The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  Theyn was surprised. "Where? Here in Karkor?"

  "They were tossed in with Fordosk yesterday, right beneath our feet."

  Theyn thought for a moment, then shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. He can't hope to keep their capture a secret from us for long."

  "Perhaps he doesn't need long. He's moving fast. He sent the first three to the Black Stone last night and will undoubtedly fail to report the outcome of that also. He's gathering intelligence for himself. Why?"

  "Is it possible it's an oversight?"

  "Don't be an idiot. Oh, we'll get notification soon, tonight or maybe tomorrow, plus an apology of course. But by then he'll have extracted all the information he wants and I very much doubt he's going to share it with us. D'you still put all this down to religious motives? Would he take these risks just to find this Talisman he’s after?"

  "Probably yes," Theyn answered slowly. "I admit he had the resources to find these two people in Karkor; but he deals in information, he has no physical organisation that would enable him to mount a coup or to interfere seriously with ours. You must know that. If you've kept yourself informed about his secret moves today, you know more about him than I do."

  The princess smiled at him. A knowing smile. I-watch-him-and-I-watch-you-too sort of smile. "That’s true. And if it's only this Talisman he wants, I'm relaxed about it, no need to modify our plans. But better pull in the Razimir woman for questioning, just in case there’s more to it than we think. If it turns out to be religious nonsense, I still don't like servants or allies who have their own secret agenda. I’ll put a stop to any meddling by our priest by executing the others with Fordosk and Sammar on Atonement Day: apparently they're foreigners too, so it will add spice to the occasion. And when we make the final step, perhaps we won’t need the Prentex services any more. No one's indispensable, are they Melim?"

  Karkor: The Dungeons

  Sammar was mystified. He had quickly come to accept that his neighbours in the next cell were not spies. They had only made one brief attempt to talk to him when handing him some food, and after his lack of response they had simply left him alone.

  Not spies, then. More like some kind of religious fanatics if he had to guess. And yet one of them was a member of the Six Families if he'd heard it right, and the other two seemed like complete innocents.

  And then again they'd been to the Stone. He didn't know what to make of that. To have been in that dreaded chamber and to have emerged with their minds intact, he'd never heard of such a thing. Maybe the Stone was not so fearsome, a nightmare created by the priests: somehow he didn't believe it. So collaborators being given an easy ride? Unlikely from what he'd overheard. Which left what? People who could resist the Stone? Even more unlikely.

  He was still speculating when his well-attuned ears caught the faint sounds of approaching feet. Perhaps it was for him this time. Despite his efforts, he felt his heart accelerate with fear.

  But no, it was more prisoners, headed for the other cell. Two youngish men and a girl. The taller man had taken a beating and his hands were bound behind him. Sammar stared, then suddenly moved away into deeper shadow. The girl was Harol, his cousin. What was she doing in the death hole? She was no rebel fighter. Were they just pulling in all Mederros indiscriminately? Or did they know who she was? Another trick to open him up.

  Through the whirl of his thoughts he registered that these guards were not in uniform and that there was someone else standing in the entrance of the next cell. A priest. A soft command, too low for Sammar to hear, brought one of the guards rolling forward. The man's squat bulk looked grotesque in the lantern light, but he moved smooth and quiet as a big fat cat.

  "Untie 'im? Mind if I slit 'is throat first? The mad bastard killed Madl and Astum, an’ Pavix'll be laid up for a month." An inaudible comment from the priest, then," Nar, 'e didn' say nothin'. Just went wild an' tried to kill that Razimir bint after she fingered 'im. Anyhows," the massive shoulders shrugged, "e's your prisoner. You can 'ave 'im untied or whatever you like, long's you finish 'im off when you've done with 'im."

  A moment later the prisoner's bonds lay on the ground and the guard was already moving away, his knife still held in plain view as a casual warning. The hooded figure dismissed the guards with a single gesture and stood silent for a moment surveying the heart-felt welcome given to the new arrivals. Then he stepped forward confidently through the gate and addressed the older prisoner who was watching him carefully.

  "Count Fordosk of Attegor." It was a statement, not a question, delivered in a soft pleasant voice. Sammar stared from his concealing shadows as the prisoner nodded in confirmation. So it was true, one of the Empire’s highest nobility in the Palace dungeon. Were the Families conspiring against Habbakal? Any such dissension could only help the rebellion.

  "You need my help", the priest continued. "Shall I explain?"

  "My time is yours," came the traditional reply, the politeness given a sardonic edge by the circumstances. By now the others had stopped talking and were ranged behind the speaker.

  "You believe that in due course the Emperor will accord you the proper trial due to one of your station and eventually release you for lack of evidence. My belief is that by noon tomorrow none of you will be alive…." there was a short calculated pause, "….unless I help you."

  "And your belief is based on something more solid than Palace rumour?"

  "Yes." Even the one word conveyed certainty and satisfaction: for some reason this situation suited the priest well. "Habbakal will not save you. He does not even know you are here. And there are events planned for tomorrow which he knows nothing about. One of the high points of the day will be the execution of you and your whole party alongside Sammar Geth Shul and as many Mederros as they can capture."

