“I think she feels just a little guilty about that now, especially since you and Fiolon came here and made your opinion of it obvious. I think she regrets making me blind.”
Mikayla snorted. “I’ll bet she regrets a lot more making you immobile and unable to travel. Of course, she remembers you, but from Fiolon’s description, it sounds as though she’s forgotten you’re a harp. Any guesses as to how long it will be before she demands your presence in her sickroom?”
Uzun sighed. “If she doesn’t remember that I’m a harp, I imagine she’ll be asking for me the next time she wakes up.”
“And if she does remember that you’re a harp,” Mikayla added, “she’ll probably start trying to figure out how to package you for shipment to the Citadel.”
Uzun came as close to shuddering as was possible for a harp. “Riding on the back of a lammergeier was terrifying enough when I had hands to hold on with. And I don’t think my frame would survive the changes in temperature and humidity.”
“Nobody will send you anywhere if I have anything to say about it,” Mikayla promised. But do I have anything to say about anything? “Uzun, who’s in charge with Haramis away and ill?”
“I don’t know,” Uzun said. “The question has never come up before.”
“It might be to our benefit to convince the servants that I’m in charge at present,” Mikayla said. “Subject to your advice, of course, since you’re continuing my magical training.” And maybe I can order some warm clothing so I can go outside occasionally.
“That sounds reasonable,” Uzun said. “After all, Haramis did designate you as her successor.”
“Good,” Mikayla said decisively. “I’ll just act as though I’m in charge, you’ll back me up, and with any luck no one will question it. Once everyone is in the habit of obeying me, it will take a direct order from Haramis herself to do anything to you that you don’t want done.
“As for transforming you,” she continued, as something suddenly occurred to her, “you said that Haramis had been the Archimage for two decades when she turned you into a harp.”
“Yes,” Uzun said. “Is that important?”
“Was Haramis always as enthusiastic about books as she is now?”
“Yes, from the day she learned to read, she was always studying. She had read every book in the Citadel library at least once by the time she was fourteen.”
And I’ve only read about a quarter of them, Mikayla thought. No wonder Haramis seems to think I’m lazy and stupid. But I do have other interests, which is more than she seems to.
“And did she live here in this Tower from the time she became Archimage?”
“She moved here just after Anigel was crowned Queen, and Haramis had been Archimage for about a month then, I think. But she had spent some time here with Orogastus, during her Quest for her Talisman.”
“So,” Mikayla said, coming to her point, “by the time she turned you into a harp, she would have read every book in the library here, wouldn’t she?”
After a few seconds of stunned silence, there was a ripple along Uzun’s strings that was the most despairing sound Mikayla had ever heard in her life. It sent chills down her backbone. “Yessss,” the harp whispered. “She had read them all. So there is no other spell.”
“Not necessarily,” Mikayla said with all the reassurance she could project. “But it’s probably not in the library. I’m going to start exploring the rest of the Tower this afternoon. There are a lot of things that Haramis isn’t interested in, and that’s doubtless where the answers we seek are to be found.”
Uzun sighed. “It’s true enough that if it’s not a book or a musical instrument, Haramis is likely to ignore it. But, Mikayla, be very careful when you start poking around. Orogastus collected many things, and some of them are deadly.”
12
Mikayla decided to start her explorations at the top of the Tower and work down. She suspected that the bottom might be where the most interesting things were, but it wasn’t impossible that there was something at the top, and she wanted to be sure she didn’t miss anything. From what she had seen in all the time she had spent here, Haramis never went much above or below the middle of the Tower.
The upper floors of the Tower were filled with all sorts of junk, dusty boxes full of old clothing (Mikayla spent one entire afternoon playing dress-up in clothing much too big for her, even as she told herself that she was wasting time and was too old for such games anyway), and barrels of old dishes. There was a chest containing some strange garments of silver, complete with gloves and a pair of strange silver masks. They were obviously a set, one for a man and one for a woman, but they felt strange to the touch and gave Mikayla a sort of crawly feeling down her spine. She packed them back carefully without even thinking of trying them on. Did these belong to Orogastus? she wondered. I’ll bet they did, but who was the woman’s costume made for? Did Haramis ever wear it?
