Sky Trillium

by Julian May

  The bird hoods of both of them fell away as they tumbled to the torn turf. The child’s eyes widened in recognition and he ceased his struggles, and Ledavardis saw that he was chastising none other than Tolivar, Prince of Laboruwenda. What was more, the boy had a peculiar silvery coronet clamped to his brow that had to be the fabled Three-Headed Monster talisman of Queen Anigel.

  “What are you doing here?” Tolivar exclaimed.

  “Probably the same thing you are,” the King retorted. He and the boy were on hands and knees down on the flattened lawn, a forest of legs surrounding them. No member of the crowd paid them any attention.

  “My Royal Mother—” the Prince began.

  “Is here in the pleasance somewhere,” snapped the King, “and you had best leave her rescue to me.”

  “You don’t understand,” the boy wailed. “Orogastus and the evil Star Woman Naelore have Mother and they have promised to slay her unless I surrender to them this talisman. I was commanded to meet the sorcerer near that fountain during the fireworks.”

  “Did he tell you exactly where?” the King asked.

  “Nay, he said he would find me. Once I have given him the ransom, he will turn Mother over to me.”

  Ledavardis thought quickly. “I doubt that! More likely, the wizard intends to take both of you prisoner. Queen Anigel is too valuable a hostage to be set free. What do you think, Gyor?”

  The Archduke squatted beside the two of them and said, “I think the same as you.”

  “Why can’t you use your coronet’s magic to rescue the Queen?” the King asked Tolivar.

  “I’m not a good enough sorcerer,” the boy said miserably. “I hoped to go invisible and save her, but the talisman said that Orogastus would be able to descry me regardless.” Desperation brought tears to the Prince’s eyes. “Oh, please, King Ledo! Do not interfere. I am the only one who can save Mother. Even if the Star Men do capture both of us, at least she will be alive.”

  A loud flourish of trumpets sounded from the bandshell, and it was echoed immediately by another fanfare coming from the palace at the opposite end of the pleasance. A collective roar went up from the crowd.

  “It is the Emperor,” Gyorgibo said, “coming out to signal the start of the aerial display.”

  The three of them climbed to their feet. A twin file of torch-bearers was visible, filing out of the palace’s grand entrance and down the stairs. They were accompanied by lackeys bearing a portable throne and many golden stools, imperial guardsmen in ornate armor, and a procession of courtiers wearing magnificent bird robes. The Emperor appeared last of all, attired in shining vestments of iridescent white vitt feathers and a platinum crown-helm with a beaked visor entirely covered by diamonds.

  The trumpets blared again, and the mob responded by chanting Denombo’s name. So lofty was the palace staircase that the members of the imperial court were clearly visible above the gates. They marched down to a kind of terrace that divided the steps into two sections. The throne was emplaced there, flanked by stools for the high nobles. The Emperor lifted his arms and the sleeves of his robe seemed transformed into great sparkling wings. Instantly, silence fell.

  He declaimed: “Let the heavens proclaim the glory of the Goddess Matuta—and that of her loyal servant, Denombo!”

  A thundering detonation rang out. Six skyrockets took off from the space in front of the temple, soaring into the cloudy sky trailing sparks. When they reached the top of their trajectory they exploded into an overarching canopy of gold and green stars. The assembled throng broke into a riot of cheering. Then the trumpets and flugelhorns in the bandshell began to play sprightly melodies and everyone settled down to watch the show.

  “I have an idea.” The Archduke leaned close to Ledavardis and began speaking into his ear. The two men conversed for a few minutes in words inaudible to the Prince.

  Finally the King of the Pirates said: “Tolo, do you see the small bosquet—that enclosed park to the left of the fountain?”

  The boy nodded, and Ledavardis explained his plan—and what he, Tolivar, must do to abet it.

  Blood drained from the Prince’s face. “If we fail, Mother might be killed after all!”

  “The sorcerer needs Queen Anigel alive,” Ledavardis told him curtly. “He never intended to slay her, only to frighten you into handing over your talisman. Look here!” The King pulled the trillium-amber from its place of concealment and explained how it had guided him and Gyorgibo in their search. “The Holy Flower will continue to protect your mother as it has done since her birth. You must believe that, Tolo. Now go. But before you do, give me that.”

