Some of the diggers set up a cheer when they heard that. Mors scowled fiercely at them. “Be quiet, you fools!”
“Li El can’t hear them,” Vvelz said with a sly, reassuring grin.
“Why not?” asked Catchflea.
“Long ago, this was a temple to one of the gods, now forgotten,” Vvelz said. “In ages past, the people of Vartoom came here to worship. The priests would inhale fumes from sacred incense and utter prophecies through the image of the god’s face. Now, they wouldn’t dare come near this place.”
“No one worships here now?”
“Even the god’s name has been lost.”
“If there are gods, it is they who have forgotten Hest,” Mors said bitterly. “We do not need them. We shall take destiny into our own hands.”
“The temple is known to be a haunted place,” Vvelz continued. “In the reign of Great Hest’s third son, Drev the Mad, the priests were massacred and the sacred hearth extinguished by the king’s order. It is said the dying priests cursed the line of Hest and that their ghosts walk the temple, seeking vengeance.”
Catchflea’s eyes were wide. “Do they?”
Vvelz looked left and right. “I have heard things—seen glimmers in the deeper sanctuaries.” He shrugged.
Once the Blue Sky People had adjusted to Catchflea’s presence, they went about their routine business as if he weren’t there. Food was passed around, ragged copper mesh clothing was patched, and teams of elves distributed items stolen from the surface. It was both amusing and touching to Catchflea to see the Hestites tugging on old leather shoes and felt hats as if they were silk and satin, and eating with worn wooden spoons and plates as though they were finest porcelain.
With Di An as his guide, Mors went to the stump of a broken column and sat down. Bread was brought to him, and a wooden cup, carved from a single piece of oak, was placed in his hand. Catchflea was given the same plain victuals, but his cup was Hestite tin.
“Master Mors,” he said, chewing the tasteless, dry bread, “what convinced you to lead this band up from the caverns? After all, it was by going underground that the Hestites managed to survive.”
Mors rumbled, “It was the willfulness of Hestantafalas that condemned us to live like vermin in the dark. Had he obeyed his sovereign and kept peace, none of this suffering would have come to pass.”
“You were not a digger, yes? How did you come to have such sympathy for them?”
“Let me tell him,” Vvelz interjected. Mors took a drink of mineral water and grunted his agreement.
“I shall have to go back quite a ways,” Vvelz said. He cleared his throat. “When the Great Hest and his chief magician, Vedvedsica, died, their children naturally inherited their fathers’ places. The first son of Hest became king and the children of Vedvedsica his magic counsel. Before long there was rivalry between the royal house and the sorcerers. To augment themselves, each faction recruited talented ones from the common people. Those who served the royal family formed the Hall of Arms, a warriors’ guild, and those who followed the Vedvedsicans were known as the Hall of Light. A system was established whereby children were tested at a very early age to determine if they were fit for either house. Those who were fit for neither, as you know, worked as diggers. A balance was reached, and for centuries the people of Hest flourished.
“Then, in the reign of Great Hest’s second son, Jaen the Builder, things began to go wrong. Crops failed repeatedly, and the diggers went hungry. Several of the mines collapsed, killing many. Most strangely, fewer and fewer children were born. Many that were born were barren, and did not grow to adulthood.” Catchflea looked over at Di An. The elf girl sat at Mors’s feet, her knees drawn up to her chin. She stared unblinkingly ahead, and her gaze did not waver when Vvelz spoke of the barren children.
“The Hall of Light blamed the warriors’ greed for the failures,” Vvelz continued. “Too much time was spent digging for iron and gold, and not enough care was paid to growing crops, they said. The Hall of Arms blamed the sorcerers. They claimed the magicians weren’t providing enough light in the cavern, making the crops sickly and thin.”
“Who was right?” asked Catchflea.
“Both,” Mors said suddenly. When he offered nothing more, Vvelz went on.
“Jaen died in a fit of apoplexy, and his younger brother, Drev, became king. Drev spoke darkly of magical plots against his brother’s life. When he was sure of the warriors’ loyalty, he tried to crush the Hall of Light. The temples were closed and priests were killed. Many of the elder sorcerers were imprisoned and executed, including Vedvedsica’s daughter Ri Om. I was but an apprentice then, and my sister a journeyman.”
