by Rick Shelley
After a time, the pace of their interior tour flagged, and both started to be distracted by distant voices and fleeting visions. Those seemed to lead them off into a darkness. They moved that way, the corridors of mind gradually becoming different sorts of paths, more ethereal than the musty depths of memory. There was no obvious hint of danger in this, though.
Maria did not bother asking Silvas what was going on, because she realized that he had no more idea than she did. This was something new to both of them, something to explore together.
Suddenly, one vision became as vivid as reality. A peasant woman was on her knees on the dirt floor of her hut, praying over the motionless body of a little girl. Praying.
The girl is almost dead, Silvas observed.
A terrible fever, Maria said in her mind.
Silvas reached out to touch the child's forehead. He felt the fever, the burning skin. He saw his hand on the forehead, but the mother did not.
Can we help? Maria asked.
If we can't no one can, Silvas replied grimly. He used a spell of healing from his wizard's lore, and willed its speedy success with the new store of power that Carillia had passed to him and to Maria. The little girl's fever moved into his hand and raced up his arm, dissipating slowly.
Then the mother started to recite a "Hail, Mary," and Maria felt herself suddenly begin to tingle.
She's talking to me! was almost a cry of desperation.
Together, Silvas and Maria experienced a memory of Carillia appearing to people as Mary. "It was my place," Carillia's voice said in their minds.
Maria reached out her hands and placed them over the hands of the praying mother. The woman looked up, apparently directly at Maria. Her eyes opened wide, and she gasped, clearly seeing the vision.
"Your little girl will recover," Maria said. She felt as if her body were shaking violently, but there was also an incredible exhilaration to the experience. Blood coursed madly through Maria's body, and the rush of that was repeated in the body of her spirit. The sensation was almost sexual in its intensity. Maria had to pause to control herself, to keep her voice calm when she spoke to the mother again. "The fever is leaving her. Be at peace."
The mother's effusive thanks were cut off suddenly by another plea for help. Silvas and Maria started to move toward this new voice, off in a dark distance.
I can see now why the gods have so often been tempted to interfere, Maria projected to Silvas, who had experienced the event just as she had. There are responsibilities to this gift.
Responsibilities too often ignored by…
Silvas's reply was bit off. The two of them found themselves suddenly caught up in a storm of light. A whirlwind of bright white light rushed around with all of the noise of a cyclone. There was no wind for them to feel, but the commotion was so intense that for a time they were unable to communicate with each other. The bodies of their spirits held hands and stood shoulder to shoulder against the rush of light, waiting for it to end… or to reveal whatever threat it held.
The threat was there, pressing against them, its menace apparent but undefined.
The light storm collapsed as suddenly as it had risen, somehow parting Silvas and Maria as it disappeared. They were standing in an open field under a clear sunlit sky. Maria was more than twenty yards from Silvas. And they were not alone.
Silvas was facing the anonymous figure of a knight clad in plate armor so black that it seemed to be a hole in reality. There were only narrow slits for eyes in the helmet's visor. Nothing of the warrior beneath could be seen. The black knight was taller than Silvas, and heavier by far, judging from the expanse of armor that covered him. The gauntlets made the knight's hands seem easily twice the size of Silvas's hands. And the black-bladed sword he drew appeared to Maria to be almost the size of a lance.
Silvas was dressed only in the loose silks that he customarily wore, without weapon or armor.
The knight kept his eyes aimed directly at Silvas, giving Maria not the briefest glance, as far as she could discern. He raised the black sword above his head and took one slow step forward. Silvas took one step back, raised his right hand, and spoke a word of command.
A sword appeared in his right hand, as gleaming bright as the other's sword was dark, but more in keeping with Silvas's size. A large shield affixed itself to Silvas's left arm. The black knight stepped to his left. Silvas matched the move. The two circled for a moment. Silvas stopped that dance eventually by taking a step back in the other direction, then stopping. He held his sword out in challenge. Those movements put the black knight directly between Silvas and Maria. She nodded, uncertain that Silvas even saw her gesture. He did not speak in her mind, and she did not try to speak to him. If the black knight were truly unaware of her-or unaware of the depth of their communion-that was a secret to hold until it would do the most good.
