Authors: Justina Robson
the clock. But he wasn't interested in the miracle of his prison, only in the trace of the alien mind he
thought he had felt in that first instant of connection to the world.
It was gone. In its place now he could only see the hypnotic depths of the abyssal fault that
lay
beneath the pretty surface of Aparastil Lake.
'Gazing at
the navel of the world?' said a voice in the sweet
and gentle tones of a much nicer person
than the one who was actually speaking. "The source of Alfheim's aether is closer to you than ever
before.'
'Piss off, Arte,' ZaI said without
getting up. Arie was not
there in person, only her voice. Her actual
presence would have been tangible and he felt only strangers close by. He was pleased to find himself
still filthy dirty and wearing Lila's black leather jacket
.
The moment of silence was rather sweet. He wished it would last but it didn't.
T see you have slid further into the delinquency of the demon world.'
Zal yawned. 'I see you're still spreading that bullshit about a Great Spell. End of the world required to
save our lovely homeland from corruption and exploitation by incorrigible foreigners. Very nice. Must've
taken you at
least ten minutes to come up with that'
"The Spell only awaits the opportune moment
.
Your belief in it, or in the reasons behind its use, is not
required. But enough of these pleasantries.'
Four strong hands suddenly grabbed hold of him and lifted him upright. He was surprised but
tried not
to show it. He didn't know that
Arie's guard could be stealthy enough to sneak up on him but
obviously
they were better than they used to be or his sensitivity to the constant
murmur of the Alfheim aether was
much worse. Probably the latter, he thought
with grim resignation. The guards didn't
meet
his gaze - they
wore bone-plate helms in any case which shielded their faces almost
completely. They wasted no time in
stripping the jacket from him and searching him for amulets or weapons. He couldn't
detect
andalune
from either of them, so they were adept enough to keep it
away from him. He wasn't
sure whether that
was out of respect for the danger he represented or just revulsion at the changes wrought
by his altered
nature.
Arie's voice said quietly, 'It
is time you faced your elders and betters, Suhanathir. In the name of all the
Houses of Alfheim, I arrest you for treason.'
'My name is Zal,' he said, pointlessly, to the empty air. He wished that
the sound of his given name had
no power, but
Arie knew both parts of it, his life name and his caste name; Suhanathir Taliesetra. The
only mark in his favour was that she did not know his true name any longer. Once, when he was still an
elf through and through, she had known it, but that name was lost when he was in Demonia and he had a
new one now. Then again, he did not know the full version of hers. Arie was just a part of it, as Zal was
just part of his. Without being able to say all three parts in sequence they could not
command one
another.
The guards silently braced his arms behind his back. One stretched out a gauntleted hand and touched
the wall of the cell. It
shivered and suddenly ballooned beyond his gesture into the darker, deeper waters
of the lake, creating a corridor. In this way they walked through the water in their tiny pocket
of air and it
stretched out just
ahead of them and closed just
behind them.
Presently something other than a waterquoia tree loomed out
of the thick green gloom. Zal saw
another bubble like their own, but
larger, and beyond it even more of them and more still, clustered like
oversize frogspawn, netted and held in the branches of the underwater forest. The silvery globules were
everywhere, above and below. Their bubble drew close and joined its skin to one of these. Where the
cell walls met they stuck fast
and a door formed. Without ado he was marched forwards.
The palace of Aparastil had been much extended in his absence. He remembered it
as a house on a
lake, fine and rather too large for the resident Family of Water but still no more than a mansion
.
These
halls of trapped air with their falls and fountains lit
by charmed sun and moonlight
were all new to him.
Like all such show, the waste of power put
into their creation spoke of extravagance and strength way
beyond his personal resources. It
was meant
to make outsiders feel puny. It did a good job, he thought
wryly as their journey ended - that and the big guards and their massive enchanted broadswords and the
astounding size of an entire courtroom full of Alfheim's noble lineage, ranked in tiers, robed and standing
solemnly to attention, all looking down at him as he was taken to the centre of their vast
oval and left
there.
He looked straight
at
Arie, seated above him in the Magus' position; a place of ultimate jurisprudence
which he knew she did not
deserve. He was vaguely aware of empty places to right
and left in various
positions and knew, without having to look further, that these were all where his family and caste family
should have been. Occasional other absences marked the positions of friends or people whose loyalty he
had trusted.
Arie was as lovely as enchantment could make her, and she had been lovely in ordinary ways before
that with her blanched-almond com-plexion, deep auburn curls and soulful blue eyes. She exuded
youthful beauty, glamour and sweetness. It
was a terrible shame.
It was no moment to be shy. Zal put his hands on his hips and took a very obvious turn, looking at
all
the faces present
before turning back
to Arie. 'Tie me kangaroo down, sport,' he said with the full power of his voice, words dry as a desert.
He knew full well nobody there would have a clue what he was quoting but at least it was amusing him
and he needed amusement desperately because otherwise he was going to start feeling afraid
.
'I'm hoping
we can skip the part where you talk self-justifying shit and just get straight to the guilty verdict.'
