The Marion Zimmer Bradley Science Fiction

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Under the impetus of a knife I found myself clambering awkwardly into a saddle, felt the horse running beneath me. There wasn’t a chance of getting away, and the frying pan couldn’t be much worse than the fire, anyway.

  Behind us the noises of battle died away. The horse I rode raced, sure-footed, into the darkness. I hung on with both hands to keep from falling; only Adric’s habitual reflexes kept me from tumbling ignominiously to the ground. I don’t think I had any more coherent thoughts until the jolting rhythm broke and we came out of the forest into full moonlight and a glare of open fires.

  I raised my head and looked around me. We were in a grove, tree-ringed like a Druid temple, lit by watch-fires and the waver of torches. Tents sprouted in the clearing, giving it an untidy, gypsy appearance; at the back was a white frame house with a flat roof and wide doors, but no windows.

  Men and women were coming out of the tents everywhere. The talk was a Pentecost of tongues, but I heard one name, repeated over and over again.

  “Narayan! Narayan!” the shouts clamored.

  A slim young man, blond, dressed in rough brown, came from one of the larger tents and walked deliberately toward me. The crowd drew back, widening to let him approach; before he came within twenty yards he made a signal to one of the men to untie my gag and let me down. I stood, clinging to the saddle, exhausted; the young man came forward until he could almost have touched me, and studied my face dispassionately. At last he raised his head, turning to the fat man, my captor.

  “This isn’t Adric,” he said. “This man is a stranger.”

  I should have been relieved; I don’t know why I wasn’t. Instead, my first reaction was bewilderment and angry annoyance. How could he tell that? I was as furiously embarrassed as if I’d been accused of wearing stolen clothing. My beefy captor was as angry as I was. “What do you mean, this isn’t Adric?” he demanded belligerently, “We took him right out of their accursed cavalcade! If it isn’t Adric, who is it?”

  “I wish I knew,” Narayan muttered under his breath. His eyes, still fixed on my face, were level, disconcerting. He was tall and straightly built, with pale blond hair cut square around his shoulders like a squire from a Provencal ballad, and grey eyes that looked grave, but friendly. I liked his looks, but he had a trace of the uncanny stillness I’d noticed in old Rhys, in Gamine. For a moment I decided to tell my whole fantastic story to this man with the grave eyes. He would surely believe it. But to my surprise, he spoke and called me Adric; definitely, as if he had forgotten his doubts.

  “Adric,” he said, “Do you still remember me? Or did Karamy take that too?”

  I sighed. I didn’t dare tell the truth, and I felt too chilled and exhausted and disoriented to lie convincingly. Yet lie I must, and do it well.

  The fat man scowled and fronted Narayan. “Karamy—Zandru’s eyelashes!” he growled. “Look you, did Brennan come back this afternoon? He knows his way around Rainbow City. Ask Adric what happened to Brennan!”

  The clamoring broke out around us again, but Narayan never took his eyes from my face as he answered gently, “There is always danger, Raif. Blame no man unjustly. Brennan knew he faced all the dangers of Rainbow City. And even Adric is not to blame if a she-witch has him under her spells.”

  “Traitor!” Raif snarled at me and spat.

  I loosed the saddle-horn and stepped dizzily forward. “You might try asking me,” I said with a weary anger.

  “Are you Adric of the Crimson Tower?” fat Raif snapped.

  “I don’t know—” I said tiredly. “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

  Narayan’s eyes met mine in skeptical puzzlement. Abruptly he put out one hand and took my wrist in a firm grip. “We can’t talk here, whoever you are,” he said, “Come along.”

  He led me through the thinning crowd into the frame house at the grove’s edge; Raif and one other man trailed after us, the rest clustering hive-fashion around the door. Inside, in a great timbered room, a fire burned and glowing globes chased away darkness. I went gratefully toward the fire; I was stiff with riding and I felt chilled and stupid and empty with the cold. From a wood settle near the fire, a woman rose. She was slight and dark and around her shoulders the luminescent shimmer of her winged cloak flowed like another flame. Cynara.

