The Princess of the Sheyasa crouched in the shadow of a dead tree, her hands hiding her face. Forollkin knelt and put his arms around her.
"Gwerath, be angry, but please don't cry. At first I truly didn't realize why you'd come with us and later . . . Forgive me, I should have spoken before now."
Through Gwerath's sobs he caught the one word, "Pellameera".
"It wasn't just her. I couldn't be sure of myself. I think I was afraid to be sure. Gwerath, I've always been shy of feelings I can't control, in myself or in anyone else, and shy of making a future. I'm more afraid of you than anyone I've ever met, so I suppose I must love you."
Gwerath lifted her tear blotched face from his shoulder. "I loved you from the first moment I saw you at the Testing."
"Imarko alone knows why, and after the way I've treated you . . . Gwerath, I'm sorry I can't go as fast as you. Will you be patient with me for a little longer?"
She nodded and Forollkin gently kissed her.
*****
Kerish stood on the brow of a hill watching a day old kid trying out its spindly legs. Then he noticed Gidjabolgo crouching in a hollow, his knees thrust into his stomach and his shoulders heaving. Kerish ran towards him, the wind rippling his crimson robe and the black and silver of his hair.
"Gidjabolgo, are you ill?"
He knelt down anxiously but the Forgite straightened up and said in his usual manner, "No my Master, I am merely suffering from a surfeit of surprises. First you and now the creatures of the lake. One of them flew above me. I'd looked at it before I could stop myself, but it didn't freeze." A reluctant wonder infused Gidjabolgo's voice, "I looked at the creature and it flew higher."
Kerish was beginning to understand how much that meant. "Perhaps our journey has accomplished something then."
The bitter tone of his words made Gidjabolgo look at the Prince more closely. "Is there nothing else to hope for from our journey? Have you grown tired of your grand quest?"
Kerish stared down at the clenched fingers of his useless hand. "No, but my quest is impossible now. Vethnar will not give up his key. Gidjabolgo, I so nearly persuaded him. I used an unfair weapon against him and it almost worked. I thought I was going to win, but he still said no. I'd hurt him for nothing. Everything I've done has been for nothing."
"And what will you do now?" asked the Forgite quietly. "Stay here and study, or slink back to Galkis?"
"I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet. I never really imagined that I could fail."
"Well there's a new task for you then. Don't you recall Breldor's pretty speech on the inevitability of failure? Or doesn't it apply to the Godborn? There's no need for you to take responsibility when you can claim that it's all the will of Zeldin."
"It isn't like that . . ." began Kerish angrily.
"Then what is it like to be the child of a god? Tell me."
"It's no different from being you . . . Gidjabolgo, please help me!"
The Forgite looked into the eyes of the Godborn. "Have you asked Vethnar why he won't look at the creatures of the lake?"
It was all he said and all Kerish needed him to say.
*****
The travellers were summoned to Llartian's feast just before sunset. In honour of the Ellerinionn, the table was spread with platters of colourful fruit and soft cheeses and with bowls of cream and honey. Vethnar had changed into the least shabby of his brown robes and he had provided splendid new clothes for each of his guests. Kerish had found the court dress and jewels of a Galkian prince spread out on his bed. Only the suggestion that Gwerath might be pleased had coaxed Forollkin into his new clothes but Gidjabolgo cheerfully squeezed into his gaudy finery. For Gwerath herself the sorcerer had chosen a dress of pleated black silk and strings of black pearls to wind in her silver hair.
Nine cups had been filled with wine and Vethnar raised his and said, "Let us drink to King Elmandis and to Llartian, whose departure we all regret, though it does give Dolodd an excuse to wear the curious finery of Dard."
Dolodd smiled, unperturbed. His grey hair was twisted into spiral curls trimmed with blue ribbons and jangling shells.
"I have never yet grown accustomed to it," continued Vethnar. "The origin of the shell decoration is rather interesting. The fifteenth Lord of Dard, Cevodd the Ill-tempered . . ."
