But much has happened since those more carefree times, he mused. Everything was … chaos when we returned. No High Council, and Garin and Nilsa behaving so oddly. Struggling to make decisions, as if they weren’t quite sure. And then nothing. He could remember nothing after arriving.
What did they do with me? With the others? Is Tauran alive?
Kael turned, walked back into the room, and passed beyond the darkened doorway into the interior area. He saw a cozy divan and more shelves filled with books. A plush rug had been tossed casually across the floor, and dark tendrils draped from bowls became potted plants and ferns when he stared at them fully. A door—shut tight—stood within the wall opposite where he had entered.
Kael crossed the rug and pulled the portal open a tiny bit, peering out. He saw a hall softly illuminated by round globes, glowing a warm, yellow-orange color, spaced periodically down its length. He spotted no one else, nor did he hear any other sounds.
I must be dreaming, he thought. This definitely looks like the Court, but where is everyone?
Shaking his head, not sure what to make of his own solitude, Kael turned back inside and went to his armor. He donned his clothing and took up his sword. He cast one last look around the room and, satisfied that he was leaving nothing behind, the knight headed out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.
In one direction, the passage simply led to more doors like his own, and then it ended at a window. In the other, he could hear a faint breeze stirring wind chimes around a corner. He headed that direction.
He found a courtyard at the end of the hall, a pleasant, inviting place filled with meandering paths, cozy benches, and carefully cultured vegetation. He noted the trees in particular, the leaves of which captured the light of the moon and reflected it.
Or perhaps they glow from within, Kael mused.
The wind chimes he had heard hung from the branches, and the breezes that blew through the leaves carried the fragrance of blossoms. Near the center of the open area, Kael spied a shallow pool. In the midpoint, a statue of an angel rose up, wings spread wide, paying homage to the heavens overhead.
I know this place, Kael realized, moving to stand beside the pool. I have been here before, on a night just like this. Tauran brought me here. To meet my mother. Tauran said I should give her a chance, but I wasn’t interested. I did not know her then. How strange that I would end up back here now, wishing to spend a moment longer with her.
Kael gazed down into the water and caught the reflection of overhanging branches in its gently rippling surface. Memories of the strange, disorienting encounter, when Aliisza had changed places with him, stolen his body, and escaped, came flooding back into his mind. He remembered waiting in the shadows, listening to her reveal her fears and doubts.
Kael turned to look in that same spot.
A figure sat there, cloaked in those same shadows, watching him. “It’s not real, you know,” his mother said.
Kael smiled. Aliisza rose, stepped out from the gloom, and crossed the grass to stand before him. She took both his hands in her own and peered into his eyes.
“It’s all just an illusion,” she said, her smile sad.
Kael tilted his head to one side, puzzled.
“This,” Aliisza said, gesturing around them. “The garden, the Court, all of it. We’re not really here.”
Kael frowned. “Somehow, I already knew that. But what is it, then? And if it’s not real, then am I really talking to you?”
Aliisza’s smile widened the tiniest bit. “I would ask the same thing, but for some reason, I know we’re both really here.”
Kael nodded, but her explanation didn’t make him feel any better. “What is this place?” he asked.
She dropped his hands and strolled toward a bench. She took a seat on it and tilted her head to one side as she stared up at her son. Her eyes were intense, watching him. “This was my prison,” she said quietly, “when I first came here.”
“Ah, yes,” Kael said, remembering hearing descriptions of the mirror-place whenever he asked about his mother. “Tauran spoke of it when I was young. They said you were happy here.”
Aliisza snorted. “They lied.” She peered into Kael’s eyes again, and the sensation it created, as if she were trying to see deep inside him, was growing unnerving. “Most of the time, I didn’t even realize I was here. I was trapped in fictions, forced to learn about the more caring, considerate side of myself.”
“You sound wounded,” Kael said, turning to sit beside her so that she would stop staring at his face so intently. “Like you still resent it.”
