Part 40 (2/2)

”At one time, I would have said that there was no difference. But now ...” The white thing had vanished, but Darham felt its presence. ”I think that Dythragor acted on his own. Vorya would never countenance such a cowardly act.”

”The deed is done. We must safeguard our own folk.”

”Aye, it is done. But Karthin here says that both our peoples can yet live, and I think that the wiser path.”

Tarwach gestured to the sorcerer to sit. ”Do you think me a fool, brother?” he said. There was no challenge in his voice. Rather, his tone was that of one seeking support for a difficult decision.

”Nay, Tarwach. But we differ in this matter.”

”We do indeed.” He rose, went to the flap, watched the Circle for a time. Energy flickered across the monoliths and trilithons. ”I intend to give Tireas his way. Mernyl must die, and the Circle must be ours. I see no particularly good arguments against that course.” He put his hand to his cut chin for a moment, winced, and considered. ”Dythragor and the female Dragonmaster are at large, and nothing prevents the country from rising against us. Do you understand my reasoning?”

”I do. But I do not agree.”

” My king,” began Tireas.

”Sit down, sir!” said Tarwach.

The sorcerer sat, folded his arms, bent his head. Brooding, powerful, angry, and not quite human, he was a frightening presence in the pavilion. Even Tarwach seemed affected.

”Darham ...” The king's tone was almost pleading. ”We have always stood together.”

”Forgive me, brother. I cannot do this.”

”Will you help subdue Gryylth?”

Silence lengthened. Darham turned away, eyes examining the floor. He sensed Tireas as though a bonfire 358.

burned in the tent and found that he hated what the sorcerer had become. ”I will not,” he said at last. ”I cannot. To do so would be the action of a traitor.”

Tireas spoke again. ”To refuse to fight is the-”

Tarwach whirled on him, his sword sliding out of its sheath. ”You forget yourself, sir. One word more and you will have spoken an insult that can only be avenged in one way.” His pa.s.sion had opened the cut in his chin again, and a trickle of blood wound down his throat.

Tireas watched it for a moment, as though disdainful of such overt mortality. ”I have the Tree.” His voice was calm, a.s.sured, cruel.

”Aye, sorcerer,” said Darham. ”You have the Tree. And you have the king. And you will have your fill of death this night, and tomorrow, and the next day after that.” His words seared the air. ”And you will enjoy it, sorcerer, because you have become as bloodthirsty as that thing out there in the wain. I sincerely believe that you would destroy all of Gryylth and Corrin for your satisfaction. Therefore, I will say good-bye.”

He turned. Karthin offered his hand. Darham took it, and together they went toward the flap.

”Darham!”

”I will see you in Benardis, brother Tarwach,” said Darham without turning around. ”You can decide our fates then. We will be waiting for you . . . and for your judgment.”

”Darham, please!”

But now the opening of the pavilion framed only the Circle, glowing brightly, and some branches of the Tree that writhed and snaked in the darkness.

”My king?” said Tireas.

Tarwach held his head, weeping, fighting for words. ”Go, Tireas,” he whispered. ”Do what you must.”

The sun had set long before, the moon had not yet risen. Only the glow from the Circle saved the night from absolute darkness. The standing stones shone blue, and the interstices of the peristyle were barred with luminescence: the sorcerer of Gryylth still lived.

359.

”How many have we?” said Vorya. His voice was dull. The surviving soldiers and warriors had gathered about him, but the faces were few, too few.

Marrget spoke. ”Thirty, my liege.”

”Thirty ...” Vorya sighed bitterly.

They had made a crude sort of camp in the hollow of two hills some distance from the Circle. There, they had eaten what food there was, rested, tended wounds, and watched helplessly as the phalanxes secured the area.

So far, there had been no further attacks on the monument, and Tireas had not attempted to enter. The Tree, in fact, had been taken away, and was not even visible to the Gryylthans. Judging from their actions, the immediate objectives of the men of Corrin seemed to be a comfortable camp and a peaceful night. Tomorrow was soon enough to contemplate the fate of Gryylth.

”I estimate they have about one hundred and fifty,” Marrget continued.

”We cannot attack,” said Vorya, ”save to give ourselves an honorable end in battle.”

”I'd hardly call that honorable,” said Alouzon.

Dythragor growled under his breath. He was standing off by himself, watching the lack of activity at the Circle. He had jammed a knuckle in his mouth and was in the process of gnawing the skin off. ”We've got to get Mer-nyl out of there.”

Marrget followed his gaze. ”My friend Dythragor,” she said softly, ' 'we all owe Mernyl our lives many times over. But we are powerless to repay him.'''

”We've got to get that d.a.m.ned Tree.”

Alouzon sighed. The wine she had drunk to wash down the meager meal of bread and cheese now burned in her stomach as though it were vinegar. Neither she nor Dythragor had mentioned the consequences of the destruction of either Tree or Circle to the others. Nor had they mentioned the choice she faced.

Freedom, or the successors.h.i.+p . . . and a chance at the Grail.

Guardian of Gryylth: an escape from helplessness, from powerlessness, from the constant victimization that 360.

had come to characterize her existence since Kent State. Like Solomon Braithwaite, she had drunk her fill of despair, and now she could, if she wanted, flee to Gryylth and become the hub of an entire world.

Her right arm ached from the exertion of swinging five pounds of preternatural sword all day, and though she had washed her hands she still felt the slime of death on them. Deny it though she might, there was little difference between herself and the middle-aged professor. Sil-bakor had spoken of completing the world, but what kind of land, she wondered, would spring from her unconscious? She shuddered at the thought.

And yet ... the Grail . . .

”What about raising the countryside?”

”It was raised days ago,” said Marrget. ”You saw the result. Those who remain are distant. It would take weeks to gather them. Once Tireas has done with Mernyl, the Tree and the Circle will be united under his control. We are conquered.”

”Not if we get that Tree,” Dythragor insisted.

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