by Martin Ash
Leth did not flinch. "If that is so, Master Venger, then that will perhaps be the time to look again at the Deist Edict. But it will never be said of me that I encouraged my people to embrace ignorance, nor pandered to those who would use it for their own unprincipled ends."
He had then departed Haruman's Hall of Wise Counsel, allowing the unsettled leaders no further response.
Leth had been tired after that. It had taken great effort to face so many and not give way. And throughout, a single thought had plagued him, as it had plagued him a thousand times before: am I right?
Had Haruman been right to ban the worship of specific gods? Was it possible that the factions, one or more of them, had an answer to the unknown? Everything rebelled against that; the Masters of the Arcane College, dedicated to the search for knowledge, insisted that genuine experience of the gods, their personalities, desires, objectives, had never been achieved. Knowledge had never been brought out of Enchantment - it and its inhabitants remained an awesome mystery.
But could he, Leth, be absolutely sure?
Grey Venger's outburst had nettled him. Venger was so sure of himself. They all were. They always had been. In many ways little had changed. Leth knew that they still adhered to their forms of worship, but since Haruman's time they had done it in darkened corners rather than open plazas or public temples. To survive they had become ever more secretive. In many ways that made them more dangerous.
In a sunlit courtyard Leth had spotted his children, Prince Galry and Princess Jace at play, a nanny in attendance. He had watched from a gallery for some time, taking pleasure in the sight of them, then descended to join them. Issul arrived moments later and the four had spent the remainder of the afternoon together. It had been a welcome respite, one of the few periods they had passed together as a family for any length of time. And when, much later, Leth had taken Issul to their bed, they had made love with a passion and tenderness that they had hardly known since the earliest days of their marriage.
And that night Leth had woken from a dream. He had seen the blue casket, upon his desk, and a voice had commanded: "Come now. It is time."
Leth did not doubt that it was Orbelon's promised summons. He had slipped quietly from the bed and gone directly to his study. There he took the casket from its cavity and found its hasp free.
Orbelon was waiting for him when he arrived. He was seated cross-legged upon the floor, his staff laid across his knees. "Be seated. I have been awaiting you."
Leth did as he was bidden, lowering himself to the floor opposite the strange figure. He was still unable to make out Orbelon's face for the bundled rags that swathed it.
"I am going to impart a message," said Orbelon. "I wish to tell you something of those whom you call gods."
"The Higher Ones? The gods of Enchantment?" Leth was intrigued. "Do you know something of them?"
Orbelon rocked slightly as if with dry, silent laughter."Ah Leth, King Leth, you are but a child. Know something of them? Ha-ha! Of course I do. Of course. But remember, keep this always to yourself. What I am about to say is but a beginning. There will be no more if you speak of it to another. There will be other consequences, too. Others may judge you mad. Even worse, they may take you seriously."
"That is worse?"
"They would demand proof. How could you convince them? Would you reveal the source of your wisdom? Do so and you would be rendered powerless, for they would seek access to your source by any means. And you would lose me also, of that I can assure you. It would be a loss greater than you can calculate."
"I will say nothing. But I am confused. You speak of secret knowledge, with the implication that you are possessed of fabulous powers."
"Believe it."
"Then why are you here, in this place?"
"Is my being here with you not ample demonstration that I possess such powers?"
"It is, but--"
"In time you may learn more. But not yet."
"How extensive is your knowledge of us and our world?"
"Far more extensive than your own." Orbelon had given a muffled chuckle. "Ah, Leth, Leth. Always so many questions. I tell you I am about to impart something of value to you and you do not pause to listen. Instead you demand to know something else. Ah, what should I do with you?"
"Then speak," said the King, testily.
Orbelon settled into silence. They sat warily observing one another, and Leth, sensing that this was deliberate, said nothing. His impatience grew. At length Orbelon spoke again.
"Those you call gods are not gods. Not in the true sense."
"Then what are they?