After several weeks of exploring everything in the main Tower except Haramis’s bedchamber—Mikayla knew that Haramis would be very annoyed with her if she went poking about there without permission—Mikayla was finally ready to explore the lowest level. She had high hopes that she would find something useful there. So far, she hadn’t found any devices of the Vanished Ones, and Uzun had told her that Orogastus had collected them and brought them there. Since she hadn’t found his collection yet, it must be somewhere on the lowest level—or maybe below it. She didn’t know what was down there, but she wanted to find out.
Mikayla followed the winding stone stairway down from the living area, past the kitchens, and continued down. She was surprised to discover that it went even farther down than the stables, which she had thought were on the bottom level of the Tower. But the stairs branched there, with one branch leading straight down to the plaza and the other curling below the ramp that led from the stables to the plaza.
Under the stables was a large storeroom, fully the circumference of the Tower. Mikayla spoke the command that provided light in the rest of the Tower, and a single lamp, suspended from the ceiling, sputtered to life. It flickered dreadfully; obviously its wick was in need of trimming.
By the faint illumination provided by the old lamp, Mikayla could see the contents of the room. It was crowded with crates and barrels, placed haphazardly, but still leaving room to walk around them all. They were all labeled, in large letters visible even in the dim light, but none of the labels was in any language Mikayla could read.
These don’t look like household food stores, Mikayla thought, looking around with a sigh. I’m probably going to have to open every single container in here to determine what’s inside.
The floor was made of a strange silvery-black material, which Mikayla was sure she had seen before. She knew as she looked at it that there was something she should know about it, something important, but she couldn’t remember what at the moment. It will come to me, she thought.
She continued to the back of the room. Best to start at the far end and work my way back—Lords of the Air, what’s that?
“That” was a tunnel at the very back of the room, leading away from the Tower. Judging from its direction and the fact that it was carved out of solid rock, the tunnel went straight into the mountain. There were lamps hanging from spikes driven into the wall at regular intervals, but they weren’t lit.
Mikayla whispered the word that lit the lamps upstairs. To her delight, it worked here as well. The lamps flared to light, starting with the ones nearest her and extending down the tunnel, as if the flame were being passed from lamp to lamp. All of Uzun’s warnings vanished from Mikayla’s mind as she hurried into the tunnel, heedless of the cold rock under her slippers and the fact that her breath was making a fog in the cold humid air.
The tunnel ended at a large door, almost twice Mikayla’s height, and covered with frost. Mikayla, too excited to worry about such mundane matters as frostbite, grasped the large ring that served as a door handle and tried to pull the door open. It moved reluct
antly, and the hinges shrieked as if she were causing them serious injury, but Mikayla scarcely noticed. She went through the door as soon as she had tugged it wide enough for her body to fit through it.
She found herself in a large vaulted chamber of rough stone, with patches of black ice scattered irregularly around its walls. The floor here was paved with plain black stone tiles, and the same black stone had been used to make cupboards set into the walls as well as what appeared to be doors to other rooms. She tried one of the doors. Pushing against it had no effect; it felt like leaning against a wall. There was nothing on it to pull at it with, just a slight groove at one side of the panel. She suddenly realized that it was supposed to slide, rather than be pushed or pulled, and hooked her fingertips into the groove. It opened with surprising ease.
The room behind this door was shallow, only about six paces deep, and it was very cold. I definitely need to get some warmer clothes, Mikayla thought, tucking her hands into her armpits and stamping her feet. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer without risking serious injury, but this was the most interesting thing she had ever seen. Does Haramis know about this? she wondered.
