Someone was talking near me but I was listening to another voice. Pelathayn was in front of me saying something about a place to sleep.
“I won’t be sleeping here.”
The red-haired soldier blinked at me, and then began to grin. “Then you’re going up to the top tonight?”
“To the top?”
He pointed.
High above, near an oval of stars, one could see the High Place, lit like the specter of a lamp, culmination of a slender tower whose sides were darker than night when the Tower was at rest. The stones drink light that would otherwise be reflected. Ellebren had been storing light for a long time. The voice I heard flowed from there. The wind blew down from the height.
“Fireworks,” Pelathayn said. “I haven’t seen a magician on a shenesoeniis for a long time.”
“I need to get there rather quickly.”
He understood me. I could not exactly go to Kirith Kirin and announce this in front of the others. We were standing on a terrace outside the gate to the courtyard where they were. Pelathayn walked to tell Kirith Kirin. He did this without drawing attention to himself, standing to the side till Kirith Kirin noticed. The two must have exchanged some sign but I could not see it. Imral was watching also and, as if on cue, stepped forward as if to help Kirith Kirin with the ring of keys he was holding. Kirith Kirin laughed at himself and called to Pelathayn to look how Imral had to help him with the keys, it had been so long since he had to bother with locks at all. “We’ve lived in the open forest for a long time, haven’t we?” he asked, and everyone laughed, and he clapped Pelathayn on the shoulder. Pelathayn leaned into Kirith Kirin’s ear. It was neatly done. Kirith Kirin glanced at me across the terrace. I smiled and drew up my hood.
Imral opened the gate and everyone entered the wide inner court, where roch-lamps were burning. Kirith Kirin drew away from the others, gesturing me to proceed ahead of him.
I hurried down the narrow stair beyond the garden that surrounded the inner gate. On a stone bench beneath the carved head of some unheard of beast, I waited.
Though I listened, he was behind me before I ever saw him, and his appearance out of shadow startled me some. No one was with him. He laughed. “Yes, I can fool even you sometimes, little magician. Do you need a guide?”
“I need to get into the Tower.”
“So soon?”
I lowered my voice. “He has spies in the air, Kirith Kirin, and he knows we’re in the House. I feel a change in his thinking.”
Kirith Kirin looked at the burning fire pots, the torches, the myriad lights that were swelling round us. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I should have. One can’t keep one’s entry into Inniscaudra secret, the whole countryside wakens.”
He pulled up the hood of his cloak and we hurried across terraces and gardens toward the stairway where the light was pulsing.
We moved forward at a near run, moving along the Falkri Stair. Kirith Kirin told me the name, and pointed out other places. The wind was pouring along the road, cold like the heart of winter. We rounded the corner of Thenduril, heading down the series of stairs and terraces running along both sides of the road from Under House to Tower March. Falkri descends as the High Wall rises, swinging south toward Aegul and Krafulgur, whose closed gates shimmered in the light from the roch fires on the battlements. High above, one could see the Authra shining like light in an outstretched claw, and beyond it the Falkri road rising toward Thrath. The wind was howling and the stars had vanished. From the south I could feel the palpable motion of power, and Kirith Kirin seemed aware of it as well. As we ran he glanced at the clouds, at the far-off light of the High Place lost in gray.
The shining road wound below Evaedren and passed the Lower Bridges before rising again behind the Thrath Wall. Beyond the last of the bridges one who had eyes could read the first of the Awaiting Runes, the magic-writing in the rock that was the beginning guidepost. I murmured the Hidden Word when we passed it, and soon found others. High above, the White Gate was shining, its liquid light filling that whole part of the house.
As we entered further into the Tower Precinct, past the Ward-Runes and the Words-vigilant, the power of the place was no longer hidden. The air was full of voices now, audible to Kirith Kirin as well as to me. The song was an old one, of a voice and character I could only partially appreciate. Kirith Kirin was listening to it with a stricken look. “Do you know who that is? It’s Kentha. I’ve never heard it here before. These rocks remember her. One can hear Edenna Morthul also. Edenna built the lower tower. Kentha raised it higher and placed the stone on the shenesoeniis.” He looked confused. “Something’s different here.”
We had come to the Estobren Arches, stone devices intricately carved, where we paused. I said the words of formula that were written on the stones, and answered the ritual chain with chain-phrases. When I did so, the arch-wards permitted me to pass, and a change registered itself through the whole Tower height.
The base of Ellebren was very broad, for all the Tower’s slender appearance from a distance, and its sheer sides rose smooth as glass out of the dark granite spur. Around the base was a narrow walk where fire pots were set. These were not burning, being under the control of a different magic than that which governed the rest of Inniscaudra, but now that I had passed the Arches they were under my Word, and when I called for fire, roch-light sprang from them and from the large bronze pots that flanked the White Gate. Kirith Kirin, still holding my arm loosely, signed for me to wait.
He proceeded to the nearest of the Arches. I did not see what he did or where he reached, but for a moment light shone in the portal, and when Kirith Kirin returned, in his hand was a silver ring of keys.
He gave them to me with the rain beginning to fall on the Shining Road. “These are the Keys to Ellebren Tower, Before you they have been held by Edenna Morthul, the Lady of Orelioth, and by Kentha Nurysem.” Rain was falling more steadily now. Kirith Kirin gazed upward into the murk. “The storm’s returning.”
“He’s putting out a good deal of strength in the south, he has been for most of the day. I don’t know what he’s doing but I’m worried.”
Kirith Kirin turned suddenly, gazing far southward, where one could see only darkness. “I wish I had long sight. Come and tell me as soon as you know anything.” He wrapped the cloak close around him. He was watching me sternly. “Come and find me in any case. I won’t be able to sleep.”
