The Bone Queen (44 page)

Everywhere was evidence of the room’s use. In one corner there was an elaborately carved wooden harp, of the style that were played in the far north of Annar, and many other instruments, hand drums and zithers, flutes and rebecs, were placed on a shelf on the far wall. Cadvan felt an itch in his fingers and thought of his own lyre. How long since he had taken it from its case? He had packed it, as he always did, even when he went to Jouan, but it was so long since he had played that he wondered if he had forgotten the skill.

Milana and Nelac were seated on a couch, deep in conversation, and the two turned when Cadvan and Dernhil entered. “Selmana is still abed, I’m told,” said Milana. “I’m loath to disturb her; I know how it feels to return to a warm bed after a hard journey! She is yet young and needs her sleep. But in any case, I wanted to speak privately to you three.”

“About Selmana?” asked Dernhil, sitting down beside her.

“Yes,” said Milana. “Nelac knows her best, but you all have spent time in her company. Do you think she has been completely frank with you about this meeting with the Elidhu?”

Cadvan looked surprised. “I’ve no reason to think that she has hidden anything,” he said. “What should she conceal? She didn’t even know she spoke to an Elidhu.”

“I’ve no doubt that she did speak to one,” said Milana. “Enkir is right: we know so little of these folk, and although they have sometimes intervened in human affairs, they have not been seen in Annar for a long age. Do you think her bewitched?”

Nelac shook his head. “Not bewitched,” he said. “But I think something has changed in her since her vision in Jouan. She is like a burning glass: through her, I could see the presence of shadows I couldn’t otherwise perceive. But now, it’s as if that glass is filled with a blinding light.” He paused. “I will say that I sense no trace of the Dark in her.”

“I see none either, but I confess I am troubled,” said Milana. “In any case, whether it portends harm or no, I think this vision of hers must remain secret, or else other Bards will come to distrust her.”

“She seems to me like a young girl in love for the first time,” Dernhil said slowly. “Perhaps that is a kind of bewitchment.”

“In love, you think?” Nelac leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

“I only said,
seems
,” said Dernhil. “But that light, I have perceived it too, and it is tremulous and joyous and unafraid. It is a beautiful thing.”

“If she has indeed fallen in love with an Elidhu, then she is imperilled,” said Nelac.

“How do you know that it means peril?”

“Dernhil, don’t be obtuse. She might as well have fallen in love with a wildfire, or a storm. Even if it intends her no harm, it might destroy her. Immortals do not understand death.”

“Who among us knows what immortals understand?” Dernhil stood up and walked restlessly to the window. The rain had now swept in and was beating on the panes, and the trees of the Inner Circle thrashed in the wind. “Why must we always fear what we don’t know?”

“It is well to be cautious, rather than to be sorry later,” said Milana. “But you speak as if you understand something of this girl. Tell me what you perceive.”

“In Selmana?” Dernhil turned around and leaned against the wall. “I see what all of us do, I think. A Bard who has the passion of Making in her. She is young, but she is wise beyond her years, beyond even her own understanding of herself. She is stronger than she knows.”

Milana met his eyes. “Dorn says much the same thing,” she said. “He thinks she is key to this crisis, although his Knowing will not tell him why. The Pilanel do not distrust the Elidhu as Bards do, although they fear their power.” She hesitated. “It is true, is it not, that Selmana and Ceredin are cousins?” Nelac nodded. “Dorn also told me that the Pilanel say that those with the Sight carry the blood of the Elidhu.”

Nelac’s eyebrows rose. “That is not something I have heard before,” he said. “But it wouldn’t be unlikely.”

“Both of them were born with strong Gifts,” said Dernhil. “And both had the Sight.”

“Neither are from a Barding family,” Nelac said. “A long line of smiths and cheesemakers, if I recall rightly. Few of us know our lineages, and almost no one can trace back through the Great Silence.”

“It’s said that there are people of Elidhu blood in the north,” said Milana. “The minstrels of Pellinor Fesse have many songs about women and men who disappeared into the mountains, lured by the beauty of an Elidhu, and who returned many years later leading a child by the hand…”

“No Bard songs?” said Dernhil.

“Bards wouldn’t sing of such things, even if they were true,” said Milana. “Such stories became too shameful, after the Great Silence. But Dorn has made a study of the Elementals.”

Dernhil cast a speculative glance at Milana. “Has Dorn any thought on who Selmana’s Elidhu might be? She would give no name.”

