"I'm afraid to."
"I'll stop you if it's too strong. It takes time to learn to gather force. Concentrate."
Morgon stilled his mind. The fire smudged before his eyes, thinning into the darkness. The face opposite him became nameless as a tree or a stone. Then he slid past the shell of the face and let his thoughts blaze suddenly with Deth's name. His concentration shattered, he saw the face and the fire and the ghosts of trees form again before him.
Deth said patiently, "Morgon, you sounded as though you were on the other side of a mountain. Try again."
"I don't know what I'm doing—"
"Say my name, as you would naturally, using your mind-voice. Then shout it."
He tried again. This time, forgetting Har's teaching, thrown back against himself, he heard the shout futile in his own mind. He cleared his mind, tried again, and produced a full concentration of inner sound, which seemed to build and explode like a bubble in a cauldron. He winced.
"I'm sorry—did I hurt you?"
Deth smiled. "That was a little better. Try again."
He tried again. By the time the moon rose, he had exhausted his ability to concentrate. Deth sat up, reached for wood.
"You are trying to produce an illusion of sound without sound. It's not easy, but if you can exchange thoughts with a man, you should be able to shout at him."
"What am I doing wrong?"
"Perhaps you're being too cautious. Think of the Great Shouters of An: Cyone of An; Lord Col of Hel and the witch Madir, whose shouting-feud over the land-right to an oak forest their pigs fed in is legiendary; Kale, first King of An, who scattered an enormous army from Aura by his shout of despair over its I numbers. Forget you are Morgon of Hed and that I am a harpist named Deth. Somewhere deep in you is a wealth of power you are not using. Tap it, and you might make the beginnings of a mind-shout that doesn't sound as if it's coming out of the bottom of a well."
Morgon sighed. He tried to clear his mind, but like leaves there came drifting through it the bright images of Col and Madir throwing shouts at each other that I cracked in the blue sky of An like lightning; of Cyone, dressed in purple and gold on her wedding day shouting an immense, mysterious shout of legendary result; of Kale, his face lost in the shadows of faded centuries, shouting with utter despair the hopelessness of his first battle. And Morgon, moved oddly by the tale, shouted If Kale's shout and felt it snap away from him clean as an arrow into the eye of a beast.
Deth's face drifted before him again, frozen still above the fire.
Morgon said, feeling oddly peaceful, "Was it better?"
Deth did not answer for a moment. Then he said cautiously, "Yes."
Morgon straightened. "Did I hurt you?"
"A little."
"You should have—why didn't you stop me?"
"I was too surprised," He drew a deep breath. "Yes. That was much better."
The next day the river dropped away from them as they rode, the path rising high above it, tracing the mountainside, the white slope melting downward to halt at the blue-white water. For a while they lost sight of it, riding through the trees. Morgon, watching the slow procession of ancient trees, thought of Danan, and the mountain-king's face seemed to look back at him out of aged, wrinkled bark. Midafternoon brought them back to the cliff edge, where they saw again the brilliant, impatient river and the mountains shrugging off their coats of winter snow.
The packhorse, straying aside, sent a rock below them, bouncing into the river; Morgon turned to tug it back. The bright sun glanced off the peak above them; fingers of light flicked along a row of icicles on the cliff. Morgon glanced up at the slope above their heads, and the bone-white blaze of mountain burned in his eyes.
He looked away, and said to Deth, "If I wanted to harvest a crop of nuts in Hed with the Great Shout, how would I do it?"
Deth, brought out of his own thoughts, said absently, "Provided that the crop of nuts is in a secluded place away from your animals, who would scatter to the twelve winds at a shout like that, you would draw on the same source of energy you used last night. The difficulty lies in producing a sound without considering physical limitations. It requires both sufficient impulse and great abandon, which is why you would do better to wait for a good wind."
Morgon considered. The gentle, rhythmic clop of hooves and the distant voice of the river sounded frail against the silence, which seemed impervious to any shout. He thought back to the previous night, trying to find again the source of inexhaustible energy, private and undefined, that had overwhelmed him to produce the silent shout. The sun, leaping from behind a bend in the road, suddenly showered his path with stars. The unbroken blue of the sky quivered with a great, soundless note. He drew a breath of the hidden sound and loosed a shout.
There was an answering shout from the mountains. For a second he listened to it without surprise. Then he saw Deth stop ahead of him; his face turned back in surprise. He dismounted, wrenched at the pack-horse's reins, and Morgon, suddenly placing the sound, slid off his horse and drew it to the wall of the cliff. He crouched flat beside it as the hiss and rattle of stones swept towards them, bounced onto the road and down the slope.
The rumble shook through bare peaks and hidden forests. A boulder half the size of a horse struck the cliff edge above their heads, sailed lightly over them and flung itself down the slope towards the river, crushing a tree as it passed. Then the silence, regathered and locked into place, strained at their ears in triumph.
Morgon, flat against the cliff as though he were holding it up, turned his head cautiously. Deth's eyes met his, expressionless. Then expression came back into them.
