by Martin Ash
And then a voice spoke. "Ah, it is the new one."
King Leth spun. Half-obscured in the strange twilight a figure was approaching. It appeared hunched, crooked, and it limped and slewed as it walked, as though with difficulty, and leaned with two hands upon a staff. It walked on two legs, was garbed in long, ill-shapen robes and strips of cloth, and appeared vaguely human. He saw no face, for the light and the angle of the head and the mass of clothing that bulked upon the sloping shoulders, concealed it.
The creature, whatever it was, halted a short distance away. Leth saw the head and shoulders incline, as though it nodded to itself, then slowly it began to move around him in its awkward, uneven gait, its feet dragging and slurring on the blue ground. Leth felt that he was under inspection.
"Yes, yes, quite as I’d imagined," came the voice, dry and cracked. "Your mother's description was good. She has apprised me of your qualities, too. You are perhaps a little headstrong at times, but we can work on that. Otherwise I think you may do well."
Leth, endeavouring to re-acquire some semblance of dignity through his bewilderment, climbed to his feet and stood, straight-backed, watching the slowly circling creature.
"Do well? For what? Who, or what, are you? And what is this place? How do I come to be here?"
The hobbling creature emitted a strange, highly-pitched laugh. "Ah-ha-ha-ha! You are the same, each of you. A flurry of questions! A garble! A gabble! You have it in common, always, without fail."
"What do you mean? Who?"
"See! See! Again they come! Question after question, allowing no space for an answer. People! People! Who? The new rulers, of course."
"New rulers?"
"Ha-ha-ha! Yes. You are one, the latest one. You are Leth, aren’t you?"
Leth brought his thoughts into order. "I am. But who are you?"
"Ah, good. A single question," said the creature. "You are learning already. Who am I? I am, in a manner of speaking, the Orb. Or I am, in another manner of speaking, the voice of the Orb."
"The Orb? What is that?"
"Ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, so predictable! The Orb. . . ." The strange thing spread wide its lean raggedy arms, gesturing to the blue. "This is the Orb. And I am the Orb. The Orb of Orbia. Yes. But for convenience, and to avoid confusion, you may address me as Orbelon whenever we meet."
Leth's blood had risen hotly to his cheeks. As heir apparent and now King of Enchantment's Reach, he was accustomed to deference from others, and this creature's manner offended him. But he fought his anger down, for he was dealing here with the utterly unknown. He was powerless until he could be certain of something, anything at all. He glanced quickly beyond Orbelon, at the space and the walls around him. There was no door that he could see.
"Ah good, good, you control yourself with some aptitude," Orbelon said softly. He had ceased circling and leaned on his staff, scrutinising Leth, still an unclear figure in the filmy blue.
"This is the Orb," repeated Leth. "And you too are the Orb. The Orb of Orbia. Nothing of what you have said so far makes sense. Tell me, what is the Orb?"
Orbelon seemed to shrug. "It is this where, which is not truly a 'where' at all. It is, in a manner of speaking, you might say, a prison."
"Prison?" Leth felt his stomach knot. "For whom?"
"For what?" Orbelon replied, chuckling. "That is not the question, not yet. Not for you to know. You see, prison is simply one way of perceiving it. It is an existence, also. It is what it is. And it is a nowhere. But it has a role, and that is why you are here, for you too have a role. And that is all you need know for the present."
Orbelon turned and began to move away.
"Wait!" commanded King Leth, and stepped toward the bent figure. But his movement, strangely, brought him no closer, and Orbelon chuckled again, halting.
"Be careful who you seek to command, King Leth. Are you ruler here?"
"I do not know. Am I a prisoner?"
The bowed head shook slowly from side to side. "The Orb is not for you, not in that sense. Though it can be, if you make it so. Believe my words, it can."
"Then. . . ."