"That's a long tale to listen to standing here with cups in our hands. Tell us to sit down."
"Ah, sensible Dolodd. Forgive me. To Elmandis and Llartian!"
The toast was drunk and they all sat down.
"You do want to go back?"
"Of course, Vethnar," said Llartian quickly.
"Good, good," the sorcerer offered him a bunch of glossy red fruit. "I should hate to make you act against your will. Forollkin, how magnificent you look. You should wear green more often. In Seld it's considered almost a crime for a man not to make himself as attractive as possible. A curious and most misguided race; but perhaps one of you would disagree? No? How disappointing."
Vethnar scooped the seeds from a plump fruit and sprinkled it with spice. "When you return to Ellerinonn, what will you do first?"
"Pay my respects to the King," said Llartian. "Then I'll talk to my friends and find out what has been thought and written and sung and painted since I was away."
"And how long before you're sent into the world again?" asked Dolodd as he sliced up a cheese.
"We are usually given about three years between journeys," answered Llartian, "but it may be less if there is some special need for helpers in time of plague or famine or war."
"Then you may be banished from Ellerinonn again sooner than you think," announced Vethnar. "This is a time of war." He turned to the Galkians. "I suppose I should have told you before, but it slipped my mind."
"The five kingdoms. . ." began Kerish. "We knew that there was fighting in the territory beyond the Jenze . . ."
"The Khan of Orze has forced the Galkian army to retreat and all the land west of the river has fallen to him. Now he is mustering an even greater force. Soon they will cross the Jenze and attack Viroc. No, don't ask me for details, Forollkin, I know no more than that. Oh, except that the united fleets of Fangmere and Oraz are harrying the Galkian coast. Your journey home may be a dangerous one, Llartian, and I cannot protect you once you leave my territory."
"Once I reach the Sea of Az, I will trust in the protection of Elmandis."
Vethnar leaned back in his chair and studied the young Ellerinionn. "You think highly of Elmandis and his rule . . ."
"You won't find an Ellerinionn who doesn't."
"Breldor believes that failure is part of man's natural state." Gidjabolgo's chins scraped against his jewelled ruff as he spoke. "I claim that complaint is too. I am the greatest complainer of you all, so perhaps I am the most human. It seems to me that if none of Elmandis's subjects has any complaint, this king's power has deformed human nature itself and such a tyranny should be broken at any cost."
"You strike at what you cannot comprehend. . ." began Llartian, almost angrily, but Kerish intervened.
"I admire Elmandis but I suspect that Gidjabolgo may be right. The only way it can be tested is to see whether the people of Ellerinonn will continue to live in the same way when Elmandis is dead."
"Llartian, do you believe they would?"
For once, Vethnar sounded entirely serious.
Llartian frowned and there was a long pause before he answered, "If Elmandis were . . . no longer with us, I think my people would press for some changes. It would be good to be able to choose our own time for leaving Ellerinonn and at the moment we are forbidden to bring anyone from the world beyond back with us, however much they might need our care . . ."
"Elmandis is a jealous lover of his Kingdom," said Vethnar quietly, "and of his people."
"No one blames him but . . ."
"But, you are going to claim that, given freedom, you would serve King and Kingdom more ardently than ever. I have lived long enough to doubt that kind of reasoni
ng. However," Vethnar deftly skinned a crimson fruit, "I comfort myself with the thought that people are always complaining about me, so I should escape Gidjabolgo's disapproval."
"You could do something much rarer and earn his praise," suggested Kerish, "if you will grant Gidjabolgo one wish. I promise you that he has earned his desire."
"Nevertheless, there must still be a price. That is one rule that even I recognize. Name your wish," ordered Vethnar, "and we will debate it. If everyone here agrees that it should be granted, then it will be."
"No," exclaimed Kerish. "Name another condition!"
"The Prince has tried for so long to bridle my tongue that he has forgotten that I have one," said Gidjabolgo sharply. "On such terms I want nothing from you or from anyone."
"Your desire cannot be very strong," murmured Vethnar.
