The Heart of the mirage mm-1

by Glenda Larke

  The moment my gaze found him, he looked up to see me, and I wondered if he had deliberately stopped where he had just for that purpose.

  I brought my cabochon up to my face, close to my eyes, and concentrated. The stone, which I now kept uncovered by skin, began to glow faintly and I used the light bathing my eyes to enhance my vision. Temellin sprang into clarity as though he were close enough to touch. He looked thin and tired; nothing of his laughter was visible on his face any more. The brown eyes regarded me thoughtfully, the mouth was tight.

  My body hungered, my heart grieved, the sight of him lacerated me. Temellin. My cousin. I could have bedded him without guilt, if he would have had me. Well, perhaps not quite without guilt. What my blood-father had done to save me had left me with a burden that would last forever.

  Tears came to my eyes and Temellin blurred back into a distant figure mounted on his shleth. I opened up my palm and flattened it against the glass of the window in a gesture of greeting and farewell. I thought I saw him begin to raise a hand in acknowledgement, but the gesture died half made and he turned away, urging his mount along with the others.

  I sat by the window looking down the road for a long while after it was empty of people. The Mirage Makers created a flock of pink flamingos for me to look at, and then – perhaps because the birds looked a little lost standing on the cobblestone road – added a marshy pond with waterlilies. None of it eased my torment.

  I had finally thought it all through: a story of betrayal and tragedy that started when I w§s a chiV1

  and wasn't finished yet because I was the one who held the endings, and I didn't know which one to write into Kardiastan's history. I may have thought it all through, but I still didn't know what to do.

  It had all started because a woman took her daughter away from the child's father. Magoria-wendia removed Sarana from the palace because she thought the Mirager-solad was ruining the child with his lavish spoiling. I could even remember some of the arguments now, the incomprehensible shouting matches between two much-loved parents, arguments so shattering to a child not quite three. Far distant memories: running, barefoot, across polished agate floors into my father's arms. Adoring him, feeling safe and loved in his strong clasp…

  And somewhere on the journey to another city, Magoria-wendia's party had been ambushed and wiped out – with the exception of that same child, Sarana, heir to her father's Mirager sword. She fell into the hands of General Gayed and Rathrox Ligatan, who knew exactly what they had, and were prepared to use her in ways Solad could never have envisioned. My mother, jumping out of the howdah, sword in hand, leaving me in the care of my Theura nurse, while she battled to save us – and died…

  Sarana, the beloved daughter of an obsessed father, a man so crazed by the thought of what they would do to her if he didn't obey them, he was prepared to betray the rest of his family, his fellow Magor, his country: prepared to raise wards around the annual Shimmer Feast so no one sensed the trap closing in on them, prepared to lower those same wards at the crucial moment to turn the trap into an extermination.

  Solad's supposed discovery and identification of his daughter's body, his return with her already shroud-

  wrapped in his howdah, her burial griefs – all playacting to conceal the kidnapping, to hide the existence of a hostage he would do anything to save. The scale of his treachery was breathtaking. I even wondered if he'd killed another child in order to have a body to wrap.

  Of course Solad knew what was going to happen at the Shimmer Feast: he had arranged it. And some shred of remaining good sense or conscience made him send away ten Magoroth children to build the core of a new leadership. Just ten of them, with a few teachers; not enough to be missed by the Tyranians. The calculated cruelty of his decisions – take Temellin, but leave his sister Shirin; abandon the babies to their fate. Did his conscience bother him, my father? Did he think I was worth all those slaughtered that day? A whole nation enslaved? Did he really think the vestiges of future hope he seeded by sending the Ten away was enough to atone for his crime?

  My Mirager father had sold his honour for his daughter. Temellin's parents and his sister Shirin, and Goddess knows how many Magoroth had died – to keep me alive. Kardiastan was enslaved because of me. Temellin and the others of the Ten were brought up in exile because of me.

  Because of me. Sarana. Solad's heir. The rightful Miragerin. Miragerin-sarana. Me.

  It was the only explanation that made any sense.

