The Bitterbynde Trilogy (169 page)

Is Truth So Hard To Find?

Along this wall, partly concealed by heavy velvet curtains held back by gold cords as thick as a man's wrist, recessed rows of bookshelves reached almost to the ceiling. Books crammed each level, their spines forming palisades of delicate aurum embellishment on blue vellum. One of these tomes lay open on the lectern. Seated on the X-framed chair, the chamber's occupant now ceased to study the pages.

A pair of eyes lifted and met Tahquil's. The intruder advanced three paces into the room, stretched her arms forward in a sad entreaty and dropped to her trembling knees on the tiles.

‘Caitri,' she said, still reaching out.

‘Are you mortal, and loyal to the Empire?' querulously inquired the seated girl, clutching the stiff folds of her pearl-encrusted kirtle in a white-knuckled fist.

‘That I am—and you?'

‘Yes!'

Caitri sprang from her chair. Kneeling beside Tahquil she cradled her in her arms, murmuring reassurance over and over in soft tones, like a cooing dove.

‘My lady! Rohain!' the little girl said at last, in a voice charged with emotion. ‘I can scarcely credit it, that I should find you again. What joy, to behold you. What pain, that it should be in
this
place.' Hurriedly wiping away tears with the back of her hand, she led Tahquil to the chair and bade her be seated while she poured wine from a crystal decanter into a chalice oppressed by sapphires. The wine was as black as liquefied night. Silver flecks floated in it, like drowned stars.

‘You have the feather-cloak! Was it you,' said Caitri, ‘the bird knocking at the window, the wild swan? I should have let you in, but I was afraid. You are ill! Do they know you are here? But of course not. I shall hide you, take care of you until you become hale. Then you shall fly away.'

Spluttering on the wine, Tahquil shook her head. ‘No, no!'

‘Hush! They will hear you. In this place, there is listening done by things which you would not have believed could possess ears. Hush! Now, you must rest.'

The starry wine, no doubt, was not unaffected by the forces redolent in the air, thrilling forces being flung from the lamps, emanating from the walls, imbuing the furnishings of Annath Gothallamor down to the very tassels of the gold silk cords and the bullion fringes on the footstools. The potency of the draught diverged through Tahquil's veins to the very roots of her hair, to the tips of her toes, as refreshing as a fluid draught of the sidereal sky. Clear-headed, fortified, she laid aside the chalice and spoke.

‘Where is Viviana?'

‘She lies below.'

‘Is she hale?'

‘No—yes. That is to say, she lives and all eldritch longings have left her, but she sleeps in a kind of trance from which I cannot waken her.'

‘Thanks be to mercy that I should find you both unharmed! Are we safe here? Can we whisper undetected?'

‘Let us withdraw to the curtained alcove of the books lest something should look in on us.'

When they had concealed themselves behind velvet draperies, questions began to tumble from Tahquil's lips. By degrees, Caitri's story unfurled.

‘When the Hunt took us, I believed we should be slain,' she said, ‘but the creatures, the terrible
things
, brought us here and we were taken before
him.
'

‘Whom?'

‘Why, none other than Morragan, Crown Prince of the Fair Realm,' said Caitri, and a certain nervous reverence breathed through her pronunciation of that name. ‘The Raven Prince, he of whom you spoke after we came near Huntingtowers and your memory returned.'

A millstone thumped against the back of Tahquil's chest.

‘And how did he deal with you?'

‘We were questioned—not by the Prince, but in his presence. I think he did not speak to us directly but I, for one, could scarcely bear to glance in his direction or to look away either, so I know not where my eyes rested or what I was saying. Never in my life have I felt thus. I was drawn by him, yet terrified all the while, for there is that about him which is truly perilous.'

‘But you were not harmed?'

‘Oh, no. But, Viviana was in such a state, “mewling and fretting” as one of the attending Faêran lords described it, that something was done to her. Whether it was by a slight gesture of the Prince's hand or some other means, I know not, but suddenly she quieted and straightened, then curtsied and stood as poised as the trained courtier I first knew her to be. All trouble left her. Glad was I, on beholding this change. She gave answer to each of their questions, and I suppose I did likewise. When he was satisfied, the Prince dismissed us. We were escorted out of that saloon and simply abandoned.'

‘Explain further!'

