‘For the raven, I assume,’ she said.
‘Yes, it makes the transformation easier,’ Laz said. ‘I wish I had a fine house to give you. Do you remember my mother’s?’
‘Of course.’ She tossed her blanket onto the bed, then sat down on one of the stumps and laid her sack of belongings on the table. ‘It was all so beautiful and clean. And the floors—there were so many colours of marble it was like you walked across flowers. I didn’t even mind scrubbing them.’
‘Someday perhaps you’ll be the mistress of a fine house like it. I’ll do my best to provide one. If of course your holy fools don’t kill me first. They would, you know. And Pir the horse mage—why do you think a man with his gifts is willing to live here in this filthy stinking camp? They’d kill him, too, if they got their claws into him. Well, wouldn’t they?’
Sidro saw no reason to argue, since he was speaking the truth. ‘What about your other men?’ she said. ‘Do they have gifts, too?’
‘A few of them. Most, alas, are the criminals and renegades you called them. Those who know wizardry help me and Pir control the others.’
For a moment Sidro sat yawning, looking around the cabin, while she tried to remember—tried to remember—what had happened, why she was there, what he’d told her—tried to remember. A detail swam to the surface of her mind.
‘You told me you had something to show me,’ she said.
‘I do indeed.’
Laz went between the wooden perch and the far wall, then stooped down with his back towards her. For a moment he scrabbled through the rushes on the floor with both hands. She heard something metallic click and creak. In a moment he stood up and returned to the table carrying a plain wooden box. He sat down opposite her and opened the box, brought out a dirty wool pouch, opened that and took out a smaller pouch of sleek gold fabric.
‘What’s that made of?’ Sidro said.
‘It’s called silk,’ Laz said. ‘It comes from the Black Islands, ultimately, but I got it in the Slavers’ Country. Here’s what it’s covering.’
With a flourish he pulled a glittering object out of the pouch and set it on the table. It proved to be a narrow pyramid cut from white quartz, about six inches high with a base that fitted comfortably in the palm of a hand. Its point had been sliced off at an angle.
‘Alshandra protect!’ Sidro whispered. ‘It’s like our altar gem, just white to its black. I told you about that, didn’t I?’
‘You certainly did,’ Laz said. ‘Which is why this caught my eye in a marketplace, when I was languishing in exile. Some dolt of a jeweller thought it was a little bauble and nothing more.’
Sidro had always been able to tell when he was lying, mostly because he did it so often.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Tell me where you really found it.’
He laughed with a toss of his head. ‘Having you with me is going to be challenging. Still, tis worth it. I’ll tell you in good time, my love, all in good time.’
‘I’m not surprised you worship Vandar. He loves lies and riddles, too.’
‘I do not worship Vandar. I wish, my dear Sisi, that you could disabuse yourself of that notion. I can’t worship Vandar because he was only a sorcerer, not a god, no more than Alshandra was a goddess.’
‘She is a goddess.’
‘No, she’s dead, just like Vandar.’ Laz grinned at her. ‘Think, Sisi! Hundreds of our people saw her torn apart over Highstone Tor down in the Slavers’ Country. The chronicles make it quite clear. They—’
‘That’s all lies. You have to see with the eyes of faith, not believe everything some crazed bard recited to some corrupt old-god priestess.’
‘The eyes of faith!’ He rolled his in mockery. ‘You can’t convert me, you know. If I could be converted, Mother would have done it years ago.’
‘Oh, probably so! But how do you know that the chronicles aren’t lying?’
‘Why would they? Besides, I remember it.’
‘You dreamt it, you mean. You’ve been having those dreams and calling them memories for as long as I’ve known you.’
‘No, I recovered this memory in trance.’
Laz spoke so quietly, and he looked at her so steadily, that she held her tongue. He sat down on the other side of the table and leaned forward. Between them the white pyramid glowed for a brief moment, as if it had caught a random wink of sunlight.