  And the King pointed to a mesh sack hanging from the Prince’s belt.

  Queen Jiri came into the grand salon of the hunting lodge, where Widd, Hakit Botal, Prigo, and Ga-Bondies sat sipping mulled wine before the blazing hearth.

  “My friends, we have a problem. After I helped Princess Raviya to retire upstairs, I stepped outside onto the balcony for a breath of air and saw something that worries me greatly.”

  President Hakit Botal gave a gusty sigh of annoyance. “Not another pack of forest monsters sniffing around the fronial stables! I assure you, Majesty, there is no way the creatures can break in and devour the mounts, any more than they can harm us here in the lodge. The buildings are very sturdy.”

  “I am not concerned about wild beasts eating us or the fronials,” the Queen said with asperity. “Come and see for yourselves what is going on, then draw your own conclusions.” She whirled about and climbed the open rustic staircase to the upper level. The four men followed reluctantly.

  At the end of the hallway she unfastened the window-doors leading to the balcony. The others came out into the dark after her. It was a raw evening with intermittent moonlight piercing the dark clouds. “What do you make of that?” Jiri pointed to a gap in the trees, where the saw-toothed front range of the Collum Mountains loomed black against a widespread rosy glow in the sky.

  “It is a most somber sunset,” Prince Widd began tentatively.

  But Jiri cut him off. “The mountains lie to the east.”

  “It cannot be a freak of moonrise,” Duumvir Prigo said thoughtfully, “since all three orbs are high in the sky, albeit partially masked by clouds. Do you suppose it is a forest fire?”

  “There is no smoke,” said the Queen. “I thought at first that a mighty storm was approaching, and that the glow might be distant thunderbolts. But the wind blows from the other way, and while the redness does vary somewhat in intensity, it is too steady to be lightning.”

  “D-do you think it might be m-magic?” Ga-Bondies stuttered fearfully. “Orogastus beleaguering the Sobranian capital city with eldritch f-fire?”

  “Imbecile,” Hakit Botal snapped. “Brandoba also lies to the west, in the opposite direction.”

  “The glow might still be magical,” said Prince Widd. “I can understand why Jiri is uneasy.”

  “There is something else,” said the redoubtable Queen. “Listen!”

  They cocked their ears momentarily. Then Prigo announced, “I hear naught but the sound of the great river, and it seems to flow more quietly than usual.”

  “The forest creatures are silent,” the Queen told them, “and that is hardly normal.”

  “Hmm. No cries of beasts or birds at all,” the President said, concern entering his voice for the first time. “Yes—that is queer. Something must have frightened them.”

  “But what?” Ga-Bondies whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Jiri admitted. “But there is another, even more ominous development I would call to your attention. It is best seen from further along the balcony.”

  The men shuffled along after her, coming to a place where the sound of the River Dob in its canyon was louder. The Queen bade them look down, but they could see almost nothing, because the Three Moons were temporarily hidden; but after a few minutes the clouds parted and the rulers beheld a startling scene lit by silvery light.

  The canyon of the D
ob was no longer two hundred ells deep, as they had seen it that morning. A gleaming expanse of pale liquid filled it halfway to the rim, and in it floated countless huge uprooted trees. The debris moved downstream with extraordinary slowness, and it took the men some time to realize that the water had thickened almost to the consistency of batter.

  “It’s mud!” Prince Widd marveled. “A stupendous flow of gray mud, coming down from those mountains. What in the world does it mean?”

  “In my opinion,” said Queen Jiri, “it means that we must ride out of here as though all the demons of the ten hells were at our heels.”

  26

  Once the fireworks display was in progress and the people standing still, occupied in looking skyward, it was much easier to slip through the crowd. Tolivar came to the Golden Griss Fountain, where many were standing. Then, following the instructions given him by Ledavardis, he began moving very slowly around the wide ornamental basin to the northeastern side, where flying spray from the fountain jets had discouraged large numbers of spectators from gathering.

  Black Trillium! the boy prayed. Do not let Orogastus or Naelore find me yet!

