Above the Veil

by Garth Nix

  Milla did not resist.

  Then the Crones turned the ring on her finger so she could not see the Sunstone, and retreated to stand against the walls.

  Milla sat silently waiting. It was just her and the three Crones in the huge silent room.

  She was too tired to wonder what would happen next. What could happen? She had brought a shadow to the Ruin Ship and she had slain a Shield Mother. They would probably use the Prayer of Asteyr on her and send her out to stand before the Selski Living Sea. Her name would become a curse, a word to be spat, a ballast-stone of loathing the Far-Raiders would have to bear for many circlings.

  She had disgraced herself, her clan, and her people. Now even a clean end of her own choice upon the Ice was out of her reach.

  Milla closed her eyes and let her chin slip forward a little, a small sign of the despair within her.

  Then she heard the curtain open and she looked back up.

  Crones were entering the room. Many Crones, more than Milla had ever seen. Scores of Crones, from the bright blue-eyed of the newest to the milky-eyed oldest, all of them clad in black. They spread out along the walls, the only sound the shuffle of their feet and robes.

  There were hundreds of them, Milla saw. Crones from every clan and ship. Perhaps even her own Far-Raiders' Crone was there.

  Milla hung her head again, ashamed. She did not want to see the Crone who had always had such high hopes for her.

  Finally, the Crone Mother of the Ruin Ship entered. While all the other Crones lined the walls, she strode out across the open space, a tall figure, her shadow flickering by her side in the lantern light.

  She stopped by the chair, unscrewed a bottle she had under her arm, and laid it down next to Milla. Then she stood behind the chair and raised her arms high.

  There was total silence in the hall, and all the Crones were still.

  The silence lengthened. No one moved. Milla held her breath.

  Finally the Crone Mother spoke, her voice soft, but echoing throughout the vast room.

  "Today we decide the Doom of Milla of the Far-Raiders, daughter of Ylse, daughter of Emor, daughter of Rohen, daughter of Clyo, in the line of Danir since the Ruin of the Ship.

  "Before that Doom is decided," the Crone Mother continued, "we must hear the words of Milla of the Far-Raiders. For she has brought evil tidings, and the news she bears must be weighed with her fate."

  "What… what must I say?" asked Milla.

  "Everything," said the Crone Mother. "Begin when you left the Ruin Ship, with the Chosen Tal, in your quest for a Sunstone. Tell us everything."

  Mina cleared her throat and slowly began to speak. She told the assembled Crones about the journey into the Castle, the skeleton with the Sun-stone, Great-uncle Ebbitt and the attack by the guards, the Hall of Nightmares, the Mausoleum, the transfer to Aenir, the Storm Shepherds, Tal's use of the Prayer to Asteyr, how Odris was bound to her while she was unconscious, the riddling pool in the desert, the Dawn House, Zicka the Lizard, Asteyr's ship, the Codex, Sushin and the Merwin-horn sword, the Keystones and the threat to the veil… it all came tumbling out of her.

  The Crones listened in silence, though occasionally a ripple passed through their ranks, as it did when she spoke of Asteyr's ship.

  They listened, their strange blue or silver or cloudy white eyes intent on Milla. And as they listened, they judged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Tal was afraid the bell would ring anyway as he gripped the branch. But it didn't. He swung a leg over and hauled himself up, grateful that the branch was round, without sharp crystal edges.

  "That bell," said Crow, pointing to a branch a stretch or so away.

  Tal balanced on the branch he was on and leaned across. He ran his hand along the branch to the bell and grabbed the wire that would make it sound.

  "Ready," he said.

  Crow nodded and jumped across. His foot fell on a white tile and partially on a red. As he landed, the wire twitched under Tal's hand, but he had it fast, and the bell did not sound.

  "That one," Crow said again, pointing.

  "This one will sound as soon as I let go," protested

  Tal. He could feel the tension in the wire. Looking up, the silver hand at the base of the tree was still plucking mindlessly away.

  "You can hold both," Crow assured him, without bothering to look.

  Tal sighed and examined the situation. If he did the splits across two branches he might just be able to hold both bells, but there was a good chance he would fall off.

  "Can't you go another way?" he asked.