"Enough! You have learned all you need for now. You will return. Now that you know I am here, you will return. But let me tell you something, King. You have the power, at any time, to take the casket and cast it into the deepest lake or into the bowels of a raging pit of fire. You may elect to dash it into fragments upon the ground or bury it deep beneath the earth. You can destroy it whenever and howsoever you choose."
"The casket?" Leth looked about him in confusion, the impossible thought striking him: am I inside the casket?
"But you will not," Orbelon continued, "It is not within you - at least not yet. Not until you know. But should you be the one, the one who does eventually destroy the Orb, then, for your sake and the sake of your people and all you hold dear, be absolutely certain of one thing: that you know what it contains!"
The tone of Orbelon’s voice as he/it spoke these last words made the hairs on the back of Leth's neck rise. Orbelon had abruptly turned away again. "Now, you may return. Say nothing of this, to anyone. You will come to me again when you have the crown."
"How? How do I get out of here?" Leth called.
"Simple." The figure, almost invisible now, lifted its staff.
Leth was back in his chair, before his desk, staring at the strange blue casket. His hands were still upon it, his thumb at the hasp, and its lid was closed. He blinked, shivered, looked quickly about him. He was in his study, as before. Nothing had changed.
He had sat back, wondering for long moments, his mind swimming. Then on an impulse he had reached again for the casket, slipped the hook and hasp, tried to lift open the lid.
It would not budge.
Leth wrestled with it for some moments. He took a knife, tried to wedge it into the seam between lid and base, to lever them apart, but the seam was perfect and not even the narrowest blade could be inserted. Eventually he gave up and thrust the casket from him.
"A curse on you," he growled. He tossed around the notion of taking a mallet and smashing the casket open, but these thoughts were spurred by frustration, not reason. Leth knew that Orbelon had been right: he would not destroy it, even if apparently he could, and it angered him the more for knowing it.
*
The remainder of that morning had been taken up with formal duties and preparations for the forthcoming coronation. Leth applied himself to these moodily and with sparse attention. During luncheon, taken with two of his most senior lords, he hardly spoke a word. As the afternoon passed in similar manner to the morning his impatience grew. He startled aides, servants and advisors alike with his curt manner and sudden bursts of pique. Several remarked upon it, though not within Leth's hearing, but simply attributed it to the new responsibilities he was assuming. Leth, for his part, was scarcely aware of the effect he was having on those around him. He could think of nothing but his encounter with Orbelon and the opportunity he must contrive to speak privately with his mother, Queen Fallorn.
It was evening before he had found himself in his mother's company. The royal family assembled for dinner in the private dining hall: Queen Fallorn, King Leth and his spouse, the beautiful nineteen-year-old Queen-Imminent Issul, and Issul's pregnant sister Mawnie and her husband Hugo, Duke of Giswel, a far-flung province situated in the southwest of Enchantment's Reach. The King and Queen's two young children, Prince Galry, aged three, and his sister, two-year-old Princess Jace, were brought and allowed to play with the adults. When the servants began bringing in the first platters the children left with their nurses and the meal commenced.
More than once, before they took their places at the table, Leth had caught his mother's eye. Her eyes shone knowingly but she declined to hold his gaze, giving her attention to her grandchildren, who she adored. A small smile hovered at the corners of her mouth, however, and this persisted throughout much of the meal. Several times during the meal Leth found Fallorn watching him, but her eyes shifted aw
ay the moment he focused upon her. He sensed that she was amused, which did not improve his mood. He ate and drank little, itching to interrogate her but knowing he could say nothing in the company of others.
At length, as the meal drew towards its close, Queen Fallorn professed herself fatigued and announced her intention to retire for the night. Leth at once sprang to his feet, tossing aside his napkin, and moved to her chair, proffering his arm. "Let me escort you to your rooms, Mother."
"There is no need, Leth. The way is familiar to me, I have been there countless times before. I am old, I know, and my faculties may not be quite what they were, but you need have no fear that I will lose my way."
"Even so, Mother, it would be my pleasure," Leth replied, piqued by the pleasure she was deriving from his discomfort and somewhat shocked that she could make light of something so momentous.