“Names don’t matter to the Elidhu in the same way they matter to us. They simply are, and need not call themselves anything,” said Milana. “My guess is that she is the Moonchild, who is spoken of as one of the Elidhu who came to Afinil. But there are countless Elidhu who had nothing to do with Bards, and are not spoken of in the records. It could be any one of them.”

“The Moonchild?” said Cadvan. “That one we call Ardina?”

Milana nodded. Cadvan thought she seemed reluctant to speak further about the Elementals. She turned the question. “I don’t know what the castle was, that Selmana spoke of,” she said. “I know of no such place in any tale. But it seems to me that Selmana saw the Gates of the Empyrean.”

Again the Bards were silent. “These are deep waters,” said Nelac. “They go beyond the knowledge of Light and Dark.”

“Aye,” said Milana. “There is much at stake here, and it is vital we move rightly. But I feel clearer now, after speaking to you. Selmana must be part of what we do. Enkir speaks strongly against it, but I think he is mistaken. If she has caught the notice of an Elidhu, then we must include her.”

“And what are we to do?”

“I fear an attack, and soon,” said Milana. “My first thought is to defend Pellinor, but we must also seek to destroy or banish the Bone Queen. This is the other thing I wished to discuss with you.” Milana fixed her eyes on Nelac. “I want to be very clear about what it is we face. If Kansabur is divided, each part is weaker, as we all know. And it seems to me that some of these divisions are large, and some are small: they are not equal parts. At least one has been destroyed completely, after the scrying of Cadvan and Nelac. And at least one is powerful enough to appear to you in Jouan. We don’t know if she has gathered all of herself together, or if she remains divided.”

The others nodded.

“The longer we wait, the more she can re-collect herself and arm against us. So to strike sooner rather than later is our aim. The Dark must know already that you three are in Pellinor and even now I feel it gathers against us. I have set Bards to watch through the valley, and they will alert us if there is any sign, even the most trivial.”

“You are ahead of me, then,” said Cadvan. “I was going to urge you to do just that.”

“I must look to my people. I hope they will take no harm from this, but they must be warned so they may prepare themselves for any conflict.” She paused, and Cadvan fleetingly saw a deep sadness in her face.

“You must take special care, I think,” said Nelac. “Likod would especially seek to destroy you. And if he could break even Bashar…”

Milana met his eyes, her mouth set in a stern line. “I have taken thought of that. I may venture myself in this desperate game without conscience, I think. I am not so certain about drawing the malice of the Dark upon others, but I see no choice.” She was silent a moment. “Before even you came here, I sent a rebuke to Coglint of Lirigon, taking issue with the judgements of the First Circle. I have sent bird news this morning of your arrival here, and of my intention to recognize each of you as Bards of the Light, in no way complicit in the murder of Bashar. They will hear of that even as we speak. I am hoping that Pellinor’s defiance means that the enmity of the Dark is turned from Lirigon towards us.”

Dernhil, watching her from across the room, drew in a sharp breath. “I see your gamble, my lady,” he said. “And I salute you.”

“It is a gamble,” Milana said. “I hope with all my heart I make the right throw.” She swept her gaze across the three Bards. “Is there anything in what I have said with which you disagree? Or anything you would like to add?”

“No,” said Cadvan. “I have felt the will of the Dark, as a constant and growing oppression, since we left Jouan. And I wonder, since wards did not serve in Lirigon, how to protect Pellinor against an incursion like that we suffered there. Likod can step past any wards we place, and we can’t trace how he did it.”

“It seems to me that he stepped between the Circles,” said Nelac. “Perhaps even as Selmana does.”

“Then we need eyes in the Shadowplains as much as we need them in Pellinor,” said Milana.

“You are forgetting the Abyss,” said Dernhil.

“But the Abyss is locked.”

“I think it may not be.” Dernhil looked down at his hands. “I am no great scholar of the Circles, and I certainly know less than any of you. But why do you say the Abyss is locked? Didn’t Ceredin say that all the Circles were bleeding, each into the others?”

“Yes,” said Milana. “But the Abyss isn’t as the Shadowplains. It is of a different nature, and closes in upon itself with a great weight. When the Shika are summoned forth, they may only remain for a short time before they are drawn back inside it. Kansabur could emerge from the Abyss only because she is also of the World.”

