by Garth Nix
There didn't seem to be much choice.
"What is this prison?" she asked. "And the judgment? Will I get to speak my side?"
"Yes, you will be able to speak," said the Mother Crone. "And here is the prison."
She drew a tall bottle of golden metal out of her robes and unscrewed the stopper.
"I can't get in that," said Odris. "It's too small." "I think you will be surprised," replied the Mother Crone. "Will you try?"
Odris felt a strange power in the old woman's voice. Power that was building, as if the next time she spoke, her words would fly out like a Storm Shepherd's bolts of lightning.
"Oh, all right!" she said.
The Mother Crone held out the bottle. Odris billowed down two legs and trudged over, her head downcast in defeat.
"Are you sure this is big enough?"
The Mother Crone nodded. Odris pushed a finger in the top, then another. Somehow she got her whole hand in, and arm, and then the rest of her was sucked in, like being caught up in a whirling storm.
Strangely, Odris did not feel cramped. There was even some light coming in from outside, so she did not feel sick. But when the stopper was screwed back in, Odris did get a strange feeling. There was the hint of other shadows here, from long ago. Shadows who had never been released, who had long since faded into nothing…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tal concentrated on his Sunstone, willing orange light to form. Dimly he was aware of Adras shouting and swearing, and the Keeper hissing, but he blocked them out. The Light was the only thing that mattered.
Slowly, he wove the orange light out of the ring. It came out as a bright, narrow strand that thickened as it rose up. It became a rope, as broad as Tal's arm. He kept drawing more of it out, until it rose straight up above him for twenty or thirty stretches.
Sweat beaded on Tal's forehead as he concentrated on the end of the rope. He directed it into a loop, tying a slip knot. Then he gently lowered the noose of light down toward the struggling Spirit-shadows.
The noose hung there, Tal holding it with his mind and his Sunstone, as he waited for an opportunity. It bobbed down a few times, but he never completed the cast. Adras always got in the way.
"I can't hold it," whispered Tal, after the fourth attempt stopped suddenly in midair, as Adras swayed back under the noose.
"Adras!" roared Crow. "Push it away!"
Adras grunted. For a second he made no move. Then he suddenly let go and instead of hugging the Keeper, pushed it away. At the same time, Tal dropped the noose. It went perfectly over the Keeper's head. Instantly, Tal tightened it, the rope of light cutting deep into the shadowflesh. Then he quickly wrapped the rope around the rest of its body as Adras leapt free, pinning the Spiritshadow in place against the bronze pole.
"Quick! I can't keep it going!"
This was the moment Crow had waited for. He jumped to the higher pole and swung himself up in front of the struggling Spiritshadow. The bag in his hand was made of gold mesh, and he slipped it over the Keeper's head, though it struggled to evade him.
"Let it go!" shouted Crow.
"What?" screamed Tal. "Are you crazy?"
The Keeper's head was in the strange gold-mesh bag but Tal didn't see how that would help. It would just pull out and knock Crow off, before killing Tal and Adras.
"Let the rope go!"
Tal shook his head. But that had much the same effect. He lost concentration, and the rope began to fade. Tal looked to Adras, ready for a quick getaway.
Strangely, the Keeper did not pull its head out of the bag. Instead it actually slithered farther in. Crow held the bag open until all the Spiritshadow was inside, then closed the drawstrings tight and hung it over the end of the pole.
"Pity it's the last one," he said, sitting astride the pole and dusting his hands in the attitude of a man finishing a job well done.
"Last what?" asked Tal, staring at the bag.
"Shadow-sack," replied Crow. "We only had three. Jarnil found them for us a few years ago, I don't know where. He wouldn't say."
"Can it get out?"
"Only if someone lets it out. Someone real. Shadows can't touch that golden metal. Didn't you know? I thought you'd get all this in your Lectorium."
"No," said Tal. "I'm only beginning to realize all the things I wasn't taught in the Lectorium."
"We'd best move on," said Crow. "That was a noisy fight."