Our escort deserted us, and we were left to wander the lofty galleries and passageways and stairs alone.'

‘With no direction? No limitation?'

‘No—yes,' Caitri repeated. ‘No wights harassed us, although frequently we glimpsed them passing along the ends of corridors, bent on their own business—disappearing around corners or up and down stairs. Yet, jailers of a sort imprisoned us—barriers we could not see, which prevented us from entering certain quarters, or from gaining access to Outside. Aimlessly we wandered, probing, seeking exit. Whenever we spoke of hunger or thirst, we would enter the next chamber to discover wine laid on a table. When we spoke of weariness, we would come upon divans piled with cushions. We talked of laving ourselves and sunken baths would be filled with pleasant waters. Noble raiment was provided, as you see.'

‘And when you spoke of leaving?'

‘When we spoke of leaving—nothing. After some days, or weeks—I have no idea of time's passing—we began to confine ourselves to this tower—the Crossing Tower. It seems the most stable. Elsewhere in the fortress, there is a constant queer shifting of wall, doors, rooms. One can never be certain of finding one's way around—'tis too easy to become confused. In that way, Viviana became lost. When at last I found her, she lay asleep on the floor. I could not waken her. Some wightish servants came and carried her away. I followed. They laid her on a plinth in the Great Hall at the foot of the Crossing Tower. She sleeps there yet, with hands folded on her breast, but she breathes, and pink roses bloom on her cheeks, and her lips curve, perhaps, as though she smiles at her dreams. I feared lest the same fate should overtake me, but, thank the powers, now you have arrived!'

‘Alas! Poor Via! And you—how do you spend your days, if days they can be called in this place of endless night?'

‘Aimlessly. In changeless solitude. I walk the Tower Stairs, I stand beside Viviana and perhaps adjust a sleeve of her dress, or comb her hair. It grows right quickly, spilling over the plinth's edges to the floor. Sometimes I trim it with a little pearly knife. All the straw-yellow was rinsed from it in the cleansing waters of the baths—her locks have returned to the pretty colour of chestnuts. At whiles, I retreat to this room, to look at the magnificent pictures in the books. Or I stare out of the windows at Evernight and remain in thought for hours. But I have desperately longed for companionship. Will you take some more wine?'

‘Thank you, no.'

‘We get no food here, only this strange and delicious wine. It is a beverage that sustains like food and drink combined, and whilst living on it, one has no need to perform certain,' she coughed delicately, ‘functions of the body. These functions being a trait of mortal creatures, and unnecessary to the Faêran, there are none of the usual facilities in this fortress. Whether wights need to—er—execute the same processes as
lorraly
beings—'

‘I understand, pray continue,' prompted Tahquil.

‘Yes, whether they need to do that, I am uncertain, but if so, they take themselves far from the walls of Annath Gothallamor, lest they offend the Faêran. It is never cold here, nor hot. One may dress lightly or warmly, as one chooses. Often enough I have seen the fireplaces filled with flames which leap hugely, but are heatless. The fuel is curious, and never consumed or altered by the fire's rage. I have seen banks of flowers heaped in the grates, or jewels, or burning skulls. Vast and strange is this castle, like a foreign country.'

‘And he—Prince Morragan—do you see him in your wanderings?'

‘Never since the first meeting have I set eyes upon him, or upon any Faêran lord or lady. But now and then I hear the strains of music echoing through the high halls, and snatches of laughter or conversation. Such music—it moves me deeply. When I hearken, I feel that something surpassing fair, something rare and fine that I almost held in my hands, has slipped from my grasp and its like will never more be seen. Every note plucks at my heartstrings with hurt and longing.'

Caitri laid her head against the feather-cloak and closed her eyes.

‘Caitri, my joy, my sister,' said Tahquil, ‘be not sorrowful. I am come to rescue you.' The little girl's brow creased momentarily, then smoothed. Tahquil continued, ‘How close to an exit may you approach before these barriers of gramarye forbid further passage?'