"Listen! You may consider them gods, for in comparison to you they are mighty beyond calculation. They could wipe you from the face of this world, any one of them, upon a whim. They are truly awesome. But in truth they know little more of the world than do you."
"We believe that they war with one another constantly, throughout eons."
"They can do nothing else. They must fight to survive. That is something fundamental to their very being, but even they do not truly understand it. Warfare, as they wage it, creates. That also applies to you almost as much as to them. It is a difficult concept to comprehend, but it is true, nonetheless. And in the case of those you term gods, it is elemental."
"Are you inciting me to war?"
"Not if it can be avoided, no. Absolutely not."
"Then. . . what?"
"I have said, the concept is not easily grasped. You should dwell upon it. At a future time we will discuss it further. Consider carefully what I have given you now. Until the next time."
"No!"
Orbelon had raised his staff.
"No!"
Leth was back at his desk, his head spinning slightly. "No! No!" He brought his fist down hard upon the desk, so furious was he at such a peremptory dismissal. "Orbelon!"
He thrust himself back in his chair, glaring at the casket and muttering futile curses.
A curious thought had struck him later as, the worst of his anger past, he had made his way back to his bedchamber. He wondered that Orbelon had chosen today of all days to speak of the nature of Enchantment's gods, when Leth had only just met with the Far Flame and the other heads.
Did it mean that Orbelon was aware of all that went on within Enchantment's Reach?
Time would pass and many changes come about before King Leth learned the full answer to that.
FIVE
I
On that grey, sombre morning when Anzejarl, Prince of the Karai, executed plans for his immediate invasion of Enchantment's Reach, Queen Issul descended to her breakfast room with her children Prince Galry and Princess Jace. Her mind was troubled, though she was careful to maintain a mood of levity before the children. She played with them and told them stories, aware that in a very short time she would have to leave them. This time it would be for days rather than hours. She had made arrangements for an armed escort to accompany her to the village of Lastmeadow.
King Leth had already gone about his duties. They’d spent a mere few moments in a lingering embrace before going to the nursery. Leth had amused the children, and himself, for as long as he was able. They rode upon his back with yells of delight, clambered on his shoulders, begged to be chased and tickled then cried out for him to cease. But all too soon he had to depart. Issul did not tell him of her imminent journey. To do so would invite too many awkward questions, and she was afraid that he might well forbid her to go or at least insist upon a larger escort, something she was determined to avoid.
She had watched him carefully that morning. In the early light she had seen no trace of the blue aura of the night before. It had perhaps dispersed, or was simply too faint to be discerned in daylight. Issul had wanted to ask him about it, but she refrained. She could not tell whether he was aware of it but she accepted now that he must be involved in private research of some kind, and would not welcome her enquiries.
Again it struck her that they were keeping secrets from
one another. She promised herself that at the earliest opportunity, as soon as she knew, she would tell Leth everything. With that promise the urgency grew upon her to be away to Lastmeadow.
Little Lir, the infant daughter of Duke Hugo and Duchess Demawndella, had also come to the breakfast room, brought by her nanny. Hugo was now in conference with Leth, but of Mawnie there was no sign. From her own enquiries Issul gathered that she had not been seen since the previous day. She, Issul, was one of the last persons to have seen Mawnie, when they had been together in the afternoon.
Issul watched her children. Galry, now aged six, was growing into a tall, well-proportioned lad, robust of build and confident of manner. Bursting with energy, he rarely sat still. This morning he was impatient for the arrival of his arms tutor, Master Meles, with whom he was to have his daily lesson in sword combat. Jace, on the other hand, though energetic was quieter and showed an inclination toward more scholarly pursuits. Slender, graceful and fair, she resembled her mother in appearance and character.
Their cousin, little Lir, was barely toddling. She was a fey, elfin-faced girl, somewhat saturnine and given to bursts of temper. She had deep, darkly-lashed green eyes and her small head was crowned with a shock of dense black curls.