He started to climb up to the next rod. Tal looked at Adras.
"Are you all right?"
"Hah!" boomed Adras. "I would have won. It was weak."
"I guess that means you are," Tal said. There were some holes in the Spiritshadow's shoulder, but he didn't seem bothered by them. Besides, Tal knew Spiritshadows healed very quickly under the sun. "Come on."
On the rod above, Crow had stopped to reach into the nets to fill his pockets with Sunstones. But he had picked up only a handful when he threw them down again.
"These aren't Sunstones!" he exclaimed angrily.
Tal joined him and picked up a handful himself. The stones were shiny black ovals, with only the slightest hint of inner fire.
"Sunseeds," he said, not admitting to Crow that he had never actually seen them before. "Jewels from Aenir. They must have harvested the ready Sunstones just recently, and put these out to grow in power."
"Just my luck," grumbled Crow. "Let's hope the Keystone's still there."
He started climbing again, even faster than he had earlier.
"Anyone would think it's a race," Tal complained. Then he thought, maybe it is. He didn't know what Crow really wanted up here, or what he had really agreed to.
"A bond without blood is no bond," Tal muttered. He reached up to the next pole and swung up. "Adras! Give me a hand!"
It was a surprisingly long way to the top of the Tower, almost as far above the Veil as it was below. With Adras's help, Tal caught Crow before too long, but night had fallen before the very pinnacle of the Tower was in easy reach.
They had been tempted to go onto one of the balconies or walkways and continue up the stairs, but caution had prevailed. So they had kept to the outside, the bronze rods and the nets of spun gold with their carefully arranged Sunseeds. Every now and then Crow had taken up a handful, just in case, but he had yet to find a proper Sunstone.
At last they came to the final bronze rod, half Tal's height below the topmost walkway. They could see the spire of the Tower, not far above, surrounded by a crown of distant stars. Light still spilled out above them, but not the bright red rays of the lower windows, just a dim, pinkish glow.
The Tower had grown slender at its peak, little more than forty stretches in diameter. Tal and Crow sat on the pole, listening, hoping to hear if anything was inside the room above. But all they heard was the wind and the soft rattle of the Sunseeds and the nets.
"There may be traps," said Crow. "I'd better take a look first."
"There may be," said Tal. "Light magic traps. We'd best go together."
Crow nodded. He crouched on the pole, hanging on with one hand as he reached up to the railing above, careful to put his hand between the sharp serrations. Tal moved up next to him and had to reach out farther across. Adras hovered next to him and reached out a steadying hand.
Crow jumped. An instant later, Tal followed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Tal and Crow landed on the walkway together. Both were scratched by the sharp railings, but not seriously. They stood carefully at the very edge of the narrow path and looked into the room in front of them.
The top of the Red Tower was a domed room, open to the air, with four arched doorways, one at each cardinal point of the compass, leading to the circular walkway. Inside the room, the ceiling was covered in a mosaic of tiny Red Sunstones, glittering like a seam of jewel-filled rock. The floor was tiled in red and white, but not in any regular or obvious pattern.
Hanging upside down or perhaps growing from the very center of the domed ceiling was a tree of red cry
stal. Its trunk was straight and bare for several stretches, before it branched out into a canopy that covered most of the room. Each branch had a silver bell on the end.
Tal stared at it, trying to figure out what it was for. There was a strange cluster of small silver hands around the base of the trunk, at the apex of the dome. They seemed to have some purpose… every hand held a thin wire that went back into the trunk of the tree.
"What is that?" asked Crow. He spoke quietly and pointed at the tree.
"I don't know," Tal whispered. His attention had been caught by what was under the upside-down tree.
On the floor of the room, there was a pyramid-shaped plinth of a darker red, about as high as Tal's chest. Two silver hands were mounted upon it, and between them was clasped a large, slowly pulsing Sunstone. It had to be the Red Keystone.
"I don't like the look of all those bells," said Crow, studying them with a burglar's practiced eye. "Or the silver hands."
