THE SOUL WEAVER

by Carol Berg

  “I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “He’ll do what he has to do. But you mustn’t be anywhere near me. Things could happen… You don’t understand how much they hate you - the Three.”

  Ven’Dar clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Time for a discreet exit, my lady. I’m sorry.”

  Though I, too, heard the shouts and running footsteps from the passageway, I had no intention of leaving. But Ven’Dar closed his eyes and spread his hands again and was soon tugging insistently on my arm. “We must trust the Prince. And that means you must do as I tell you.”

  “Gerick, you are not what you think,” I said, as Ven’Dar gently, but insistently, pried my hands from the bars and dragged me across the room. “Remember everything I’ve told you. The Lords do not create. They only destroy, and they care for no one but themselves. You are not one of them. I still believe it. I’ll always believe it.”

  The enchanted light illuminated the face of my beautiful son, who smiled at me with a sweet, sad radiance. “I am what I am. I’m sorry.”

  Sorry… as if sixteen years of horror inflicted on an innocent child were his fault. I wanted to scream out the injustice.

  “Absolute silence, madam,” whispered Ven’Dar, his powerful arm crushing my back against the gray stone beside the door to the passageway. “You are a wall. Act like it.”

  The guardroom door burst open, and eight armed men hurried into the chamber, followed by Karon, Men’Thor, and a stooped man in gray. Radele trailed behind, remaining in the open doorway, watching the others as if he were only an observer, not one of their party. Not the slimmest shadow remained in the room once they’d brought their torches inside, but to my mystification, no one remarked Ven’Dar and me. Deciding to take Ven’Dar’s odd suggestion as legitimate, I emptied my mind, and tried to think like a wall: flat, silent, so ordinary as to be unnoticeable.

  “What foolishness is this, Ben’Shar?” Karon snapped. His hard gaze whipped about the room, passing over Ven’Dar and me without a moment’s pause. “I see no intruder. These ‘rumblings’ you noted must have come from your own belly. Was I dragged from a Preceptorate meeting because you failed to digest your lunch?”

  “But, my lord, it was a powerful enchantment - a winding, I’m sure of it,” said the stooped man, scratching his chest as his eyes darted about the room. “This prison block is a snarl of windings. I’m never wrong about these things.”

  “Perhaps the prisoner himself has a rumbling belly,” said Men’Thor, peering through the bars. “Clearly he hungers, and there’s not enough pain and fear in Avonar on which to gorge himself. Perhaps he summons his dark brethren to feed him.”

  “Their need is their weakness,” said Radele, softly. No one could have heard him save Ven’Dar and me, who were but a hand’s-breadth from his back.

  “You have no idea of what my ‘dark brethren’ are capable,” said the voice from behind the bars - a voice so cold, so alien to the sweet vision that still hung in my memory, that I wondered if I’d missed seeing some other prisoner locked in with my son. “These pitiful bands you use to detain me are but sand to the hurricane of their power. They’ll devour you, and you can’t even see it coming. Touch my mind. Open the door you find there, and you’ll see what your Prince has seen. You’ll understand how they appreciate mind-stealing murderers like you and your son.”

  “Silence!” roared Karon, slamming his hands into the bars. “You will not speak, Dieste… Destroyer. For four years you’ve twisted words, twisted lives, befouled the world with your deceptions. No more. Tomorrow you will show what you really are. Let your putrid brethren come when you cry out to them, and I’ll put an end to them, too.” Karon raised his fist toward the cell, and the bars began to glow, first silvery blue, and then yellow. And when they flared a brilliant white that seared my eyes, from behind them came a scream of such mortal agony that the Dar’Nethi warriors shrank from it, and the old man Ben’Shar covered his ears. Ven’Dar pressed his hand to my mouth, but he could stop neither my tears nor his own.

  Once the interminable cry had died away, a stone-faced Karon pushed past his companions and the guards and vanished into the outer passage. The shaken soldiers stood aside to let a somber Men’Thor and the stooped Watcher pass, but Radele did not accompany them.

