Sword and Illusion

by Nancy S. Brandt

  "Seventeen days," Boros said, reading from the scroll. "They go into the mountains through a hidden tunnel, mate, then return to the lake to lay eggs. While the eggs are dormant, the Serpents sleep, so for about fifteen days after they return, the lake is still safe to cross."

  "Or to swim in," Olaf said. "If the creatures are not a threat, it would be a simple thing for me to find the Temple."

  Moonrazer thought about what the lady on the glacier had told her. "'You will wish to seek out ancient writings. A friend will assist you and will go a great distance and cross deep water to help, but in the end a lost temple will be found.'" She repeated the words softly.

  "What is that?" Adazzra asked.

  "The vision I had on the glacier," the Exalted Warrior said. "I did not understand she meant the Temple of Joyful Balance because we have known where it was, but now I think she meant that we would finally be able to get to it."

  Olaf smiled. "I can be ready within two days."

  Moonrazer stood. "I think this is an excellent idea. I will get some of my warriors to accompany you."

  "In the meantime," Boros said, "perhaps I can examine the scrolls the Mother Prioress brought with her. I would like to see what hers say."

  "I will talk to Whiteshadow. She will not be happy, but I think she will give you the scrolls."

  Chapter Nine

  Whiteshadow was with the Sisters of the Flame in the building the warriors had quickly constructed for rehearsals for the History Cycle and the celebration of the Exalted Warrior's birthday.

  Moonrazer stepped through the door, but the Mother Prioress did not see her. The Exalted Warrior watched the rehearsal and wasn't surprised to see her sister demand perfection from the younger women.

  Just as Whiteshadow started to climb the stairs to again show Sister Blackearth how to recite the story of Diamondhammer the First and her daughter, Lancethruster the Second, Moonrazer called to her.

  "Mother Prioress, I need to speak to you."

  Whiteshadow spun around, and when she saw the Exalted Warrior, her face showed annoyance, but she hid it immediately.

  "Of course, Warrior." She turned to Sister Blackearth. "I will speak to you when I return. Continue practicing. I want you to be able to tell that story with the reverence it deserves."

  Moonrazer waited at the back of the building, while Whiteshadow seemed to take her time getting there.

  "The History Cycle will be ready to present to the Candidates in a few days," the Mother Prioress said as she bowed to her sister.

  "Good," Moonrazer said to be polite, but in reality she didn't want to sit through what had, at one time, taken half a day to perform. She was sure with Whiteshadow's help and the addition of her own finding of the Sword of Justice, the play was longer now.

  "We still have much to do to be ready," Whiteshadow said, "so I should get back to it."

  "I need to see the scrolls about the Choosing Ritual."

  "What?" The Mother Prioress stared at her. "Why would you need to see them? I am the Spiritual…"

  "I know," Moonrazer said. "I am not questioning your authority or your interpretation of anything. Boros, our archivist, has found a copy of the scroll about the Choosing Ritual written by Mother Bloodring. The scroll has been damaged by age and probably the Navin invasion. He just wants to see yours so he can recreate a full copy."

  "That is out of the question." Whiteshadow turned toward the stage.

  "What is the problem?" Moonrazer asked, hurrying after her sister.

  "The problem is that I do not see a need for a mere male to study my scroll."

  "I am not suggesting that he rewrite the scroll or change the Ritual, although there might be merit in that…" Moonrazer watched her sister's face. Would the Mother Prioress attempt to be reasonable about this idea?

  Whiteshadow whirled to face her. "That is impossible. This is the way the Choosing Ritual has been done for generations before Staffthrower lost the Sword of Justice and Ruby Medallion. Who are we to even consider changing it? We owe it to our ancestors to honor their sacrifices and work. Our people do not deserve to suffer because you find the old ways inconvenient."

  "Do you really feel that our people would suffer if we made small changes to ancient traditions?"

  "Of course our people would be harmed. We would lose our identity. The ancient traditions help forge our connections and give us posts to hold onto when all the rest of the Known Worlds have abandoned the old ways. Is it not enough to you that our people, warriors by blood and the will of the Holy One, are forced to live without battles and against their natures?"

  "You overstep your bounds once again, sister." Moonrazer felt her own anger rising. “If you are so against the Sarl being at peace, why take our training grounds?” Did Whiteshadow have to continually question the way she ruled the Sarl?

  “We needed the land, and I merely pointed out that as long as you insist on keeping the warriors out of battles, the grounds were not needed.”

  "We are still rebuilding our capabilities," Moonrazer said. "Does one fight with a sword while it is still hot from the furnace?”

  “That is an excuse. You do not seek out battles as our ancestors did.”

  Moonrazer clenched her fists. “Your understanding of history is flawed. The Sarl were created by the Holy One to dispense justice throughout the Known Worlds, not to seek out war."

  Whiteshadow blinked. "You have forced our people into a peace they were not made for. If you truly wanted to train warriors, you would find a way."