His speech created an icy silence in response. Even those souls who had been ambivalent, perhaps
sympathetic to him, recoiled from the lash of spite in them. Here, if not in any other realm, words literally
hurt and his could hurt more than most. But
the Lady was not
affected. Her
andalune
lay around her like
a gleaming shield
.
The minor charm simply bounced off her and the only thing it might have done was
disrupt her sense of decorum. That was something, at least.
"The fact of your treason is indisputable,' Arie said. 'You have betrayed us to Demonia, and most likely
to Otopia as well. You disobeyed orders. You cut yourself off from your masters. You with-held
information. Shall I go on? The only matter of interest remaining here is what the sentence of the court
shall be. In ordinary circum-stances it would be death, but you have made yourself a creature of unusual
abilities that render you potentially more useful than a corpse so we consider that you may redeem
yourself one of two ways. Either you return to the service of Alfheim by command of your true name . . .'
'Not a chance,' Zal said without waiting to hear the alternative.
'I think that it is at least possible you are open to persuasion,' Arie said and made a slight gesture with
one hand.
Zal did not
turn to look but
he heard several pairs of feet
enter the room and walk towards him. One
pair dragged and shuffled.
'What
I want
to know is why the rest
of you are here,' he said, ignoring the sound. 'Why would you
ally yourselves with this idiot, when the only solution she has to offer you is isolation and sub-servience?
For centuries she has dragged power into Sathanor, away from every other region
.
She has fostered
needless hatred against the Shadow
"There is an Aetheric Gate beneath Aparastil's water,' said a strong voice from the gathering.
The massed
andalune
of the gathering was a huge force, united, against him. Zal could feel it like a
weight in the air. It was smothering
.
Within it
those hearts that were guilty about
their complicity in
something they found repugnant
(and there were many) were held back by its colossal inertia and the
sweet, constant
soothing of Arie's personal glamour
.
She groomed them and they would not resist
.
Feeling it
made him sick. Where many
andalune
were voluntarily bound like this they were a psychic
force almost impossible to fight against
.
Whatever he had to say was pretty much irrelevant at this point.
They went on...
'Its energy is limitless. Once it is open we can restore the decay-ing lands and begin to reintegrate our
society. These measures are temporary,' said another.
'It
would not be safe to open it whilst connected to the other realms.'
'Alfheim is in crisis ... the land falls into darkness
.
It
cannot
be denied. The Prowlers
All the old stories about
the decline of his homeland: he knew them by heart and their reasons. The
voices came in ones and twos from all over the room, old and younger voices, some less forceful than
others. They were sad and grieving. They hated what
they were doing, but
still they considered it a strong
and right
manoeuvre
.
Zal could feel every-thing they did, because only a few chose to shield their intent
.
They wanted him to believe. They wanted him to join them. Their invitation was almost overpowering
.
He had been away for so long
.
The idea, the proximity, of being held again in the continuum of
andalune
that was the natural state of communion where minds and spirits ran so close! And not
just
the poor
substitute of elemental companionship
...
he felt that he was just one step from heaven. One tiny step.
Just
agree. Just
say yes.
And it
was true, Alfheim was declining, rotting, its aether changing in unpredictable ways. It had been
happening over long ages, though at
rates that until recently were almost
undetectable. But he had never
believed it was because of the workings of the Shadowkin or even of the other aetheric realms, as many
theorists did. His demon self
knew
it
was not
so and he used not
to be the only one.
The great
gestalt
of the noble horde around him brushed at
his awareness with the sorrowful
acceptance of a family looking at
a prodigal son.
Zal's back prickled. He fought
with his disappointment
at
how many people he could feel in solidarity
with the Lady. He took a deep breath and looked up at Arie
.
'Nice parrots. All you need now is a
wooden leg.'
Arte did not flinch but she did remain stock still for a moment. The
wave that had reached out to welcome Zal back withdrew
.
The room brimmed with anger
.
Zal could tell that
one of the people behind him was gravely ill. Within the court there was enough
healing knowledge and power to do all but raise the dead, but nobody moved. He felt genuine
dis-orientation - this could never have happened, even a few months ago. Who in Alfheim, even the most
conservative, would let someone feel like that
and do nothing?
Not one person stepped forward, although their anxiety and distress became palpable in the aether,
increasing until he could even hear it as a faint whine all around
.
He stared at their faces
.
Most of them
were looking away.
Arie beckoned. She was effective, cold. He hadn't
realised how cold until now. She was the frozen
surface keeping the rest under control. He didn't understand how she had taken so much to herself. He'd
been away too long and it was too late. Zal didn't look at the suffering person until they moved into his
line of sight.
The dying elf was Aradon. He had served with Zal in the secret service, been in various operations
with him. He was friendly, loyal, a little introspective. He was one of the first
to join the Resistance years
ago when the extent
of the High Light hegemony had become clear and the Shadowkin pushed out of
Sathanor. Here, in the days of High Light
rule over all Alfheim with its lore of purity and healing, he was a
bloody mess. Someone had beaten him to the edge of extinction. His face and hands bore marks that Zal
knew were torture inflicted, not just the result of a desperate fight. He was barely conscious and that was
a mercy. Zal reached out to touch Aradon's
andalune
body but the guards moved between them. He