Tired of waiting, Silvas took a step toward the black knight. He had prepared all of the spells he thought might help. The knight came to meet him. Their swords clashed, high, and rebounded. Several times their blades met in that position as they hacked at each other. Silvas put all of his strength into meeting each blow, and it was scarcely sufficient. The black blade came closer to his head each time, and pressed forward, as if the black knight were not yet exerting his full strength.
After those initial probes, the black knight pressed his attack more vigorously, wielding his sword with as much ease as a child might wave a straw. Silvas met each blow, with increasing difficulty. He spoke his spells and watched them come to naught, serving only to keep the black knight from fully pressing the advantages of strength and reach. There was power in Silvas's spells, more power than he could have managed when he was merely a wizard, but still, they were not sufficient to penetrate the defenses of this phantom assailant.
Maria found herself watching the duel from two vantages at the same time, through her own eyes and through Silvas's. She felt his struggle as if her muscles were fighting, heard the spells he wove. She even felt the shock of swords clashing with great violence behind each blade.
Carefully now, Silvas said. At my word.
No answer was necessary. An idea formed in Maria's mind, as well as the spells to use to try to complete it.
Now! Silvas's voice in Maria's mind was a shout. Without the slightest delay, she spoke a short spell and a single word of power, clamping the black knight's arms to his sides with hoops of the strongest steel a divine mind could imagine-strong enough to hold even a god for a time.
For all of the strength he had displayed, the black knight could not break the bonds that held him. Silvas raised his sword for a sweeping cut aimed to slice the knight from the left side of his neck down to his right hip. Silvas added words of power to the edge of his sword, and to the muscles in his arms. As if released by the springs of a catapult, the sword flashed down, moving so rapidly that it appeared to become a large disc of steel. As the blade cut into the black knight, the suit of armor exploded, hurling pieces of itself in every direction.
There was no body within the armor. No blood showed that any wound had been inflicted.
The black sword bounced across the field and came to rest-but only momentarily. Then the sword came up off of the ground and advanced toward Silvas. No visible hand held the blade.
The duel resumed, with the sword moving more rapidly on its own than it had when the black armor had wielded it. No magic, no words of power, seemed to slow the blade. Silvas's sword was dashed from his hand, and the black blade raised up for the final blow.
Silvas could do nothing to avoid the stroke, but just as the blade started toward him, an explosion of light caught Silvas and Maria again. They could see nothing at all in the glare.
Then they awoke, back in their bed in Mikel's palace, in their bodies again, and alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They awoke together, their minds functioning completely as one. When they sat up, moving away from each other on the bed, there was no sense of two individuals separat
ing. The thoughts of one were the thoughts of both as they sought for any hint of attack. They reached out together to contact Bay, Bosc, and Braf Goleg to make sure that none of them had also come under attack. In union, they were able to speak with their companions as clearly as they could have if they had been physically together.
Only when it was clear that there was no physical assault against any of them did Silvas and Maria retreat to their separate personas. They blinked, stared at each other, then turned to look to the doorway of their bedroom in Mikel's palace. Satin was standing there watching them, obviously aware that something had gone wrong. Velvet was still guarding the other door, the entry to the suite.
"It's all right now, kitten," Silvas said. Satin turned and headed back to her mate.
"What was it?" Maria asked, though she knew that Silvas had no better idea than she did. But now that she was back and aware of herself, she had to speak, had to ask.
"I'm not certain," Silvas replied. "I can't even say if the threat was real or merely some nightmare."
"Or an omen?"
Silvas shrugged. "Our fears speaking, perhaps. But I think that it must have been real, even if it was only to test how strong we are on that plane."