  "I can still arrange other quarters for you," Moonrazer said, taking a step toward the Mother Prioress and lowering her voice, "if the ones you have are still too high. My dungeons are very quiet and suitable to contemplation. You would do well to remember to whom you speak."

  All the Sisters of the Flame in the auditorium stopped whatever they'd been doing as the voices of the two women became dangerously quiet. Vaguely, Moonrazer was aware of the eyes on her, but she did not back down. Something more than the form of the Rituals was bothering Whiteshadow, and now was as good a time as any to get it out in the open.

  Whiteshadow's eyes blazed at her, but she said nothing.

  "What is this really about?" Moonrazer asked. "All I am requesting is that Boros be allowed to see the Choosing Ritual scroll."

  The Mother Prioress closed her eyes, clearly trying to get herself under control. Then she opened them and took a deep breath. "I do not believe the scroll should be in the hands of a man."

  "Why not?" Moonrazer asked. "Is there some secret that Boros cannot see?"

  When Whiteshadow spoke, her voice was quiet and careful. "There may be."

  "What are you talking about?" Moonrazer wondered if her sister would admit keeping the fate of unworthy Candidates a secret.

  "The laws and rituals were designed for warriors alone," the Mother Prioress said. "I do not believe it is necessary for a man to read them."

  "You did not answer my question. He is trying to help us restore our lost relics. I would think that would be something you would approve of. Why are you not willing to help him?"

  After a moment of silence, Whiteshadow bowed her head. "Fine. I will give your archivist what is necessary to help him restore the ancient scrolls, but I will visit him first and see exactly what he needs. He does not need to see everything, I am sure."

  Moonrazer was tempted to argue this further, but knew it would be a useless exercise.

  "I think that would be fine," Moonrazer said. "When can I tell Boros to expect you?"

  "I will visit him today, if that is agreeable to you?"

  "Of course, Mother Prioress," the Exalted Warrior said. "Thank you."

  Whiteshadow said, "You will be at the Instruction Session after the midday meal?"

  Moonrazer rubbed her shoulder. "Of course I will be there. I would not want to embarrass the Sarl by not understanding my role in all this."

  "Thank you."

  Whiteshadow returned to the stage area. Moonraze
r would be glad when this Choosing thing was over. It clearly was taking a toll on the Mother Prioress as well. Moonrazer had never seen her act so strangely.

  ****

  The Tower was in sight. Vaurt stopped his horse and looked at the number of guards and warriors in the area and patrolling the wall.

  At the far side of the wall, something glittered. A building that looked like a shrine of some kind seemed to grow naturally out of the snow and ice.

  Three columns of marble so white they nearly blinded him stood in front of a door carved in such a way that it appeared to be made out of ice or the finest of precious jewels. Its facets caught the dim sunlight and magnified it, tossing beams of white light in virtually every direction.

  Vaurt wondered what treasures this place might contain and felt his fingers itch. Surely, a shrine such as this had to hold gold and gems, offerings for a deity.

  Regretfully, he knew he couldn't try to turn this mission into one of thievery. It was bad business trying to do too much on a job. Too many ways to get caught.

  With a sigh, he refocused his attention to the guards along the wall nearest to him.

  Rillaur had assured him there would be no problem getting past them, but years of hiding from authority and keeping a low profile made Vaurt cautious and suspicious.

  The King of Andarnnon's Notice of Consort Selection seemed to be made of lead as it rested in the breast pocket of the finest garment the assassin had ever owned.

  The idea of not only walking through the gate openly, but making sure he was noticed, made Vaurt's heart pound against his chest.

  He preferred to move quietly, in the shadows, or to pose as some invisible servant or stablehand. However, Rillaur had challenged him to play the part of nobility, and Vaurt's pride would not let him refuse.

  There was more to this than just his reputation. He was an assassin for hire, and King Rillaur had a pile of gold stashed in a vault below his castle waiting for word that Prince Varian of Tellan was dead.

  The vision of all that gold made Vaurt smile, and he urged his horse down the hill.

  Two tall women stopped him just as he reached the pathway at the bottom of the hill.

  "And you are?" said the taller of the two, a blonde giantess with a sword held across her chest.

  "Um… Lord Olivier Tristan of Andarnnon." He took the invitation from his pocket.

  The guard took the paper. "You are here for the Choosing?"

  He considered his answer. "The Choosing, yes."

  She studied him, looking from his head to his feet as though thinking about purchasing a prize bull for breeding purposes. Vaurt looked at the expression on her face and wondered how he would fare if he were that animal.

  "The barracks for the Candidates is at the end of the path to your right," she said, handing him back the paper. "Do not stray from the path. Sarl warriors will help you if you find yourself lost."

  "Thank you," Vaurt said, glancing around.

  There did seem to be an abundance of warriors everywhere he looked. If any one of them knew why he was really there, even though he meant no harm to any Sarl, he was certain he wouldn't stand a chance of escaping.