  The last words brought the rebel lurching forward out of the shadows, but before he could speak, the hooded figure had addressed him without turning.

  "Four hundred and two your man said, Sammar. I hear he was uncommunicative at the start, but after a great deal of persuasion his memory began to function better - until he died. Brave and stupid, like the rest of you. Perhaps you thought they'd call off the attack after you were captured, or maybe you hoped they'd get right through and rescue you. Now that the plan is known, things will of course turn out quite differently. The Imperial Guard will start moving tonight and it will be all over soon after dawn."

  The rebel clutched the bars of his cage as if he was about to rip them out, but his head was bowed. He had no wish to show his agony to strangers. A small hand crept through the bars and touched his cheek. He had forgotten Harol. Clumsily they embraced through the barrier, a long fierce embrace without words, oblivious to the conversation taking place next to them.

  The Prentex had spent no time watching the effect of his news. Sammar was of no interest to him and he returned to his business with Idressin at once.

  "If however you were to have the Talisman in your possession, it is unlikely that your execution would proceed."

  The little group behind Idressin went completely still. The tutor himself asked blandly, "And where would I find this Talisman?"

  "Please, a little trust." The soft voice was pained. "I have openly told you secrets which could cost me my head. What more do you need in order to accept that we are allies? The authorities believe that you are here for political reasons. I know that you have come to Karkor to find the Talisman, so please don't waste time, you have little enough to spare. I am a priest with no interest in politics; I would gladly trade the whole kingdom to see the Talisman restored to us and I honour you - no, I envy you - for your sacred quest. I have studied the prophecies and I know that this is the time and Karkor is the place for it to be rediscovered. But it is not for me to find: as you know, that task is for the Guardian, for one of you. All I can do is offer my help, which I do gladly despite the danger, for believe me I am as vulnerable as you."

  The very words Idressin himself might have used, Berin thought. The voic
e was quiet, yet intense, ringing with sincerity. Earlier he would have been totally convinced, but now a stubborn doubt remained from Tariska’s half-remembered words.

  "You say we must find this Talisman, and that when we have it we'll be safe. How then do you propose to assist us? Are you going to set us free to search?"

  "I could not release you all: it would be noticed and provoke a swift reaction. The Guardian by himself, clothed in a priest's robe, could move about the city with me at his side, and one less prisoner in the dark down here would not be missed. But we must act quickly. They will come for you at dawn: we have until then to find the Talisman.

  Come, which is it to be? Will you let me help you to fulfil your mission, to bring this divine gift back to mankind, and at the same time to save your own lives? Or will you die a pointless death at the hand of ignorant barbarians?"

  The words almost glowed, lighting the dark with hope and warmth. An ally, a way out, and success all in one heady mix: Caldar could scarcely believe their luck. His delight at being reunited with his friends had been severely damped by the circumstances: the dungeon was sinister enough, while Berin's whispered explanations and the priest's blunt assessment of their fate had quickly made everything appear hopeless. In the last year Caldar had survived dangers he had never even dreamed of and his youthful optimism had been tempered into a resilient hope which had learned never to give up. But here he felt close to it. He was unaware of the extra pressure being exerted on them all through the Stone; he simply felt crushed that they were going to be snuffed out almost by accident when they had miraculously come so close to their goal. Then with a few words the priest had rekindled his hopes and his spirits began to lift. Not for long.

  "I need time to consider this," Idressin said flatly.

  "There is no time." The Prentex's words lost a little of their honey. "What is there to consider? I am your only hope. I…"

  "There are things to be decided you know nothing of, priest." The tutor's voice was still mild, but the cowled figure stepped back a pace from the force of it.

  A moment's thought, then he turned away. "Very well. I shall return in a few hours, while it is still light enough to make the search. That will be the last chance for all of us. Make your decisions quickly."

  Chachi strode away up the dark tunnels, completely ignoring the guard who stumbled hurriedly behind him with a lantern. The Prentex was both excited and disturbed. The more he thought about it the more convinced he became that these people were genuine. He had examined and discarded several possible 'Guardians', from religious madmen to clever tricksters, and this was the first time he had discovered any traces of power. Whatever the source, it had taken real power to shield themselves from the Stone - how they had been able to deceive the Watchmen into believing there were only two of them in the chamber, he could not imagine - and power of a lesser kind to resist his voice just now. Nor had he found any residual traces from Shellimil’s touch in the girl, even when he had probed her on the return from the chamber; that spoke of unexpected strength. These were his prey, he was sure of it.

  So close to success. This was the culmination of hundreds of years of planning and it was a heady thought to realise that he was the one who was to take the final step. The Watchmen would never forgive him if he failed now. It was that man Fordosk who was the key: probably not the Guardian himself, but he might be capable of hindering Chachi from identifying and using the true Guardian, unless….. What would shake that composure? Not the certainty of execution. He had been sure that would be enough, along with the levels of suggestion he had put into his voice. There was nothing else for it: the Watchmen would have to start augmenting the power of the Stone straight away, while he himself would have to find a more effective pressure point to unlock Fordosk. Or perhaps bypass him: that might well be the quickest way. He had so little time. He could not avoid telling Shkosta about his new prisoners by dawn and he would lose control over the group at once. She might even find out before that.