  My memories all fitted; I'd seen Wendia jumping out of a howdah into battle. If I'd been Shirin, I would never have been sitting in a tiny curtained room that swayed just before my mother was killed. I would never have seen her rip off her skirting to fight. Shirin's mother had been attending the Shimmer Feast and would have been shot down with the others, far from the nursery.

  There was more evidence, too, once I started to think things over. The Mirage Makers had said, You are the Miragerin, not, You are the Miragerin-shirin. And now I had the book to tell me they would never have given Shirin the cabochon-making conjurations. Sarana was another matter. When Sarana had disappeared from Kardiastan, they must have thought her dead, so they bestowed the Mirager's sword on her heir: her cousin Temellin. Once they had seen Ligea Gayed, they had realised Sarana was far from dead and they had tried to make up for their past mistake.

  I'd been so blind. I was the one with the memories of what had happened in the ambush; I should have known those memories didn't fit with what Zerise told me of Shirin. I should have realised much earlier about the significance of the Mirager's sword. Temellin and the Magor had been so upset by its loss, so relieved at its return. Why, even the ordinary Kardis had cheered to see it again. I had seen the reverent way the Magoroth had touched it back in Madrinya; I'd heard Temellin say to Korden, 'At least you can stop worrying about that baby of yours.' I'd been told the first thing Temellin did when he returned to the Mirage City with the sword was to bestow cabochons – which would not have been necessary if other Magor or other swords could have performed that task in the year the Mirager's sword had been missing – yet I'd still blithely gone on thinking there was nothing special about my knowledge, about my sword.

  And then that casually uttered but infinitely tragic, 'Ah. You don't know it, beautiful one, but you've just saved my life.' Temellin had thought there wasn't going to be another Mirager's sword until he died, and without one there would never be a new generation of

  Magor. So some time before he'd met me, he'd decided to die.

  The cold-blooded courage of that decision pierced me. I remembered his reluctance to ask if I really did have his sword; he'd been so concerned about what my answer would be that he hadn't been able to frame the question.

  I remembered the strange reaction of Korden when he'd seen with his own eyes Temellin's sword safely returned: the odd mixture of relief and guilt. Part of Korden desperately wanted to be Mirager, but not over Temellin's body. In his heart he believed he'd be a better Mirager, but he'd been terrified Temellin was going to suicide, and he had feared the guilt that would have consumed him as a consequence.

  I understood Korden better now that I was burdened with the guilt of my own past.

  I wondered at my own blindness… The compeer in me had been granted enough evidence to unravel the tale long ago, but this hadn't been a crime I could solve objectively, distancing myself from the players; this had been my life.

  And most of all, it was hard to acknowledge that for much of that life I, independent, manipulative, power-hungry Ligea Gayed, had danced to another's direction. I'd been betrayed by the two men I called father. Mocked by the man I'd called my mentor. I'd been manipulated, a poor senseless marionette jerked on the end of strings held by my enemies.

  One good thing came out of my new understanding of who I was. I knew now that my son had been fathered by my cousin, not by my brother.

  When Reftim brought in my lunch later that day, I asked abruptly, 'Where were they all,going?'

&
nbsp; 'I don't know that I should answer that,' he said, his plump cheeks flushing to match the colour of his bobble nose.

  'Then let me speak to someone who can. Who's in charge now the Mirager has gone?'

  'The Miragerin-consort.'

  'Oh. Well, I hardly want to see her. Who else of the Magoroth is still here?'

  'Garis didn't leave. Nor did Gretha.'

  Gretha was Korden's wife and a little calculation told me she was expecting another child any time. 'I'll see Garis,' I said.

  'I'll tell him you want to,' Reftim replied, making it clear he doubted Garis would come.

  He was wrong; Garis came barely half an hour later. He paused in the doorway and we stared at one another, both looking for the right words to say. He was doing his best to shield his emotions, but Garis tended to leak things at the best of times. I'd felt his curiosity even before the door opened.

  'Well met, Garis. What have you done to yourself?' I asked, indicating the sling he wore around a heavily bandaged left arm.

  'Broke a bone,' he said briefly. 'Came off my shleth yesterday like a damned fool.'

  'And you so proud of your riding skills!'

