Lady of the Trillium

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Three weary-looking humans dragged the harp into the room. “Here he is, Lady,” Mikayla said. “Where do you want him?”

  Haramis turned her head to the right. “Next to the head of my bed,” she replied.

  “But that’s right next to the heating grille,” the young man protested. “Excessive heat could crack the frame.”

  “He’s been near the fire for years!” Mikayla protested.

  “Near it, not directly in front of it!”

  “Enough!” Haramis snapped. “I’m tired of listening to your bickering. Put him there, tune him, and leave us!”

  “Yes, Lady.” Mikayla sighed. Carefully they set the harp in place.

  The young man pulled a tuning key out of his belt and carefully began to retune the strings. Haramis frowned, trying to place him. He looked familiar, but she didn’t remember him as being one of her servants; in fact, she didn’t think she had human servants. But Mikayla was ordering him around as if he were one. Had Mikayla acquired more servants while Haramis had been away?

  How long have I been away? I’ll ask Uzun when we’re alone.

  It seemed to take forever, but finally Uzun was back in tune. “Leave us, all of you,” Haramis commanded.

  Nella bowed and left the room quickly; she had been hovering by the door looking as if she wished to be elsewhere the entire time. Lady Bevis picked up Haramis’s empty tray, curtsied, and withdrew gracefully. Mikayla paused to pat the frame of the harp briefly, then started to follow Lady Bevis, but paused in the doorway, obviously waiting for the young man. He ran a hand down Uzun’s forepillar, frowned in concern, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Uzun.” Then he joined Mikayla in the doorway and they left together.

  “Who is he?” Haramis asked Uzun irritably. “Has that girl been hiring more servants while I’ve been gone? How long have I been gone anyway? And has she made any progress at all in her lessons?”

  “My heart rejoices in your safe return, Lady,” Master Uzun replied. “I feared I might never see you again—not that I can see you in this form—but I feared never to hear your voice again.”

  “I’m glad to see you, too, oldest of my friends,” Haramis said, momentarily disarmed. “But tell me, what has been going on in my absence?”

  “Not much,” Uzun replied. “I have been tutoring the Princess Mikayla in magic, and she has made good progress. She has now read every book in your library, and is quite proficient in scrying. I had her practice by checking to see how you were doing every few days.”

  “So that’s how she knew to be there to extend the bridge,” Haramis mused. “And can she call the lammergeiers as well?”

  “Yes, I’m fairly certain that she can.”

  “She seems to have outgrown that case of the sulks she developed after Fiolon left.…” Haramis’s voice trailed off as she suddenly realized who the young man was. “That was Fiolon, wasn’t it?” she demanded. “What is he doing back here?”

  “You may remember,” Uzun said hesitantly, “that right before you took ill, Lord Fiolon inadvertently caused it to snow at the Citadel.”

  “Yes, I do remember that.” It was all coming back to Haramis now. “They were bonded together, and Mikayla was playing with weather magic—and by now, I suppose they’re permanently bonded! How could you let this happen?” she demanded furiously.

  “Mikayla is still a virgin,” Uzun said firmly, “and I’m fairly sure that Fiolon is as well. Their bond is emotional, not physical, and had been well established for about five years before your ill-advised attempt to sever it.”

  Haramis gasped. No one had dared speak to her so in almost two hundreds.

  “The bond was reestablished within ten hours,” Uzun continued, “but from the descriptions both children gave of the pain involved it was clear that it did not involve the lower centers at all. I don’t think you could have severed it permanently without their full cooperation then, and now I’m quite sure you can’t. You’ve been gone over a year and a half, and I’ve been training both of them.”

  “You’ve been training that boy?” Haramis exclaimed in horror. “Have you lost your mind? Do you want another Orogastus running loose?”

  “Lord Fiolon is nothing at all like Orogastus,” Uzun said firmly. “And a child, which is what he was then, with a little knowledge of weather magic and no control over it is very dangerous. He needed to be trained, for the safety of everyone around him, and for the sake of the land.”

  “And so you took it upon yourself to train him, in my home, without my consent.”

