Godess of the Ice Realm loti-5

by David Drake

  "The curtain was black when I was appointed," Horife said in a disgusted tone. "I'm sure it'd been black for generations, but that's quite wrong. Rank superstition!"

  Tenoctris looked about her with a bright, quizzical expression. When wizards spoke their incantations, the spells gave off a kind of light that anybody could see; but Tenoctris was able to view the raw forces with which she and other wizards worked. It was like being able to see the wind, not just watching trees move. Judging from her smile, she wasn't finding anything that bothered her.

  "Now here," said Horife, "is the sanctum and the incubation couch."

  He drew in his lips at a thought, then added for Cashel's benefit, "That is, the couch where the petitioner sleeps in order to receive dreams from the goddess, according to tradition. In some periods the priest recounted his dream to the principal, but as far back as records go there are examples of the principal himself sleeping in the sanctum. Either practice is quite authentic."

  "I'd like to go in, please," said Tenoctris. She started forward, but Cashel held her arm till gently the priest had hopped in ahead of them. Cashel followed him, letting the little soldier bring up the rear.

  It wasn't likely anything was going to happen. But things did happen sometimes, to sheep and to people besides. Cashel liked to be in the way of trouble if there was going to be any.

  When you got in a double pace, the cave swelled to the size of a peasant's hut or a bit more. The inner walls had decorative carving, but the workmen hadn't had to open them out the way they'd done the entrance. This was hard rock, not limestone that dripping water could eat away. Cashel wondered if a bubble had cooled in lava back when Carcosa had been a volcano.

  Wax candles burned in wall sconces, lighting things better than Cashel would've guessed. The black rock shone like polished metal and reflected each flame into many.

  Across the back wall was a couch carved into the rock. Cashel judged he could lie there without knocking his head, but Garric-who was a hand's breadth taller-would have to bend his knees to fit. Not that either of them were likely to try.

  "Now," said Horife, kneeling beside the end of the couch raised for a headrest, "if you'll look here, milady-run your fingers across the stone here if you will, that'll show you better. And Master Cashel too, if you'd like."

  Tenoctris obediently sat on the couch, then bent to touch the floor with her fingertips. Cashel could see that there were little cracks all across the bottom of the chamber, like the glazing on an old pot. Frowning, he ran his hand over the wall. So far as he could tell, that was solid. He didn't want to be in here if there was a cave-in. They were well up the hill, but there was still enough rock overhead to squash them flat if it landed on them.

  The soldier, Siuvaz, was looking around the same as Cashel was; there was no way for an enemy to come at them except by the way they'd entered. Cashel tried to figure out the reliefs carved into the walls, but no matter how he held his head the glint of light on the glassy stone kept him from being sure what he was seeing. It wasn't anything ugly or sick, anyhow. Some of the things he'd seen since he started to travel made him wonder about people, Duzi knew they did!

  Horife was talking to Tenoctris about gas entering the chamber through the cracks in the floor. Cashel didn't see what that had to do with having dreams, let alone seeing the future, but so long as Tenoctris was happy it didn't matter. There was a funny smell in the room with maybe a hint of sulphur, but nothing so bad it even made his nose wrinkle.

  Tenoctris got up from the stone couch. Cashel offered her a hand to grip if she wanted, but she ignored it. Nobody likes to be treated like they're helpless, and Tenoctris was pretty spry except when she was completely exhausted.

  "I think we've seen what we needed to, Master Horife," she said. "Your shrine has interesting resonances, but there's nothing here that need concern Garric."

  Except how you're going to make it hold more than a double handful of people, even if you do it out front, Cashel thought, just like Liane said. But that was no concern of his.

  An earthshock threw Horife off his feet; Tenoctris bounced back onto the couch. When Cashel instinctively braced his staff against the sidewall to stay upright, the iron buttcap sparkled with red wizardlight. Rock squealed like ice cracking under enormous weight.

  Cashel lifted Tenoctris and cradled her in his left arm. She was moaning faintly. He hoped she hadn't been badly hurt, but you couldn't tell with old people.