  After the last guards had left the chamber, Radele stepped up to the wall of fading fire and peered into the dark silence beyond it. “He’ll speak no vileness for a while,” he said to no one, as he stroked the bars with his fingertips. “A taste of the Heir’s power looks to be quite effective. It would finish the devils forever if wielded properly.”

  His face fierce and determined, Radele spun on his heel and followed the others into the passage.

  When all was quiet and dim once again, Ven’Dar, still pressing me tightly to the wall, spoke in a quiet voice that I thought might bore a hole in my skull. “Your son lives. There is nothing to be done for him, except what he and his father ask of you. Hide yourself away until the time is right. Hold him in your heart… and the Prince also.”

  When the Preceptor released me I hurried to the cell and fell to my knees, gripping the still-warm bars. Gerick sprawled facedown on the stone floor. Unmoving. On his arms were long, angry scratches as if he’d tried to claw the manacles away. I had no talent to tell me he lived, and saw no other sign of it, so I had to take Ven’Dar’s word. “This is not over, dear one,” I said to him, as the Preceptor drew me away.

  Like shadows we passed through the guard posts once again, and into a maze of deserted back stairs, dusty storage rooms, and passageways long unused. Dusk lingered in a weed-grown courtyard. I followed Ven’Dar without question. It was as well Gerick had lain unhearing, for my brave words had no more substance than a single raindrop in the desert. It mattered not in the least what I did. I put no faith in Ven’Dar’s hopeful intimation that there was some underlying purpose in what I had just witnessed.

  Up three flights of stairs. At the end of a long, unlit passage hung with cobwebs and faded tapestries - a passage that looked as if D’Arnath himself had been the last Dar’Nethi to walk it - the Preceptor pulled open a wide, plain door and ushered me into a beautifully appointed room, a softly lit haven of comfortable couches, deep carpets, and shelves of finely bound books. A fire popped and crackled in a brick fireplace, and on a small table next to it, ivory and jade chessmen stood ready on an onyx chessboard. Everywhere were small things - a watercolor of a lighthouse, an ivory horse, a needlework cushion - unmatched in the grace and loveliness of their working.

  Yet the place might as well have been my hovel at Dunfarrie. Numb, heartsick, I sank into a fat, cushioned chair and laid my useless hands in my lap.

  Ven’Dar pulled a footstool close to my chair and sat on it. His gray-blue eyes were troubled. “I cannot stay, my lady. Only a little while longer and my own hiding must end. I understand your grief, but I did not take you there to hasten it, magnify it, or resign you to it. I took you there to remind you of your power. Do not forget what you saw. Who you saw. Do not forget what you’ve given him all these years. Hold fast. The Lords of Zhev’Na hate you as they have hated no one since D’Arnath himself. Here at the culmination of their thousand-year war, you, a seemingly powerless woman, have denied them their prize twice over. You must not falter in this third challenge.”

  He enfolded my cold hands in his warm ones. “Tonight, at one hour past moonrise, the Prince will speak to the people of Avonar from the balcony you can see from that window over there. Even now his messengers summon the Dar’Nethi from the Vales, from the borderlands, from the Wastes, from the city - at least one person from every family. Whatever may be the result of my lord’s words, know that you bear my deepest regard, and that in any way that may be possible, I will be forever at your service.”

  He lifted my limp hand and kissed it, and then he rose and left me there alone.

  CHAPTER 29

  For an hour after Ven’Dar left I sat in my chair and indulged in self-pity, a
n exercise at which I began to think I could become quite expert. Why had they bothered to bring me out of my living death, if only to witness horror? Why open my ears, if they were only to hear my husband in mad rage and my child in agony, and no explanation for any of it? What had gone wrong at Calle Rein just when I believed Karon had put D’Natheil in his place?

  But an hour was enough. Self-pity would change nothing, and I had never been able to abide unanswerable questions. I forced myself to get up and walk about the room, hoping the activity might stimulate some semblance of purposeful thought. Carafes of wine and water stood on a sideboard, alongside one of the marvelous Dar’Nethi ceramic teapots that stayed constantly warm. I poured myself tea and then abandoned the cup on the oaken table when I wandered over to one of the windows draped in gauzy fabric the color of jade.