  “Is this not my home as well?” Uzun said quietly. “And you were in no condition to give your consent; at first you did not even remember that either Fiolon or Mikayla existed. I did as I thought best, for them, and for the land. And now he is trained, and nothing can change what is.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Haramis said grudgingly. “But he can’t stay here. It isn’t proper. He should not have been living here unchaperoned with the Princess Mikayla all this time.”

  “It’s not as if it were generally known,” Uzun pointed out. “I’ll bet no one at the Citadel even missed him. And now that you’re here, they’re not unchaperoned.”

  “He’s a distraction to her studies,” Haramis said firmly. “He leaves tomorrow, and this time I’ll summon a lammergeier and send him back to Var!”

  “You can summon the lammergeiers again?” Uzun said. “That is good news. When you were first ill, they could not bespeak you at all, and we were quite concerned about that.”

  “We?” Haramis asked. She wasn’t sure she could summon a lammergeier now, but she wasn’t going to admit it.

  “Fiolon, Mikayla, and I,” Uzun replied. “We didn’t see any need to tell the servants just how ill you were.”

  Since Haramis couldn’t really remember exactly how ill she had been, she was just as glad to hear that her servants had not been gossiping about her health. She suddenly realized that she was very tired. “I’m going to sleep now, Uzun. Good night.”

  “Good night, Lady,” she heard him reply as she fell asleep. “Pleasant dreams.”

  The next morning Haramis summoned Mikayla and Fiolon and announced her intention of sending Fiolon away at once.

  “But, Lady,” Mikayla protested. “I need him to help me transfer Master Uzun to his new body. The spells are too complex for one person, and the process is long and complicated.”

  “New body?” Haramis asked.

  Mikayla looked at Uzun. “You didn’t tell her?”

  “What body I’m in isn’t important as long as I’m with her,” Uzun said quietly.

  Fiolon ran his hands over the harp’s frame. “You won’t last more than half a year in this form if you stay here in this room,” he said in a tone of professional appraisal.

  “I’m sure I’ll be up and about soon,” Haramis said, “and we’ll be able to move him back to the study.”

  “All that does is buy him more time,” Fiolon said firmly.

  “And it’s very upsetting for him to be blind and immobile,” Mikayla said. “He found it particularly distressing when you were ill at the Citadel and he couldn’t even scry to see how you were. He had to depend on us to do it for him, and he couldn’t even see what we saw—all he knew was what we could describe for him. He was really miserable.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Uzun said.

  “Stop trying to spare her feelings,” Mikayla snapped. “That wasn’t what you were saying last year.”

  Uzun would always try to spare my feelings, Haramis remembered. He always used to talk about dying in my service as his highest goal in life.

  “Where did you get a new body?” she asked. “And what is it like?”

  “It’s Nyssomu in form, made of painted wood, with articulated joints,” Mikayla replied. “He Who Causes to Live at the Temple of Meret made it. It looks as much like Uzun’s old body as we could manage.”

  Haramis felt her head beginning to ache. “I’ve never heard of the Temple of Meret.
What is it?”

  “It’s on the north side of Mount Gidris, opposite where you found your Talisman,” Fiolon said helpfully.

  “Meret is a sort of Labornoki earth goddess,” Mikayla said. “Mount Gidris is considered to be part of her body, and the River Noku is her blood, with which she nourishes the land.”

  “They use blood magic?” Haramis asked sharply.

  “Only symbolically,” Mikayla assured her.

  “I still don’t like it,” Haramis said. “You are not to do anything with this until I have had a chance to study it. And you don’t need Fiolon; if I determine that this idea has merit, I shall do the ritual myself.”

  Both young people looked appalled.

  “But you don’t know the ritual!” Mikayla protested. “It took me months to learn even the simple daily rituals of the Goddess Meret.”

  “I’m really concerned about the structural integrity of the harp,” Fiolon added.

  “It need not concern you,” Haramis informed him coldly. “You are going to Var, today. Go and pack whatever you can carry on a lammergeier.” Fiolon didn’t move; he and Mikayla both stared at Haramis in astonishment. “Go!” Haramis repeated.