Issul held Lir for a short time on her lap, but the child was not inclined to company of any kind. Within moments she had wriggled free of her aunt and taken refuge beneath the table. There she sat quietly observing all, making not a sound.
Breakfast was done and Issul was regretfully taking leave of her children and niece when a steward entered and approached her. "Master Briano requests an urgent word, M'am. He is outside."
Briano was Mawnie's head valet. Issul gave word for him to be shown in as the children and nannies left. He entered briskly, a small, neat, worried-faced man with a thin rouged moustache and a puff of dyed orange hair. He performed a low bow, his heels together and spine perfectly straight. "My Lady, it is the Duchess. I think you should come."
Issul felt herself tense. "Demawndella? What has happened? Is something wrong?"
Master Briano rolled his eyes nervously. "My Lady, I think it is better if you allow me to show you."
Issul followed him through the passages of the royal dwellings to the apartments occupied by the Duke and Duchess of Giswel. Twitching with embarrassment Master Briano stood before an unlocked door. With a pained grimace he placed one hand over his eyes and pushed the door open, showing her into the chamber beyond. There she found Mawnie.
At first Issul thought her sister was blind drunk. She stood for a moment, horrified at the sight. Mawnie lay on her back upon a long table. She was half-naked, draped in loose strips of cloth, apparently the torn remains of a gown she had been wearing earlier. Her breasts and one leg were exposed. Her long pale brown hair was free and utterly dishevelled, her face smudged and stained with kohl and rouge. Her limbs asplay, she writhed upon the table as if in ecstasy or severe pain. And she called out in a thin, high voice. "Oh, it is me! I know now. It is me! In the woods! In the woods!"
"Mawnie!"
Issul rushed forward. Mawnie, vaguely sensible of her voice, shakily raised her head. Her glaring eyes settled upon Master Briano who hovered at the door, his fingers a gate before his eyes. With an indignant shriek she reached for a solid gold candlestick which lay toppled on the table beside her. She hurled it at him with all the force she could muster. "Out! Hound! Imbecile! Out! Out! Out!"
Master Briano, dancing aside to avoid the missile, threw a terrified glance at Queen Issul. But her back was to him. With a whimper, fluttering his hands in distress, he fled the chamber, pulling the door shut behind him.
"Mawnie, oh Mawnie, what’s happened to you?"
Mawnie raised herself sluggishly onto her elbows and stared blearily at her sister, then let her head tip back and laughed out loud. Issul took a cover from a nearby divan and wrapped it around Mawnie's bare shoulders.
"I understand it all now," Mawnie cried. "It has all become clear. Now I know everything. It was me. Truly.It was me he wanted. In the woods. In the woods."
Tears streaked her cheeks. She stared defiantly and imploringly at her sister. Issul held her tight. "Mawnie, Mawnie. It's all right now. I’m here. I will look after you."
Mawnie cackled. "Piss upon them all! But I know! I remember now! I know what they wanted. And it was me, all the time. Not Mawnie. Oh no, not Mawnie. It was me!" Suddenly she gripped Issul's arms and squeezed ferociously, her eyes shining. "Do you see, Iss? It was me, after all. It was."
By degrees, Issul coaxed her sister from the table and began to steer her from the chamber. In the corridor outside a small knot of servants and palace staff had gathered.
"Away!" Issul fumed. "To your duties, all of you! Immediately!"
They dispersed hurriedly. Suddenly Mawnie shrank back, covering her head with her hands. "No! No! Get away!" She lashed out blindly, striking the air, shrieking. "Get away! Don't! Don't let him!"
"Mawnie!" Issul grasped her wrists. "Mawnie!"
Her sister continued to struggle. Issul released one wrist and slapped her hard across the cheek. Mawnie ceased her babble and grew still. She glared at Issul for a moment then went limp. Her shoulders sagged and she began to sob pathetically.