  The cracks in the stone floor had widened. Smoke poured out of them, but it wasn't just smoke: it glowed with the same unearthly color as the sparks Cashel's staff had struck from the wall.

  Siuvaz stood groggily, rubbing his eyes with his left hand. He'd hit the wall hard and dropped his sword, which he didn't seem to have noticed yet.

  The strands were merging into something with the head of an enormous snake. It was between Cashel and the only exit from the stone chamber.

  Horife was on all fours, shaking his head to clear it. He looked up and saw the serpent of wizardlight, growing increasingly solid as the vapors from deep in the earth congealed into its body. Horife screamed and sprang like a sprinter toward the exit.

  The creature of smoke struck, sinking its glowing fangs into the priest's torso. His arms and legs shot straight out. Cashel expected Horife to scream, but only a froth of spittle came out of his mouth.

  Cashel tossed Tenoctris to the soldier. "Get her out!" he shouted, his voice echoing louder than the rumbling aftershocks.

  Cashel didn't wonder whether the passage was blocked, whether Suivaz would obey, whether the half-stunned soldier would even be able to catch the wizard so casually thrown to him. He didn't wonder about anything, justdid the only thing that might help-slamming his quarterstaff endwise into the serpent's flat head.

  The staff's ferrule struck the glowing smoke. A roar of blue wizardlight flung Cashel into the wall behind him. He didn't notice hitting the rock, but both his hands tingled where they gripped the staff.

  The serpent of smoke jerked upright, releasing its victim. Horife bounced off the ceiling and dropped to the floor. His limbs were still rigid and his face was turning black. The serpent didn't show any injury, but it'd felt the stroke; now it wove slowly side to side as it watched Cashel. Its head was as long as a horse's but wedge-shaped and much broader at the back.

  "Ready!" Suivaz shouted, hunched over Tenoctris whom he held in both arms.

  The iron buttcap Cashel struck with the first time still glowed red hot from the impact. He rotated his staff a half turn and shouted, "Go!" He struck again, his quarterstaff a battering ram crashing into the serpent's skull.

  Azure thunder surrounded him. He didn't feel the staff strike, but the stone floor was no longer beneath his feet. He was falling and his lungs burned. He fell for a lifetime until A figure stepped through the fiery darkness to face him. A woman, Cashel thought, though it might have been a boy; she wore a shift of some shimmering material.

  "Who are you?" he said. His throat felt like it'd been rasped.

  "I'm Kotia," she said, her voice more clearly female than her form. "I've come to find a champion. Will you follow me and do my will?"

  The serpent had disappeared. So had the cave and anything but the sparkling whirlwind encircling them. "I want to go back to my friends!" Cashel croaked.

  Kotia shrugged. "You can come with me or you can stay and die," she said. "You can't go back. If you choose to stay, I'll find someone else. There are many souls in this place."

  Her eyes narrowed as she examined Cashel again. With for the first time a touch of emotion she added, "Though you would be very suitable."

  Cashel paused, his big hands squeezing hard on the quarterstaff. He didn't know what being Kotia's champion would mean; but he did know about death, at least from this side of existence, and the rest could wait at least a little longer.

  "All right," he said. "I'll come with you."

  Kotia reached out a hand. Cashel took it in one of his. Together they ste
pped through the wall of wizardlight.

  Chapter 7

  Cashel stepped out of a cave in a hillside, coughing and wheezing. His eyes watered from the bitter smoke. He blinked and rubbed his eyes with the back of his left wrist. When he opened them again, he got his first look at an unfamiliar valley.

  The sides were steep, particularly the opposite wall. Everything had a jagged rawness, though the slopes were green with shrubs and spiky grasses.

  Kotia lay crumpled at the entrance to the cave, in the middle of a many-sided figure. Words were written around the outside in the curvy letters of the Old Script. Cashel couldn't read them, but he'd helped Tenoctris often enough to be able to recognize the shapes.

  So Kotia was a wizard. Well, it wasn't a surprise, given what she'd plucked him out of.

  Thinking about that, Cashel looked back into the cave. The smoke was disappearing swiftly, vanishing like frost in the sunshine rather than drifting out in a haze that spread through the still air.