He said, "Morgon—"
He stopped. He eased the trembling horses away from the cliff. Morgon soothed his own horse, brought it back on the road. He stood beside it, suddenly too tired to mount, sweat pricking his face in the chill air.
He said after a moment, blankly, "That was stupid."
Deth dropped his face against his horse. Morgon, who had never heard him laugh before, stood amazed in the snow, listening. The sound flung itself back at them from the high crevices until the laughter of stone and man tangled into an unhuman sound that jarred Morgon's ears. He took a step forward, disturbed. As Deth sensed the movement, he quieted. His hands were twisted, locked in his horse's mane; his shoulders were rigid.
Morgon said softly, "Deth—"
The harpist's head lifted. He reached for the reins, mounted slowly without looking at Morgon. Down the slope a great tree, half uprooted, its trunk snapped like a bone, laid its face against the snow. Morgon, staring down at it, swallowed drily. "I'm sorry. I had no business practicing the Great Shout on a mountain of melting snow. I could have killed us both."
"Yes." The harpist checked briefly, as though feeling for his voice. "The Pass seems to be proof against shape-changers, but not against you."
"Is that why you were laughing like that?"
"I don't know what else to do." He looked at Morgon finally. "Are you ready to go on?"
Morgon drew himself on his own horse wearily. The late sun, drifting towards Erlenstar Mountain, was drawing a wake of light down the Pass.
Deth said, "The road descends down to the river in a couple of miles; we can camp then."
Morgon nodded. He added, soothing the neck of his trembling mare, "It didn't sound that loud."
"No. It was a gentle shout. But it was effective. If ever you shout the Great Shout in truth, I think the world will crack."
In eight days they tracked the river to its source: the melting slopes and high snowbound peak of the mountain that overlooked the kingdoms of the High One. They saw the end of the road on the morning of the ninth day; it crossed the Ose and ran into the mouth of Erlenstar. Morgon reined, catching his first glimpse of the threshold of the High One. Lines of huge, ancient trees marked the road, which, cleared of snow across the river, glittered like the inner walls of Harte. The outer door was a crack in the stone face of the mountain, smoothed and m
olded to an arch. A man walked out of the arch as he watched, came down ,the fiery road to wait at the bridge.
"Seric," Deth said. "The High One's Watcher. He was trained by the wizards at Lungold. Come."
But he did not move himself. Morgon, a mixture of fear and excitement beginning to gnaw at him, glanced at Deth, waiting. The harpist sat still, his face quiet as always, looking at the door into Erlenstar. Then his head turned. His eyes on Morgon's face held an odd expression, half-searching, half-questioning, as though he were weighing a riddle and an answer in his mind. Then, without resolving one to the other, he moved forward. Morgon followed him down the final length of road, across the bridge where Seric, his long, loose robe seemingly woven from all the colors under the sun, stopped them.
"This is Morgon, Prince of Hed," Deth said, as he dismounted. Seric smiled.
"So Hed has come at last to the High One. You are welcome. He expects you. I'll take your horses."
Morgon walked beside Deth down the flickering path, alive with worn, uncut jewels. The mouth of Erlenstar opened to a wide sweep of inner hallway, a great fire ring in the middle of it. Seric took their horses down one side of it. Deth led Morgon towards arched double doors. They opened softly. Men in the same light, beautiful robes bent their heads to Morgon, closed the doors again behind them.
Light pricked endlessly through the shadows, drawn by the play of fire on jewelled floor, walls, arched dome of rock, as though the High One's house were the center of a star. Deth, his hand light on Morgon's arm, led him forward towards a dais at the other side of the round room. On the third step a high-backed throne carved of a single yellow crystal sat between two torches. Morgon stopped at the bottom of the steps. Deth left his side, went to stand beside the throne. The , High One, his robe sun-gold, his white hair drawn back from his brow to free the simple, austere lines of it, lifted his hands from the arms of the throne and brought the tips of his fingers together.
"Morgon of Hed. You are very welcome," he said softly. "How may I help you?"
Morgon's blood shocked through him, then slowed unbearably with the dull pound of his heart The jewelled walls pulsed around him in silent, flickering beats of light. He looked at Deth. The harpist stood quietly, the midnight eyes watching him dispassionately. He looked back at the High One, but the face remained undisguised by richness: the face of a Master of Caithnard he had known for three years and never known.
His voice came heavy, ragged. "Master Ohm—" "I am Ohm of Caithnard. I am Ghisteslwchlohm, the Founder of Lungold, and—as you have guessed —it's destroyer. I am the High One."
Morgon shook his head, a weight growing behind his throat, his eyes. He turned again to Deth, who blurred suddenly in his gaze, yet, blurred, stood with a silence undisturbed and insurmountable as the silence sitting heavy as ice above Isig Pass. "And you—" he whispered.
"I am his harpist."
"No," he whispered. "Oh, no." Then he felt the word well up from some terrible source, tear out of him, and the barred doors of the High One's house split from top to bottom with the force of that shout.
THE RIDDLE-MASTER OF HED is the first of three books about Morgan, Raederle, the world they live in and the end of an age.