Most of the wall she was looking at was covered with frost, but in the center of it there was a dark gray area that was relatively clear. Mikayla could see herself dimly reflected in the dark shining surface.
“What is it?” she gasped, almost in awe.
As she stood and stared the mirror brightened, ever so slightly, and a voice came from it, in such a faint whisper that Mikayla thought she was imagining it.
“Request, please.”
I’m dreaming, Mikayla thought. Or I’ve been spending too much time with a talking harp. Mirrors don’t talk.
Of course, neither do most harps. Maybe this is some sort of strange scrying device. I wish Uzun were here. Of course, if he were, he’d … he’d want to see Haramis.
“I want to see Haramis,” she said aloud.
“View Princess Haramis of Ruwenda?” the voice whispered.
Mikayla shivered. The voice was definitely not human. “Yes,” she said as firmly as possible.
“Scanning.” A picture appeared in the mirror, as if Haramis were just on the other side of the mirror. The colors were dim, but the details were clear, and Mikayla recognized the guest room in the Citadel where Haramis lay sleeping. Ayah sat by the side of the bed, keeping watch over the old woman. Mikayla noticed that the glamour Haramis always used in the presence of other people was absent, but at least her breathing sounded strong and regular.
The picture vanished suddenly, and the faintest of whispers said, “Backup power exhausted. Recharge of solar cells necessary for further operation.”
It’s not the only thing that needs the sun, Mikayla realized suddenly. I’m freezing here!
She forced herself to slide the door to the mirror room closed, then hastily went back through the cavern and leaned her shoulder on the door from the outside to close it, not wanting to touch it with her bare skin, but afraid that the devices might be harmed if the doors were left open.
The lights in the tunnel were burning low. It’s a miracle that they work at all, Mikayla thought as she hurried up the tunnel as fast as she could move. I’ll bet the servants never come down here. I’ll have to ask Uzun about this place; maybe he knows something. But first I need a hot bath, and before I come back here I need warm clothes, and boots, and mittens!
By the time she had thawed herself out—using the tub in Haramis’s bathing room to do so—it was past time for dinner. She dressed in two of her indoor tunics, which left her feeling only slightly chilled, and went to talk to Uzun, pausing only long enough to stop by the kitchen and collect a tray of food and a pitcher of hot ladu-juice to take to the study with her.
“Uzun,” she asked, after she had eaten her food and drunk half the pitcher of ladu-juice and was feeling much more human, “have you ever heard of a cave in the mountain, under this Tower?”
“Yes,” Uzun said slowly. “Haramis told me that Orogastus worshiped the Dark Powers in caves of black ice there, and that he had a magic mirror that would let him see anyone in the Kingdom, just by saying their name. He used it to show her sisters to her.”
“Is what the mirror shows true, then?” Mikayla asked.
“As far as I know,” Uzun said. “Do I gather you found it? I thought it had stopped working long ago. What did you see?”
“Haramis sleeping in a room at the Citadel, with Ayah—she’s one of the servants—sitting by her bed.”
“I know Ayah,” Uzun said. “She’s Enya’s sister.”
“Really?” Mikayla was startled, then thoughtful. Perhaps the Archimage isn’t as all-knowing as she would have us believe, but simply has spies planted around the Kingdom.
“How did Haramis look?” Uzun asked anxiously.
“She didn’t have her glamour,” Mikayla said, “so she looked old and tired, but her breathing was strong and regular and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. They seem to be taking good care of her at the Citadel,” she added reassuringly. “By the way, did she say that Orogastus’s mirror was magic or that he said it was?”
“She said that he called it a magic mirror.”
“That would explain it. It’s not magic at all, Uzun; it’s one of the old devices of the Vanished Ones. And it doesn’t work very well; it showed me what I asked to see briefly and then said that it needed more power.” She frowned, trying to remember the words. “It said something about recharge of solar cells.”
“What’s a solar cell?” Uzun asked.