  “Adric—” she said half-aloud, holding out her hands. I took them, partly because she seemed to expect it, partly because the girl seemed the only thing real in a world gone haywire. She flung her arms suddenly around my neck and held herself to me with a shy deliberation. “Adric, Adric, Adric—” she begged, “I slipped away in the dark—I suppose Gamine knows—but they’ll never find me here, no, never—”

  Narayan’s hand pulled the girl sternly away from me; she shrank before the annoyance in his eyes. “Please—Narayan, no—”

  The blond man looked at her without speaking for long moments. At last he said gravely, “Sister, you must go back to Narabedla. I would not make you go if there was another way; but you must, for a time.” He beckoned to one of the men. “Kerrel—” he commanded, “Take Cynara back to Rainbow City, but don’t get caught. Cynara; tell them you were lost in the woods, or that you were caught and escaped.”

  The childish mouth trembled, and she turned to me appealingly, but I gave a little shrug. What was I supposed to do? Narayan gave Cynara a gentle push. “Go with Kerrel, little sister,” he ordered in a quiet voice; Kerrel took her arm and they hurried out of the room, the winged cloak she wore fluttering on her shoulders. Narayan motioned to Raif to follow them through the door. “I’ll talk with him alone.”

  Raif’s thick lips set stubbornly. He looked as if he’d be nasty in a fight. “If he’s Adric, and if he’s under Karamy’s devilments, then—”

  “I have faced Adric, and Karamy too,” said Narayan with a friendly grin at the man. “Get out, Raif; you’re not my bodyguard, or even my nurse!”

  The fat man accepted dismissal reluctantly, and Narayan came to my side. There was real friendliness in his grin. “Well,” he said, “Now we will talk. You cannot kill me, any more than I could kill you, so we may as well be truthful with each other. Why did you leave us, Adric? What has Karamy done to you this time?”

  The room reeled around me. I put out a hand to steady myself—when the dizziness cleared, Narayan’s arm was around my shoulders and he was holding me up with a strength surprising in his slight frame. He let me settle down on the seat Cynara had left. “You have been roughly handled,” he said in apology, “Just sit still a minute. My men—” he made a deprecating little gesture, “have had orders. And if I know Karamy’s ways, you’ve been heavily drugged for a long time.” His eyes studied me intently. “Better come and have a drink. And—when did you eat last? You look half starved. That’s the way of the sharig—”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I can’t remember,” I told him honestly.

  “I thought so. Come along.” Narayan went into the next room, assuming that I would follow and that I knew my way around. After the insanely furnished rooms in Rainbow City, I was a little surprised when the next room proved to be a strictly functional and ordinary kitchen, equipped with the usual items. Out of a relatively un-extraordinary icebox he assembled something that looked rather like the food I was accustomed to from the 20th century, and poured some kind of liquid into an oddly shaped glass. He motioned me into a chair and set the things on the table. “Here, eat this. I know the drugs they give you; you’ll have more sense when you’ve eaten. We’ve plenty of time to talk, all night if we choose.” He saw me glance side-wise at the glass, laughed sketchily, and from the same bottle poured himself a drink and sat down opposite me, sipping it slowly. “Go ahead. I won’t poison you till I find out what Karamy’s up to.”

  I laughed apologetically and started eating, with a mental shrug. It had been at least forty-eight hours since I had last tasted food, and I did justice to the plateful before me. Narayan sipped his drink—which, when I tasted mine, appeared to be excellent cognac—and watched m
e; and when I finally pushed the empty plate aside, he put back his glass and said “Now. Who are you, and what happened?”

  I felt better and stronger; more like myself than I’d felt since Rhys had catapulted me into this world. But now that I was on the carpet, I felt I must talk fast and convincingly before those searching grey eyes.

  “Karamy had me shut in the Tower,” I told him, “I was freed today, and we were on our way to the Dreamers Keep. Then your men came along. I didn’t know if I was being rescued or captured. I still don’t.” I stared with purposeful blankness at Narayan; he stared back and I could feel him debating what to do and say. Obviously, an Adric sane and glib and possibly untruthful was a different thing than an Adric too bewildered and shaken to tell anything but the truth. Finally Narayan said, “I’m not sure what I ought to do or say, Adric. The bond between us isn’t as strong as it was. You know that.”