The child answered eagerly. ‘Downstairs, in the Great Hall where Viviana lies, the walls are clothed in richly broidered hangings. Along one wall hangs a series of four tapestries, each one depicting a season of the year. Behind that of Winter, a cleft opens between the stones of the wall. Once I noticed the hem of the Winter arras was twitching by itself, as though a sly draught toyed with it. Lifting one edge, I saw behind it an opening some ten or twelve feet high, perhaps four feet wide. I felt no unseen wall of prohibition pressing against me; nothing forbade me to enter therein. But cold was the breath that issued from that cleft, and I had no mind to venture into its darkness all alone. Perhaps it led Outside, perhaps not—but I could swear the icy draught had a tang on it of forest leaves. Lingering near Winter, I have fancied, on occasion, that I heard deep within the wall dim shouts, or a ringing of bells.'

‘This I must see for myself.'

‘But how, my lady, shall you rescue us?'

‘As we speak, our three eldritch companions make haste towards Annath Gothallamor. It is a fact, they might well be already here. They will enter easily, unchallenged, and will search for me, for us, throughout the windings of this castle.

‘But how shall they find us?'

‘You have already recognised the cloak of feathers I wear upon my shoulders. Whithiue has been gracious, but she will never rest until she regains it. No doubt, even among these currents of gramarye, she will be attracted by the cloak. Then Tighnacomaire shall carry us away on his long back, if we can but find a way past the invisible screens you describe, which imprison mortals. The gap in the walls behind the Winter tapestry sounds promising.'

Caitri nodded, pondering. ‘This is good rede. I only hope it can be done.' She cocked her head to one side. ‘Your hair is gold at the roots, m'lady. By this, and by your face and your scent, they who catch sight of you must surely know you.'

‘The feather-cloak muffles the latter, and I can use it to mask my face in the hope that I might be mistaken for a swan-maiden. But will you darken my hair for me before we depart this chamber? I see an ink pot on the writing desk. Its contents will do the trick. None must recognise me, here. The cloak's bird stench baffles wightish noses but yellow hair stems would betray me, for sure.'

And so it was done—the hair was dyed again, this time with black ink. As she shook it dry by an open window, Tahquil looked out and saw, far below, a horse and rider pass beneath the outer walls of the fortress, with a runner close behind.

‘I pray that there go Tighnacomaire and Whithiue,' said Tahquil fervently, ‘and I may be mistaken, but I fancied a figure of slighter stature ran behind them, on two legs, which might be loyal Tully. Come, little sister, lead me to the Great Hall prithee, lest discovery prohibits completion of this enterprise.'

Like the upturned skeleton of a mighty ship, the enormous hammerbeam ceiling of the Great Hall rose one hundred and twenty feet above the floor. At the meetings of their angles, the mighty oaken brackets beneath each rib sported carvings of winged lords and ladies who seemed about to fly across the gulfs of the interior. Slender columns, grouped in clusters, rose from the piers to the springing of the vaulted ceiling, whose load-bearing ribs delineated the support lines of the roof. In the upper vaults, great pendants of stone dangled, suspended from the transverse arches. Beneath long friezes of leaves and grapes, hangings graced the walls. A carved, tri-part screen stood at one end of the Hall. Underfoot, tiles of coloured clay inlaid with terracotta stretched across the plain of the floor, depicting deer, wolves, birds, flowery patterns, and musicians.

Viviana lay like an icon, as Caitri had described, upon a marble plinth most gorgeous with sculptural decoration. Her hair swept back from the pristine flower of her face, swirling to the floor in weighty skeins of dark, honeyed silk. Her dark blue houppelande, bordered with brocade and cloth-of-silver and stitched with stars, was clasped by a girdle of ivory and bone. She was shod with slippers the colour of polished quartz.

‘Fair Viviana,' breathed Tahquil, kissing her brow, which was warm and living. Tahquil watched for a sign, a flutter of the eyelashes upon that apple-blossom cheek, but there came none. For a time she clasped the courtier's hand, until Caitri recalled her with a whisper.

‘It is perilous to remain in the open!'

They ran together to the Winter tapestry. As they reached it, a corner of the sturdy fabric was pushed off the wall by a sudden draught. Bitter cold jumped out and smacked them. Tahquil forced back the heavy fold, revealing a rectangular portal delved into the wall behind. A tongue of whistling air whipped out and sucked the tapestry back hard against the portal's maw with a violence that almost pinned Tahquil to the stones.

‘Ware!' Caitri hissed, and they shrank against the wall as a group of stooped grey shapes limped past a doorway at the other end of the Hall.