‘It’s a true memory.’ Laz said. ‘I tested it with all the sigils. I stood on a ridge near Highstone Tor and watched Alshandra die. It happened over a river ford. Her form was like seeing a picture in clouds—you know, thinking you see a tower or a palace of cloud, but then the wind springs up and tears it apart. Pieces fall away, the illusion breaks up. Her arms went first, then part of her torso. She screamed, one last horrible scream, and—’
‘Stop! I don’t want to hear it! One of your nightmares, that’s all.’ Sidro realized that her hands were shaking. She laid them into her lap to hide them.
‘No, a memory! I was a soldier in that life, an officer of some sort, so I suppose I died soon after. There was one last battle the next day, the chronicles tell us, but our men were so demoralized they could barely fight.’
‘They were fooled by some ugly trick, that’s all. There’s no use in arguing about it.’
‘Why? Because you’re losing the argument?’
For want of a decent retort, Sidro made a sour face at him. Her head seemed to have turned to stone or perhaps lead. She leaned forward, braced her elbows on the table, and rested her head in her hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ Laz’s voice snapped with urgency.
She found herself unable to answer. He got up, strode around the table, and knelt on the floor beside her. When she turned her head to look at him, she nearly fainted. His eyes narrowed.
‘My apologies.’ Laz caught her gaze with his. ‘Keep looking at me, my love.’ He raised one hand and sketched a sigil in the air. ‘There!’
Her head cleared. The memories came back, tumbling into her consciousness. In one smooth motion she slid free of the stump and stood up.
‘You reeking scum!’ Her voice shook with fury. ‘You ensorceled me!’
‘I’ll confess.’ Laz got to his feet. ‘I knew you wouldn’t come with me otherwise.’
‘You were quite right. I’m not going to stay, either.’
‘Yes, you are.’
Sidro grabbed her sack from the table. Laz stepped around the stump and caught her by the shoulders. Although she struggled, she could do nothing against the strength in his arms, so heavily muscled from raven flight. She could smell that their brief battle had aroused him. The scent made her hesitate. It had been so long since they’d—resolutely she forced her mind away from the memories. When he tried to look into her eyes, she focused her gaze on the bridge of his nose. ‘You are clever,’ he said.
‘You taught me that trick yourself. You caught me off-guard in the meadow, but it won’t happen again. Laz, let me go!’
‘No.’
‘Why not? Do you think I’d betray you? Don’t be stupid! Of course I won’t.’
‘I know that. I won’t let you go because of two things. First, I need your help to work with the white crystal. Second, I want you to stay.’ He bent his head and touched her lips with his. ‘Please.’
She turned her head away and tried to twist free. For a brief moment he let her go, but only so he could fling his arms around her and pull her close. His sexual scent strengthened till it seemed to drift around them like a mist. Her heart began pounding as one strong hand slid down to her buttocks and caressed them. She felt herself gasp for breath. His scent filled her lungs. The cloth sack slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor.
‘It’ll be dark out soon,’ he said. ‘You can leave in the morning.’
‘I’ve got to leave now.’ But she could hear doubt shaking her voice.
‘No. Stay with me. Please?’
This time when he laid his mouth on hers she opened her lips and let hi
m kiss her. His grip relaxed. She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. He laughed and picked her up to carry her the short few steps to his bed. In his arms she could forget everything but his scent and his touch.
But much later, when he lay naked and asleep beside her, she remembered her goddess and her vows. She felt every muscle turn rigid as shame rose like vomit into her mouth. Her sudden rush of tears shocked her. I’ve betrayed Alshandra, she thought, and the thought made her sob aloud. Laz woke, rising up on one elbow in the darkness.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
‘What’s wrong?’ She could barely force out the words. ‘I’ve broken my holy vows. I—’ She was weeping too hard to finish.
She heard Laz sit up. A golden ball of light suddenly appeared, gleaming on the table in the middle of the room. By its glow she could see his knife-blade face, smiling at her.
‘I’m glad you did break them,’ he said. ‘You can’t go back now, you know. Some of your holy ladies are full-blooded Gel da’ Thae, aren’t they? They’ll smell the difference in you, and then they’ll throw you out of the order. You’ll only have to come back to me, so why bother leaving?’
