Authors: Dave Duncan
“Even
if I am right... about you... then there might be hope... if we two were to
cooperate. “
“No,
Sagorn, my friend. I have always refused and I always shall, even for that. Don’t
think I don’t trust you.” The stranger-Sagorn?-sighed. “I
know whom you do not trust, and you are right. And you have not told your
daughter?”
“Heavens,
no! She is only a child. She couldn’t handle that!” Handle what?
Inos wanted to stamp her foot with frustration, but of course she was hardly
daring to breathe, let alone stamp.
“But
you will? “ Another pause.
“I
don’t know,” her father said softly. “If... if she is older
when... or maybe not at all.”
“You
must! “ The stranger spoke in a tone that no one used to a king. “You
must not let it be lost!” His voice reverberated in the empty room.
“Must?”
Inos
could guess at her father’s mocking, quizzical expression.
“Yes,
must! It is too precious... and it is Krasnegar’s only hope for survival.
You know that.”
“It
would also be her greatest danger.”
“Yes,
that is true,” the stranger admitted. “But the advantages of having
it outweigh the disadvantages, do they not?” His voice became diffident,
almost pleading. “You know that! You... you could not trust me with it?
If I promised that later I would tell her?”
She
heard her father’s dry chuckle. He had come closer. She must be prepared
to run.
“No,
Sagorn. For her sake. I trust you, friend, but not... certain others.”
The
other man sighed. “No, certainly not Darad. Never trust him. Or Andor. “
“You
keep them away, both of them!” That was a royal command.
“Yes,
I will. And so will Jalon. “
The
stranger’s voice was suddenly very close. Inos wheeled around and started
down the stairs as fast as she could safely and silently go. Jalon? The
minstrel? She was sure that was the name she had just heard. What had he to do
with this? And who was this Sagorn?
Then--
Dust!
With horror she saw her own footsteps below her, mingled with those of her
father and his visitor, giveaway marks on the deposits of years. Coming up, she
had not noticed them, but going down they were obvious, even in the dim glow
coming through the grimy panes. Panic! They would know that she, or at least
someone, had been listening.
At
the bottom she stumbled against the heavy door and the rusted old hinges
creaked horribly. She squeezed through the opening, dashed across her father’s
bedroom, and was plunging down the next stairs when she heard a shout behind
her and then a clatter of boots.
It
was a race, then. She must escape from the tower and, certainly, she must hide
her precious packet of silk until the storm blew itself out.
She
reached the dressing room, skidded on a rug in the middle of it, regained her
balance, dashed down the next flight, and burst into the withdrawing room, into
an astonished collection of six matronly ladies just sitting down to Aunt Kade’s
midmorning salon. For a long moment Inos wavered on one foot, with the other
still in the air and arms spread like a cormorant. She stared her horror back
at their surprise, poised on the verge of sprinting through their midst and out
the door on the far side. She was very tempted-at least she would be able to
dispose of the silk-but the way was cluttered by all those ladies on the edges
of their gilt and rosewood chairs, by Kel the footman with a serving trolley
laden with Aunt Kade’s finest china and her magnificent, enormous, silver
tea um giving out its usual disgusting odor of burning whale oil... And then
Aunt Kade had risen, and all the others did so also, and it was too late.
Aunt
Kade’s plump face was turning pink and assuming that fretted look that
Inos so often provoked these days. Whether to welcome or scold... She was
probably also chewing over problems of protocol and the dowdy brown worsted.
Then she made her decision.
She
beamed. “Inosolan, my dear! How nice that you can join us! May I present
these ladies? Mistress Jiolinsod, Mistress Ofazi...”
Feeling
as if her head had come off and floated out through a window, Inos forced a
smile on a face not there. Tucking the silk behind her in her left hand, she
offered her right to each of the simpering matrons. To be invited to one of
Princess Kadolan’s tea parties in the palace was a screaming social
success, and to meet Princess Inosolan as well was probably a stupid honor.
Especially,
she realized, when the princess was wearing her dowdy brown worsted, regally
emblazoned-at least on the right sleeve-with silver cobwebs. Oh, horrors! There
were probably cobwebs on her hair and face, also, while the society ladies were
all dressed in their best gowns and bonnets, and loaded with every piece of
jewelry they owned or, likely, had been able to borrow. Boots on the stairs!