  If he just stayed calm as he headed toward the barracks that blonde goddess had showed him, he shouldn't have any problems.

  He dismounted his horse, and led him toward the building.

  A young man, clearly a servant, hurried to take his horse. "Candidate rooms are on the second floor," the boy said. "There is a religious sister with a list who will tell you where you have been assigned."

  He led the animal away, leaving Vaurt alone in front of the barracks except for a small quartet of men, dressed from head to toe in fur, so they looked like some kind of band of wild animals. They were seated in a semi-circle on the ground to the right of the barracks entrance, playing music on stringed instruments.

  The music was unlike anything Vaurt had ever heard on any world he'd visited. There was a cold sharpness to the sound that echoed the icy temperature of the air.

  With a shake of his head, he went inside.

  The strange, militarist celebration continued in the common room on the first floor of the building. In the center, on a waist-high pedestal, stood an ice sculpture depicting a battle between a woman with a sword and a creature that looked like the cross between a cat and a bear.

  Vaurt stared at it.

  "Magnificent, isn't it?"

  He turned toward the speaker, a man who stood about half a hand taller than he, with black hair and green eyes.

  "I am Everard," the man said, bowing his head, "Master Hunter of the Guild of the Red Fox."

  "Lord Olivier Tristan of Andarnnon."

  "Oh, Andarnnon," Everard said, taking a sip of some brownish liquid from his wooden goblet.

  "Have you ever been there?" Vaurt asked.

  Everard nearly choked on his drink. "No. I have heard there is some fine hunting in Andarnnon forests, and at one time I thought I might go. Since Moonrazer brought us to our ancestral home, though, I am afraid that I do not leave Carrick much these days. I never liked the nomad life."

  Vaurt nodded. In his research on this world, he'd discovered the Sarl had been nomads for generations until recently.

  "So, if you're Sarl, you must know about this Ritual," he said, taking a goblet of wine from a passing servant. "Is there anything I should know?"

  Everard shrugged. "I know what you know. Our people have not done such a thing in at least seven generations."

  "So what do we have to do?"

  "We have to prove ourselves worthy to be the consort of the great Moonrazer." Everard found two chairs against the wall near the staircase and sat. Vaurt took the chair next to him.

  "She is the most magnificent ruler in all the Known Worlds. Strong, brave, wise, and exceedingly beautiful. It is an honor just to be here to make my offering."

  "I take it you didn't get an invitation like King… I did?"

  Everard chuckled. "From what I have been told by the Sisters of the Flame, Sarl men would not normally be considered worthy to be the consort of the great Moonrazer. That is why the Mother Prioress sent invitations to eligible nobility, kings, and warriors, from all over the Known Worlds."

  "So, what are you doing here, in the Candidate's barracks?"

  "I am a Master Hunter," Everard said. "As leader of my clan, I have been allowed to enter the competition." He smiled and lifted his eyebrows. "One of the tests requires skill in hunting and combat." He puffed out his chest. "I excel at that. I intend to be the one to win the hand of the…"

  "Great Moonrazer," Vaurt said. "I understand."

  Everard looked him over. "You do not look like much of a fighter. I do believe I would be able to defeat you in combat."

  Now it was Vaurt's turn to smile. "There are many skills needed in a personal combat, Master Hunter. Strength is not the only thing. You may be surprised at what I can do."

  Everard laughed. "We shall see, my friend. I like you and will be sad if I have to embarrass you and get blood on your expensive clothes."

  Vaurt merely shook his head. He looked around the room.

  He spotted a young woman on the other side of the room. She was dressed in religious clothing consisting of a floor-length chemise in a fine white fabric, tied with two blue sashes, one from each shoulder across her chest to wrap around her waist. Several sets of prayer beads hung from her wrists and neck. A hood made from the same blue fabric covered her hair.

  Vaurt realized from the papers she held that she was in charge of directing Candidates to their rooms. He excused himself from Everard and walked over to her.

  "Can I help you?" she asked him.

  "I'm the Candidate from Andarnnon," Vaurt said.

  She glanced at him and then down at a list in front of her. "You are King Rillaur?"

  "Um, no. He has been married for quite some time," Vaurt said. "I am his cousin, Lord Olivier Tristan. You may have heard of me. After the battle of Ox Tooth Pass, I became known
as the Tiger of Andarnnon. The invitation states that any eligible relative of the king is welcome."

  She looked at the list and then at him. "There is no problem. I merely asked. Your room is at the top of the stairs. Number Six. There is a meeting of the Candidates this evening."

  "Thank you."

  He headed up the stairs and found his room. Once he got settled, he'd find out where Prince Varian was staying.

  Opening his pack, he took out three vials of poison gel, suitable for arrow tips, and laid them carefully on the bed. Surely, it was only a matter of finding an opportune moment to do what he'd come here for.