Beside him, his mother shrugged. “I do,” she said. “Tauran was doing what he thought was right. But the decisions the angels make are every bit as conniving and selfish as any demon’s choices. They just cloak it in words like ‘honor’ and ‘justice,’ and they codify the machinations into a set of laws so that everyone gets manipulated evenly. Then they can point to it and say, ‘See? We’re in the right because it’s all equal; everyone has to abide by the same rules.’”
Kael frowned. “And that’s not good enough? Do the laws not treat everyone fairly?”
Aliisza shook her head. “That’s not the point.” She turned to face him. “Do you think we did the right thing, surrendering to Garin and Nilsa so they would bring Tauran back? To save his life, did we do what had to be done?”
Kael cocked his head to one side. “I don’t know.”
“Why do you doubt it?”
He sighed. “Because it felt wrong. Because it felt like we should fight harder to prove that we were right.” He clenched his fists in anger. “Because Garin and Nilsa infuriated me with their absolutism.”
“I think there’s another reason,” Aliisza said. “When it came time to free Kaanyr, Tauran claimed he couldn’t break his word. Even though it probably meant the death of us all, he wouldn’t do it.”
“It was the just, honorable thing to do,” Kael said, feeling a bit indignant. “He gave his word.”
“You argued with him at the time,” Aliisza pointed out. “So did I.”
Kael nodded. The guilt of his lapse made him stare at his hands again in shame. “That was wrong of me,” he said. “It was a moment of weakness.”
“Nonsense,” Aliisza said. “Tauran was willing to defy the High Council and his own god to go after Zasian. He was even willing to drag you along with him, and you didn’t protest then. You went along with it, because you knew it was right. So what was different about freeing Kaanyr?”
Kael shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.”
“The reason we both became so upset with him is because we could see what he was really doing. He was giving up.”
Kael cringed at his mother’s words. “Don’t,” he pleaded. But he knew she was right.
“Look at me,” Aliisza said. “He was ready to die. He had accepted it, even remarked that death would have been preferable to … what else he faced. He freed Kaanyr because he had accepted his fate.”
“And we weren’t ready for that,” Kael said, understanding at last. “We wanted him to keep on fighting, so we could return and see his honor restored.”
“Yes,” Aliisza said. “He was trying to set us free. I even think, in a strange, weird way, he wanted you to see, one last time, the folly of slavishly adhering to the law. Releasing Kaanyr from the compulsion was the means to do both.”
“But that put us in greater danger from Vhok. I don’t think Tauran intended for that to happen.”
“Neither do I. That was just a miscalculation on Tauran’s part. I think he believed that Kaanyr would take me with him and flee, and then he would convince you to go, too. In his mind, getting left behind was a just end for his crimes against Tyr. I think that he at last had come to understand just how absolute his own self-destruction was and was trying to avoid reconciling it within himself.”
Kael considered everything Aliisza said. It hurt to think that Tauran would
do that, but he couldn’t deny that he had sensed it in the angel, too. “So now you’re asking me if we should have brought him back here,” he asked, “when maybe he didn’t want to return?”
“Something like that,” Aliisza said, and she smiled faintly. “We didn’t want for him what he wanted for himself. He perhaps didn’t think he could face up to his own flaws. Did we do him any favors? I don’t know. But I do know this. You asked me if the law didn’t treat everyone fairly. I can’t answer that, but I can say, having watched the toll it took on Tauran—and you—trying and failing to stay within the strictures of a set of laws, that nothing should dictate our lives in such an absolute way.”
“Oh, well said,” a voice from behind them said. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Kael rose to his feet with his blade free and spun to see who had intruded on his conversation with his mother. A drow stood there, a little way back, on a flagstone path. Even in the soft light of the moon, leaves, and faint globes, it wasn’t hard for Kael to see his own features in the midnight face. His own garnet eyes stared back at him, surrounded by a tousled mane of white hair. The dark elf was slender of build, and his clothing bespoke wealth and perhaps even a little self-importance.
“Pharaun!” Aliisza said, rising and moving quickly toward the drow. “I wondered if you would show up.”