  "No," said Crow, who was on tiptoes. "Hurry up!"

  Tal grimaced and stretched his leg across. He tested his foothold, then shifted his weight, while keeping hold of the first bell.

  He made it, though he was now hanging on to the first bell's wire as much for his own balance as to stop it sounding. It was an awkward position, but he could reach the second bell, though not its wire. Instead he reached inside and grabbed its clapper.

  "Go!" he panted.

  Crow jumped again. Tal felt the first wire and the second clapper shiver under his hands.

  "Now that one!" called out Crow. But Tal couldn't see him. He was facing the wrong way, and precariously balanced.

  "I can't see," called out Tal.

  "Dark take it!" swore Crow. "Let go the first one and swing around."

  "I can't!" said Tal. "I'll fall."

  "Trust a Chosen to give up!" Crow spat. "I'm only two tiles away! Swing on the clapper of that bell."

  "That's easy for you to say!" shouted Tal angrily. He was holding on to the bell's clapper with only three fingers.

  Crow didn't answer.

  Tal tried to crane his head to see the Freefolk boy, but he couldn't.

  Instead he took a deep breath, let go of the wire, and pushed off from both branches, so that all his weight was on his three fingers and their precarious grip on a single bell clapper.

  He swung around, got both legs over a higher branch and stopped, hanging upside down with his hand still on the clapper, the bell turned up as far as it would go.

  "How is this better?" he asked sarcastically.

  Crow looked up and laughed a genuine, unexpected laugh. He tried to say something but the laughter kept getting in the way of the words. He shook so much that he had trouble staying on his tiptoes.

  "It's not funny!" shouted Tal.

  Crow stopped laughing and wiped his eyes.

  "I know," he said, frowning. "I don't know why I laughed. Can you let go of that bell on the count of three, and grab the one across to your left?"

  Tal looked at the bell Crow was pointing at. He would have to stay upside down, swing across, and grab the branch with one hand and the bell with the other, all in the time it took Crow to jump.

  "I can try," he said. "How will that help?"

  If Crow jumped there he would have to balance on a single red square, on tiptoe, keeping his other foot in the air.

  "I can do it," said Crow. "On three, right?" "Ready," confirmed Tal.

  "One. Two… Three!"

  He jumped. Tal swung across. Crow's foot came down a fraction of a second before Tal's hand grabbed the wire.

  The bell rang once.

  Both boys froze, waiting for the other bells to start, or something else to occur. Besides the wire thrumming under Tal's hand, the tree was silent.

  "One more and I'll be there," said Crow, his arms stretched out as he balanced precariously, one foot held out behind him. "If I can make it that far."

  Tal looked at the tiles Crow would have to jump. There were no white tiles next to the plinth at all. He would have to balance once again on a single red tile. Worse still, Tal wasn't sure which bell went with which tile--the bells were so close together above that point.

  He would also have to swing up and there was a branch in between.

  "I don't think I can get to the right bell," said Tal worriedly.

  Crow tried to look up, but ha
d to stop as he almost overbalanced.

  "You'll have to," he said. "I can't stay here like this. On three?"

  "No!" Tal called out suddenly. "What if you jump on to the pyramid itself and grab the hands? Would you touch the floor?"

  Crow looked across at the plinth. The hands were about level with his neck. It was a long jump, particularly off one foot. But if he could grab the hands, he could hang from them with his feet drawn up, at least till Tal got to the right bell and stilled it.

  "I can do that," he said confidently. "Stay where you are."

  He crouched on his one foot, toes aching as he kept them pointed. Slowly he leaned forward, arms quivering to maintain his balance. All his attention was focused on the plinth and the silver hands. He would jump that far and grab them. He would. He must.

  It was only when he was already totally committed to the jump that a terrible thought flashed through his mind.

  What if the hands weren't securely fixed to the plinth?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Finally Milla's voice, hoarse and weary, faltered to a stop. She wet her lips and waited for whatever was going to come next.

  "Now we will hear from the Speaking Shadow," announced the Mother Crone. She stamped her foot near the bottle, and it rang, metal on metal. The stopper had already been unscrewed.