  He gave a reluctant grin, and for a moment he was his usual cheerful self. 'Don't rub it in – everyone else has. The Mirage chose to grow a tree right in front of my mount just when I was taking a drink from my waterskin; hardly my fault. Those wretched Mirage Makers! I could almost believe they wanted me to miss out on all the fun.' He gazed around with interest. 'I was told your room was prone to changes, but I didn't hear about the books.' He walked over to have a look;

  it did not escape my notice that he'd made no attempt to touch my cabochon in greeting, and I doubted the snub had anything to do with his injury. He ran a finger along the spines of a row of volumes, reading the titles. 'They're all in Kardi! Did you know you're breaking Tyranian law? It's one of the new promulgations of the Exaltarchy: the Kardi language is now barbaric and unlawful. They have been destroying our written works for years, of course, but now they want to make it illegal even to speak our own language in any public venue.'

  'I didn't know that,' I said, 'about not speaking Kardi, I mean. But there's a great deal I don't know, Garis. I haven't spoken to anyone except Illuser-reftim – and Caleh very briefly – for two months, and Reftim never says anything anyway. Why has everyone left?'

  He looked up sharply, shedding his concern. 'Did Temellin never come?'

  'Only once. Right at the beginning.'

  'Ah. I did wonder. Cabochon, you must have been lonely. I would have come if you'd asked for me.'

  'That might have been unwise on your part. I am hardly the city's most beloved guest at the moment. I did appreciate your sending the flowers, though; that was a kind thought.'

  His emotions blanked over. 'Flowers? What flowers?'

  I stared. 'You haven't been sending me flowers?' I indicated the vase on my desk. That day the petals of each flower reassembled themselves every few minutes, so that the flower arrangement was different every time I looked.

  He shook his head. 'I'm sorry – I didn't think of it. I wish I had.'

  'Reftim told me they came from you.'

  'I didn't even know about them. I bet I know who did send them, though.'

  'Do you think so?' I was doubtful, yet wanting to believe.

  "Who else?'

  I thought immediately of Pinar, some trick of hers, but had to dismiss that idea: the flowers were harmless and perfectly ordinary, insofar as the Mirage's flowers were ever ordinary. Who indeed. Yet he hadn't wanted me to know they came from him… I pushed the thought away before it could hurt me with the other memories it would bring. 'Garis, did you believe me when I said Brand had told the truth – that I had changed, and given my loyalties to Kardiastan?'

  He looked away to take a book down from the shelf. 'Perhaps. I don't know. I can sense your truth, but Temellin says you can lie and make it seem like the truth.'

  'No. I can't. I never lied. I just omitted to tell the whole story, and let people jump to the wrong conclusions. It was deliberate, of course, but it does make a difference. It means you can trust what I do say.'

  'I've never been convinced you were wholly as Tyranian as Pinar or Korden said. Anyway,' he added, his expression suddenly mischievous and admiring, 'if you did come here with the idea of betraying us all, I can only salute you. It was a gloriously brave, wonderfully insane thing to do.'

  I chuckled. 'It was rather involuntary, if you'll remember. Events sort of overtook me.'

  He wasn't listening. He had just read the title of the book he was holding, and his attention was now back on the books on the same shelf. 'Mirageless soul! Shirin, do you know what these books are?'

  'Old Magor texts.'

  'But so many of these were destroyed in the palace fire following the invasion – they haven't been in existence for twenty-five years! I've heard about them, but I never dreamed I'd actually ever see any of them.'

  'Ah. I suppose the Mirage must have remembered them.'

  'Sweet cabochon – you've been reading these?'

  'Certainly. I've had plenty of time to perfect my Kardi reading skills.'

  He looked at me in consternation. 'Shirin, was that wise? Surely you must realise the more you know of Magor powers, the more reluctant Temellin will be to ever let you go.'

  'He has already told me he will never release me, so what difference does it make?'

  'If Pinar hears about this, she'll have a new argument for your death. She's already quite boring on the subject.'

  I snorted. 'So much for cousinly love. She has, in fact, made two attempts on my life as well.'

  His look was guarded, but his seeping emotions communicated his disbelief.

  'You haven't answered my question: where has everyone gone?'