Aliisza hugged the drow, then leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
“Yes, well,” the drow answered, examining his own body as he spoke, “I have to tell you, I’m more than a little surprised myself. So much to figure out in such a short time. The matron mothers never even kept me guessing this much.”
Aliisza tilted her head, considering. “I wonder, though, why we all managed to be here together. Maybe they wanted a chance for us to talk.”
“More likely they want to listen in,” Pharaun replied dryly. “See what we’ll reveal.”
“We’ve got nothing to hide,” Aliisza said, sniffing.
“Speak for yourself,” Pharaun answered with a wry chuckle. “I’d prefer that my life not be an open book for angels.”
Kael found it hard to keep from squirming. That was his father standing there, his blood sire, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Tauran is my father, he told himself. He’s the one who raised me.
“Well met, Kael,” Pharaun said as Aliisza led him back over to the bench. Kael didn’t say anything as the drow sized him up. “You are quite the impressive specimen, lad. I guess we can really cook, eh, Aliisza?”
Aliisza giggled, but there was a nervousness to it.
Kael scowled. “So, you’re my father,” he said at last, unsure how to proceed. A part of him was thankful for the chance to visit with the drow while not under constant duress, but having the opportunity suddenly didn’t seem quite so … beneficial. “Not what I expected. Or imagined.”
“I would hope not,” Pharaun replied with a self-satisfied grin. “I doubt dear Aliisza here could really do me justice. Even for one as glib-tongued as she, it would be hard to truly explain a Master of Sorcere. You must actually meet one to understand. And now you have! Consider yourself fortunate. It is not every day one has the privilege of doing so.”
Kael’s frown turned into a smirk. “Was he always this vain?” he asked Aliisza, put off by the drow.
Aliisza laughed, and it was genuine. Pharaun, Kael noted, was decidedly less amused. “Actually, yes,” she said. “He was. Is. But don’t hold it against him, Kael. If you had ever seen Menzoberranzan or met a matron mother, you’d understand.”
Pharaun turned to Aliisza, feigning a pout, and said, “Just what have you been teaching our son, you troublesome tart?” he asked. “Clearly not any of the important things, that’s plain to see. And will someone please explain to me why he’s dedicated his life to the likes of such a stuffy, overblown cad as Torm?”
Incensed, Kael took a step toward the drow, his grip on his sword tightening.
Pharaun, his eyebrows raised in surprise, retreated a step, his hand slipping inside his tunic.
“Stop it, both of you!” Aliisza said, stepping between the two and planting her hands against their chests.
Rage still burned within Kael at the insult, but he grudgingly relaxed, and when his counterpart did likewise, Aliisza sighed and dropped her hands.
“Men,” she grumbled, returning to the bench. “Come, sit with me, both of you. I don’t know how much time we have, and I don’t want to waste it watching your egos clash.”
Kael grimaced, but he took a seat next to his mother. Pharaun positioned himself on her other side. The three of them sat in silence, staring at the water before them.
Finally, Aliisza spoke again.
“I’m going to tell you both a story. Each of you has heard some of it before. Neither of you has heard it all. When I’m finished, maybe each of you’ll understand the other a bit more.” She paused, drew a deep breath, and began.
The alu spoke of her time in the deep halls far below the surface of Faerûn, when she and Vhok had been together. She told the tale of how she’d met Pharaun, and of following him through what seemed like the entirety of the Underdark.
“Why?” Kael asked at one point. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that the alu would care that much about the drow. What could she possibly see in him? he thought.
Aliisza shrugged. “He made me laugh,” she said, as though hearing his thoughts. “He was witty, and when we were together, even though he knew I was fishing for knowledge, he didn’t care.” She sighed. “I think, looking back on it, that I liked the fact that he enjoyed my company so … honestly. I had never felt that from …” She trailed off, and there was a hint of wistfulness in her tone.
“Not even a little bit because I’m so irresistible?” Pharaun interjected. “You certainly seemed to act that way at the time.”
