told me that! I thought it must be something that happened to all Magor.' Only now did it occur to me I'd never seen an Illusos or Theuros wearing a Magor sword. I chided myself for missing the significance. Ligea the compeer was indeed slipping.
'Why didn't you tell me at the time?' He sounded more puzzled than suspicious.
'I -' There was no rational answer I could give him. I settled for a vague: 'It seemed such a private thing.'
He explained, talking for the sake of talking, because it was better than thinking, remembering. 'It happens to all Magoroth, usually around puberty. It has always been so, even before we came to live in the Mirage. We have walked the Shiver Barrens, just at the edge, for generations – long before we knew how to cross them.
It is usually the only time any of us meet with the Mirage Makers. Except for the Mirager: he walks the Barrens a second time, when he inherits. There are certain things he has to be told -' He paused before adding, 'Not me, though. I inherited the job when I was five years old, long before I had my sword. I walked the Barrens only once, when I was ten. I was given my weapon and told what I had to know then.'
I nodded at the sword. 'I want to learn how to use it.'
'Yes, you should.' His voice was carefully neutral. 'Garis will teach you the elementary things.' He took a breath, grew taller, more in command. 'This ought to be the happiest day of my life – the day my sister is returned to me. I can remember you, you know. I can remember loving you. Grieving for you. I should be happy. It is wonderful to have you back, Shirin.'
'Thank you.' My voice was small, the thanks ridiculous. If there had ever been anything wonderful in my homecoming, it had all been lost.