“‘Solar’ means having to do with the sun.…” Mikayla’s voice trailed off as she realized why the silvery-black floor had looked familiar to her. She scrambled to her feet. “I’ll be right back,” she told Uzun, before running for her room and the music boxes she had hidden there.
She returned a few minutes later with one, and set it down between the candles on the table, transporting her dinner dishes back to the kitchen to get them out of the way. The box began to play softly in the candlelight.
“That’s Haramis’s old music box,” Uzun said. “It was her favorite toy when she was a child. I didn’t know she’d kept it. It must be getting old, though, the music used to be louder.”
“She didn’t keep it,” Mikayla said. “At least I would think that the one Fiolon and I found in the playroom at the Citadel was hers. It’s still there, too. This is one of the ones we found in the ruins near the Golobar River—right before Haramis found us.”
“One of the ones?” Uzun said in a voice as close to excited as Mikayla had ever heard from him. “You found others? Did any of them play different tunes?”
Mikayla laughed. “You’re as bad as Fiolon. We found six or seven, I think. He took most of them home with him when Haramis sent him away, but I have two more in my room. Would you like to hear them?” A silly question, I’m sure.
“Of course I would,” Uzun said, “but later. This is important to you for some reason besides its music—you were talking about solar cells right before you suddenly ran off to get it.”
“Yes,” Mikayla said. “You just remarked on how soft the music is. Listen carefully.” She lit four more candles around the box, and the music grew louder.
“It’s louder,” Uzun said, “but still not as loud as it should be.”
“When you heard it before, was the sun shining on it?” Mikayla asked.
“Yes,” Uzun said promptly. “Haramis kept it on a table near the window when she was playing it. If she put it away in darkness, it became silent.”
“Exactly!” Mikayla said with satisfaction. “It gets its power from light—preferably sunlight, because it’s the brightest and, presumably, provides the most power.” She extinguished the extra candles, and the music soon grew soft again. “Do you remember what the box looked like, Uzun?” she asked.
“Only vaguely, I fear,” Uzun replied.
“On each side,” Mikayla said, “there is a small p
iece, worked into the overall design, of a silvery-black material. Listen to what happens when I cover them.” She carefully put a fingertip over each of the pieces, and the music died away into silence. “The rest of the box is still getting light,” she told Uzun; “all I’ve covered is the silver-black stuff. I think these must be solar cells, small ones—a music box doesn’t take much energy. But Orogastus’s so-called magic mirror must need a lot. He built this Tower, didn’t he?”
“Yes, so the stories say,” Uzun said. “And it certainly wasn’t here in my father’s time.”
“The floor of the room under the stables is made of what looks like the same material as these ‘solar cells.’ And it’s the same level as the courtyard—do you know what the courtyard looks like when it’s not covered with snow?”
“No,” Uzun said. “I’ve never seen it when it wasn’t.”
“I did,” Mikayla said, “the night of the day I made it rain, before I made it snow to cover the ice. With the ice all over it, I couldn’t be sure, but I think the courtyard might be a solar cell. In fact, I think the entire Tower is built on top of what was supposed to be the power supply for the devices in the ice caves. That would be just the sort of thing Orogastus would do, thinking the devices were magic.” The word twisted sarcastically in her mouth as she thought of what Haramis had said about Orogastus and true magic. “It never would have occurred to him to look for a physical power source, and I’ll bet he wouldn’t have recognized one if he walked across it—literally.”
“I think you are very probably right,” Uzun said. “Can you prove it? And can you make this mirror work so that you can watch over Haramis?”
Mikayla frowned. “We could put torches in the storage room under the stables, but much of the floor is covered, and torches may not be bright enough.… I think I may need to use weather magic. Uzun, you told Fiolon to tell Haramis that you would teach me—I assume that means you can teach me?”
“Of course I can teach you, Princess,” Uzun replied, sounding somewhat offended.
Lady of the Trillium Page 12