Then Crow saw the Keystone. He started forward, and stopped only a step from the doorway.
"Maybe you should send Adras in to get it," he suggested.
"Sure," said Adras, before Tal could speak. The Spiritshadow surged forward, but as he tried to enter the arched doorway, the Keystone flashed and a solid sheet of Red light slammed shut like a door. Adras bounced off it with a startled "oof!"
The Red light faded as he bounced back, and the Keystone was quiet once more.
"No Spiritshadows allowed," said Tal. "There must be other defenses, too."
He looked up at the tree and the bell-branches again, and then at the floor. The red tiles seemed to be placed in line with bells above them.
"I think the bells sound if you step on the wrong tiles," Tal said slowly, as he thought it out. "Maybe," said Crow. "Let's see…"
He leaned forward and lightly pressed a white tile with his finger. Nothing happened. Crow pressed a little harder. Still nothing.
"Now the red," he said, transferring his finger to the closest red tile.
As his finger touched, a silver hand above twitched slightly, and the bell above rang--a tiny, hesitant ring.
"So the red tiles sound the bells," agreed Crow. They both looked across at the floor. The arrangement of the tiles seemed haphazard, but now they realized that it would be almost impossible to reach the plinth. The individual tiles weren't big enough to get more than most of one foot on, and the red tiles were cleverly distributed so that there were more of them the closer you got to the plinth, and the white tiles too far apart to stretch.
"There must be a way to silence the tree," said Crow.
Tal shrugged. "The proper words, or proper light. But the wrong thing would set them all going."
Crow looked up at the tree, then down at the floor, and finally at Tal.
"You're lighter than me," he said. "I reckon I can stand just inside on those two white tiles, and boost you up to that branch. Then all you have to do is grab any bell that I might set off."
"That's all!" protested Tal. He looked at the crystal tree dubiously. If it was like the ones in the Crystal Wood it would be quite strong enough to climb. But it would also be very easy to fall off it, or cut himself on the narrower branches.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"I could have another try," said Adras, who was still rubbing his head.
"No," said Tal. "I don't have a better idea."
Even without a better idea, they still walked around and checked the other three entrances, to see if either the tree or the floor looked different or easier to move across.
They didn't, so Tal, Crow, and Adras returned to the western arch. The sun had set completely, but the walkway was lit by the Red light that spilled out from under the dome and through the arches.
The brightest light came from the Red Keystone. It shone between the silver hands on the plinth, pulsating with the uncanny and disturbing rhythm of a human heart.
One that was beating a lot slower than Tal's. "Ready?" asked Crow.
Tal nodded.
Crow backed up to the arch, and then stepped back, craning his head. Keeping his toe pointed, his foot just fit within the confines of one white tile.
Both boys held their breath. But no bell sounded, no light flashed.
Crow stepped back with his other foot. For a moment it looked like he would lose his balance. He swayed and then recovered, cupping his hands so Tal could use them as a foothold.
Adras helped him, being careful not to step too close.
Held high outside by Adras, Tal put his foot in Crow's hands and ducked under the arch. Adras was still holding the back of his shirt.
"Now!" cried Tal.
Adras let go, Crow jerked his hands up, and Tal pushed.
He went flying toward the ceiling and the closest branch.
It seemed farther away than it had from outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Milla woke in a dream. She knew it was a dream because she was standing with one foot on the bowsprit of a speeding ice-ship, the wind whistling through her hair. Sunstone light spilled on the ground ahead, and the ship bucked and rolled as its runners met uneven ice.
Just ahead Milla could see a great roiling mass of Slepenish, breaking through the ice. Small icebergs bobbed and splintered as the millions and millions of Slepenish turned the ice into open sea.
The ice-ship was heading straight for the hole in the ice and certain destruction. Yet it was not too late for the ship to turn, if only a warning was given.
Milla tried to shout, but no sound came out of her mouth. She tried to wave her arms in warning, but they would not move.