With a wail, Inos jumped loose from the fourth introduction and started backing
away from the door.
Her
aunt spluttered at such gaucherie. “Inos!”
And
then the door flew wide and a man appeared in the doorway-an elderly man, tall
and stooped. He folded his arms and straightened, and his gaze swept the room.
Inos had never seen him before, she was certain, yet he had known what she
looked like. He had a gaunt face, with a hooked nose like an eagle’s beak
and fierce blue eyes. Deep clefts ran down at the sides of his mouth,
emphasizing the nose and the strong chin. Wisps of white hair showed under the
brown hood of his cloak. His gown bore traces of cobwebs.
“Doctor
Sagorn! “ Aunt Kade exclaimed in delight. “How nice that you are
able to join us! May I...” Her voice tailed away as she saw how the
newcomer was staring ferociously at her niece, as that niece continued to edge
backward.
Inos
was fighting a spring tide of panic, drowning in rising terror before that
deadly glare. Her hips touched the trolley and she could back away no farther.
Where was her father? Why had he not come, also?
And
how in the world had this sinister old man come down the stairs so quickly? He
must have outrun her and her father both, yet he was not even panting. She was.
“Inosolan?”
Aunt Kade sounded vexed. “What are you holding behind your back, dear?”
Her
mouth opened and nothing came out.
“Silk!”
said the terrifying Sagorn. “Silk with yellow dragons on it. “
A
sorcerer!
Inos
screamed in terror and turned to flee.
The
trolley crashed over, spilling cakes and wine in all directions.
Aunt
Kade’s special and enormous silver tea um seemed to shake the castle as
it struck the floor with a deafening boom. Tea exploded over half the ladies.
Staggering,
Inos trod a creamy chocolate flan into the rug and almost fell. Then she
hurtled out and down the stairs, leaving Aunt Kade’s midmorning salon in
ruins and confusion.
Whimpering
in her panic, Inos fled down all the rest of the staircases; raced in turn
across antechamber, robing room, presence chamber, and throne room; burst out
into the great hall; and there alarmed a group of small children being fed an
early lunch. Out on the terrace she ran, not at all sure where she was going.
Startled pigeons and seagulls clawed their way skyward, while the yellow cat
that had been stalking them flew over a wall. She rounded a corner and saw
ahead of her the open doorway of the palace chapel. She dived through it,
seeking refuge in religion. Surely she would be safe from a sorcerer in the
house of the Gods? She skidded to a halt in the cool dark interior, panting and
deafened by the thunder of her heart, which seemed to be beating inside her
head. The chapel was a small building, with room for only twenty or thirty
people on its ancient pinewood pews. Its walls were immensely thick and it was
said to be even older than the rest of the castle. At one end stood the
offering table, before the two sacred windows, one bright, the other black and
opaque, and on the table stood the sacred balance, its pans of gold and lead
symbolizing the battle between good and evil. The air was clammy and musty. She
hurried forward to the table and was about to drop to her knees when a dry
voice spoke behind her.
“Well!”
it said. “Do we have a sudden repentance?”
Inos
uttered a shrill squeak and jumped.
Arms
folded, Mother Unonini was sitting stiffly erect on the front pew. The palace
chaplain was a dark, grim woman, who seemed very tall when seated. With swarthy
face, black hair, and black robe, she was indistinct in the gloom, except for a
clear glint of satisfaction shining in her eyes. “To what do the Gods owe
the pleasure of this visit, my dear?”
“There
is a sorcerer in the palace!”
“A
sorcerer? How unusual!”
“Truly!”
“Come
and sit by me, then, and explain,” the chaplain said. “We can’t
have you spouting random prayers in your condition--you might summon all the
wrong sort of Gods. Long meditation and right thinking are essential
prerequisites for prayer.”
Still
trembling, the reluctant Inos went and sat beside her. Her head was immediately
lower than Mother Unonini’s, but at least Inos’s feet still touched
the floor. The chaplain had never forgiven Inos for imitating her waddling gait
during the last Winterfest party, even though the king had made his errant
daughter apologize in public afterward. Inos’s attendance record at
church school was not going to help much, either.