  Cashel clenched and unclenched first his left hand, then his right, working out the numbness. His fingers tingled a little, but his grip was back to full strength. He checked the buttcaps of his quarterstaff. The iron of both showed a dull rainbow discoloration and was warm to the touch, but it hadn't been blasted away by the wizardry it'd channeled back in the shrine.

  Cashel didn't know where he got the power that filled him when he faced wizards. He didn't think about it, didn'twant to think about it.

  But he was glad it was there. Especially when he stood between his friends and evil.

  Kotia was beginning to stir. Cashel squatted close by but he didn't touch her. Wizardry was just as hard work as breaking rocks, and the incantation that'd brought the girl to Cashel's side must have wrung her out. She'd recover by herself; and anyway, there was nothing Cashel could do to help.

  As he waited, he looked into the cave. He couldn't tell for sure because of the changes stonemasons had made on the shrine in Carcosa, but he'd be willing to bet that the original cave there was as like to this one as twin lambs.

  The rock wasn't, though. This valley's walls were granite, not basalt like the ridge above Carcosa. Chunks of mica glittered coldly in the stone.

  Though the sky was bright, the sun was about to dip below the saw-toothed crags across the valley. The night would be pretty cold, and the only shelter Cashel could see was the cave they'd just come out of. He figured he'd rather stay out here on the slope if that was the choice.

  Kotia rolled over and raised herself on an elbow. She stared at Cashel with the expression of a drover buying mutton on the hoof.

  "Mistress," he said simply, since she didn't seem ready to start a conversation.

  "You really are a big one, aren't you?" Kotia said musingly. She twisted her legs under so that she was sitting upright, facing him. "I thought it was just the image your soul projected. You don't see real bodies in that realm, you know."

  "I don't know anything about that, mistress," Cashel said. So long as he remained squatting, their heads were pretty much on a level. "Where am I, please?"

  Kotia got up with a fluid motion that meant she'd recovered completely. She was young and seemed in good health, but Cashel suspected she was also a very powerful wizard. He rose also, holding his staff out crosswise in front of him to balance his weight.

  "You're in my world, where I brought you," Kotia said. "My father cast my brother and me out of our manor. I intend to go to our neighbor, Lord Bossian, but there's a… a spirit hunting me. He's already killed my brother. I need you to protect me from the spirit."

  Cashel frowned. "Spirit?" he said.

  "All right, then, a demon!" Kotia said with a flash of anger. "His name is Kakoral. But you're sworn to protect me. I warn you, your oath has power here!"

  "I don't need threats to make me keep my word, mistress," Cashel said. "I just needed to know what I'd be dealing with."

  He took the wad of raw wool out of his belt wallet and began rubbing his staff down with it. The hickory felt as smooth as glass to his familiar touch.

  "If you help me…," Kotia said, sounding a little unsure of herself. Cashel had noticed lots of times it bothered people because he didn't get upset and carry on when they thought he should. "That is, Lord Bossian is a great wizard. He may very well be able to send you back to your own world. But you'll have to save me from Kakoral first."

  "I've already said I'm going to help you, mistress," Cashel said quietly. He looked at the sky, indigo in the west and in the east a silky violet in which stars already glittered. "Is Lord Bossian's place close enough that we can get there before dark? Because we don't have much time if we're going to do that."

  "No, no," said Kotia. "I'm too exhausted to travel farther anyway. We'll stay here for the night, then in the morning…"

  She knelt beside the pack leaning against the rock at the cave mouth. It was a small thing, no bigger than the satchel in which Tenoctris carried the books and tools of her wizardry. Kotia took out a bundle no bigger than her clenched fist, then bit her lip and looked up at Cashel again.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "My shelter is only big enough for me alone. Will you be all right…?"

  "I'll be all right," Cashel said. And he would. It was going to get nippy, of that be was sure, but at least he didn't have to contend with rain or sleet. "I probably wouldn't be sleeping anyway, seeing's as this Kakoral's hunting you."