"Then why did it end just when it did?"
Neither of them had an answer to that either.
"And the other things, what went before?" Maria asked after a moment.
"Those, I think, were most definitely real."
"Even about Carillia being seen as Mother Mary?"
"Especially that."
They spoke aloud, more for the comfort of hearing each other's voices than for real need. When they moved to get out of bed, on opposite sides, the movements remained almost precisely in unison. They met at the foot of the bed, reaching out to each other, hands grasping for hands. They embraced briefly, and only then did their movements cease being mirror images.
Silvas went to a window and looked out. Maria went to the sitting room to see to the cats. Then she looked out into the corridor outside the suite, careless of her nakedness. There was no one visible in the hallway. There were no sounds of activity. Maria hardly noticed the difference between seeing in the darkened suite and seeing in the torchlit hallway. Her eyes adjusted quickly. She closed the door again and crossed the sitting room to look out one of its windows. She was standing there when Silvas came out of the bedroom.
"It may have been meant as a warning," Silvas said. His voice indicated that he had no great confidence in that hypothesis, but that he did not consider it impossible. "Or an omen of something that someone considers inescapable."
"Or something we ate?" Maria asked with mild sarcasm.
Silvas smiled. "You begin to sound like Bay. No, there was danger in what happened, but I didn't feel mortal peril. It was more as if we fenced with bated blades. Hurt was possible, perhaps even great hurt, but death an unlikely outcome."
He walked to the divan and sat. Satin and Velvet pawed over to him and Silvas spent a moment scratching their necks. "You felt it, too," he whispered, and they looked up at his eyes, not blinking. "Yes, you feel it."
When Silvas finally tired of scratching them, the cats went over to Maria and she gave them a moment's attention. Finally, Satin and Velvet went back to their posts at the suite's entrance.
"A warning to leave right away?" Maria suggested.
Silvas took a moment to consider that. His mind touched Maria's again, and they examined the idea together. Both shook their heads.
"Nothing so simple," Maria said.
"When morning comes, we'll breakfast normally and prepare to leave. Unless something more arises," Silvas said. "Bay and the others will know to expect that we will leave then."
"Particularly after we went to them tonight?" Maria suggested.
"Bosc always seems to know when it is time to leave."
"Morning seems still a long way off," Maria said.
– |When that morning came, Silvas and Maria were both dressed before a servant came with a breakfast tray for them and a platter of raw meat for the cats. They all ate with good appetite, but without undue haste.
"This place offers fare as good as the Glade," Maria said, grinning slyly.
"But no better," Silvas countered, and she agreed.
"Shall we take a walk?" Silvas asked after all four of them had finished eating.
Maria stood. The cats were already on their feet. When they left the suite, the servant who had brought their breakfast was waiting in the corridor.
"We'll be leaving shortly, I expect," Silvas told him. "If you would be so good as to see to our things?"
"Yes, Lord Silvas, immediately." The servant bowed quickly, and headed into the suite. Maria, Silvas, and the cats headed toward the stairway in the rear tower.
"The message will get to Mikel quickly enough," Silvas said. "We'll see if he has any parting message."
"You don't expect that he will ask us to extend our visit?" Maria asked, opening her eyes wide in playful amusement. In the light of a new day, the night's worries seemed far removed.
Silvas laughed, which seemed to drain most of the tension from his face. "That would be a right surprise."
When they reached the courtyard in front of the stables, Silvas and Maria found the rest of their party assembled and ready for departure. The team of whites was hitched to the wagon. The mourning draperies had been folded and stored under the drover's bench. Bosc was making a final check of the team's harness. Bay and Girabelle were saddled and harnessed. Braf and his soldiers were standing or squatting in the shade, waiting patiently, well-trained soldiers maintaining discipline despite the surroundings. Bay stood off to the side looking as if he were supervising the preparations-as he almost certainly was. In the land of the gods, Bay had made no attempt to conceal his gifts. Even the mortal servants here were used to greater wonders than a horse who could talk and reason.