She didn't mind meeting her end in the freezing water, but she didn't want to take a whole ice-ship full of her people with her. Even in a dream.
A hand touched her shoulder. With it came freedom. Milla turned, meeting a Crone's silver gaze.
The Crone nodded.
"Ware water!" Milla shouted. "Turn aside! Turn aside!"
She was still shouting the warning when she woke up.
The same Crone she had seen in her dream was leaning over her. Behind her Milla could see the golden sheen of the metal walls of the Ruin Ship.
She had made it, and she wasn't dead. The Crone had brought her back.
"Do not try to get up," the Crone warned. "You were far gone in the Tenth Pattern. You will be weak for some days."
"I must tell the Crone Mother," whispered Milla. "Shadows. Aenir. The veil."
"We know," soothed the Crone. "You told me while you were still in the Pattern. And we have walked in your mind while you slept."
Milla nodded. Now she was done. The Crones knew what they must know.
"I will go to the Ice," she said. "I have the strength for that."
The Crone shook her head.
"You may not go to the Ice. At least not yet. Both you and your shadow companion must first be judged, when you are strong enough to bear the weight of whatever judgment is passed."
"There is no need for judgment," said Milla weakly. "I lost my shadow. I brought a free shadow from the Castle and…"
She frowned as dim memories came swirling in. "Did I fight the Shield Maidens?"
"Yes," said the Crone calmly.
"Arla…" whispered Milla. "I seem to remember .."
"The Shield Mother is dead," said the Crone bluntly. "She died with a knife in hand, as she would have wished. Yet perhaps she was always too ready with her knife, instead of words."
"I… I killed Arla?"
Milla's head fell back. She had only flashes of memory since emerging from the heatways. Now one fragment was clear in her head. The strange nail on her hand, sweeping across Arla's stomach.
"It was not a fair fight," she said, the words choking her. She raised her hand to show the strange, Sunstone-flecked fingernail of Violet crystal. "I had Chosen magic."
The Crone shook her head.
"It was not a trial combat, so why should it be fair? Besides, Arla was a Shield Mother, stronger a
nd more experienced than you. And that strange nail is not Chosen magic."
"What is it?" asked Milla, her voice husky, already fading as she struggled to stay conscious.
"It is ours," said the Crone. "One of two made for Danir long ago. One she kept, and one she gave away. Both have been lost for more than a thousand circlings."
Milla heard the Crone's voice getting farther and farther away. She tried to answer, but could not. Unconsciousness claimed her.
When she came to, there were three different Crones in her room, and several Shield Maidens.
"The Crone Mother of the Ruin Ship has decreed you will be judged," said the eldest, milky-eyed Crone. "Are you strong enough to bear whatever your fate may be?"
Milla nodded. She was unable to speak and she couldn't look at the Shield Maidens. They clustered close as she shakily stood up, their hands on their knife hilts.
"Follow me," said the older Crone. She pulled back the curtain of furs and led Milla out. The other Crones fell in behind, but a Shield Maiden remained on either side of Milla.
It was a slow progress. Milla had never felt so exhausted. She could hardly put one foot in front of the other, but somehow she managed to keep going. The Shield Maidens stopped when she stopped, but at no time did they or the Crones offer to help her.
Finally, they came to a wide door, the furs already pulled aside. The Crones went in with Milla. The Shield Maidens did not. They pulled the fur curtain across as soon as the last Crone passed.
Milla's eyes had been firmly on her own feet all the way. Now she slowly raised her head.
They had come to a huge room, as large as the Hall of Reckoning. But this room was almost empty, a great chamber of gleaming golden metal walls, ceiling, and floor. There were no Sunstones present, but hundreds of lanterns burning Selski oil were set in concentric rings around the single item of furniture in the whole hall--a tall chair of white bone, that stood in the center of the room.
Milla was led to it and sat down. The two younger Crones tied her wrists and ankles to the chair with strips of Wreska-hide. The bonds were tight and the knots strong.
