Well of Darkness

by Margaret Weis

  The gardens also served a military function, defending the house from attack. Silwyth, a soldier himself, could not see the deadly traps, cunningly concealed by the plantings, but he knew they were there. He noted that the narrow stairs—too narrow for more than one person to pass at a time—twisted and turned among the gardens, and that these stairs, cut into the hillside, were the only way to reach the house. Any army attempting to climb the rock-strewn face of the mountain would be spread out across the mountainside, hampered by the rocks and the loose soil, and would be easy targets for the Shield’s expert bowmen.

  Passing one of the shady grottoes, overhung with fragrant tube-flowers, Silwyth noted the grating concealed in the stone floor—the entrance to one of many underground tunnels that undoubtedly led from the house and into the garden. Armed troops could travel secretly and, unseen beneath the ground, burst out at any point.

  The Shield was well protected and, by all accounts, he needed the protection. House Kinnoth was playing a dangerous game.

  Arriving at the entrance to the ninth garden, the servant paused to give Silwyth time to appreciate the beauty and permit that beauty to influence his soul. Knowing that the soul must be fed, as well as the body, in order to maintain the proper balance essential to good health, Silwyth thrust all thoughts of a worldly nature from his mind and allowed his soul to roam freely about the lovely garden.

  The servant stood quietly at the garden’s entrance, waiting as Silwyth walked the carefully laid-out path that wound among the various plantings, each group of plants speaking to a different part of the soul, each fragrance stimulating a different part of the body. When Silwyth had completed the walk, the servant bowed and asked if the Honored Guest would care for refreshment.

  Here was another mark of his increased status with the Shield. Silwyth had not been offered so much as a cup of water in the fourth garden. He accepted, for to refuse would be to give offense. The servant departed. Silwyth sat down on a smooth rock ledge overhanging a lily-strewn pond. Several fish swam by, hoping for crumbs.

  From there, Silwyth had an excellent view of the Shield’s house, one of several he owned. Though this was one of the lesser dwellings, it was the Shield’s favorite, by all accounts. His main dwelling was a large castle in the city of Lovod, a city that had been ruled by House Kinnoth since the Father and Mother had placed their children upon the earth.

  The main house was built of wood, armored by clay, raised high upon a stone base made of huge blocks of granite. The house was three stories in height, its design graceful and pleasing to the eye, as well as utilitarian. The armory was built next to the house, attached by a walled-in corridor. A granite wall surrounded the house, which could be reached only by circuitous paths built between the wall and the front entrance. The castle in the city was built in similar fashion, although on a much grander scale, and was even more heavily fortified. The Shield and his family lived in this house most of the year, occupying the castle only in times of war.

  Silwyth took care that his gaze did not rest too long upon the house and its defenses. Anyone watching him—and he was certain he was being watched—might suspect him of trying to find a way to defeat those defenses. Silwyth’s gaze accorded the house the admiration it was due, then returned to the garden. He was rewarded for his politeness. Another guest occupied the garden—a lady.

  He had not noticed her during his soul-soothing walk; she walked in another part of the garden, separated from his by a stream of water that flowed in a gentle, well-disciplined manner along a stone waterway. An arched bridge, crossing over the stream, led to the other part of the garden. The servant had brought him to this side of the bridge, deliberately keeping the two guests separate. The lady strolled the paths, admiring the flowers, occasionally touching one with her hand. Her maidservant accompanied her, keeping the correct distance between them, as was proper.

  Silwyth rose to his feet and moved out into the open, letting himself be seen, so that the unknown woman would not think he was spying upon her. The maidservant saw him, drew her mistress’s attention to him. The lady glanced in his direction, made a formal bow. Silwyth returned the bow, pressing his hands together and raising them to his forehead, for though he did not recognize the woman, he recognized by the pattern of the fabric of her sumptuous robes that she was the wife of one of the Guardians of the Eastern Wood. As such, she was higher rank than Silwyth, who was a Lesser Guardian. Her husband must be visiting the Shield. Silwyth wondered why she walked in the ninth garden above the gatehouse when, by rights, she should have been walking in the house-gardens.