"I am practising to become a model of graceful resignation with my lot," answered the Forgite.
Vethnar looked unconvinced. "Can resignation ever be a virtue?"
"Many people have thought so." Dolodd ladled cream over his plate of fruit. "Perhaps the test lies in how hard it is to practise?”
"I think resignation is a vice," interrupted Breldor. "To strive, even when there is no hope , that is true virtue!"
Kerish looked up at this but Llartian responded, “It seems to me to be the height of foolishness."
He began to elaborate on this opinion, but not everyone was listening.
Forollkin was staring at Gwerath, perturbed by her dark splendour and wishing her back in her usual clothes. Gwerath herself seemed troubled by the Chirazian, who sat in silence, eating nothing.
"Do your people worship a goddess?" she asked him.
Rezag-Khal touched his brow in a gesture of reverence. "We worship Idaala, the Lady of Blood."
"Then in her name, I command you to eat."
She picked up a crimson-skinned fruit and offered it to him. Rezag-Khal stared at her for a moment, then took the fruit and bit into the sweet flesh beneath the tart crimson skin.
Meanwhile the discussion had taken several twists and turns and Breldor was declaring, "Surely, it is better to refuse to recognize an obstacle than to deceive yourself by belittling it."
"You can refuse to recognize a pile of dung," put in Gidjabolgo, "but you'll still smell foul when you've stepped in it."
"Breldor," began Dolodd more gently, "this hardly seems consistent with your insistence that we should all strive without hope."
"Oh, but it is!" Absurdly excited, Breldor banged down his cup for emphasis and red drops beaded the cloth. "Failure is inescapable but what could be grander than to refuse to recognize it, to persist in trying to impose our own order on the world."
"Men certainly do that," agreed Vethnar. "It is their gravest fault, but it makes them more interesting than any of their virtues."
Kerish had been silent for a long time, but now he leaned forward and said, "Vethnar, you were born human. Amongst your great store of knowledge is there no room to remember what it felt like?"
The sorcerer was absently squeezing the spines from a bulbous yellow fruit, squirting his neighbours with juice. He did not look up. "I am gifted with an excellent memory."
"In our travels," continued Kerish, "we have heard a great deal about `forbidden knowledge'. None of the sorcerers whom we've met has been eager to disclose the nature of their power or the effect that it has had on them."
Vethnar snorted. "I can imagine, but I have never cloaked myself in mysteries. It is true that some of our knowledge is dangerous to humans, as dangerous as handing a torch to a savage who knew nothing of fire. He would soon learn its nature but only through the pain of burning. As long as you understand the risk, ask anything you like."
Kerish pushed back his chair and got up from the table. Gold and silver embroidery glittered in the stiff folds of his cloak of imperial purple and the starflowers of his coronet seemed as dark and lustrous as the ones that grew in the Valley of Silence. Watching him, Forollkin suddenly felt that his brother was more dangerous than Vethnar could ever be. In the same moment, Dolodd turned an oddly tender look on the sorcerer.
"When you were granted your key," began Kerish, "how did it change your nature?"
"It made me immortal," answered Vethnar, "and because of that I see everything in a different way. You must look at the world from the one place where you stand, but I see it as if through the windows of a great tower. Every few steps there is a new window and a new view of Zindar and I can go on climbing for ever."
Kerish nodded. "I agree that you see things differently because of your immortality but, as far as I can judge, it is a kind of sight that hinders your great task of gathering knowledge about Zindar "
"Hinder! How can you . . ."
"Please let me finish, Vethnar. Firstly, your very confidence in yourself has stopped you seeking the help you need; stopped you filling Tir-Melidon with people who could add to your knowledge and profit from it."
"No sense of urgency, " muttered Dolodd. "If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times."
"Secondly," said Kerish, "you are fascinated by people because you find it so difficult to understand them. However many conversations you record, however many captives you interrogate, however many books you read - you will not be an inch nearer understanding men and women as long as you keep your immortality. The knowledge of death shapes our humanity and until you share that knowledge from the inside, people will remain a puzzle to you, however hard you study us." Kerish moved away from the table, his crippled hand held high against his heart. "Thirdly, however high your tower, your view is not really so different from that of the man on the ground. It is only a matter of degree, you still have only one man's vision."
