Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
go according to your plan." In spite of these words, she did not sound at all sure. The
tone of her voice, and the way she held her body spoke of fear and a deep desperation.
We seem to have jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Mik, I have a bad feeling
about this.
Very aptly put, but I don't see anything we can do about it at present.
1 am not what she expected, nor what
Dom
Padriac did either.
I guessed as much. Let us hope that will keep them off-balance until we can find out
what is going on. He intends some great wrong, and these women are helping him.
"Welcome to El Haliene Tower. Now come along" the woman said quietly, as if she
assumed they would obey her immediately. "I am Amirya Haliene. I will show you to
your quarters." She turned her back and started back across the cobblestones. After a
moment, Mikhail and Marguerida followed her.
They entered a dim chamber, as spare as a barrack. Two torches flickered inadequate
light around the room, and there were no hangings on the walls. It was cold and unwel-
coming, and smelled nasty. Marguerida gave a little shudder and moved closer to her
husband.
Mikhail could see a narrow stairwell rising from the back of the room, curving upward
to the floors overhead. The damp smell of must was everywhere, and also the pungent
scent of matrix screens. It was eerily still, but he could sense the presence of people
nearby.
They followed her in silence. Again Mikhail was startled that she did not ask their
names. He also wondered at the variance of hers—he had never heard Haliene before
—and wondered if she were a full sister of Padriac, or something else. They were
similar in appearance, but they could easily be half siblings.
Amirya led them behind the curving staircase, into a narrow corridor that ran toward
the back of the building. It was dark and oppressive, and the stench of mold was
everywhere. It was also very chilly, and Mikhail was glad of his cloak, even though it
was rather damp from the rain. He felt Marguerida draw closer to him, slipping her
hand over his elbow. The smell of lavender from their attempts at washing wafted
across him, and he felt somewhat less anxious. As long as he had Marguerida, he
decided, he was prepared to face anything.
The corridor had several doors along its length, and Amirya opened one. "This will be
your room," she told Marguerida. "Yours will be at the other end of the hall."
"We are man and wife, and we do not sleep apart from one another," Mikhail almost
snapped. He didn't want Marguerida separated from him by even one wall, let alone
several.
Amirya just stared at him. Then she looked at his wrist, and saw the circlet on it, and
frowned as she noticed the matching one on Marguerida's arm. "Married? But . . ."
"But what?"
"How can this be? This will ruin everything. I don't understand this—it was not what I
foresaw at all! No wonder Padriac was . . . oh, damn!"
"What will it ruin?" Marguerida asked, her voice tense.
"Nothing. It does not matter. It will all be over soon."
"Stop speaking in riddles, Amirya." There was a hint of command in Marguerida's
voice, enough to make the other woman stiffen slightly.
"We ... my brother . . ." She paused, drew a deep breath, and began again. "I am the
Keeper here, in El Haliene Tower, and I found you when I was seeking a • means to
destroy the King's Champion. I would not be Keeper if our cousin Amalie had not been
so clever and escaped us. She should have let us into Hali when we came, and joined
us, but she has no loyalty," I
am loyal to Padriac, and I will be rewarded. And I am
glad that Amalie escaped, for if she was here, I should not be Keeper.
"I have never heard of any El Haliene Tower," Mikhail answered slowly.
"I am not surprised, for we have been working in the greatest secrecy for over a year,
creating the screens and preparing for ... There has never been a Tower such as ours. It
is even greater than Hali, I am sure."
"You do not sound sure, Amirya," Mikhail said. "You sound as if you were whistling
past the graveyard. And are you not quite young to be a Keeper?"
To his surprise, Amirya grinned. "That is the best of it, for no one expects someone as
young as I am to be able to handle the energies, so we were able to continue
unsuspected. Well, almost. I think Varzil Ridenow had a hint or two, but he was too old
and toothless to do anything about it."
At that moment, Mikhail had the sense of distant laughter. He knew that whatever
Amirya had foreseen, Varzil's hand was in it. The old
laranzu
might be dying, or dead
already, but toothless he was not.
He felt the ring tingle on his finger, and found his mouth stretching into a wolfish grin.
Mikhail could sense something strong and dark stir within him, flexing like a great
beast. He wanted to release it, but sensed he must restrain his impulse to destroy this
place for another time. Still, the promise of it heartened him in a wonderful way.
Marguerida looked through the open door into the room. "I think we can manage in
here. The bed is a little narrow, but neither of us is plump."
Amirya was shocked and upset. "You can't intend to . . .
accandir
—when you are
working the screens! I insist ..."
"You can insist all you like,
domna.
It will not make any difference to us." Then
Marguerida smiled at Amirya. "Besides, we do our best work when we
accandir.
Don't
we,
cario?"
She gave Mikhail a look that spoke volumes, all of them lusty. For a
woman who had never known any man two days before, she had, after her initial
uncertainty, taken to the whole thing with great and exhausting enthusiasm.
The woman peered at Marguerida, then at Mikhail.
"What
are you?"
"At the moment, we are two very tired people. There was mention of a bath, I believe."
The coolness of Marguerida's voice was chilling, even to Mikhail who knew her so
well.
"You keep shifting before my eyes—what are you!" The panic was unmistakable now.
I
think you are better off not knowing.
Mikhail sensed his wife shift to forced rapport,
and felt the power within it, and the threat as well.
Shifting? What do you think she means, Marguerida?
I'm not sure, but I suspect that we are not anchored in this time, and to someone with
Sight, it might appear that we move in and out of view.