Issul again took her in her arms and resumed guiding her to her bedchamber. As they entered, the royal physician, Doctor Melropius, arrived, having been summoned by a worried servant. He quickly took charge, maneuvering Mawnie to her bed then examining her as she lay slackly compliant. She no longer sobbed or babbled, though an occasional spasmodic smile or grimace passed across her pallid face. She seemed largely unaware of her surroundings or company.
"What has happened to her, Doctor?" asked Issul anxiously when Melropius was done.
"I cannot say with certainty. She is hot - it is perhaps a sudden fever or emotional flux. I smell no spirits on her breath, though she may have ingested something that has affected her mind. I have a potion to help her sleep. With luck she will have recovered by the time she wakes."
"Do your absolute best."
"I will station a nurse here in the bedchamber, and will check upon her in person every hour."
Issul moved to her sister's bedside and took her hand. Mawnie's eyes were open but she seemed senseless and made no response when Issul spoke to her. A servant brought a chair for Issul and she remained there until Mawnie slept.
II
The sun was well-past the midpoint of its ascent and had begun to burn through the heavy morning overcast when Queen Issul eventually departed the palace of Orbia and the great city-castle of Enchantment's Reach. A brusque wind was rising, beginning to dispel the cloud.
Issul had wondered about delaying her departure further, as Mawnie still slept deeply and she was concerned. But it was Doctor Melropius's opinion that Mawnie would not wake for some hours, perhaps even a day. When she did there would be no guarantee she would be lucid. He had promised to maintain a constant watch on her and assured Issul of his very best attention. Issul therefore made the decision to go, fearful that events in Lastmeadow and beyond might overtake her if she did not act quickly.
She had sought out Galry and Jace and explained to them that she would be absent for a few days. She had presented each with a gift - a woollen jerkin for Galry, lace bonnet for Jace - then hugged them and left, her head bowed to conceal reddened eyes. In her apartment she removed all traces of royal garb and finery and changed into light leather riding gear. Around her waist she strapped a wide leather belt holding small-sword, dagger and several throwing darts, then threw about her shoulders the same damask cape she had worn when interviewing the peasant woman, Ohirbe.
Issul rode upon her favourite mount, a strong grey gelding which she had reared from birth. She was escorted by an eight-strong squad of mounted soldiers, members of Lord Fectur's elite. They were loyal and resourceful fighters all, though Issul had at times wondered whether such men, put to the test, would prove more loyal to Fectur himself than to the Cr
own. She prayed that test would never come.
Fectur had wanted a significantly larger escort, a minimum of twenty, but Issul flatly refused.
"Eight is quite sufficient to deal with any difficulties we are likely to meet. More will be cumbersome and will invite unwanted attention. Remember I am not the Queen, simply an anonymous lady of some distinction. It must remain so."
Fectur eventually conceded, though he was inflexible on the matter of uniforms and insignia, which were prominently displayed, identifying the party as both hailing out of Orbia and being under the aegis of the Lord High Invigilate. Issul argued for complete anonymity, but Fectur was not to be budged. "No brigand band, no matter how ruthless or opportunistic, will willingly harass a party that bears my emblem."
His tone conveyed the meaning he intended: the Spectre's arms carried as much weight, and even more, as that of the royal palace itself.
Fectur was burning with curiosity, seeking by all means reasonable to have Issul divulge the precise purpose of her journey.
"You may know soon enough, my lord," Issul said. "But it’s a private matter, perhaps trivial enough not to warrant your attention at all. I thank you for your dutiful concern. Upon my return your men will certainly apprise you of all that transpires."
"Indeed so, but can it truly be so trivial? My instincts suggest the opposite. Since the unusual events of yesterday I cannot help but think that there is something afoot of which I ought really to be informed."
"You are informed, my lord," Issul replied sharply. "You were informed yesterday when the woman Ohirbe brought the pendant to you, in accordance with my instructions. You were informed when I visited Overlip, and were effective in providing protection, for which I thank you. And you are informed now and, in accordance with your position, have taken all correct and proper measures to ensure my safety."