Aliisza giggled, and she sounded like a giddy girl to Kael. He cringed. I don’t want to know about that, he realized. The alu continued, explaining all the way to how the two of them had wound up trapped within the dark recesses of a cave in a chunk of what had once been the Blood Rift. Her voice grew hoarse briefly as she spoke of Vhok’s trickery and ultimate betrayal.
When she finished, the three of them sat quite still for a long time. “What a strange, mixed-up life this has become,” she murmured. “How did things turn out so … convoluted?”
“Life just has a way of performing such tricks, Aliisza,” Pharaun answered. “Whether because of the capriciousness of gods or the ambitions of others, you often find yourself tangled in a web of complicated design, wondering how you managed to get there. Look at me. I thought I was destined to rule Sorcere, but I wound up here, sitting in a make-believe enchanted garden, a prisoner of Tyr’s servants, all because you decided to save my finger.
“Speaking of which,” the drow said, changing the subject, “Just what do we expect to happen next? While this is a much improved prison compared to the one I enjoyed as a guest of the Spider Queen, I do not think they intend to leave us here. One of our captors made mention of a trial, I believe?”
“Yes,” Aliisza said. “We will be called before the High Council, a collection of angels with Tyr’s direct ear, to answer for our crimes.”
“Oh, well, that shouldn’t adversely affect me much,” Pharaun said. “I have little to do with this whole affair.”
The drow rose to his feet and looked at Kael. “I had what could perhaps be called a friend—if drow were inclined to consider such things—back in Menzoberranzan. A blade-master, one with his weapon and all that. You remind me a bit of Ryld. He saved my life a time or two, and I’m afraid I didn’t always do my best to return the favor.” Pharaun shrugged.
“Such is the way of my people, you see. But seeing as how you remind me of him, I’ll perform the highly unusual act of honoring his memory by giving you some advice I probably should have passed on to him.”
Kael wanted to
chuckle. Advice from a father I hardly know? Should I be grateful?
Yet a part of him craved some deeper understanding of his sire. He wanted to see how much of himself might be hidden within the drow.
“Never get caught up too much in duty, honor, and sacrifice,” Pharaun said. “Not because they’re not worth it or because they leave you hollow and wanting in old age.” He drew a deep breath. “No, it’s because those things are inevitably tied to someone else’s agenda, my dear boy. And by the time you discover their agenda and yours are no longer compatible, it’s usually too late.”
Kael considered the drow’s words. “Are you speaking from experience?” he asked.
Pharaun chuckled. “Bright lad we’ve got there, Aliisza. Takes after his father.” He turned to Kael. “You would think so, based on my sad tale, yes? But no, my woes came about purely because of my own selfish agenda. I got greedy. A far more laudable goal, in my esteemed opinion, but one equally as likely to get you into just as much trouble as duty, honor, and the rest.”
Kael did smile, then.
“Listen, my boy,” the drow said, drawing Kael out of his thoughts. “I can see you sitting there, trying to decide how much of me is in you, how much of your mother is tucked away in there, and how much of this angel, Tauran, who raised you, truly shaped you. Based on what I’ve heard tonight, my guess is, you’re not certain how you will feel about the answer.”
Kael gave the drow a steady look. “Very astute,” he said, but inside, his emotions were churning. Who am I? he wondered. What parts of me are really me?
“The truth is, the answer doesn’t matter,” Pharaun said. “At the end of the day, when the tale has been told and your reckoning is at hand, you’ve still made all the choices. At the end, you’ve only got one person, and one person only, to answer to. Yourself.” His tone grew a bit wistful. “I learned that the hard way, standing on that Abyssal Plane as the spiders kept coming.” He blinked and returned his gaze to Kael. “It’s not me, it’s not her”—he pointed to Aliisza—“it’s not that angel who raised you. It’s not even your god. Unless you’re satisfied with the choices you’ve made regarding them and how you choose to deal with them, none of the rest matters.”
The Crystal Mountain Page 17