People and Places
AIA wife of Har of Osterland.
AKER, JARL dead trader of Osterland.
AKREN home of the land-rulers of Hed.
ALOIL ancient wizard in the service of the kings of Ymris, preceded the school of wizards of Lungold.
AMORY, WYNDON farmer of Hed; Arin, his daughter.
AN large kingdom; chief city, Anuin; ruler, Mathom.
ANOTH physician at the court of Heureu of Ymris.
ANUIN chief city of An; seat of Mathom.
ASH son and land-heir of Danan Isig.
ASTRIN land-heir of Ymris; brother of Heureu.
ATHOL dead father of Morgon, Eliard and Tristan; a prince of Hed.
AUBER OF AUM descendant of Peven of Aum.
AUM ancient kingdom now one of the three portions of An.
AWN OF AN ancient land-ruler of An; died because he deliberately destroyed part of An to keep it from an enemy.
HERE grandson of Danan Isig: son of Vert.
CAERWEDDIN chief city of Ymris; seat of Heureu; a port city.
CAITHNARD a free-port city between Ymris and An; site of the college maintained by the Riddle-Masters.
COL ancient lord of Hel.
CORRIG shape-changer.
CRON ancient Morgol of Herun; full name Ylcor-cronlth. His harper was Tirunedeth.
CROWN CITY chief city of Herun; ringed by seven circular walls; seat of the Morgol El of Herun.
CYONE wife of Mathom of An; mother of Raederle and Rood.
DANAN ISIG Land-ruler and king of Isig.
DETH harpist of the High One.
DUAC son of Mathom and land-heir of An.
EARTH-MASTERS ancient inhabitants of the land; builders of two now-ruined cities, both in Ymris, one on Wind Plain, one on King's Mouth Plain.
EL morgol (land-ruler) of Herun, full name Elrhiar-hodan.
ELIARD brother of Morgon and land-heir of Hed.
ERIEL MEREMONT wife of Heureu, land-ruler of Ymris.
ERLENSTAR MOUNTAIN site of the home of the High One.
GALIL ancient king of Ymris in the time of Aloil.
GHISTESLWCHLOHM founder of the school of wizards at Lungold.
GRANIA dead wife of Datran Isig, mother of Sol.
GRIM MOUNTAIN site of Yrye, home of Har of Osterland.
HAGIS dead king of An, grandfather of Mathom.
HAR land-ruler and king of Osterland, sometimes called the wolf-king.
HARTE home of Danan Isig, on Isig Mountain.
HED small farming principality on an island.
HEL ancient kingdom, now a part of An.
HERUN kingdom; chief city, Crown City; ruled by the Morgol
HEUREU king and land-ruler of Ymris.
HIGH ONE law-giver and sustainer of life since the passing of the Earth-Masters.
HLURLE trade-port town near Herun.
HUGIN son of Suth the wizard.
IFF OF THE UNPRONOUNCEABLE NAME wizard in service to Herun at the time of Morgol Rhu.
OSTERLAND refused to take in the disguised Har of Osterland and died as a result.
ILON ancient harper of Har of Osterland.
ISIG kingdom ruled by Danan from his home at Harte; known for its fine metal and jewel work.
PASS the route from Harte to Erlenstar Mountain.
KALE first King of An, who won a desperate battle with a Great Shout.
KERN OF HED ancient prince of Hed, subject of the only riddle to come from Hed.
KING'S MOUTH PLAIN site of ruined city of the Earth-Masters; name is of a later date.
KOR, RUSTIN trader.
KRAAL trade-city of the far north, located at the spot where the River Ose flows into the sea,
KYRTH trade-city near Harte, home of Danan Isig; on the Ose.
LAERN Riddle-Master at Caithnard; lost his life in a riddle game with Pevin of Aum.
LUNGOLD ancient city founded by Ghisteslwcholm as the site for the school for wizards.
LOOR fishing village in Ymris.
LYRA daughter of the Morgol El of Herun; land-heir of Herun; full name Lyraluthuin.
MADIR ancient witch of An.
MARCHER territory in north Ymris governed in the king's name by the high lord of Marcher.
MASTER, CANNON farmer of Hed.
MATHOM land-ruler and king of An; father of Rood, Raederle and Duac.
MEREMONT coastal territory of Ymris governed by the high lord of Meremont.
MEROC TOR high lord and ruler of Tor; subject of Heureu of Ymris.
MORGON land-ruler and prince of Hed.
NUN ancient wizardess of Lungold, in service to the lords of Hel.
NUTT, SNOG pigherder of Hed.
OAKLAND, GRIM overseer for Morgon of Hed.
OEN OF AN conqueror of Aum; king of
An; built a tower to trap the witch Madir.
OHM a Riddle-Master of Caithnard.
OSTERLAND kingdom ruled by Har from Yrye.
PEVEN OF AUM ancient lord of Aum held captive for five hundred years in a tower by the rulers of An, guarding the ancient crown of Aum.
Riddle Master of Hed Page 22