Sidro sat up and turned her back on him. The tears were slackening. With one last sob she forced herself into a tight-strung composure. When he ran his hand down her naked back she wrenched herself away, then stood up, grabbing her shift from the floor as she did so. Her hands shook too badly for her to put it on. Behind her he laughed under his breath.
‘I suppose you think this is all a jest,’ she said. ‘You love to mock, don’t you? It’s not a jest to me.’
For a moment he was silent. ‘Sisi, Sisi, I’m sorry.’ He did sound contrite. ‘I didn’t realize it mattered this much to you. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. Forgive me.’
She heard him get up, felt his hands touch her shoulders, but lightly, gently. ‘Forgive me,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve hurt you. I never meant to hurt you. I thought you’d throw off that asinine vow like a cloak.’
The power to speak seemed to have deserted her. She stared at her shift, shaking in her trembling hands.
‘But you know,’ Laz went on, and he sounded positively cheerful, ‘I’m all you have now. You might as well stay.’
With a gulp for breath she found her voice. ‘Did you seduce me just to make sure I couldn’t go back?’
‘Of course not! I seduced you because I wanted you. Haven’t I always, from the very day Mother bought you? But I have to confess, that particular consequence of breaking your vow did cross my mind.’ His voice changed back to contrition. ‘But somehow I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. For that I’m sorry.’
‘Laz, I’ve never truly believed you love me, not for all these years.’
‘I know. We all have our blind spots. I suppose this has only made things worse.’
‘No. I do believe it now. I believe that you love me as much as you’re capable of loving anyone, but that’s not very much.’
He made an indignant sound so much like a squawk that she spun around, expecting to see him in raven form. A man still stood there, his hands on his hips as he scowled at her. Sidro took a deep breath and realized that she’d stopped trembling. She saw that she had two choices: pretend to give in to him and kill him when he slept, or merely give in. At the moment she hated him, but she’d hated him in the past, and the feeling always, sooner rather than later, deserted her. I’m still his slave, she thought, no matter how long it’s been since he freed me. She realized that she was still clutching her shift. She slipped it over her head and pulled it down.
‘I suppose we’ll go to Vandar’s hell together,’ she said.
‘If there were such a place we would. However, there’s not.’ His scowl disappeared, and he laughed. ‘But even if it were real, it wouldn’t be hell, then, would it? If we were together.’
‘Perhaps not for you. To lose Alshandra’s country—that’s hell enough for me.’
‘Then you’d best find what joy you can now.’ He glanced at the table, where the white pyramid glittered under the wizard light. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to find what power you can to go with the joy, either. I suppose you’re determined never to use your gifts again.’
‘They’re not gifts. They’re curses.’
‘According to your pack of holy fools, not to me. Why? I cannot understand why they’re so adamant about condemning sorcery. Unless—the chronicles tell us that sorcery’s what destroyed Alshandra, there at Highstone Tor. It certainly looked like that to me, in my memory not dream.’
‘That’s ridiculous! You weren’t there. It was a dream. She wasn’t destroyed.’
‘Oh? Then why—’
‘The teaching on the subject’s simple enough. Vandar uses sorcery to spread evil in the world, and so Alshandra’s people are forbidden to use it.’
‘They weren’t in the early days, you know. Those old chronicles you scorn, they tell us a great many interesting things. The first worshippers knew sorcery, and they used it, too. For just one example, Nag-arshad, the First Priest, owned a staff that could evoke blue fire.’
‘So? It probably wasn’t forbidden yet. The goddess didn’t reveal her will all at once. We had to work towards the revelations.’
‘That is utter nonsense, and I’ll wager you know it.’
Sidro crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. He merely smiled, and went on smiling with the gleam in his eyes that she could never quite resist.
‘But I’ll admit,’ she said, ‘that I sometimes wonder if the rakzanir are just simply afraid of sorcery, and that’s why they’re so eager to stamp it out. I haven’t stopped thinking altogether.’
‘Good.’ Laz emphasized the word with a sharp nod. ‘If you’re right, it means they’re all cowards as well as fools. I suppose, then, you’ll deign to look into this crystal for me?’