  The servant returned, bearing jasmine tea and a plate of sugared rose hips. At the same time, a servant entered the lady’s side of the garden, bearing a teapot and a plate. Elves consider that to eat or drink in the presence of another without offering to share is extremely impolite. Thus, unlike humans, elven servants do not wait upon their masters during mealtime, but are dismissed to take their own sustenance. The greatest insult one elf can offer another is to eat something in that elf’s presence without extending an invitation to join in the meal. The great war between the Houses of Trovale and Wyval, which lasted five hundred years, was initiated when the lord of House Trovale ate a pomegranate in the face of the lord of House Wyval.

  In this instance, however, the garden provided many secluded areas where two elves who were strangers to each other might take their refreshment in privacy, if they chose. The decision was up to the lady, because of her higher rank.

  She glanced in Silwyth’s direction, said something to her servant. The maidservant crossed over the bridge, approached Silwyth, her eyes cast down. She bowed three times, very low.

  “Honored Stranger, my mistress requires me to say that the garden is too beautiful for two eyes and one mouth to do it justice. Four eyes and two mouths could better express their appreciation of such wonders. She asks if you would honor the garden by joining her.”

  “I honor the garden and I honor Her Ladyship,” Silwyth replied, and crossed the bridge, following after the maidservant.

  Reaching the other side, he bowed once, advanced several steps, bowed again, advanced again, and came to within ten paces of the lady. There he stopped and bowed yet a third time. Straightening, he said, “I am Silwyth of House Kinnoth, Lesser Guardian of the Eastern Forest. I thank you for the honor you do me. My house and I are at your service.”

  The lady was gazing up at a cuckoo, perched high in a tree, his inane call sounding discordant over the soft murmured plashing of the fountain’s water. Hearing Silwyth’s voice, she lowered her gaze and turned her head to look upon him.

  “I am Lady Valura, of the House Mabreton.”

  That much Silwyth knew, by the symbol of the Mabretons embroidered in her gown. Again he wondered why she was there, when her husband must be inside the house.

  The lady took her seat at a small table the servants had placed next to a pond. The servants arranged the teapots and the plates, then departed. Silwyth, moving to take his seat only after the lady was herself seated, saw two warriors clad in the colors of the Mabretons standing in the shadows of a grotto. Servants were bringing the warriors tea, as well, which they could enjoy and still keep close watch upon their charge.

  Given the lady’s youth and beauty—she was one of the most beautiful women Silwyth had ever seen—he was not surprised that her husband should put a guard over such a treasure. His next words were spoken in perfect sincerity.

  “The garden is indeed beautiful, Lady, but the addition of the flower of the Mabretons has enhanced its beauty one hundredfold.”

  Lady Valura inclined her head politely. No blush stained the orchid-petal softness of her cheek, no smile of pleasure touched her carnelian lips. She was accustomed to compliments and bored by them.

  “You have an audience with the Shield, Lord Silwyth?” she asked, indicating with a gesture that he should pour the tea. Had Silwyth been of higher rank, she herself would have acted as hostess.

  �
�To my honor, Lady. I am to take wine with the Shield in the cedar grove.”

  Lady Valura raised a delicate eyebrow, regarded him with more respect.

  “You will meet my husband there. Lord Mabreton is also taking wine with the Shield in the cedar grove.”

  “Your Ladyship is wise, then, to take advantage of the warmth and beauty of the day to walk in the garden, instead of being cooped up within four walls; no disparagement to the magnificence of the house, which is, I am certain, quite commodious and comfortable.”

  Now the lady’s lips turned upward, and warmth lit the green eyes from within so that Silwyth was reminded of the sun shining through green leaves. She sipped her tea and bit into a rose hip, then said, “In other words, Lord Silwyth of House Kinnoth, you are wondering why I am waiting for my husband in the garden outside the house instead of in the gardens within.” She ignored Silwyth’s polite protest, adding, “I am the daughter of Anock of House Llywer.”