“Are you descendants of Vedvedsica?”
“He was my great-uncle,” Vvelz said with pride. “The conflict seemed over, and the warriors triumphant, but they did not reckon on the ambition of Li El. Her powers, even as an unlearned girl, were extraordinary. She accomplished the great levitation at ten and could forcibly read minds at fourteen—” Mors cleared his throat and rapped his rod on the floor. Vvelz said in a low voice. “Mors does not want the diggers to hear how powerful my sister really is. He says it undermines their morale.”
“Mine too, yes,” said Catchflea shakily.
“Li El advanced rapidly through the depleted ranks of the Hall of Light,” said Vvelz. “Usually it takes a century or more for a journeyman sorcerer to reach the first rank, but she did it in thirty years. Only much later did I discover how she accomplished this; Li El would secretly challenge higher ranking magicians to contests, duels of magic.” He shook his head. His voice was tight. “She was an astonishingly beautiful girl. Most of the other magicians were male, and very, very foolish. She bested them all and confined their souls in crystal spheres.”
“The blue globes!” Catchflea exclaimed. Vvelz nodded. Catchflea recalled Karn’s laugh when he had asked if the globes were lamps. What a fine jest Li El must think it was, to light the corners of her realm with the captive souls of her rival sorcerers!
“By the time my sister became First Light of the Hall, there were barely a dozen sorcerers left. They were all elderly and ineffectual,” Vvelz said.
“And you suspected nothing during her rise?” the old soothsayer asked, incredulous.
Mors let out a loud laugh. “He knew, old giant! For a long time our Master Vvelz thought his sister’s ambitions would further his own. Only later did he realize she would not spare him either if she perceived him as a threat to her plans. To save his neck, he acted lazy and weak. Li El did not consider him a threat—which, indeed, he was not—so she spared him.”
Anger replaced sadness on Vvelz’s face. Catchflea quickly spoke up and explained his own position among the Que-Shu, and how he had adopted a similar policy. Vvelz warmed noticeably to him after hearing the tale. “You see, Mors,” he said. “Wisdom is the same in the Empty World as it is in Hest.” Mors snorted derisively.
The old man sensed a certain chilliness between Vvelz and Mors, so he quickly returned to Vvelz’s narrative. “So Li El conquered her fellow magicians. How did she overcome Drev and the Host?”
Vvelz glanced at Mors, but the blind elf turned his gaze down toward Di An. His expression was unreadable. With a shrug, Vvelz resumed. “There my sister relied on more ancient methods. She convinced the captain of the palace guard that she loved him, and won him to her cause. He in turn found disgruntled warriors in the ranks to join the conspiracy. It wasn’t difficult. Having suppressed the Hall of Light, Drev thought his throne was secure. He paid his soldiers poorly, and put many to work in the mines alongside the diggers. He had an insatiable lust for gold.
“The day came when Li El and her captain seized the palace. Very little blood was shed. One or two confused guards resisted the plotters and were slain. Drev fled to the upper floors, pursued by Li El and a hundred warriors. They trapped him at the audience window, where the rulers of Hest were wont to throw coins or gems to the diggers on feast days. Poor, insane Drev screa
med at Li El and called for his guards to save him. He pleaded with her to spare his life.” Vvelz’s lips tightened. “That gave Li El a great deal of pleasure. Rather than face the swords or Li El’s spells, Drev finally threw himself from the window and died on the steps far below.”
The old temple was quiet, save for the sounds of the Blue Sky People moving in the background. Di An rose to fetch Mors another cup of water. While she was gone, the blind elf said, “Tell the giant all, Vvelz.” The sorcerer looked uncomfortable and said nothing. “Tell him!” he barked. “Please, don’t spare me my full measure of guilt.”
“I think I know,” Catchflea said softly. “You were the captain who helped Li El, yes? You loved her.”
“So true,” Mors replied bitterly. Di An returned with his refreshment. “I betrayed my king and my position for her love. I succeeded only in bringing greater hardship to my people. And in the end, I, too, suffered a bitter betrayal.”