Amirya's face looked haggard and uncertain. She bit her lip and clenched her hands
into dainty fists, her freckles standing out in the dim light of the corridor. "I will make-
you tell! I dare not risk failing my brother. We will use truth spell, if we must."
"I do not think that would be wise of you," Marguerida replied. "And it might be fatal
to any who tried. But that is your decision, Amirya, not mine. You had us brought here,
and must suffer the consequences."
"What am I going to do?" It was the wail of a young woman stretched beyond her
resources. "It isn't supposed to be like this! You are not what you seem, and if I tell
Padriac that, there will be the devil to pay. If he does not get what he wants ... I can't
bear to think of it!"
"Perhaps you might consider, then, if giving your brother what he thinks he wants is
such a good idea. Constructing a secret Tower, keeping
leroni
in unwilling servitude—
none of that sounds very wise to me. This place reeks of darkness, and I believe you
know it, Amirya. I think you know you are doing something wrong, and I think it
gnaws at you."
"If only ... if only I could be sure," she whispered, her slender body trembling.
"There is no way to be sure of anything except that the sun will rise in the morning,
and there will be snow in winter. The rest is choice, and consequences. I know our
fates are entwined for the present, and that you can change the outcome, if you really
wish to. But keeping your brother happy may not be possible."
Tears sparkled in Amirya's dark eyes, glistened on her light-colored lashes, and then
slid down her cheeks. "I am so afraid. I thought I was afraid before, but . . ."
"I know. We both know. But if we do not get some food soon; we are both going to
drop in our tracks, and that will most assuredly displease your brother."
Mikhail knew that Marguerida was not using the voice of command now, but was
somehow influencing the vulnerable girl all the same. He noticed that her left hand was
making tiny movements against her body, and would have laughed aloud if he dared.
She was doing some manner of healing on the wretched girl, calming her fears. And he
knew enough of human nature to suspect that Amirya • would promptly persuade
herself that she had overreacted, or only imagined that she 'had seen them shifting in
front of her eyes.
He watched some of the terrible tension drain away from Amirya's body. "Yes, of
course. I will have a servant bring you a tray of food. The bathing chamber is the
second door down—do not open any of the other doors! I do not want the others
disturbed while they are resting. They need their strength. And I will see that some
clean, dry clothing is brought."
Amirya turned and fled down the corridor, as if she wanted to put as much distance as
possible between them. I
will keep them in their room
—I
dare not use them, not now.
What am I going to do!
Marguerida went into the narrow, gloomy chamber, took off her cloak and hung it on a
peg, then sank onto the edge of the bed. Her shoulders drooped with exhaustion as
Mikhail sat down beside her. "At least we are out of the rain," she muttered miserably.
The stillness seemed to grow, and Mikhail felt himself fall into a relaxed frame of
mind. There was nothing he
could do for the moment, and it was good to be in from the weather. Marguerida was
right.
He felt his senses begin to tingle, as if they were spreading out from his body, like lines
of light. It began slowly, and was so subtle that he barely noticed it until he
encountered the presence of another person. It was not Marguerida, but a complete
stranger, and a sick one at that. Where was he?
After a moment Mikhail knew the person he was sensing was two doors down the
corridor. He got nothing else except the sense of some terrible fatigue and sickness—
no personality. He could not even tell if the man was young or old.
He let his awareness expand and roam freely. He did not like what he found. All
around them, there were exhausted people, all of them with
laran,
and many of them
not only tired, but also injured in various ways. He sensed several burns, one person
who hovered on the brink of madness, and someone who was very near to death. He
wrenched himself away quickly.
Mikhail started. He had never been able to do that before, just reach out and observe.
In theory it was not that different from monitoring a circle. The actuality was
astonishing. He knew that he could explore the entire keep, from attic to cellar, easily
and completely. But not just then. He would have to be cautious, he decided.
What was he becoming? The query rose in his mind, and the hairs on the back of his
neck bristled. He turned to speak to Marguerida, and found she had slipped onto the
thin pillow, and was asleep. He stared at her for a moment, seeing how her face relaxed
in repose. He should sleep too, until food was brought. But he was not really tired. He
wanted to know what he was turning into.
No, that was not the right question. What were
they
becoming was better. It had
something to do with Marguerida, with the inexplicable way in which their energies
had woven together during the bizarre wedding ceremony. Mikhail was fairly certain
that while he had inherited Varzil's matrix, he had not absorbed that man's
laran.
At
least there was no hint in any record he was aware of that it was possible to transfer
laran
powers from one person to another.
How much of Varzil's great knowledge was riding on his
finger? And how was he going to discover its secrets? Or did he already know the
secrets, but was unable to bring them into his mind?
I have my own shadow matrix
now.
Mikhail looked down at Marguerida's hand, covered in the worn silk mitt. Even
through the fabric he could sense the lines that ran along her flesh, and could feel the
resonance of them in his own body, and in the matrix he wore.
Yes, that was part of it. We really are two parts of a whole. The realization rocked him,
but he knew it was true. He began to understand why the whole thing had depended on
Marguerida, on her own unusual" matrix. He felt a little dizzy as he tried to grasp the
implications of the thing, and after a moment, he had to give it up. It was too much to
contain in the mind. At the same time, he knew in his bones and sinews that he now
possessed a greater power than he had ever imagined possible, let alone that he might
be master of. No—not master. That might come in time. For the present, he was still