  Silwyth bowed in understanding. He should have known this by the tattoo markings around her eyes, a tattoo that resembles a mask, but which denotes an elf’s ancestry. He had been so taken by the lady’s beauty, he had not studied the details of the tattoo. The wife of the Shield was Hira of House Tanath. House Tanath and House Llywer had been warring on and off for several hundred years, and though the two were nominally at peace now, they remained acknowledged enemies. A daughter of House Llywer could not enter the house of a daughter of House Tanath without losing face, nor could the daughter of House Tanath very well entertain her enemy. But since the wife of such a high-ranking nobleman could not be left to languish in the gatehouse, the ninth garden was the compromise.

  Should the houses go to war again, Lord Mabreton might be in a sad situation, torn between duty to his family and, by extension, his wife’s family, and duty to the Shield, who would face a similar problem. The Shield must recognize this, and so he was doing his best to keep the two sides from going to war.

  “Ordinarily, I remain at home when my husband has an audience with the Shield, but we travel from here to Glymrae, there to enter the Portal and journey to Vinnengael, where my husband accepts a post as ambassador. He felt uneasy about leaving me alone in our camp and insisted that I accompany him.”

  “Have you ever traveled one of the Portals, my lady?” Silwyth asked.

  “I have not, my lord. Have you?”

  Neither elf, it seemed, had ever entered the magical Portal, nor had been to the celebrated city of Vinnengael. Both had heard stories and compared their information. They discussed traveling through the Portals—magical tunnels constructed by the magi of Vinnengael which permitted the elves to reach that city in a journey of one day, as opposed to a journey of six months.

  “I have heard that being inside the Portal itself is quite unremarkable,” said Valura. “The magi have caused it to look like any tunnel dug through a mountain, instead of a tunnel that has been carved through time and space. You are surrounded by gray walls that are smooth as marble, a gray ceiling, and a gray floor upon which one walks with ease. The temperature is neither hot nor cold. The journey takes half a day and, from what I hear, is boring in the extreme. Nothing to see, nothing to do. I must say that I am disappointed. I was hoping for some excitement.”

  So life with Lord Mabreton was not exciting. But perhaps she had not meant that the way it sounded. Whether she had or she hadn’t, Silwyth pretended he had not heard this statement, which could be taken as highly insulting to her lord. Silwyth did store it away in his memory, however, as one that might someday be put to future use.

  “It stands to reason, however, Lady Valura,” he said smoothly, “that the Portal should be made as ordinary in appearance as possible. Think of the traders and merchants who must pass through it many times. If doing so was frightening or even uncomfortable, they might not be so ready to make the journey.”

  “I have found that people will endure great hardship in quest of profit, Lord Silwyth,” said Lady Valura. “However, I do see your point. I will forgo my excitement so that the peddler may bring his shoes into the markets of Vinnengael without suffering undue distress.”

  Their talk turned from the Portal to the realm of the humans. There, at least, Lady Valura was certain of finding excitement, though not perhaps the type she relished. She recounted stories of how truly dreadful life among humans could be, with their crude behavior, odious practices, and boorish manners.

  “I plan to have as little to do with them as possible,” said Lady Valura. “We are not even to live in Vinnengael. I refused to do so. Lord Mabreton has built a home for me in an isolated, forested area of land on the River Hammerclaw, as far from the human city as is practicable. My lord will use this home as his own retreat, when the vagaries of the humans become too much for him to bear.”

  Silwyth offered the proper commiserations, though his words were not particularly heartfelt. In truth, he could not sympathize overmuch with the lady. He was one of those rare elves who enjoyed traveling; he enjoyed new experiences and would have given a large portion of his not-inconsiderable wealth to be able to journey to Vinnengael, of whose wonders he’d heard much. As it was, he was tied to home. He could not leave his family without permission, permission his father would never grant. Duty to the family overrode all individual wants and needs. Duty to the Shield would take precedence, however. Not even his father could dispute such an order. Silwyth had been dropping hints in the right ears that he would be interested in accepting any assignment the Shield might have to offer.