  Odris flowed out in one easy motion, drawing up to her full height next to Milla, overshadowing the Mother Crone. But the old Icecarl woman did not flinch or step away.

  "So, Odris, Shadow of the Storm," she said, "you have heard Milla of the Far-Raiders speak. Do you wish to challenge any part of her story?"

  "No," said Odris. "Only I want to say that I would be quite happy to give Milla her shadow back, if anyone knows how to do it. Though not if it would kill me or hurt a lot or anything like that," she added hastily. "I mean, I just want to go back to Aenir with Adras."

  "You were born after the Forgetting, were you not?" asked the Mother Crone.

  Odris nodded.

  "Then you cannot be held guilty of making war upon our people," pronounced the Mother Crone. "Good," said Odris. "Can we go, then?"

  "No." The Mother Crone walked back behind Milla's chair and spoke to the assembled Crones over the girl's head.

  "Milla of the Far-Raiders, by her own voice, is accused of bringing a free shadow to the Ice and of the slaying of the Shield Mother Arla, daughter of Halla, daughter of Luen, daughter of Rucia, daughter of Nuthe, in the line of Grettir since the Ruin of the Ship. You have heard Milla, walked in her dreams, seen from her eyes. What punishment shall be laid upon her, and what shall be done with the shadow that walks at her side?"

  No one moved. Then one silver-eyed Crone came forward, taking a dozen slow and somehow threatening steps.

  She stood facing Milla. She did not speak.

  "In fairness," the Mother Crone announced after a minute or two, "we shall speak with the voice, not the mind."

  The Crone looked cross. But she spoke.

  "I am Jerrel, sister to Halla, mother of the Shield Mother Arla. Why speak at all, I say? The crimes are clear. She is not fit to go to the Ice. Let her be broken and fed to the Wreska of her clan, and the name…

  Milla .

  be never borne again by any Icecarl."

  Milla closed her eyes. This was almost the worst punishment possible, one of the possibilities she had tried not to think about. If only they would let her go cleanly to the Ice!

  Another Crone stepped forward twelve paces, advancing to stand level with, but distant from Jerrel. She was older, her eyes still faintly silver, but the milkiness already swimming in.

  "I am Kallim, Clir's daughter, sister of Rucia," she said. "I have heard Milla, and walked in her dreams, as I walked in the dying dream of my sister's daughter's daughter Arla. I say that on the slaying, it was an equal combat, not murder, and no punishment is needed. On the bringing of the shadow, it came with Milla, but she did not choose its coming. We must also consider that Milla has done a great service in bringing news of the Chosen's evil and the danger to the veil. The news could not be brought without the shadow, so on that score I say she is also blameless."

  Milla listened in bewilderment. This Crone seemed to be saying that there should be no punishment at all!

  No more Crones came out to speak. But after a few minutes, they started to gather behind Jerrel or Kallim, lending support to one or the other.

  "They're talking," whispered Odris, who had sidled up next to Milla. "In their heads. I can almost hear it. Like the whispers on the wind."

  Milla watched. She had given up all hope, but now a faint spark had been lit inside her. Maybe there was a chance she would be forgiven, that she could be a Shield Maiden after all…

  Only an awful lot of Crones were lining up behind Jerrel, the one who had called for her to be fed to the Wreska. More than were lining up behind Kallim.

  After a few minutes there was no further movement of Crones. Milla couldn't be sure, but it looked as if more than half of them were lined up behind Jerrel. If this worked like a normal ship council, then that meant Jerrel would win.

  Milla would die ignobly, and her name would be permanently blighted.

  She shut her eyes, then opened them again as she heard the Crones shuffling.

  A third Crone, a full milky-eyed Mother Crone, was striding off to the far end of the room. When she got there she spoke.

  "I am the Mother Crone of the Eastern Clans," she said, her voice heavy with power. It made the hair on the back of Milla's neck stand up. "I say that there is a third way to settle the Doom of Milla of the Far-Raiders and the Shadow Odris."

  A ripple passed through the assembled ranks of the Crones, slight but enough for Milla to notice. A third way?

  "For her misdeeds, I say she should be cast out of her clan," announced the Mother Crone. "And her name shall be taken from her."