As they made their way arm-in-arm along the cresseted corridors of Orbia, Leth had said, in a low voice, striving to contain his emotion, "Mother, who is this creature, this Orbelon you have brought to me?"
"My son, I told you this morning I cannot speak any more of this. To learn of Orbelon you must consult Orbelon."
"But you know! Plainly you know far more than I. There is magic here, and a secret I have known nothing of. How long have you known of him? How did you come upon the casket? What does he want?"
"The casket entered my possession when I took the throne, as it has yours. And that is the first I knew of it. So has it been for more generations than I know. What does Orbelon want? You must ask Orbelon."
"I have. He answers only in riddles, if he answers at all."
"He is testing you, Leth, as he tested me, and my father before me, and my grandfather, and his mother, Queen Alsur before him. So it goes on."
"For what?"
"To determine suitability."
"Mother, I am becoming exasperated. Suitability for what?"
"For what lies ahead. No-- stop your questions. Consider from Orbelon’s point of view. A wise man who holds ten secrets will not reveal them all at once, even to his most trusted confidant, but gradually, one at a time. Is that not so?"
"But he has revealed nothing."
"He has revealed himself, Leth. That is a very substantial nothing, I think."
Leth pushed out a breath through clenched teeth. "Mother, his existence, the existence of the casket, threatens us. It undermines our very foundation."
"I had my fears too, once. And if you truly believe it is so - if you have not the least spectre of doubt - then you must destroy the casket. Has not Orbelon told you that you may do that?"
Leth nodded.
"But you will not," said Fallorn. "For like me, you perceive what a tremendous confidence this is that Orbelon has given you. And like me, you entertain spectres."
They slowly mounted the sweeping stone staircase that led to the first level where Fallorn's apartments were situated. The former Queen leaned her weight more heavily upon her son's right arm. At the top she paused for a moment to regain her breath and coughed slightly into a scented handkerchief.
"Mother, will you tell me nothing more?"
"I cannot," she sighed as they moved off again, the first hint of impatience edging her voice. "To know more you must speak with Orbelon again."
"But the casket is sealed. It resists my efforts to open it."
"Did he not tell you to return?"
"After I am crowned."
"Then that is when it will be open."
They had arrived at her door. Leth paused, his head bowed, then turned to her in one last endeavour. "Mother, I cannot believe that you have kept this from me all these years."
She took his hands. To his surprise he saw, in the flamelight, that tears welled in her eyes. "Many times I wanted to tell you. Many, many. And you will wish the same in future days. But I could not, and I knew I could not, and you will do the same. Even in your darkest hours, when your very soul cries to confide in someone, you must not do it, not until the day comes - if it comes - when you will pass the casket on to your heir."
"And if I have no heir?"
She had looked at him in surprise. "Galry. . . ."
Leth swallowed. "I say only, let us imagine the worst, just for a moment. Let us say there is war, our family is ousted from Enchantment's Reach, a usurper seizes the throne, we suffer a plague. What then?"
Her lips compressed, her eyes burned with sudden ferocity. "Do not speak so!"
"I say it only as--"
"Those are not the words of a King! Have I misjudged you? My son?"
"No, you have not! I said it only--"
"Enough! I have said more than I should. The matter is closed. You know your duties, Leth. Be true, that is all." She took both his hands in hers and squeezed them firmly. "Now, kiss me, and begone."
*
In the ensuing days Leth had made no attempt to raise the subject again. In fact, so busy was he that he saw very little of his mother. Twice, in his study, he tried to prise open the blue casket, but to no avail. He stowed it in a secret compartment in the wall and, as best he could, gave his mind over to other matters.
The day of his coronation arrived. The ceremony and subsequent obligances were long and, for Leth, somewhat tedious, conducted with great pomp and majesty. The streets of Enchantment's Reach were bedecked with banners and bunting, the squares lined with stalls, booths and amusements. King Leth, in a golden carriage, his young Queen Issul beside him, toured the main streets, accompanied by an honour guard of one hundred of Orbia's proudest knights, all attired in gleaming ceremonial plate, richly emblazoned silk surcoats and capes, and mounted upon warhorses clad in barding of equal splendour.