"No, indeed," protested Vethnar, "within my territory I can see and hear whatever I choose. I am not restricted by my body."
"But you are by your mind. You are not limited by what you see, but by the means you have to interpret it." The Prince brushed strands of damp hair from his forehead. "The evening is rather warm, do you mind if I open a window?"
There was a sudden and complete silence. Breldor looked down at his hands but Rezag-Khan stopped chewing and stared curiously at the sorcerer. Golden grains drifted across the table as Vethnar shook out some spice.
"Why not? You must forgive me. Though I detest Kolgor, I must admit that I was born a southerner and I'm used to the desert heat. Gwerath, as a child of the cold north, I hope you haven't been too uncomfortable. You should have spoken up."
Gwerath merely smiled at him, so the sound of the Prince fumbling with the window catch was clearly audible.
"Your questions are very modest, Kerish," continued Vethnar, "and what you say is really most interesting."
The Prince stood with his back to the table, looking out across the crater. "You said a little while ago that trying to impose our own order on the world was mankind's greatest fault. I take it that your aim is to study the true order?”
"Of course."
"Given eternity, I can see that you might be able to gather all the pieces of the puzzle, but are you sure that you can fit them together?"
"You said yourself that I have passed beyond the reason that makes men try to force the pieces into false patterns."
"Passed beyond or retreated from?" Kerish turned, smiling apologetically. "I'm afraid I can't open this one-handed. Will you help me?"
"Breldor, help the Prince to . . ."
"No," said Kerish. "I was always taught that a good commander never gave an order which he would be reluctant to carry out himself."
"No doubt. So?"
"So, can the Sorcerer of Tir-Melidon not open a window?"
"I could. I could also sweep the floor and wash the dishes, but I'd be of little use to Zindar if I wasted my time on such things."
"You refuse then?"
Vethnar angrily slammed back his chair, strode across the room and pulled down the catch. He pushed the window open without glancing through it
s panes but Kerish gripped his shoulder.
"Vethnar, look out of the window you have opened."
An iridescent turquoise light, veined with gold, shimmered through the glass as one of the creatures of the crater flew close to the window.
"What is the use of your lofty tower if you can't out-climb fear?" asked Kerish. "I stand on the ground. I know that I can't see clearly enough and I weep for it, but I am not afraid."
Vethnar had moved away but the light streaked across his face and the room vibrated with a sound like the roar of a waterfall.
"Please," said Kerish, "please look."
Very slowly, Vethnar turned towards the splendour. Twelve fiery turquoise wings beat out an intricate rhythm and at their centre was an eyeless face full of mouths opened in song. Kerish knew as he looked at it that all his life he had misinterpreted beauty. This was far more lovely than any human face.
For a long moment Vethnar trembled with joy but the harmonies that were the creature's voice were too complex to be endured. Already his mind was breaking them up into parts small enough for him to grasp. Abruptly the great wings were stilled. The crystalline lips whitened and the music dissolved into discord and died away. The creature hung motionless before him, not beautiful, but grotesque and Vethnar covered his face and wept.
Kerish gently led the sorcerer back to the table and knelt beside his chair.
"Vethnar. I am certain that neither of us will ever understand the pattern while we are still part of it. By taking immortality, you have lost more than you gained."
"When I left Kolgor," the sorcerer's muffled voice was still thick with tears, "the Chief of the Elders said to me 'Vethnar, however much you take from the world, you will never achieve your desire because you are incapable of receiving.' All my long life I have tried to prove him wrong, but it seems that I can't."
"It is only the fierceness of your desire for truth that makes it impossible for you to accept something that your mind cannot classify. You destroy such visions as you study them and because you are wise and good, Vethnar, you know how much you are losing."
The Dead Kingdom (Seven Citadels) Page 19