  According to the prophecy the Talisman was due to appear during the Festival, which lasted another three days yet. But he didn't have three days. Neither did Fordosk and the Guardian. Tomorrow Shkosta would not miss the opportunity for such an impressive display of power, she would execute the whole group. That part of what he had told the prisoners had been true enough. The only way to stop her would be to betray her plans to the Emperor tonight, but the city would then be closed up tighter than a drum and even the Prentex would be unable to move about freely.

  It had to be tonight. Identify the Guardian. Force him to reveal the location of the Talisman and the Watchmen could make their move.

  Chapter 27

  Seek it not, for it is not to be found. Men will say, behold it is like this or like that. But the Talisman is all things and no thing, and who can describe the form of the Divine?

  Be present in the place appointed, make the sacrifice with humility, and it shall come to you. For it beholds you and measures you closer than the beat of your own heart.

  And what is the price of sacrifice? No less than all the kingdoms of the world and no more than love.

  from ‘Songs of Duty’: The Book of the Heart

  The Dungeons

  In the dungeon Harol and Sammar were head to head, separated only by the bars, exchanging their news in rapid Mederro. Of the others Idressin sat apart at his own request; he needed to think. The four young companions had huddled into a tight group, telling each other their stories and speculating in low voices as to what they could do.

  Eventually the tutor stood up slowly and joined them. After a moment's silence Berin asked the question which was weighing on them all.

  "Do you believe him? You know, about what's going to happen tomorrow and him wanting to help us? I know, I know, Tikka," he added quickly as the girl leant forward to speak. "He's a monster, but if he can help us, what does it matter?" Then turning back to the tutor, "Why don't you let the Guardian, whoever it is, go and search with him? What can we lose? Anything's better than being stuck down here just waiting for the end."

  "There's no need to search, Berin, we're in the right place already. It’s no accident that we’re here."

  A stunned silence greeted this announcement. Tariska was the first to recover. "In this cell? Then where is it? D'you want us to….."

  "The fountain you were looking for," Berin interrupted, "you mean it's here?"

  "The palace plans show Sisme’s Well down here: the spring comes up somewhere among those pools of water you saw in the back there, Berin, remember?"

  The youth's response was to stand up and reach for the lantern, ready to make a start at once. The sudden movement drew the attention of the two Mederros, who began to listen with interest.

  "What exactly are you going to look for, Berin?"

  "The Talisman. Oh, you mean exactly what. I don't know, I thought it would be….well….obvious. Tell me then and I'll get started."

  "Sit down. You too, Caldar."

  The youths sank reluctantly back to squat on their haunches.

  "I know this is the place. Even without the plans, I can feel it now: the Talisman is close. But I have no idea what it will look like: it can take whatever form it wishes." The young pair settled slowly down to the floor, their eagerness quenched with a few words. "Also the tradition is that it will reveal itself only to the Guardian and even he cannot simply put his hand on it; first he has to make the appropriate offering."

  "You never told us any of this," Tariska said in a small voice.

  "No, you're right, Tikka," Idressin replied kindly. "But what use would it have been to you?"

  He looked round the little circle: their eyes were down, their faces troubled, all except Rasscu who returned his gaze levelly from a swollen face.

  "Listen. Making contact with the Talisman is very hard and a great deal of it has to do with waiting, when all one's inclinations are to act. If it's going to appear at all, it will reveal itself to us at a time of its own ch
oosing. When? I don't know. My only purpose in bargaining with the Prentex was to buy us more time.

  You don't understand the scale of the events we're involved in. Nothing we do, just because we feel we have to take some action, will help in any way. If we're going to fulfil our task, then the forces at work here through the Talisman will present us with the opportunity; our job is to be alert enough to recognise it when it comes and take it, whatever the cost. And believe me, the price may be high.

  You can take some comfort from the fact that we have a powerful ally. While we've been searching for the Talisman, it's also been searching for us."

  "So when we…..when it finds us," Berin began slowly, "everything will be solved like the Prentex said. We'll be safe."

  "He was lying," came the flat reply. "Even if the Prentex let us keep hold of the Talisman, which is unlikely, that wouldn't stop the authorities from executing us.”

  "And the Prentex helping us, he was lying about that too?" Caldar queried, knowing full well what the answer would be.

  "He was. Let's be quite clear about this. If we get out of here, it will be by our own efforts. The priest is an enemy, deadlier than the Terrechar assassins, and it’s our bad luck that without knowing it he is sitting so close to where the Talisman will appear. He wants the Talisman for himself. He just needs us, needs the Guardian to find it. After that he’ll keep the Guardian and get rid of the rest of us: we're simply a nuisance."

  "Maybe he was lying about us being executed tomorrow as well," Berin put in hopefully. "Just as a trick to make us feel desperate and give in."

  "I'd like to think so," Idressin replied slowly, "but that part rang true. I'm not sure who would dare to execute me and flout Habbakal’s authority so openly: someone with ambition and real power." He shrugged. "Anyway it makes little difference to us who it is, we have to assume it's true."