by Glenda Larke
'I grew up thinking I was lucky to have such a wonderful father. I didn't see all that much of him, but he was a busy and important man and everyone said he spent too much time with me anyway. All the while I thought it was because he loved me. Do you know how much children can deceive themselves, Garis? When they really want to believe something is true?'
It was a rhetorical question, so he didn't answer, but his interest was stirred and his gaze was fixed unwaveringly on my face.
I continued, 'But I was different from other children: I had a cabochon to tell me who was a liar and who wasn't. When I was very young I didn't understand what it was saying, but later I did – and you know what I did then? I deliberately shut it off whenever I was with my father. I blocked it out. I told myself that was the polite thing to do. I became so good at it that it became automatic: whenever Gayed
spoke to me, I had no feelings of truth or falsehood, no feelings of his mood or his emotions. Clever little Ligea, who needed to think herself loved… Goddess, what a baby I was!
'Brand saw through Gayed right away. He hinted at things back then, until I made it quite clear I wouldn't listen to such insinuations.
'When I was sixteen, all my friends were thinking of marriage, but Gayed was saying things like: "My little girl is not going to be like those silly friends of hers who think of nothing but pretty clothes and jewels and revels, is she? She's better than that. She's going to be like her father. She's going to serve the empire." And I swallowed it all. I thought it was marvellous he wanted me to take the place of the son he'd never had. I thought I was special.' I wondered if I were leaking anything of what I felt then. Bitterness, rage, hurt – it was all there, still passionately felt. Ashamed of my lack of restraint, I tried to hide it and continued on.
'Because I was female, I couldn't become a legionnaire or a statesman or a trailmaster or a trademaster, so that only left the semi-secret cabal of the Brotherhood. I was proud to join. Rathrox took me under his wing, almost unheard of for a novice, and taught me. Because I had special abilities, I proved to be good at my job.'
By this time, Garis was no longer lounging on my pallet. He was sitting up, chin propped on his good hand and arm, listening intensely. His tawny eyes sparkled; he always did like adventures. I went on: 'Brand tried to tell me what I ought to have known all along: they were laughing at me. Neither of us could have known the whole story, though. They intended to turn one of the Kardi highborn into a pawn of Tyrans, into a compeer whose duty it was to root out the
traitors to Tyrans. It was a deliberate joke on the part of the three of them: Gayed, Rathrox, and the Exaltarch, Bator Korbus. A private way they had of revenging themselves for the defeats they suffered while taking Kardiastan.
'Eventually I saw what Brand had been trying to show me for years. Eventually I added up all those times when I'd been given a clue, but had chosen to ignore it.
'Gayed is dead now, killed in a campaign. In a way, I had the last laugh on him without him ever knowing it. Ordinarily, his wife, Salacia would have inherited everything, but she died before he did, while he was on that last campaign. Under the laws of adoption, everything came to me. I'm sure it's not what he intended, but he hadn't made a will to say otherwise. He was the sort of man who believed in auguries, you see, and his augur had told him he would live to be an old man and would die on his pallet.
'Looking back, I think he hated me. I think he and Rathrox always planned for me to be sent to Kardiastan. They made sure I spoke Kardi, and spoke it well. It was some sort of terrible revenge their twisted minds devised; to use me against the land of my birth. They knew exactly who I was. They'd always known.'
Much of Rathrox's protestations of the Brotherhood's ignorance of things Kardi had been evasions. He'd always known I was Solad's daughter and, after Solad's death, the true ruler of Kardiastan. He'd known just who 'Mir Ager' was. No wonder Bator Korbus had laughed. This time the bitter rage I felt made Garis blink; I'd not bomered to conceal it. I did not, however, explain that I believed myself to be Solad and Wendia's daughter, not Ebelar and Niloufar's. I hadn't yet decided what to do with that knowledge.
Garis, frowning, went to stand by the window.