  Milla suppressed a sob. This was the very worst punishment. Even if she had been fed to the Far-Raiders' Wreska, she would still be one of the clan, and her name, though not to be used again, would be remembered.

  To be cast out was to be erased, to have never been an Icecarl at all.

  "For her deeds, and for the blood she bears," the

  Mother Crone continued, "let the Outcast then be taken into the Clan of the Ruin Ship and given the name Milla, and confirmed in her ancestry."

  Milla choked. How could she be cast out of the Far-Raiders one minute and then adopted by the senior clan of all the Icecarls in the next?

  "Further, let this new Milla, Milla of the Ruin Ship, Wielder of the Talon of Danir, be given command of the Expedition we plan," said the Mother Crone of the Eastern Clans. "But as she has trafficked with shadows, let us bind both her and her shadow-companion to the task ahead."

  "What Expedition?" asked Milla. "How can I be cast out and then taken in? What… what does it all mean?"

  No one answered her. All the Crones were moving across to stand with the Mother Crone of the Eastern Clans.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Crow grabbed the silver hands and his knees crashed into the plinth. It hurt, but his feet didn't touch the tiles, and the hands did not give way. He hung from them for a moment, then pulled himself up and rested his forearms across the top of the pyramid, on either side of the hands.

  Above him, Tal managed to get in a more comfortable and secure position astride a branch that was positioned so he could look straight down at the Keystone.

  They both stared at it, Crow from a handsbreadth away, Tal from four or five stretches above.

  The Keystone was a large Sunstone, about the size of a circled thumb and forefinger. It was deeply red, and continued to pulse with the slow regularity of a heartbeat.

  Crow suddenly craned forward and studied the stone more closely.

  "There's… there's someone inside it!" he said. "I can see a woman!"

  Tal leaned down lower. He was too far away to see any detail. The stone just looked red to him.

&
nbsp; "And there's a shadow with the woman," said Crow. "Smaller than her, some sort of hopping animal… with a long tail."

  "It must be the Guardian," said Tal. "Jarnil's cousin Lokar and her Spiritshadow. What's she doing?"

  "Just floating, as if the stone is filled with water." Crow shook his head in bewilderment. "And her Spiritshadow just keeps hopping in a circle around her."

  "Can you touch the stone?" asked Tal. There had to be some way of getting the Guardian out, or of communicating with her.

  Crow nodded and transferred his weight to one hand. Then he quickly reached across and tapped the stone.

  It shifted sideways in the grip of the silver hands and almost fell onto the floor.

  A moment later, the Red light grew in intensity, and a voice came from the Keystone.

  "Who wakes me? Who is there? Speak to me!" "I am Tal Graile-Rerem," Tal called out. "With me is Crow of the Freefolk."

  "Who?" came the voice from the stone. "Rerem's son? And Crow, Bennem's brother?"

  "Yes," answered Crow, surprised she knew of his brother.

  "Are you Lokar, the Guardian of the Red Keystone?" asked Tal.

  "I am," said the woman in the Keystone. "Be quick, and focus my Sunstone on the Keystone. Red light in the second intensity will release me."

  "Uh, we don't have your Sunstone," Tal replied. "Can I use mine?"

  Silence answered him, and a suppressed sob. "No," Lokar said eventually. "I had hoped you had been sent to release me."

  "We would if we could," said Tal. "Where is your Sunstone?"

  "I don't know," replied Lokar. "But I used it to unseal the Keystone and it was taken as I did it, so whoever imprisoned me here probably holds it still. Has the veil… does the veil… ?"

  "It's still working," Tal told her.

  A sigh of relief came from the Keystone.

  "Then the Empress still guards the secrets of the

  Violet Keystone," said Lokar. "At the least perhaps there are other Keystones still sealed. Rerem may know. Was it he who sent you?"

  "No," said Tal, his throat suddenly dry. "We think he is trapped like you, inside the Orange Keystone. How… that is… how did you get in there?"

  "The Keystones are sealed to the veil and the Guardians to the Keystones," explained Lokar. "I came here to tune the Keystone, as must be done every year. I unsealed it, but somehow my Sunstone was taken from me as I went within. There was no way back without my own stone, and I could not reseal the Keystone from inside."