Nelac was frowning. “That is true, but what if the force of the Abyss were reversed? What if the weight that spins it closed should suddenly force it open? Isn’t that what sorcery itself does, in a very small way?” He glanced enquiringly at Cadvan.

“I suppose that would be possible,” Cadvan answered. “It is indeed the basic principle of sorcery. But I can’t imagine how the forces of the Abyss could be wholly reversed. And if it should happen, it would rip apart everything we know, both Light and Dark, down to the smallest particle, and send us all howling into emptiness. Even the Dark couldn’t desire that.”

“But perhaps a powerful Hull, say, Likod, could pull on those forces sufficiently to step bodily in and out of the Abyss, without destroying himself?”

Cadvan’s gaze turned inward. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “I can’t say it would be impossible. But I know of no spell that would do such a thing. Admittedly, my knowledge is limited.”

“Then we can’t dismiss the chance. And how would we guard against it?”

“I don’t know.” Cadvan raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. “I feel like Enkir. There is too much that is imponderable.”

“We must work with what we do know,” said Milana calmly. “If we can’t have any warning of Likod appearing among us, even if we watch the Shadowplains, we must be prepared for the chance that he will. That is all. And perhaps we can make a trap for him, as you trapped the Bone Queen.”

Cadvan flinched. “I have no desire to use more sorcery,” he said.

“The Light can make traps as ingenious as any of the Dark. We are dangerous too.” Milana rose to leave, smoothing down her robes. She now seemed brisk and decided. “I’ll take my leave of you. I’ve called the Circle of Pellinor to meet in the hour before noon, and we’ll speak of all these things. I wish to consult with my colleagues before we speak again.”

Nelac rose and bowed. “We are, of course, at your disposal,” he said. “And we are deeply grateful for your help.”

“It isn’t only my decision. Pellinor has been behind me in every choice I have made, and especially in revoking your outlawing and the ban of Lirigon on Cadvan,” said Milana. “It is no small thing for a School to undo the ruling of another, but that is the measure of our disquiet. And we don’t seek only to help Lirigon. I fear for Pellinor.”

Dernhil looked searchingly at the First Bard. “If you fear for this School, then I am sure there is good reason,” he said.

Milana hesitated, and then met Dernhil’s gaze, her anxiety open. “Dorn has had foredreams,” she said. “It is not generally known, although I have told Nelac. I believe that we will be struck soon, and hard. But I trust our wisdom and strength. If Pellinor cannot challenge the might of the Dark, no one can. And even if Pellinor should fall, it is better to fight than to cower and meanly crumble.”

She nodded and left the room. Cadvan turned to Nelac, smiling wryly. “Milana of Pellinor is one of the most redoubtable Bards I have ever met,” he said.

“If the measure of courage is how much fear you must overcome, then hers is great indeed,” said Dernhil.

“That is the measure,” said Nelac soberly. “I hope I can match it. I will not hide from you two that I am very afraid.”

Cadvan walked to the window and gazed out over the Inner Circle. The shower had now passed, violent but swift, and a vagrant sunshine briefly gleamed silver on the wet stone before the sun slid again behind cloud. The sky was steel-grey, with more rain sweeping in from the north. Then his vision seemed to slip: for the blink of an eye, it seemed that he looked out on a ruin, the paving stones blackened as if with flame, weeds creeping across their broken faces, Ilborc’s great statue shattered and abandoned, strangled with wild ivy. He had barely registered what he saw, when everything was as it had been before. Cadvan clutched the curtain, dizzy and afraid, and looked again. The sunlight was fragile and unreal, a veil over an uncertain world. Pellinor seemed like one of its own paintings seen in some dark future, its colours leached by age, which might at any moment crumble into dust.

S
NUG
in the blankets of sleep, Selmana thought she was in her mother’s house. She had slept for hours and hours, and it felt late. It must be a rest day because no one had woken her, and she had been left to lie abed, warm as a rabbit in its burrow, listening to the friendly sound of rain hammering on the roof. She curled up under the coverlet, enjoying her laziness. Perhaps there would be pancakes for breakfast, hot off the griddle and served with fresh butter and honey. The thought made her realize that she was very hungry and she blinked open her eyes. For an instant she thought she must have dozed off in a meadow, for all she could see were butterflies, clouds of them circling above her in an azure sky that paled to pink at its edges. But, no, they didn’t move, they weren’t real butterflies. She wasn’t in a meadow nor in her mother’s house. She was in Pellinor.