'I was very good at my job, Garis,' I said, speaking to his back. 'And they knew it. Rathrox, Korbus, they thought I had a good chance of bringing A Mir Ager, who was causing them all the trouble, to the stake for burning – whether he was the same one they'd caught in Sandmurram or not. I suspect once I was successful, once Temellin was dead, they had every intention of making it public just who had brought him in. One of the Kardi elite, a Magoria, would now be the rightful ruler of Kardiastan. Imagine the terrible blow that would have been to the Magor. Imagine the confusion of the ordinary Kardi. The knowledge would have shattered resistance.'
'They were going to make you the Mirager?'
T believe so.'
I felt his nausea, but he didn't say anything," and he still had his back to me.
I went on, 'I've had my eyes opened, finally. I can see their evil now. More than that, I can see the truth about Tyrans now that I've been able to compare it to something else. There are many wonderful things about Tyranian culture and civilisation, but they don't make up for the Exaltarchy's lack of humanity. Garis, there's no way I would ever serve Tyrans again. If I had the chance, I would see Rathrox and the Exaltarch dead by my hand.' It was only once I'd said the words that the truth of them gripped me, tearing my breath away until I had to drag in air. They were true. I wanted to kill the two men who had – with Gayed – made a mockery of my life, who had tried to pattern me to their damnable mould. The desire for revenge – no, not just for revenge: for justice – was a hard ball in my stomach.
I had finished, but Garis, still rigidly turned away and skeining out a whole tangle of emotions, didn't move or speak. I had no idea whether he believed me or not.
When Garis entered my room for the second time that day, after he had spoken to Brand and Aemid, it was almost dark outside. The flamingos and the pond had gone; all that remained were some forlorn-looking lily pads draped over the cobblestones.
'Well?' I asked.
'Well, I'm willing to concede Pinar misled us about the first murder attempt, and that she tried to poison you. As for the rest, I can see Brand believes in your innocence, but I've always known that anyway. He's told me often enough. And then, it's just as clear Aemid doesn't.'
'Aemid is shot through with guilt; she had the care of one of the Magor and instead of bringing me up with a knowledge of my country and my heritage, she told me nothing. She has to believe I am still Tyranian at heart. Otherwise she would not be able to live with what she has done to me.'
'Shirin – I want to believe in your change of heart. But I can't accept it merely because you and Brand say it happened. I'm sorry. What if you actually do have the ability to hide your lies?'
Exasperated, I asked, 'Tell me, Garis, after you ride off and leave me to the tender care of my dear cousin, do you really expect to see me alive again?'
He looked uncomfortable and painfully out of his depth. T know what she did was awful, but she's not usually like that. I can hardly believe it – Mirage damn it, I wish Temellin was here! I suppose I can lend you your sword for a while so you can ward Pinar out -'
'Pinar has fitted her cabochon to my sword hilt.'
Oh? His discomfort deepened. Well, he suggested at last, not sounding very hopeful, 'I can try a warding spell against her with my sword -'
'How long would that last once you left? Can't you free me instead?'
'No.'
I cursed silently. 'I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but if there's no other way -' I rose from my chair and went to take a book from the bookcase. 'Have you asked yourself why the Mirage Makers have given me so much help?'
'Well, yes. Temellin also wondered and he didn't know about the books. Shirin, we thought so many of these volumes were lost to us. Do you know what a treasure you have here? Any one of us would h
ave sold our swords for them!'
'Perhaps the Mirage Makers would have produced them for you if they had known you wanted them. Garis, I don't think they understand us easily, at least not unless they use the medium of the song of the Shiver Barrens. There's something strange about that song… but that's another matter for another time. I have the feeling the Mirage Makers do their best to oblige; it's just that they're not human and don't know what humans want. They like quite different things from us, and the things that are of use to them, we don't know how to use. I had eight or so fish in water just hanging in the centre of the room; possibly they would have solved all my problems if I'd known what to do with them. I asked for books, but even then they didn't know which books I'd want, so they gave me everything they could, from a treatise on how to cure diarrhoea in shleths to navigational maps of the Kardi coast. As soon as they found something I could use, like the bathroom or the books, they left them. The
other things all disappeared in time, to be replaced by something else.