‘I certainly won’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I swore a vow. I’ve already broken one. I don’t care to break another.’
Laz shrugged, then walked over to the table and leaned on it with both hands so that he could stare into the crystal pyramid. With the wizard light gleaming on his naked body, she realized that he’d changed. His shoulders and upper arms had grown so heavily muscled that they were out of proportion to the rest of him.
‘You’ve been spending more and more time in the raven form, haven’t you?’ Sidro said. ‘That scroll our teacher gave us—it said it was dangerous to use the animal body too much. Fly only for that space of time when the moon is full or nearly so, I think it said.’
‘Did it?’ Laz sounded profoundly indifferent. ‘You know, I think this gem is a showstone. Huh! Look at that.’ He leaned closer, mouthing a few silent words. Despite Sidro’s intentions, her curiosity began to battle with her last unbroken vow.
‘I don’t suppose it would hurt,’ she said, ‘if you told me what you were seeing.’
He looked up and grinned. ‘No, I won’t,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to come look for yourself.’
‘Damn you, Laz!’
‘I’m already damned, according to you.’ The grin grew broader. ‘So curse away!’
‘Will you put that thing back in its box, then? I’m tired, and I want to sit down.’
‘Come sit. You don’t have to look. Turn your back to it. But I’m a wretchedly bad host, aren’t I? My poor love, you must be starving. Here, let me dress, and I’ll go get us some food.’
He pulled on his trousers, laced them up, then sat on the stump to put on his boots. When he stood up, he glanced back at the white pyramid. ‘Huh,’ he said. ‘Evan the minstrel.’
With a vague smile in her direction he walked out without putting the crystal away. Sidro thought of lying down on the mattress again, but if one of his men should come in—besides, her back hurt her—and she might fall asleep—her mind produced so many reasons to sit at the table instead of on the bed that she knew she’d already lost her battle with curiosity. I’m d
amned, too, she thought. Nothing matters any more. She walked over to the table, sat down on one of the cut stumps, and looked into the crystal.
At first she seemed to be peering through a crack in a wall and seeing a very small painting on the other side. All at once the vision widened. She was seeing a painting, indeed, the picture of Alshandra hanging over the altar in the Inner Shrine, although the colours were oddly dull, and the details hard to distinguish, as if she were looking through smoke. She sobbed aloud as her broken vows stabbed her conscience. The gesture changed her focus. She was looking through deep smoke or mist at the interior of the shrine. Rocca knelt before the altar. Her lips moved as she stared directly into the smoke.
‘Sow!’ Sidro spoke aloud. ‘Ugly sow!’
Rocca raised her head fast and drew back in shock. The vision wavered, then disappeared, leaving Sidro staring into the clear depths of a piece of rock crystal, sitting on a table in Laz’s cabin. That smoke—of course, she’d been seeing the shrine through the obsidian of the black pyramid. The white had somehow or other linked her to its black twin. Rocca must have been working the ritual devoted to the holy witness Raena, which entailed staring into the obsidian crystal.
As Sidro thought about it, she remembered the times that she’d worked that ritual herself. In most instances she’d seen nothing but obsidian, though now and then she’d picked out a murky form or an indistinct shape that might have been a face. Had she been seeing Laz here in this cabin? And how had Laz seen Evan in the white crystal? Maybe that loathsome viper of a minstrel had returned to Zakh Gral. Maybe he had the gall to enter the holy shrine itself.
She took a few breaths to calm herself, then sent her mind looking for Evan. Occasionally she could scry people out. Before she’d always attributed the power to Alshandra’s favour, the goddess’s reward for her chastity. Thanks to her broken vow Sidro was expecting to see nothing, but much to her surprise, the vision built up more strongly than it ever had before.
She seemed to be hovering in the air above a vast round room where Lijik Ganda men and women sat at wooden tables and drank from pottery mugs or metal tankards. On a table near a cold hearth Evan was standing and talking, his hands moving gracefully as he mimed his way through some sort of tale. Her heart fluttered at the thought that he might be describing Zakh Gral, but he reached up and appeared to pluck an egg out of the air.
The Spirit Stone Page 28