“What
is that you have in your hand? Let me see.” Unonini took the silk and
unfolded some of it and held it down for the light to shine on. “Well!
You were bringing this as an offering, perhaps?”
“Er...
no.”
“The
table could certainly do with a new cloth. This is very nice. Where did you get
it?”
“It’s
my birthday gift from Father...” Inos trailed off weakly.
“Does
he know that?”
“Well...
I mean, not yet.” Inos twisted round to make sure that the sorcerer was
not standing in the doorway. She felt trapped now, snared in this dark little
room with the unfriendly Mother Unonini, and a sorcerer possibly lurking
outside.
“Perhaps
you had better begin at the beginning.”
Inos
hung her head and began at the beginning. Her breath was returning and her
heart slowing down. Little as she cared for Mother Unonini-who bore a strong
smell of fish that day-at least a chaplain ought to know what to do if that
terrifying Sorcerer Sagorn came after her. When she had finished, there was a
pause.
“I
see. “ Mother Unonini sounded as if she had been impressed in spite of
herself. “Well, let us hear your interpretation of these strange events. “
“What?”
“Don’t
say `what’ like that. It is not ladylike. You know what I mean. All
things and acts contain both the Good and the Evil, child. We must try to be on
the right side in their eternal conflict. It is our duty always to choose the
Good, or at least the better. Let us begin with the sorcerer, if that is what
he is. Is he evil or is he good?”
“I...
I don’t know. If he is a friend of Father’s... Perhaps he murdered
Father? “
“I
hardly think so. Don’t jump to conclusions! His Majesty probably stayed
behind to close the door again. He certainly would not want unauthorized
prowlers up in Inisso’s chamber. “
“You
knew about that room?”
“Certainly!
“
“You’ve
seen it?”
“No,”
Unonini admitted, with a hint of annoyance. “But I could guess that it
would be there. Inisso was a great sorcerer-a good one, of course-and so he
would have had a place of puissance at the top of his tower. There may be all
sorts of arcane things still up there, things that do not concern prying young
ladies.” Inos decided that the old witch was probably right. She had not
been choosing the Good when she went snooping, nor when she listened to the
conversation. So perhaps she had been on the wrong side of the eternal
conflict. In that case, the sorcerer might be a good sorcerer, and his anger
had been directed against the wickedness in her. It was very upsetting to think
that she might be on the side of the Evil, and she suddenly wanted to weep.
Preferably on someone’s shoulder, but certainly not on Madame Unonini’s.
“This
silk, now,” Mother Unonini remarked. “Let us talk about that. Tell
me what good and evil lie in this silk.” Suppressing a snivel, Inos said,
“I should not have taken it until I could pay for it.”
“That
is correct, child. Go on.”
“Or
at least until Father agreed to buy it for me.”
“Very
good! So what must you do now?”
“Take
it back?” Inos wondered if this was how a breaking heart felt.
“Oh,
I think it is too late for that.” Mother Unonini sighed a heavy waft of
cod. She wiggled her dangling feet. “Mistress Meolorne may have already
made arrangements to spend the money you promised her. “
Hope
flared in Inos like the brightness of the window. “I can keep it?”
Then she saw the look in Mother Unonini’s eye and the brightness of the
Good turned to the darkness of the Evil. “No?”
“We
must not seek to profit from malefaction, Inosolan. Is this not correct?”
Inos
nodded.
“So,
what must you do?”
Inos
tried to think of the appropriate text. “Find the greatest good?”
The
older woman nodded with satisfaction. “Now, as I said, the offering table
could do with a new cover-”
“Don’t
bully the child!” said a voice with the brazen authority of a trumpet
fanfare.
In
front of the offering table stood a God, a figure so brilliant as to be
unbearable to look on, although it shed no light on the rest of the room.
With
simultaneous gasps, Inos and Mother Unonini fell to their knees and bowed their
heads to the floor.
Perhaps
Sagorn was a sorcerer, Inos thought, or perhaps not; but this was certainly a
real God. All her terror came pouring back tenfold and she wished she could
melt into the ground.