'As for why they take such special care with me, well, I think they know I am important to their own future. They do not approve of my imprisonment, Garis. They may have deliberately made your shleth throw you in the hope you'd be hurt enough to have to stay behind, just so I wouldn't be left alone here with the likes of Pinar and Reftim.'
He was horrified. 'They wouldn't have done that, would they? Shiverdamn, I wish Temelhn were here. Perhaps I should ride after him. I don't know what to do, Shirin. I can't take all you say on trust.'
'No. Never mind.' I held up the book I had taken from the shelf. 'This provides an answer to your problem of trust. Read the fourth chapter tonight, Garis, and come back tomorrow morning – and if you value my life at all, don't tell Pinar anything.'
When he returned in the morning, Garis looked unhappier than ever. In his good hand, he was holding the book out from him as if he would have liked to have thrown it away. He was also carrying my sword thrust through the loop of his sling. T can't,' he blurted out to me the moment I opened the door to him. 'You can't. What if-?'
I waved a hand in dismissal. 'Don't you trust the Magor who wrote the book?'
'How do we know this volume is actually what he wrote? There may be mistakes in the copying. Or the Mirage Makers may have changed it.'
'I've found no other mistakes in anything I've read or tried. Garis, this renewal of vows is for a Magor who is believed to have broken the Covenant. You all believe I have done just that. It is right, therefore, that
I should be tested in this way. If I am false, then it kills me. If I am true, I survive. I don't have a problem with that. Why should you? I do know the Stalwarts are coming, and soon – and that unless someone stops them, they will conquer the Mirage. Have you thought about what that means? All the Magoroth children, your future, are right here, in this city. Remembering the Shimmer Festival, what do you think the legionnaires' orders will be concerning children? And the Kardis who have escaped slavery will be faced with a Tyranian army. Who is there to protect them? Who did Temellin leave behind, anyway?'
Garis licked his lips uncertainly. 'Pinar, Gretha, me. A few of the older Theuros and Illusos, people like Illuser-reftim. That's all. Even Zerise went with them.'
'That's all? Dear Goddess! Garis, thinkl How do you imagine I feel being trapped in this room? I will do anything, anything, to be free, even risk death.'
'Shirin, if you are doing this because you think I will relent rather than let you undergo this trial by sword, you are mistaken. I will not stay your hand at the last minute.'
'Have faith, Garis. Haven't you always been told it is impossible for a Magor to be harmed by their own sword?'
'Yes, but no one has actually proved it impossible by driving the blade into their own heart,' he said miserably. 'At least, not as far as I know. There is a ritual that involves driving your blade into the palm of your hand, but the heart7. We also know that if someone else turns your sword against you, they die. Horribly. Your sword kills them… There could be a paradox here.'
'That's irrelevant,' I said. 'We are not talking about someone else doing diis to me. I'm going to do it to myself.' ¦
He still looked unhappy as he added, 'The sword may divert, just the way it did when Temellin flung his at you.'
He was so agitated he didn't even notice I had stripped to the waist. I said, 'I'm not going to give it that chance. My sword, Garis.'
'I – I should tell you, I fitted my cabochon to the hilt.'
I chuckled. 'Wise lad. But I wasn't thinking of turning it against you.'
'I can't risk anything,' he said wretchedly. 'I'm sorry.'
'It's perfectly all right.' I took up the sword and fitted it to my hand. It sprang into light joyously, as if recognising its owner; I welcomed the feel of it. Just to hold it made me feel younger, stronger, more powerful.
I thought it was just as well Magor swords were short, otherwise what was required of me would have been physically impossible. I placed the tip of the blade on my chest and prepared to drive it into my heart, wondering – with surprising calm – if my blood would fill up the hollow of the blade through the open tip.