  The area of wet cobbles was some twenty ells in width. The nearest fire-basket lampposts were farther east at the guardhouses flanking the palace gates, another thirty ells distant, and the only useful light came from the fireworks. To the north was the fenced bosquet, densely planted with trees and flowering shrubs. Tolivar skirted the sprayfall, his eyes darting back and forth as he apprehensively searched the thinning crowd for Star Men. But all he saw were people in costumes: elaborate ones, modest ones, comical ones, frightening ones. The human birds went Oooh! and Ahhh! as each skyrocket exploded, and there were cheers and applause and whistles and quacks for particularly noteworthy displays. A large proportion of the crowd seemed to be well supplied with liquor; the pavement was littered with discarded jugs and crocks, and here and there a drunken reveler lay insensible on the cobbles.

  When he reached the park fence the Prince gave a great sigh of relief. His greatest fear had been that he would be intercepted too early. Only a thin crowd of costumed citizens was close by, braving the occasional wave of spray. On the palace stairs, Emperor Denombo and his glittering court enjoyed the show while the band played on and the citizenry grew more boisterous in their enthusiasm.

  Now the Prince became increasingly aware of the weight of the star-box on his back and the tightness of the coronet on his brow. His body reacted also to the physical effort he had expended making his way from the harbor to the city center and he slumped down on the damp pavement, sitting with his back against the low wrought-iron fence. He closed his eyes.

  “Oh, talisman!” he whispered desolately. “Are you still mine?”

  Yes.

  “Is there no way that I can keep you and still save poor Mother?”

  The question is impertinent.

  “I know. But I had to ask.”

  Someone called, “Tolo!”

  He opened his eyes. Standing before him, silhouetted against the blazing sky, was a tall figure dressed as a blackbird. Before the Prince could speak, the costumed man pulled back his hood, revealing the awesome rayed helmet of the Star Guild. His eyes were twin white beacons.

  “Get up,” said Orogastus. “The time has come.”

  Moving as slowly as he dared, Tolivar climbed to his feet and confronted the sorcerer.

  To Queen Anigel, the brief journey afoot from Dasinzin’s mansion to the Golden Griss Fountain was a time of peculiar detachment, beyond sorrow and despair, with the fireworks a kaleidoscope of fiery beauty overhead. Her wrists had been untied, but her arms were firmly pinioned by two taciturn Star Men named Zanagra and Gavinno, whose black capes concealed deadly antique weapons hanging from their belts. They hustled her along behind Orogastus, who cleared the way with his magic, and the cheering mob seemed not even to notice their passing.

  Within a few minutes they would reach the fountain, and there poor foolish Tolivar would hand over both the coronet and the crucially important star-box to the sorcerer, thinking thereby to gain her freedom. But she was certain now that Orogastus would never let her go, any more than he would release the other hostage rulers that the Guildsman Tazor held captive somewhere in the Forest of Lirda. The truth had come to Queen Anigel as she sat numbly in Dasinzin’s kitchen, an ignominious prisoner waited upon by terrified Sobranian women.

  She and the other heads of state had not been abducted in order to insure some nebulous “cooperation” by their nations with the sorcerer. From the beginning, Orogastus had had only one objective: to exert irresistible pressure upon Haramis, forcing the Archimage to give up her talisman in exchange for their lives.

  And the same dreadful choice would now face Kadiya as well.

  Threefold God of the Flower, she prayed, give my sisters the strength to hold fast and let us die …

  They reached the fountain and she felt its spray on her face, mingling with her slow tears. The tall central jet was swaying oddly from side to side independent of the wind’s direction, and the waters cascading over the gilded stone ornaments into the basin were clouded, as though admixed with milk.

  Orogastus touched his Star, nodded in satisfaction, and said, “There’s the boy. Sitting at the railing of that little park on the left. Hold the Queen here, amongst the crowd, until I summon you.”

  Anigel would have cried a warning, but Zanagra’s gloved hand clapped over her mouth and she felt a dagger prick her abdomen. “Stand quietly,” the Star Man hissed, “or your babies will perish, even though the Master’s magic permits you to survive.”