Catchflea’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Karn is her right hand now. Was it he?” At Vvelz’s nod, Catchflea added, “Why was that so terrible?”
Mors shook with fury. He crushed the clay cup in his fist. “Ro Karn,” he said, “is my son. Li El is his mother.”
Chapter 8
The Golden Fields
Riverwind walked with Goldmoon across a sunlit field. Brilliant white clouds scudded from horizon to horizon. All around them was the sound of chimes tinkling in the wind.
“Are you happy?” asked Goldmoon, her smile as bright as the day.
“Very happy,” Riverwind replied. He saw his beloved, the field of green grass, and the blue sky. He did not see the truth.
Small, dark-haired Li El looked up at the plainsman. “It made me glad to have you back,” she said, appearing to him as Goldmoon. “I thought you would never return.”
Riverwind halted and passed a hand before his eyes. “I don’t—I don’t remember how I got back. Or why I returned.”
He turned suddenly to the image of Goldmoon. “I only know that I love you.”
“There has been trouble,” Li El said calmly. Her small hand was lost in Riverwind’s grasp, but she squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Plotters have tried to overthrow me.”
Riverwind tensed. “Loreman,” he growled.
“Yes, that’s the one.” Li El seized on every bit of information the plainsman offered. “He wants to kill me, my love.”
Riverwind pulled the sorceress to him. “No one shall harm you, not while I live.” Li El smiled, her cheek pressed against his chest. The sound of his pounding heart was loud in her ear. She asked him to say it again. “No one shall harm you while I live,” he said fervently.
They resumed their walk. The Que-Shu village came into view as they topped the hill. It was only a dim outline, for Li El had not sharpened the details of her illusion yet. She needed more of Riverwind’s memories in order to make her spell strong and believable.
“Should we go back?” she asked.
His hand went to his empty scabbard. “I’ve lost my saber.”
Li El touched his hand. “I have a sword for you,” she said. “There’s much to be done.”
The scene dissolved, and Riverwind found himself in a dim building. He thought it might be the Lodge of Brothers—and as the image of the lodge grew in his mind, so did Li El’s illusion. He did not question how they had suddenly come to be there. Riverwind was like a sleeper, to whom all the strange occurrences of a dream are logical.
Goldmoon offered him a long, heavy sword, pommel first. Riverwind accepted the weapon.
“This isn’t my saber,” he said vaguely.
“No, brave Riverwind, but it’s the finest sword I could find.” This was the first true thing Li El had said. The sword, in fact, had belonged to the great Hest, twenty centuries ago. In his time, Hestantafalas had been counted a giant among his elven brothers, so his sword was nearly the proper size for Riverwind.
Lights flared in the lodge. Riverwind was confronted with three attackers, all of whom looked like his old foe, Hollow-sky. He raised his new sword.
“This cannot be!” he declared. “You are dead—all three of you!”
“They are evil!” Li El said urgently. “You must save me!”
The three images of Hollow-sky attacked. Riverwind met the center one, parried, and slashed right and left to ward off the others. The center Hollow-sky twisted his face in a grimace of pure hatred. He thrust his short, straight blade at the plainsman’s chest. Riverwind fended off the attack, grasped the hilt of Hest’s sword with both hands, and brought the blade up in an underhand swipe. The keen point caught this Hollow-sky in the chest. The scowling attacker gave a shriek and lost his sword. He reeled away, and Riverwind thrust through him.
The foe to his left attacked next, though he seemed shrunken and shorter than the Hollow-sky Riverwind remembered. There was no time for reflection, as this enemy scored a cut across Riverwind’s cheek. Blood flowed, and sweat stung the plainsman’s eyes. This Hollow-sky shrank further, and his ears grew points. Riverwind was confused. This was not his dead foe from Que-Shu. But still he fought; a terrible compulsion drove him to charge the smaller man and bowl him over. Riverwind raised his point high. The fallen warrior lifted his empty hands in a plea for mercy. Riverwind held his blade back.
“Kill him!” Goldmoon cried. “He would kill me if he had the chance!”