  I nodded, perturbed. Adric’s thoughts seemed to be surging back, insidiously, as if Narayan held the key to unlock them. What crazy drama was going to be unfolded in my mind now?

  Narayan said, low; “Karamy did it, I think.”

  “Yes.” My own voice was as quiet as his own. “Karamy sent me on the Time Ellipse. She knew I’d come back changed—or mad—or not at all. I think—I think she wanted me to betray you again.”

  “Adric!” Narayan reached out quickly and grabbed my arm, hard, above the elbow, till I cried out with the pain of that steely grip and twisted away, rubbing numbed flesh. “Adric—” Narayan repeated, unsteadily, “Why do you say—betray me again? Betray me? Adric—it was your hand that freed me! Zandru! Adric—” he begged, “How much have you forgotten?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Battle in my Brain

  The fire in the other room had burned down to an ember. Without a glance my way, Narayan mended the fire; sat down, his legs stretched toward the little blaze, his shin in his hands; waiting. I could not stand still. I walked, restless, around the room, speaking in little jerks and half-sentences.

  “You are the Dreamer,” I said, “I—I remember a little. I remember being bound to you. I remem-member when I—freed you. Not knowing what it might mean, not knowing you could have slain me on the ground of sacrifice.”

  “No!” Narayan was as motionless as Gamine’s veils, but his voice was harsh, strident. “No, Adric, never that! We cannot—kill each other, you and I. I could order you killed, I suppose, but I—I would never do that unless there was no other way. Adric—is there any other way for me, for you?”

  A bitterness spoke in my voice; neither side trusted Adric, both wanted his allegiance. I tried to trim my words carefully between the two personalities that were battling for mastery in me.

  “It was Karamy,” I said, “who took Adric from you, and sent him, half-mad, back to the Crimson Tower. Karamy’s magic stripped him of power, and sent him, gone mad, back to stargazing in Narabedla. But it was not Karamy’s—” the voice that was not quite mine shook, suddenly, with my own weariness and the blank terror I’d been keeping at bay, “It wasn’t Karamy who sent me here, I’m not Adric. You were perfectly right. I’m no more Adric than—than you are. I’m in Adric’s body, yes. He moves me like a puppet! I have his memories, his—some of his thoughts—but he—” my voice cracked suddenly on a note of panic; I knew I sounded like a hysterical kid, but I couldn’t stop my own crackup once it had broken loose. “I’m not Adric, I’m not! I don’t belong here at all! I don’t—”

  Narayan jumped up from the bench and I heard his hurrying steps, then his steel hands were hard on my shoulders, swinging me around to face him. “All right,” he said, “Steady. It’s all right.”

  I drew a long breath and let it out again. “Thanks,” I said briefly, shamed. “I’ll be all right now.”

  Narayan shrugged wearily. “It’s all right. I guessed you weren’t Adric, of course, from the beginning. But I didn’t think Adric, when it came to the test, would really do that to me. I had his promise. I suppose, for him, it was an easy way out. A perfect way of escape.” He sank down on the bench again, dropping his head in his hands. After a little, he looked up, and his voice sounded tired. “This is difficult,” he said. “My men think you are Adric. I’d never be able to convince them you aren’t. Would you mind—pretending? You’ll have to; otherwise—” he paused, and I saw disquiet in his face. He was not a man who would enjoy threatening, but I could understand his situation. They didn’t know me from Adam; I was just an outsider who messed things up by resembling Adric. Well, I was stuck. I hadn’t liked the Narabedlans enough to give a hang what Narayan meant to do to them. Narayan, by comparison, looked pretty decent. And there was no other way to save my skin. Adric wasn’t too popular, it seemed and in Adric’s body I hadn’t a chance. I laughed. “I’ll try,” I told him. “But what’s this all about?”

  Narayan looked up again. “That’s right. You wouldn’t know. You have some of Adric’s memory, I suppose, but not all. You remember who I am?”

  “Not entirely—” I told him. I remembered some things. Narayan had been born, some thirty years ago, into a respectable country family who were appalled to discover they had given birth to a mutant Dreamer, and were only too glad to deliver him to the Narabedlans for the enforced stasis. I told Narayan.