  She ceased struggling. If only they had not taken her trillium-amber! But without the amulet and its Holy Flower, she was bereft of all energy. She saw Tolivar rise and confront Orogastus. Their words could not be heard over the explosions of the pyrotechnical display. Then the sorcerer beckoned. Still wearing her griss costume of gray and white, she was led forward to the small clump of ornamental greenery where her son waited. He had removed the hood of his drab costume so that the Three-Headed Monster was clearly visible, seeming to shine amidst his fair hair with a faint silvery light of its own.

  “Mother,” he said in a strained voice. “Have they harmed you?”

  “In truth, no,” she said. “Only my heart is wounded … by the sad discovery that you have possessed my talisman in secret for four long years—”

  But Orogastus cut her off. “Queen, enough!” And to the Prince: “Tolo, give me the star-box.”

  The sky was filled with enormous blossoms of violet, blue, and green light, crisscrossed by soaring flares tracing lines of white and gold. The music reached a grand finale of flourishes and the Emperor on the palace steps some fifty ells away rose from his throne and stood with his arms outstretched. The crowd began to chant: “Denombo! Denombo! Denombo!”

  Prince Tolivar unfastened the cord that had bound the sack to his back and drew forth the long narrow box with the Star emblazoned on its lid.

  “Open it,” the sorcerer said, “and place the coronet inside.”

  The boy’s jaw tightened. “Not until you free my mother!”

  Orogastus lifted his hand in a brief gesture. Six men dressed in black feathers, having weapons of the Vanished Ones protruding from the openings of their cloaks, emerged from the oblivious mob. They flanked the two Star Men in charge of the Queen and formed a close semicircle about Tolivar and the sorcerer. For the first time the Prince noticed how many celebrants in the area of the pleasance nearest to the palace were wearing black costumes. Of course! They had to be the henchmen of Orogastus.

  The boy lifted his fingers to touch the sides of his coronet. “I command you to free the Queen!”

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Orogastus smiled contemptuously and waved one hand. The two Star Men released the weeping Anigel, who held out her arms to Tolivar. He rushed into her embrace and they stood locked together until a voice of thunder said, “The talisman! Now!”

  Or
ogastus and his Guildsmen stood shoulder to shoulder, and the eyes of all three blazed with malignant power. Anigel tottered and sagged to her knees, moaning and pressing her hands to her belly.

  “You must not do it, Tolo!” she cried. “He will use the talisman to conquer the world! Resist him, dear son! Never mind me. He cannot take the coronet from you by force—aah!”

  At the Queen’s cry of pain, the boy screamed, “Let her alone!” He tore off the talisman and dropped it into the open box. There was a small flash, lost in the colorful bombardment of the fireworks.

  Anigel murmured, “No! Oh, no.”

  “At last!” Orogastus swooped down to seize the container. The Prince pulled the Queen to her feet and drew her back against the fence, where there was a dense thicket of dripping shrubbery. The Star Master removed his rayed headpiece and handed it to Gavinno, leaving his head bare and his long white hair flying in the wet wind. Then he began to press the jeweled studs within the box, bonding the talismanic coronet to himself.

  All at once no less than a dozen rounded small objects flew out of the bushes and smashed on the cobblestones, releasing a cloud of sparkling confetti and fungus spores that were hardly hindered at all by the mist. Orogastus’s bellow of rage was cut off by a mighty sneeze.

  Queen Anigel felt herself hauled backward over the low fence. Branches scratched her face and she wailed in astonishment, struggling to free herself. “Nay!” someone said in a harsh voice. “We are friends. Hold your breath!” She heard violent sneezing and curses from the Star Men and the warriors in black, and then her shoulders were painfully compressed as her savior thrust her headfirst down an opening in the ground that was rimmed with iron. Other hands took hold of her, pulling her into some sort of vertical conduit. She was flung over a second man’s back and the two of them slid into darkness and landed in shallow water with a loud splash. Faint illumination came from overhead and she saw Tolivar scuttle down iron rungs affixed to a lofty shaft. The man still holding her called out, “Hurry! Blast the drain closed before the Star Men recover!”