  Fiolon looked at Mikayla, shrugged, and left the room.

  “You can’t send him to Var!” Mikayla protested. “He hasn’t been there since he was a small child. His home is here in Ruwenda.”

  “Where he keeps sniffing around you as if you were in heat!” Haramis snapped. “I intend to send him as far away as possible; I won’t have him distracting you further from your studies.”

  “I learn better when he and I study together,” Mikayla pointed out. “And we are not being unchaste, and your accusations are idiotic! Did Uzun not explain that to you—or did you not understand him?” Clearly the girl was furious, but Haramis couldn’t imagine why.

  “He is obviously a bad influence on you,” Haramis said coldly. “Your manners become atrocious as soon as he becomes the subject of conversation.”

  “I happen to care about him,” Mikayla said. “We have been best friends ever since we were small children. We were planning to marry, until you came along and spoiled that, but you can’t expect my feelings for him to change just because you say I can’t marry him.”

  “I expect your feelings for him to change when he’s far enough away from you,” Haramis informed her. “That’s why I’m sending him to Var—obviously the Citadel isn’t far enough away.”

  “How are you going to get him to Var?” Mikayla asked.

  “She can summon a lammergeier,” Uzun said. “She told me so last night.”

  “She was mistaken, Uzun,” Mikayla said gently. “They still can’t reach her; I asked them this morning.”

  “Then you will summon one for me,” Haramis told her. “If you can talk to them.”

  “I can talk to them,” Mikayla said. “Who do you think had them carry you up here yesterday? But what makes you think I’ll help you send Fiolon away?”

  “You seem to be forgetting, girl, that this is my home,” Haramis pointed out.

  “Isn’t it also Uzun’s home?” Mikayla asked. “He invited Fiolon to stay here.”

  “Yes, he told me that he wished to train Fiolon for a time,” Haramis said, “but I believe that training is finished now, is it not, Uzun?”

  “He’s not an inadvertent danger to himself and others anymore,” Uzun admitted, sounding reluctant.

  Fiolon returned, carrying a small backpack and dressed for cold weather. “I’m ready to go to Var,” he announced.

  “She can’t send you,” Mikayla told him smugly. Haramis wished that she were strong enough to smack the girl. “She still can’t talk to the lammergeiers.”

  “You can,” Fiolon pointed out.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I’m asking you,” he said gently. “Don’t be so worried, Mika; I’ll be fine. I’m still the king’s nephew, whatever else I may be.” He drew her aside, held her gently with his hands on her shoulders, and spoke quietly to her for several minutes. Haramis strained unsuccessfully to hear what he was saying, and she couldn’t see Mikayla’s reaction because the girl’s back was toward her. Fiolon’s face gave nothing away until his last words. Apparently Mikayla had agreed to summon a lammergeier for him, for he smiled at her.

  Haramis felt a stab of envy; she couldn’t recall that anyone had ever looked at her like that. There was so much love and acceptance in his face that Haramis was astonished. How can he care so much for that sulky, stubborn, little brat?

  Fiolon bent and kissed Mikayla lightly on the forehead. “You’re not losing me, you know,” he said. “You’ll still see me in your mirror.”

  Whatever does he mean by that? Haramis wondered.

  Mikayla clung to him, shaking, and buried her face in his shoulder. Fiolon wrapped his arms around her and held her until she composed herself. Then he released her and bowed to Haramis. “I thank you for your hospitality, Lady,” he said politely.

  “I wish you a safe journey,” Haramis responded automatically.

  Mikayla didn’t turn or speak as she left the room with Fiolon, but a few minutes later Haramis heard the rush of wings as a lammergeier landed on the balcony, followed shortly by the sounds of the bird’s departure.

  Mikayla did not return to Haramis’s room. When Haramis asked where she was, Enya informed her that Mikayla had locked herself into her bedchamber and was not answering anyone who came to her door.

  Haramis sighed. “She’s probably sulking again. Just leave her alone until she surfaces. No doubt she’ll come out when she gets hungry.” I swear by the Flower, the fronials are easier to train.