A pleasure fair was set-up on the Monarch's Green, outside Orbia's gates, and the citizens of the region flocked to catch a glimpse of their new monarch. The days merged into the nights and the little kingdom rejoiced.
On the third day following his formal accession King Leth was informed that his mother had been taken ill. He went immediately to her bedside and found her weak but conscious, the palace physician in attendance. When he next saw her she was sleeping, and he was assured there was no cause for alarm. A day or so later she appeared to make a brief recovery. She took a small bowl of broth, and spoke lucidly with her doctor before sinking back into a deep slumber. Leth never spoke to her of Orbelon or the casket again, nor of anything else. He sat beside her bed for as long as he was able, holding her frail hand. From time to time her eyelids fluttered and he felt a light pressure upon his fingers, but she did not wake. Before the week was out Queen Fallorn had passed away.
In the three years since her death King Leth had learned much, not least being the reason why there were some things he might never speak of. It is probably true to say he had become a different man in many ways. He had been introduced to a mystery more profound than anything he could ever have imagined. He had seen something of the gathering forces that lay so close upon his world. And he knew with a deepening sense of the inevitable that life in Enchantment's Reach was soon to undergo immeasurable change.
TWO
I
Mawnie - Demawndella, Duchess of Giswel - was weeping. Moments earlier her mood had been frivolous and high-spirited. She had discovered something amusing in almost everything she or her sister, Queen Issul, had said. Stepping out onto the veranda on the lower level of Issul's private apartments, a fluted goblet of fruity green Aucos wine in one hand, she had startled a knot of nearby pigeons into flight. A palace cat was painstakingly inching its way along the top of the marble balustrade, intent upon fatally surprising one of the birds. Off-balanced by the unexpected flurry of wings and plump feathered bodies, the cat lunged wildly. It struck out with its front paws but missed its prey and lost its footing. It half-clung for a moment to the edge of the balustrade, then dropped, landing on one of Mawnie's slippered feet.
Mawnie had not seen the cat. She shrieked and dropped her goblet, kicking out. The cat skidded across the polished stone
tiles, then turned back and shivered itself down with a look of feline embarrassment.
Mawnie's laughter - sharp, shrill and sudden - rang out across the wide quadrangle.
Upon hearing the initial shriek and the clatter of the goblet on the tiles, Queen Issul had rushed onto the veranda. "Mawnie, what is it?"
Mawnie could barely speak. One hand was pressed to her breast, her cheeks crimson and streaked with tears of laughter. "Iss. . . The pigeons. . . the cat. Oh Iss, it startled me! Oh, it was so funny!"
She groped her way to one of three chairs set around a small table on the veranda, and slumped down. She took a blue silk handkerchief from the bosom of her gown and dabbed at her eyes. "Oh Iss, you should have seen. Look!"
She pointed at the cat, which was stalking stiffly away, its head and tail high in a determined show of dignity. Mawnie's mirth found new vent as her sister took a seat beside
her.
"Mawnie, you’re tipsy."
"Nonsense, sister. I’ve had only a few sips." Mawnie wiped her eyes again and tossed back her long pale russet-brown hair, still smiling. "Most of it went on the floor. It was the cat, that’s all."
Hilarity took her again. Issul shook her head. "You have been like this all morning. And worse, so lewd! It's always a sign."
"Lewd? I?" Mawnie feigned shock. "Iss, I love life and seek to experience it to the full, in all its uncloistered glory. You know that. We differ in this respect. We always have. But I am never lewd." She pushed herself back in her seat and said loudly, "Now, do you have a good serving-man handy? I would rather like another goblet."
She swivelled her eyes coyly to her sister, then giggled behind her hand.
"Do you really want more, Mawnie?"