Riverwind stared at her. Though strong-willed, Goldmoon knew the quality of mercy well and cherished it. His beloved would never say such a thing. Riverwind stepped back. For an instant, Goldmoon, too, seemed to be shorter than he remembered. Then, she was her beautiful self again. A golden aura surrounded her and it reached out and touched him. His qualms were washed away. Goldmoon would never ask him to do anything that wasn’t right. He must kill to save her.
With the second Hollow-sky dead, the third showed considerable reluctance to fight. His blade met Riverwind’s only twice before he dropped it and fled. Riverwind, panting heavily, asked Goldmoon if he should pursue the fleeing Hollow-sky and slay him.
“No,” she said coolly. “He will do no harm.” She surveyed the bloody lodge hall. “You have done well. You are an excellent champion.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” Li El said. “Go and rest now. Later, we will find the plotters and wipe them out. You must be strong, my brave Riverwind. Only then will I be safe.”
He came to her and tried to take her hand. His fingers were stained with blood, and she avoided his touch. Riverwind’s face was troubled as he looked at his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t wish to stain her white skin.
“Don’t worry,” Li El replied, though she regarded his still outstretched hand with distaste. “I’ll come to you later. Go now and rest.”
Still holding the sword of Hest, Riverwind wandered off in a daze. He passed through some golden curtains and spied a low stone couch. There were no such curtains or couches in the Lodge of Brothers, but still he did not question the illusion. The sword dropped from his hand, and he lay down on the couch, exhausted.
Li El surveyed the scene in the hearth room of the palace with satisfaction. Riverwind had fought and beaten three of her best guards. Her illusions needed some minor improvement, but by the time he went against the rabble led by Mors, Riverwind ought to cut quite a swath.
“He fights well, doesn’t he?”
Li El broke out of her reverie and saw Karn lurking among the statues of Hest’s dead heroes. “Why are you skulking there? Come out!” He did.
“The giant is just the tool you need to crush Mors,” Karn said bitterly. “I wasn’t good enough.”
She looked toward the golden curtains. “Yes,” she said softly. “He will be perfect.”
Karn went to the first dead warrior. “Rjen,” he said. “A good swordsman. Did you have to let the giant kill them?”
“This is not a game, Karn.”
He stood over the second slain elf. “Mesk. He and I trained together.”
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br /> Li El rubbed her slim white hands together. “Stop being such a child,” she said tersely. “I had to test the strength of the illusion I’ve cast on Riverwind. And so I did.”
Karn’s shoulders sagged. “So what is next, Highness?”
“When the barbarian wakes, I want you to muster two cohorts of the Host. You will take them out and scour the cavern for Mors.” Li El adjusted the folds of her golden robe and slipped her hood up over her dark hair. “Oh, and find the soldier who ran away just now. What is his name?”
“Prem. His name is Prem.”
“Yes. Find Prem and put him under arrest. I won’t have cowards serving me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Highness.”
Li El swept from the room. Karn watched her go. His anger at Riverwind’s usurping of his place was gone. He had buried it as he had buried countless other hurts inflicted on him by the ambitious, unstoppable queen of Hest. Li El was merely using the outlander to reach their goal. Once they had attained that goal, the barbarian would be of no further use and he would be discarded. He was merely a tool. Karn was still lieutenant of the Host. He was still the son of Li El. Her chosen champion.
Vvelz received Mors’s permission to show Catchflea the Blue Sky People’s collection of objects brought down from the surface. Vvelz believed there might be useful things amid all the junk, things to use against Li El. He hoped that Catchflea could sort through the debris and identify the artifacts of the Empty World.
Catchflea and Vvelz picked their way up an ancient staircase littered with loose stones.
They came to a cleft in the rock wall of the cavern. It wasn’t an obvious opening; projecting rocks had been chipped in such a way as to cast shadows over the hole. Vvelz slipped through, beckoning Catchflea to follow.
A squarish chamber had been cut out of the rock. Blue globes were distributed along the wall in cut niches. Catchflea let his hand rest gingerly on the nearest one. The blue light within quivered and roiled around. Sadness gripped the old man. This feeble light had once been a living, breathing Hestite. He wondered if it had been male or female, good, kind, lazy, homely. Did it still live inside the sphere? Did it yearn for freedom or the release of death?
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