  He considered. 'I don't suppose it matters if I tell you. Temellin is moving against Tyrans. We have had word fresh troops have been landing at one of the southern ports. Temel believes them to be reinforcements, not replacement troops. It seems Tyrans is going to try to wipe out all Kardi opposition; Temellin wants to ensure the reverse. This is to be a full-scale war, Shirin.'

  I felt physically ill. 'Goddessdamn! Garis, those troops are not reinforcements; they are diversionary.

  Did you hear about what I told Korden and Temellin concerning the Stalwarts?'

  'Yes,' he said carefully. 'But – well, Shirin, we all found it very hard to believe. Once Temellin heard about these new landings, he decided your talk of the Alps crossing was an attempt to divert our attention away from the south.'

  'Oh, Vortexdamn him! That idiot!' I sank down into the chair. 'Garis, things are even worse than I thought they would be – and I'm a fool too. I should have done more to convince Temellin. It's just that I didn't envisage this diversion. I didn't know of it.'

  'It's not possible for the legions to cross the Alps.'

  'Has anyone ever tried from here?'

  'No. Why should they?'

  'Then how do you know what it is like? The Stalwarts would have sent someone to reconnoitre before they made the decision to attack from there; they must know it is possible. And Temellin has left the Mirage defenceless. I'm surprised he even left you and Pinar behind,' I added disgustedly.

  'Well, I broke my arm. But I'm going after them as soon as it's mended, which should only be a week or two.'

  'Why did Pinar stay behind?'

  'Urn, well…' He hesitated, flushing. 'She's pregnant. Not by very long, of course, but she's not that young, and she carries the next Mirager. Temellin wouldn't let her ride with them.'

  Illogically, that hurt. I pushed the pain away; I didn't have time for it. And then the thought came, uninvited: another baby. Another woman who could die instead of me… I pushed that thought away too. I would think about it later. 'Garis, I want you to free me so I can deal with the Stalwarts.'

  'Shirin – you know I can't do that.' There wasn't another chair, so he flung himself down on my pallet a
nd began to pluck at the threads of my quilt.

  'You must. First I'm going to tell you the whole truth about myself… about how and why I became a Compeer of the Brotherhood. Then I want you to go and get Aemid – how is she, by the way? Reftim said she was better.'

  'She is. She says she feels ten years younger. Apparentiy her heart was weak and some of the Magor have been practising their healing skills on her. But still, she doesn't look happy. She doesn't say much to anyone, either.'

  'And Brand?'

  'He's fine. He was bored out of his mind at first, but then Temellin gave permission for him to go to the practice rooms for weapons training – under strict supervision and warding. I don't think Temellin intends for his imprisonment to be permanent. I go and see him in his room sometimes, and so do some of the others. He made a lot of friends while he was training with the troops, you know; he is well liked. Caleh asked to be allowed to sleep with him, so he has company on his pallet as well.'

  I gave a wry smile. Trust Brand.

  'Garis, I want you to take Aemid to Brand and question him about me, with Aemid there, so she can confirm what he says about my past. Ask him, too, about Pinar's first attempt on my life. Ask Reftim about the second; I think he may tell you. He feels guilty about it, I know. Once you have done all that, perhaps you may be more willing to believe me. But first let me tell you about myself, about how I ever got mixed up with the Brotherhood in the first place.'

  s 'E im -m: ¦ '•¦

  He glanced at me warily, as if wondering what trick I was up to now. ¦y.--:r. ¦'.¦-.

  I licked dry lips. 'It's not an easy story to tell. It was

  Brand who prodded me into seeing the truth. Even

  then, I didn't want to believe what was so painful. I

  was used, Garis. I've been used all my life, and by the

  ' men I most wanted to please.

  'I don't really remember my early life in Kardiastan, but I do remember being terrified and among strangers and knowing my mother was dead. Then this man came and he treated me kindly. I thought he was very handsome. He said he would take me home and look after me, and he did. Eventually he took me back to his home in Tyr and gave me everything I wanted and taught me to call him Pater. I worshipped him. His wife ignored me, but I had Aemid to care for me, so I didn't mind.