  “You remember the old Dreamer who served your House?”

  I nodded. He had become old, mortal, weak—and had been eliminated. I bowed my head, although I had no personal guilt.

  Afterward, Narayan and I had been bound. “I slept in the Dreamer’s Keep—” Narayan sounded reflective, almost guilty, “I was wakened, and—given sacrifice. I learned to use my power and to give it up to Adric.” A brooding horror was in the grey eyes; I realized that Narayan dwelt in his own personal private hell with the memory of what he had done under the spell of Narabedla. “Adric was—strong.”

  Yes, I thought; Adric had called on Narayan’s new power without counting cost. What wonder the memory maddened Narayan? The young Dreamer seemed to win his silent fight for self-control. “Well, you—Adric, I mean—freed me. I found my sister again; Cynara. I was like a child; I had to learn to live, to be alive again. I had been trained to use my power only through the Sacrifice. I had to learn to use it without. It wasn’t easy.”

  “Why?” I asked thoughtlessly. Narayan’s eyes froze me. “To use that power,” he said in a tense, controlled voice, “Took human life.”

  * * * *

  Outside the door I could hear the noises of the camp; the light of their watch-fires crept in through the cracks. It was too dark to see Narayan’s face now, but I heard him moving restlessly about the room. “I have harnessed the power somewhat,” he said, “I can use it, myself, a little. Not much. Adric helped me; so did my sister. She had been taken for Sacrifice, but you—Adric—redeemed her. Then—we were able to throw an illusion around Cynara. She is not of Narabedla; but we made it seem as if she had always been there, in Rainbow City. We could do that because Evarin is weak, and because Karamy did not care. It was Rhys who made the Illusion.”

  “Rhys!” The old Dreamer, the only one born in Narabedla—

  “Yes; Gamine is careless with Rhys and lets him wake too long. Rhys and I have been in contact for a long time.”

  I was hearing scraps of conversation from a vast abyss of time and space, when I had been drawn in electric coma through Karamy’s Time Ellipse. They will know, Narayan will know. That had been old Rhys. And Adric; What have I to do with Narayan? Adric had been—still was—playing a fancy double game with Narayan; I started to open my lips to tell the young Dreamer about it, but he was still talking. “Rhys will not act, not directly, against Rainbow City. But he did that much for us, and Gamine and Cynara are friends. We forgot—we all forgot—that Adric’s allegiance belonged to Narabedla first. Until he vanished.” I heard the brooding heaviness in Narayan’s voice. These men had been friends. Narayan went on, “I sent Brennan today, to find out. He didn’t come back.”

  I lowered my
head and miserably told him what had happened to Brennan. Narayan’s face in a flicker of firelight looked drawn and haggard. “He was a—brave man,” Narayan said at last. “But I don’t blame you. After the interchange, I think, there was a time when you went on living Adric’s life. Thinking his thoughts. But now, I think, he will grow weaker in you. I hope. You—who are you, in your own world?”

  I shrugged. The words would have meant nothing to Narayan. “My name’s Mike Kenscott.”

  “Mi-ek,” Narayan repeated, turning the strange word on his tongue. “The men will call you Adric. I’d better, too. Later—” he shrugged. I didn’t say anything; I was still convinced that I hadn’t seen the last of Adric. But I didn’t want to tell Narayan this. I liked the man.

  Without warning, Narayan switched on lights. “It’s near dawn, and you must be worn out. We’ve taught them to stay clear of the forests at night, so we’re safe enough here. They can’t do much till they’ve been to the Dreamers Keep, in any case.” With a sudden boyish friendliness he put out his hand and I took it. “I’m glad you’re not Adric. He might be hard to handle now—if he’s changed so much.”

  As if the lights had been a signal, fat Raif came without knocking into the room. Narayan crossed his hostile stare at me. “He’s all right, Raif,” the Dreamer said. The fat face broke into a sudden, elephantine smile. “I’d better apologize, Adric. I had orders.”

  “Find him a place to sleep,” Narayan suggested, and I followed Raif up a flight of low stairs into an inner room. There was a bed there, clean, but tumbled as if it had had another occupant not long ago. Raif said, “Kerrel’s gone with Cynara. You can sleep here.”