  "Oh, he won't attack tonight," Kotia said briskly. She'd undone her little bundle and was spreading it into a tube as long as she was. It was as fine as gossamer and of the same shimmering material as her shift. "He'll come in the light. My brother and I built a fire. When the flames burned particular shade of red-orange, Kakoral appeared and… took my brother. While I ran."

  "Oh," said Cashel. He gave his staff a practice spin. When he and the hickory reached the right rhythm, there was no finer feeling in the world. It was like the way sunlight sparkles on a waterfall, all shimmering beauty andhe was a part of it… "Well, we don't have a fire, so we'll be all right."

  "Hewill come," Kotia insisted angrily. "I went into the Place of Souls when I knew I couldn't reach Lord Bossian before morning, but I doubt you'll be able to really help. I was desperate, that's all!"

  "Well, I'll do what I can," said Cashel.

  He turned his back and walked a few steps away to where the slope wasn't so steep. He resumed whirling his staff, a full series of exercises this time: in front of him, then overhead and jumping to use the shaft's spinning weight to turn him it so that he was suddenly gazing back into Kotia's furious eyes.

  "Are you a wizard?" she demanded. "You had to be a wizard to have survived as long as you did in the Place of Souls!"

  "I'm not a wizard, mistress," Cashel said, working the staff in a figure-eight-back under one armpit, then up over the opposite shoulder, then reversing. "My friend who was with me's a wizard, but I think she got clear before-"

  Before what?

  "-before things happened."

  "I don't…," Kotia said. She probably meant "I don't understand," but she didn't bother to finish when she heard what she was saying.

  Cashel nodded approval. He'd long ago decided most people didn't listen to themselves or they couldn't possibly talk all the nonsense they did. Kotia had her ways, but she was better than that.

  She cleared her throat. "You're sure you'll be all right, then?" she said.

  "Yes, mistress," Cashel said. "Though if you had something to eat in your wallet, I wouldn't turn down a bite of it."

  "No," said Kotia. "I'm sorry, there isn't… I didn't have much time to prepare, you see."

  "Sure," said Cashel. "Good night, mistress."

  It was solid dark by now. The moon wasn't up, if there even was a moon over this place. Cashel heard a rustle as Kotia got down into her cocoon.

  The stars were diamond points in the clear sky. The constellations weren't the ones Cashel was familiar with, though one in the north was close enough to the Seven Plow-Oxen that
he could imagine it was familiar if he squinted.

  A horn called, then another one from a much greater distance. The sounds were silvery and seemed to echo for many miles.

  For a time, Cashel squatted with his back to a rock, looking out in the darkness. Then he got up and resumed his slow pirouettes with the quarterstaff. The exercise kept him warm.

  And for all he hadn't let himself react to Kotia's warning, he didn't in the least doubt that come morning he'd have more than just the empty air to swing the staff at.

  ***

  The bay horse skidded on the cobblestones as Garric negotiated the final left-hand switchback below the shrine. It might've gone down in a clash of bones and equipment if King Carus' reflexes hadn't taken over at the critical moment. Garric leaned right, jerking the reins and the bay's head with him. It got its hooves under it again and hunched up the short remaining distance to the plaza.

  On this stretch of roadway there wasn't room for two to ride abreast, so Lord Attaper, a noble from northern Ornifal and a horseman from early childhood, was following immediately behind. He grunted with approval at what he took for Garric's horsemanship.

  In all truth Garric didn't like to ride, but it was faster than running a mile uphill in armor to the Shrine of the Prophesying Sister. If it'd been his decision alone he wouldn't have paused to put on his helmet and cuirass, but the Blood Eagles wouldn't have allowed their prince to get within bow-shot of trouble without the armor.

  The dozen bodyguards ahead of Garric were dismounting in front of the shrine. He leaped from his saddle before the bay had drawn up. His boots skidded on the cobblestones but he kept his balance with the same borrowed skill that made him a rider.

  "Your highness, the lady's safe but your friend Cashel has vanished!" said the officer standing with his sword drawn.

  Tenoctris was all right; she sat cross-legged on the floor of the porch where she'd drawn a hexagram across the mosaic in vermilion. The officer of her escort had sent one of his men as a messenger back to his palace; the rest of the squad surrounded the wizard.