  The teapots were dry. The soldiers were rattling their swords in their sheaths, indicating that in their estimation the meeting between their mistress and the handsome young stranger had gone on long enough.

  Silwyth himself recognized that it was time to take his leave. He rose, bowed, thanked the lady for her generosity in sharing her repast with him. He asked if there was anything he could do to serve her. She replied no, dismissed him with a languishing wave of her hand, which plainly said, “You have amused me for an hour. Now I find you boring. You cannot leave fast enough to suit me.”

  Silwyth made his departure, backing away from her until a suitable distance had been reached whereby he could turn his back on her without offending her. He crossed over the bridge and, as one is encouraged to do when in a garden, spent a pleasant two hours looking into himself, evaluating the garden of his inner dwelling place, uprooting weeds and nurturing those plants that seemed to him to be most valuable. There, in his inner garden, he planted a flower in honor of the beauty of the Lady Valura.

  The shadows of night crept into the garden. The birds were singing their sleep songs and the night-blooming flowers were starting to open their petals and send forth their haunting fragrance when a servant arrived to say that the Shield was taking wine in the cedar grove and that he asked Silwyth to join him.

  Silwyth followed the servant up the covered walkways leading to the house. The sound of bells rang in the air; wind chimes hung from every corner of the overhanging roof. The elves hold the wind sacred, magic comes from the wind, and so they believe that wind chimes sing with the voice of the gods.

  Silwyth entered the house, walked past the guards, who accorded him the respect due his rank, neither more nor less. Inside the house, he was left in the interior hallway until the mistress of the house could be apprised of his presence and grant her permission for him to enter. This she did, without bothering to come see him herself; he was only a Lesser Guardian. He made the customary polite inquiries as to her health and happiness and, receiving satisfactory answers as to both, was taken to the Shrine of the Honored Ancestor.

  Every elven household has an ancestral advisor, ancestors who have agreed to forgo resting in the eternal garden of the Mother and Father in order to remain with their kin, offering counsel and advice. Since the Father and Mother make their will known through the Honored Ancestor, their counsel and advice, however unpleasant both may be, are ignored only at great peril.

  Every
house sets up a shrine to the Honored Ancestor. In the poorer homes, this shrine may be quite simple, consisting of a table, an incense burner, a small silver bell, and the ever-present gift of fresh flowers placed upon a table. Or the shrine might be elaborate, as was the shrine in the House of the Shield, which took up an entire room. The room was filled with objects that had been owned by the Honored Ancestor—painted screens, hand-decorated fans, even her clothes and her shoes, and a set of mah-jongg, her favorite game. She often played a game or two with the Shield in the evening.

  Silwyth rang the small bell to make known his presence, made his reverence, and was about to take his leave when he saw a woman of stately mien, clad in the colors of the House, regarding him from the rear of the shrine. Awed, he recognized the Honored Ancestor herself.

  Astonished and highly gratified at the honor done him, Silwyth made his lowest and most reverential formal bow, hands crossed over his breast, remaining in that position for the count of thirty heartbeats. He lifted his head to find the Honored Ancestor regarding him with favor. She smiled and inclined her head to him. Then she disappeared.

  The servant who was accompanying Silwyth saw this, of course, though he made no mention of the fact; servant and guest did not indulge in idle chatter. However, on arriving at the cedar grove, the servant whispered into the ear of the Shield’s own personal manservant, who whispered into the ear of his master, who looked upon Silwyth with heightened interest.

  Elves prefer, when at all possible, to live out of doors. A dwelling is a place where one takes shelter from the elements and one’s enemies. If neither the weather nor a rival house threatens, an elf works, plays, loves, sleeps, and eats out of doors. There are much more elaborate furnishings outside the house, therefore, than there are within. The Shield’s sleeping bowers—kept secret and hidden away beneath night-blossoming trees—his private and formal dining areas, the kitchens, the play areas for the children, his nine audience chambers, and the family gathering areas were all located outside, arranged in various parts of the extensive house-garden area. Most of these had ornate latticework walls built around them and were covered over with canopies of leaves which sheltered the elves from all but the most torrential rains.