I slid the key ring into the pocket of my cloak and stepped close to him. Taking his hand, I laid my lips against it, and he sighed and embraced me. We stood there with the strange singing from Ellebren filling our heads, the light from the White Gate illuminating the steady fall of rain. We said nothing. Finally he pulled the hood closer round his head. Rain drove against the stones of Falkrigul and the face of Ellebren. I thanked him and walked the last ascent of road to the Thrath Gate, shining in the deepening blackness.
3
Thrath Gate is smooth as eggshell, cool to the touch, lit perpetually with sourceless radiance. To open the Gate the celebrant must first call runes out of the stone and find the lock that is hidden. Since the Lake Women had known I would stand on the High Places one day, they had taught me the opening rituals for all of them. Standing before the shining muuren-surfaced doors, I called wind to swell beneath the Cloak till it covered the rock bay where the massive gate was set, throwing darkness over that part of the House. Laying my hands close to the Gate without actually touching it, I sang quietly and felt the immediate change within the Gate and the Tower, a note of welcome in the music, as if my coming were expected. The White Gate shimmered and changed. Runes appeared where none had been readable before, and beneath the words was carved flowingly in High Jisraegen the following inscription:
Here is the Gate of Ellebren on High, the Shenesoeniis begun by Edenna Morthul and completed by Kentha Nurysem when Kirith Kirin was Keeper of the Keys for the Thirty-Third Term. One shall stand here till the Breaking of Worlds. The Eye of Heaven watch over the High Place, She Who is Near.
The lock was hidden within the Eye in the Circle, a pictograph used to represent YY-Watchful, the Eternal Awareness. I slid the key-shaft into the barrel, whispering Wyyvisar runes carven above the Eye, feeling the key grow warm. The Gate brightened till the light was more than I could bear, though the Cloak contained it. One gathers the light for the power that can be had. The Gate shimmered and opened, a seam appearing where none had been before, the white stone opening outward in halves to form a narrow corridor. Within, torches sprang into flame, casting light onto white pillars and a false fountain of glittering crystal.
I walked inside, the Cloak sweeping round me, striking sparks from the rock. Within the Tower was silence, the echo of wind along the Winding Stair. The chamber where I stood was lit by the eerie white-burning torches and by veins of muuren in the domed ceiling. The crystal fountain glimmered at moments but was dark the rest. At the base of the fountain were carved figures of birds flying over mountain peaks, Wyyvisar runes etched in silver. One of the panels read, “Wizard, you are standing in the Chamber of White Crystal at the Foot of the Winding Stair at the Base Rock Thrath beneath Ellebren on High, and you cannot pass beyond this Point unless you claim the High Place.” Other runes were carved on chalcedony panels set in the walls of the round chamber. I moved slowly from panel to panel and around the fountain, studying each carefully, listening to the wind. What had seemed cacophony clarified to a choir of subtle voices, a shimmering of power and of magical devices. To sort it all out would take time, but my instincts told me I had none. I surveyed the stone panels quickly, remembering what had been taught me of Towers at Illyn Water, and then, taking the Cloak in my hands, I began the Song of Entry.
This song can be heard with the ear, at least in part. The sound filled the chamber, lighting the runes. Two doors appeared, open arches, where I had seen only stone wall before. A gust of wind blew from one, where the base of the Winding Stair had been concealed. From the other arch came a scent of flower incense and something else, more pungent, from beneath.
Beyond that open portal was darkness. Here was the kirilidur, an open central shaft leading all the way to the summit of the Tower. On the cylindrical face of the inner wall were carved crossing spirals of runes, inlaid with Tervan silver and patterns of gems. The kirilidur is the chief device in magic of the fourth level, the invention of Edenna Morthul, and in order to ascend the Tower one must first take possession of the inner spirals of runes. One does this by reading them into memory through the intervening stone, all the threads at the same time. When one has accomplished this from the bottom of the Tower to the top, the patterns of gems become active as well, and the whole Tower and all its complex stored phrases of magic are active. One must then complete the circle dance to take possession of the Eyestone on the High Place, and then one is master of the Tower and all its devices.
One begins to read the runes at the portal leading to the Winding Stair.
I breathed deeply, standing beneath the stone lintel carved with the likeness of a winged serpent swallowing its own tail. One may read the Hidden Runes by whatever method one wishes, at any speed one wishes, using any device one may have within one’s possession.
From one of the brackets beside the portal I freed a torch, which was burning with roch-light and to which I spoke Hidden Words, naming the fire and gazing into its heart. From the sixth level I used the flame as a scrying-fire, and also used it as a focus for my meditation, so that when I reached for gems in one of the pockets of the Cloak, I was able to clear their former enchantments quickly and use them as seeing-stones. I entered the dual state, reading the runes out of the body, climbing the stairs within it, and reading each word of each thread into myself, into the space that does not forget. The Tower was wakening, slumbering voices rising out of the stones. I began the climb with the flame-colored glow of the crystal fountain at my back, my awareness divided between the narrow stair, the torch, the gems and rune-silver interlacings of the kirilidur shaft. I streamed the musical Words into myself, flowing upward along the Winding Stair like smoke, intoning the names of the runes like running water, each thread harmonizing with the others, as if there were a choir of voices. The sum of these runes taken together is called the Ruling Song, and the Ruling Song of Ellebren is fair and lovely in the kei space of the mind. The stairway grew broad and bright, studded with high-peaked, narrow windows through which misty rain drifted on the wind.
As I was reading the long Wyyvisar lines, I passed over other spiraling threads of runes I could not read, and they made me curious, but I had no time to stop and think.
Soon I was near the top, and a sweet, clear singing filled the Tower. Once again I felt distinctly as if the place were extending a welcome. I thought I heard my name echoing far below, not Jessex but what Commyna had called my true name, Yron.