  The window looked out over the grand commard and parkland that fronted the palace. No sign yet of the rising moon, so Ven’Dar’s mystery would have to wait. The evening was quiet in the city, only a few people hurrying past. Where were Bareil and Roxanne? Surely the Dulcé would bring the princess to safety when it became clear I had left the Precept House by another way.

  Absentmindedly I moved to the bookshelves and brushed my fingers over one of the leather-bound books, noting to my surprise that its title was in Leiran. The next also, and the next - and all of them familiar. On the shelf was a book of Isker poetry, and beside it a book of Vallorean folktales - very like one I had cherished long ago. I looked about the room again, wondering at it. Everything was just on the edge of familiarity. Nothing mysterious, nothing of magical design save the teapot. A burnished brass lectern stood by the windowed wall, positioned to take advantage of the light. A suspicious guess as to what I might find there was proved right when I found a silver flute lying on a sheet of music that had been transcribed in a fine hand.

  “It is a lovely room, is it not?”

  A tall young woman in a gown of deep green stood just inside the door, holding a tray of fruit, cheese, and fragrant pastries. “You must pardon my entrance without knocking, my lady, but I must keep my hands where they are. I can be rather clumsy, if I’m not careful.” She set the tray on a low table between two comfortable chairs, and something about the way she slid her hand along the edge of the table as she placed the tray, and the way she turned exactly half a revolution to face me told me she was blind. My guess was confirmed when her blue eyes failed to settle on my own.

  “You’re Aimee… ”

  “Indeed, my lady.” She extended her hands, palms up, and dipped her knee.

  “… Gar’Dena’s daughter, to whom he promised to bring a rinoceroos.”

  The girl had a smile that could melt snow. She’d been no more than thirteen when I’d met her at the giant Gem Worker’s house - his beloved youngest daughter, now a graceful young woman with hair like curls of sunlight held off her face by an amber comb. Pleasure and animation brought a flush to her fair cheeks, her brows rising and eyes sparkling.

  “He did it, you know. For my fifteenth birthday, just after the Prince’s return from Zhev’Na. Three of the great beasts right in our house. We had to rebuild half the main floor and hire thirty Gardeners and Tree Delvers to replant our gardens. But no girl ever had such a birthday.”

  “I’m so sorry about your father, Aimee. He was a wonderful friend and a good man.”

  Her smile softened, but did not dim. “ ‘A glorious man of great appetites,’ as he would say. My sisters and I were blessed to have him.” She motioned to the food she’d brought. “It is such a dear pleasure to have you well again, my lady. Come, you must be hungry.”

  The border between hunger and nausea can be very fine. I invited Aimee to sit and share the fruit and pastries that looked and smelled so delicious. But one small bite of cheese came near gagging me. “Tell me, Aimee, how did you come to be charged with my care?”

  She held a ripe strawberry she had been on the verge of popping into her mouth. “The Prince summoned me to the palace early this morning and said he had a great secret and needed my help. He asked me if I would please to come here and keep you company, assisting you in any way possible. Only a few people know of these rooms: myself and Bareil; Papa did, of course, and… the Preceptor Ven’Dar… ” She frowned as she mentioned Ven’Dar. “My lady, do you know - ” She stopped short and ate her strawberry.

  “How is it that you were privy to such a great secret as these rooms?” So many uncertainties. Perhaps she was privy to other secrets.

  Her flush deepened as she blotted her lips with a square of linen. “Because I made them.”

  Avonar was truly full of wonders.

  “Two years ago the Prince asked if I would help him prepare a suite of rooms for you - where you might feel at home were you to come here to live. He knew that Avonar, for all its beauties, would be strange and unfamiliar - the palace, especially.”

  “But how did you know all this? The paintings, the flute… ” I was willing to accept that a blind Dar’Nethi sorceress could conjure books and furniture, but everything was so perfectly right.

  “The Prince would describe to me each piece he wanted. My talent is in Imaging, creating an exact depiction of objects in my thoughts. I would then have the piece made to match the image I had created, using my skill and my hands to judge. When I thought it was ready, the Prince would tell me if I’d got it right or not. It was a great pleasure to him. He took to coming here himself to sit and work almost every day. I think it made him feel close to you.”