'No!' The word exploded out of him, making me pause. 'It's all right, Shirin. I'll believe you -r-'
I shook my. head with a smile. 'No, you won't. Not really. It has to be done this way, Garis.' I eased the sword towards me, feeling it slip upwards between my ribs. I had studied the diagram in the book carefully, and took care to avoid the sternum and the lung. Still the sword resisted me, protesting the path I sent it on. Blood trickled down the blade. I applied more pressure and knew it had entered my heart. In confirmation, the sword flamed blue, crackling and sparking. Pain flared, impossibly intense, and I had to divert some cabochon power to reduce it to a
manageable level. Even so, moans escaped my throat, beyond my control. My vision changed; everything became tinged with red, without other colour.
Garis held the book up, so I could read the required words. I saw he was crying, tortured by his inability to do more to help me, worried we were doing the wrong thing.
I repeated the vow of the Covenant aloud, and followed it with the caveat that would kill me if I lied: 'In the name of my Magoroth sword and in the name of ¦ the Magoroth blood that runs in my veins, in the name of the heart's blood that I spill, may I die here and now if my intentions are not to fulfil my vow, or may I die in the future at the moment I am foresworn'. I looked up at Garis through a red haze.
'That's enough, Shirin! Please, withdraw your sword.'
I pulled the hilt back. A little blood followed the withdrawal of the blade, which had filled with gold light. The blue light faded and then the gold as I laid the weapon down. I was still standing, but weakness dragged at me. Garis pushed me into a chair and took up the washbowl and towel I had ready. Gently he washed the blood away, his hands trembling as he did so. 'Are you all right?' he asked in an agony of apprehension.
'I think so.' I felt weak. My vision was still distorted and pain still rippled through my chest, but I thought it was the pain of healing, not of death.
T would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.'
'Yes, you would have,' I said, with an attempt at a smile. 'If I'd died it would have been because I intended to betray Kardiastan, and you would have felt satisfaction.'
'I don't think so.' He was staring at my skin where the blade had entered; not only was there no more blood, but there was no recent cut, either. The only mark, where earlier there had been nothing, was a white sword-shaped scar, perfect in detail. I stared at it, fascinated. Garis touched it gently with his fingers in awed reverence. 'I have heard of this,' he whispered.
'What is it?'
'I always thought it a legend, a story. It is said that anyone who bears the shape of a Magor sword on their body is especially holy.'
'Holy? Garis, you have to be joking! If there is one thing I am not, it's holy! Goddess knows -'
'Oh,
not holy in the religious sense. Holy to us, to the Magor, in that such a person is special, of importance in our history, to our land.'
My hand went involuntarily to my womb and I felt the blood drain from my face. 'Don't say any more. I don't want to hear it.'
He suddenly realised where he had placed his fingers, and drew back, blushing furiously. I pulled on my blouse and, still weak, went to lie on my pallet. 'Will you let me out of here, Garis?'
'Yes. Yes, of course. I can bring down the wards. Now, if you like. But what ought we to do, Shirin? Shall I have someone ride after Temellin? Ought I go myself? He may not believe anyone else. I'm not even sure he'll believe me.'
'No. Let him go on. Let him face the legions in Kardiastan. Someone must. I shall deal with the Stalwarts myself.'
He looked at me in confusion. 'But we need more people – you yourself said that! They are the Stalwarts. Even I've heard of them.'
'I think I can do it, if I plan carefully. I am stronger in Magor power now. I shall have their trust, remember. And they don't know what they face.'
'But won't it be – well, especially difficult for you? Because of this Favonius?'
'That is why I must do it. I would like to save him. I know I must try. But what of Pinar? She will never let you release me.'
'Mirage damn it! I had forgotten her. Shirin, what we did was foolish; we should have had witnesses. Others who could testify to your truth -'
'Too late now. I don't think I could go through that again. Anyway, Pinar wouldn't believe anything good about me no matter what she saw or heard. Listen, Garis, break the wards tonight, immediately after Reftim has taken away the dinner dishes. Arrange shleths and food – all that I'll need. By the time anyone knows I am gone, I will be well away. There's no need for you to be implicated. Let them wonder how I did it.'
'But you can't go alone!'
'Well, I was wondering if you'd also release Brand.'