Koshka scurried to Maria as soon as he spotted her. "They treated you well, mistress?"
"Well enough, but not so well as you care for me," she said with a smile that seemed to light Koshka up from within. He trotted at her side as she went with Silvas to the others.
"I was right in thinking that we leave as soon as possible?" Bay asked as Silvas and Maria approached.
"You were right," Silvas said. "Has there been any word from our host?"
"Not a sound," Bay said. "Breakfast was ready with the dawn, but no one came to converse or to deliver messages. The rest of your night passed quietly?"
"Peacefully," Silvas said. "And yours?"
"Undisturbed, save by you. Have you identified the assailant?"
"No, and I'm not even certain he was a true assailant."
"His actions don't sound like those of a friend."
"Perhaps it was a warning," Silvas said, lowering his voice. "And perhaps better not spoken of at length here."
Silvas spoke with Bosc, and then with Braf. He spent several minutes discussing security with the warrior. Braf professed himself ready for anything, even the off chance that they might need to fight their way through the Citadel and the rest of the Shining City.
"I don't think it will come to that, Braf," Silvas said, "but between us, I think we could give a fair accounting of ourselves before it ended."
Two servants came out of the palace with the things that Silvas and Maria had brought. Their bags were stowed in the back of the wagon. Neither servant had any message from their master. After they started back toward the main building, Silvas looked at Maria, smiled, and shrugged.
No more than I expected. They'll all be happier once we've left.
Maria returned his smile. Once we're gone, perhaps they'll be satisfied to forget all about us, maybe even deny that we exist.
"As long as you two are certain that the rest of us don't need to know what you're talking about," Bay said, moving between the two of them.
Silvas and Maria both looked at him. Silvas was more surprised than Maria that the horse seemed to know th
at they had been conversing.
"Anyone looking at the two of you might have guessed that you can read each other's minds," Bay said, answering the question in the wizard's stare.
"It's not quite that simple, Bay," Silvas said. "But, again, it's something I don't feel comfortable talking about in this place."
"Then let's put this place behind us as quickly as we may," Bay said.
"Braf, are you ready?" Silvas called.
"Aye, lord, whene'er you say."
"Bosc? Koshka?"
Both esperia bobbed their heads and scrambled up to the drover's bench of the wagon. Satin and Velvet took up positions in the wagon's bed, behind them. Silvas helped Maria to mount her horse, then he climbed aboard Bay.
"I hope you remember the way out of the city," Silvas said to Bay. "I doubt that Argus will come to show us."
"I remember the way," Bay said. "You think the road will remain open from the city to the Seven Towers?"
"If it isn't, I'll find our way from gate to gate," Silvas said. "But I think that it will be there. Our hosts will be too glad to see the last of us to make the leaving difficult."
The gate of Mikel's palace grounds was open. The guards flanking the gateway scarcely showed that they noticed Silvas and the others leaving. They did not stop them, or offer any message. Mikel did not come to say farewell.
Bay picked his way surely through the Citadel, moving somewhat more rapidly than they had traveled the day before, but not showing undue haste. He alternated a rapid walk with a trot.
"Not too abruptly," Silvas cautioned Bay at one point. "We don't want anyone to get the idea that we are fleeing for our lives."
"I do know how to calculate such things," Bay replied. "We will make the best time that is seemly. Look. Girabelle and the team pulling the wagon are in a comfortable rhythm. Even Braf and his men are not straining."
"Just a reminder, Bay," Silvas said easily. "The folk of this place will be much finer in the way they reckon such things."
Bay did not bother to reply. Neither did he slow his pace. Silvas smiled and relaxed, looking to Maria. She reached out to him, and they rode hand in hand for a moment-not for long, because the difference in size between their horses meant that it was an uncomfortable stretch.