  19

  Mikayla watched as the great bird carried Fiolon away to the south. She could understand his not wanting to stay at the Tower now that Haramis was back. In the mood Haramis was in, Mikayla didn’t want to be there either. That was the only reason she had agreed to summon a lammergeier to take Fiolon to Var—she certainly wasn’t doing it as a favor to Haramis.

  She went to her room and locked herself in, then sat on her bed and pulled out her sphere from under her tunic. She called up Fiolon’s image in it, but did not try to speak to him. She didn’t wish to distract him while he was flying.

  She watched as the bird flew over the Thorny Hell, the Blackmire, and the Greenmire, crossed over the western half of the Tassaleyo Forest, and finally picked up the track of the Great Mutar River, which ran through Var to the Southern Sea. Fiolon directed the bird to bring him down on the west side of the river, about a league south of the border between Ruwenda and Var. He didn’t need me to summon the lammergeier at all, Mikayla realized. He can bespeak them as well as I can.

  That was her last coherent thought for some time. As Fiolon slid from the bird’s back and his feet touched the ground of Var, the world shifted around him and, through their link, around Mikayla as well. She fell backward on her bed like a rag doll as Fiolon sank to the ground. Both of them were helpless in the face of the sensations overwhelming Fiolon and, through him, Mikayla.

  It was as if the entire country of Var had reached out and seized Fiolon, as if the land were trying to take over his body. The rivers, most notably the Great Mutar, were replacing his blood, and the winds blowing in from the Southern Sea were becoming his breath, filling his lungs and spreading throughout his body. The day that their boat had capsized at the junction of the Golobar and Lower Mutar rivers was nothing compared with this.

  In spite of the fact that it was early winter, there was vegetation everywhere. It was not the wild growth of the great swamps of Ruwenda, but orderly, cultivated winter crops, not just in a band surrounding the Great Mutar, but spread out all over the country. The cultivated area occupied most of the land from the Tassaleyo Forest, which covered the border between Var and Ruwenda, almost all the way to the sea.

  Nothing had ever prepared Fiolon for the sea. More water than he had ever known existed splashed ashore all along the coast of Var. He felt as tho
ugh part of his body was lying on the beach, being splashed by every incoming wave, at the same time that part of him held the Great Mutar River and part of him was the cultivated fields.

  Yet another part of him held the cities, small ones such as existed in Ruwenda, and the capital and main port city of Mutavari. He remembered, a very faint, dim memory from early childhood, living in Mutavari, but he didn’t remember it as being so large or as having so many people. Ships were tied up all along the wharves that stretched out along both sides of the river, and people from all over the known world dashed back and forth, loading and unloading cargoes, running errands, making business deals.… Fortunately, he wasn’t linked with all of those people; being linked with the land was more than enough to try to cope with. But he could still feel minds in contact with his, even if they weren’t those of the people he saw.…

  “Mika?” His thought was faint, but Mikayla caught it easily. Whatever was happening to him was not enough to destroy their bond, even if both of them did feel as if their heads were about to split open and their bodies were much too small.

  “I’m here, Fio.”

  “Do you hear them?”

  “The voices? Yes.” Mikayla could hear wave after wave of something halfway between voices and thoughts. “They’re not human—”

  Both of them realized it at the same time. “—they’re folk!”

  What would normally have been a dialogue between the two of them was now one chain of thought, with neither of them sure who was contributing which idea. Not that it mattered; in many ways it had never mattered to them who thought of what.

  “Not Nyssomu … nor Vispi … definitely not Skritek … but one of them is rather savage … one of them? Yes, that’s right; there are two distinct groups … in Var, that would make them the Glismak—they’d be the savage ones … and the Wyvilo.”

  “But why can we hear them?” That thought was Fiolon’s.

  “I can hear them because you can,” came Mikayla’s reply. “As to why you can hear them—Fio, has Var ever had an Archimage?”

  “Not that I ever heard of.” Fiolon’s head was spinning and the river and the sea still seemed to wash through him at regular intervals, but his mind was becoming a bit clearer. “Granted, I haven’t been in Var since I was a small child, and I don’t know its history as well as I do yours, but I’ve never heard of Var’s having an Archimage.”