  I pressed a hand to my mouth and took a moment to shut off the welling tears. No time for them. No use in them. “You did well, Aimee. Very well indeed.”

  “Thank you, my lady. Tell me… was there not to be another lady with you this night?”

  “Yes, but we became separated on our way. Bareil should be bringing her very soon.”

  “Then she’s quite safe, I’m sure. Bareil is very wise.”

  “Yes.” I picked at the nut-filled pastry on my plate. “So, Aimee, the Prince knows I’m here?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s how I knew when to come just now, for he sent me a message that you had arrived. He says no one else is to have the least inkling that the grievous reports of your death are false.”

  “But he said nothing of when he might come here.”

  “No, my lady. I’m sorry. Nothing.”

  Karon, what are you doing? Why won’t you tell me?

  As Aimee and I set the plates and bowls back on her tray, a soft knock on the outer door announced Bareil. “My lady, what a relief to find you here safely. And Mistress Aimee, a pleasure, as always.”

  “I’m sorry we were separated,” I said. “I was brought here by the gentleman…” Gods, I hated all these secrets.

  “I understand, madam.” He closed the door carefully.

  “Bareil, where’s the princess?”

  “That’s what I’ve come to tell you, my lady. Unfortunately Ce’Aret’s aide, F’Lyr, saw me in the passage outside the Masters’ Waiting Chamber, the room where I had hidden the young lady, and insisted I speak with the Preceptor Ce’Aret. No insistence that I was on the Prince’s business would satisfy him, so I had to go, lest Ce’Aret herself come up to fetch me and discover the princess. I told the young lady to remain quietly hidden until I could return for her. Though I apologized for abandoning her, she did not seem frightened. She seems… uh… ”

  “… a very resilient young lady,” I said.

  “Indeed. Before I could return to her, the Prince arrived for the Preceptorate meeting. He asked me only if you were safe, and I said you were, but I didn’t tell him that the princess was not yet here” - he swallowed hard and glanced up - “and I do most sincerely fear his wrath if he discovers it. Even worse, when I slipped up the stairs to fetch her, Radele was entering the Masters’ Waiting Chamber! The girl must have hidden herself or gone elsewhere, for I heard no evidence of discovery. The Prince was waiting for me, so I could not stay long. Now I am commanded to return t
o him immediately, so I’ve no assurance as to when I’ll be free to retrieve the young lady.”

  “I can find the way there and back,” I said, standing up. “I’ll go for her myself.” Roxanne was sensible. She would not let herself get caught. She would remember how to keep herself empty… surely she would remember.

  “You must not leave the palace, my lady,” said Aimee, frowning. “The Prince was most emphatic about that. Perhaps I could retrieve the young lady. No one will remark me.”

  “But how - ” I almost bit my tongue.

  Aimee’s laugh chimed like silver. “If you or the good Dulcé will permit me to know her through your eyes, I’ll be able to recognize her.”

  “It would be a great service,” I said, unsure what she meant.

  “Of course, I can’t go just now. Everyone is gathering to hear the Prince speak, and so many people abroad will confuse my ability to travel. But the Precept House will be deserted, and that will keep her safe. Later, when the crowds thin out a bit, I should be able to find her quite easily. I’ll go the moment the Prince is finished speaking.”

  A relieved Bareil said he would be happy for Aimee to take an image of Roxanne from his thoughts. While they discussed descriptions, images, and the most discreet routes by which to bring Roxanne into the palace, a low hum from outside drew me to back to the window.

  This apartment lay on the inner face of the curved north wing of the palace, so the cushioned window seat had an excellent view of the broad front steps and the royal balcony above them, as well as the commard and parkland below and beyond. As the filmy draperies shifted in the breeze, I settled there and watched a crowd grow, pouring from every street, carrying candles and lanterns and magical lights of all kinds, until the city looked like rivers of fireflies replenishing a jeweled sea. Beyond them all, low in the east over the mountains, hung the huge silver crescent of the moon.