Part 7 (1/2)
Unfortunately, the Star alone would not suffice to fulfill his ultimate design. For that, he would require the Threefold Sceptre. Obtaining two parts of it would be comparatively easy; but the third piece belonged to Haramis, and taking it from her by force or coercion was very likely impossible.
There was an alternative, and he had come here tonight to explore it...
At the tunnel's end he found himself at the lowest level of the Tower's stairwell. He stood on flagstones just across from the main entry, sampling the aura of his former home. It was much different from the way he remembered it, permeated with the Black Trillium's alien enchantment. Now this Tower belonged to Haramis absolutely. For an instant a brief thrust of fear touched him. Would the Star grant him sufficient protection?
In truth, he did not know. But he had come anyway.
On either hand were storage chambers, now quite empty, and the stable where he had once kept his mounts, and the small room housing machinery for the bridge that spanned the chasm outside. He was not surprised to discover that the mechanism he had tended so carefully was now rusty and neglected. No one used his amazing bridge anymore. The White Lady called upon her preternatural powers for travel, and the Vispi aborigines who were her servants flew wherever they wished on gigantic birds that dwelt among the nearby crags.
Except for the night wind, faintly audible through the thick walls, the Tower was silent. There was no hint of her presence, but he knew she awaited him and he knew where to find her. Climbing the spiral stairs, we wondered if she felt as torn by this impending meeting as he did. He was here on her sufferance. It would have been easy enough for her to destroy the tunnel connecting the cavern and the Tower, so that the viaduct became a dead end. But she had forborne.
The last time the two of them had shared the Tower's shelter she had been little more than a girl, newly possessed of a tal-isman with powers unknown to her, foolhardy and susceptible to the appeal of a handsome older man. He should have been able to bewitch her as easily as a newborn tree-vart.
Instead, she had bewitched him.
He reached the library, the place where they had shared their first and last kiss, and opened the door. It had been his favorite place, his sanctuary, crammed with the rarest and most valuable volumes in the world. She had not changed it much. Heavy drapes had been drawn across the tall windows on this evening of biting cold. Two highbacked armchairs cus.h.i.+oned in rich red damask were drawn up close to the comfort of the fireplace. Between them was a pedestal table with a flagon of white wine, two chunky cut-gla.s.s goblets in the Vispi style, and a plate of small sweetcakes.
She arose from one of the chairs, for a moment nothing but a dark silhouette against orange flames. Then she stepped forward so that light from the quaint library-lamps of the Vanished Ones showed her clearly, and he felt his heart catch in his throat. Her black hair fell in glistening tresses to her waist. She wore a white velvet gown with silver-blue fur at the wide sleeves and hem, and a belt of soft azure inset with moonstone. Her underdress was powder-blue challis, embroidered with tiny Black Trilliums at the neck, where the wand of the Three-Winged Circle hung on its chain.
”Good day to you, Star Master,” Haramis said. ”Dressed for combat, I see. What a shame! I had hoped for a brief truce while we discussed what is to come.”
And that was a lie. A small one, but the first Haramis had ever told since becoming Archimage of the Land, done deliberately in order to provoke him into the actions that must follow...
He said nothing, but deliberately pulled off the silver gauntlets and dropped them on the carpeted floor. Then he removed his headpiece and black cloak, also letting them fall. Doffing his odd vestment of metal mesh with its s.h.i.+ning black leather panels, he stood before her clad in a simple tunic of unbleached wool, and trews of darker material stuffed into high boots. A pouch laden with something heavy hung from his belt.
”Greetings to you, Archimage of the Land.” His voice, unfil-tered by the talisman's magic, was as mellifluous and beguiling as she remembered it to be. But his face was older than the portrait had shown, gaunt and weathered, having deep creases between the pale eyes and on either side of his mouth. ”Behold! I have cast away the habiliments of sorcery and herewith invite an armistice.”
”I accept,” she said, lying for the second time. And in a gesture that was clearly a challenge, she lifted the Three-Winged Circle on its chain from around her neck and placed it on the table.
A breathless silence followed. He came closer and one of his long-fingered hands stretched out and hovered over the wand. The three tiny wings at the top of the Circle unfolded and the glow of the trillium-amber within throbbed a warning.
”Would you really let it slay me?” he asked in a playful tone.
She shrugged. ”If you wish to take my talisman up, Star Master, I grant you permission to do so. It will not harm you, but you will find it as unresponsive as a common fork or spoon. You know it obeys only its bonded owner-and even then, sometimes capriciously.”
He laughed, then took the wine flagon from the table instead, filling goblets for both of them. ”Capriciously indeed. Let us both pray that whoever now owns the other two talismans experiences as much trouble learning to command them as we did.”
”So you know that Kadiya's Eye was stolen.”
”Yes.”
”Was it taken by one of your agents?”
He smiled enigmatically. ”The thief is no ally of mine... yet.”
She ignored the provocation, her eyes fixed upon his Star. ”I have set aside my talisman. Can we not, at least for a little while, forswear magic and meet as man and woman?”
His eyelids lowered, veiling his gaze. Did he dare to face her unprotected? But he was confident that she would never be so base as to violate a truce, just as he was confident that her love for him had endured.
He lifted the Star medallion from his neck and laid it on the table next to her talisman. Then they both sat down, she rather stiffly and he in an easy sprawl, warming his boots by the fire.
”So you have been spying upon my sisters,” Haramis said.
”I cannot see them individually, as you know well enough, because they are s.h.i.+elded by their trillium-amber. But their a.s.sociates have unwittingly revealed what has been going on. The theft of the Burning Eye is a most vexing development-and a puzzling one as well. One must ask why this mysterious burglar has made no use of the magical loot. Is he a paragon of prudence, content to keep both talismans safely hidden? Is the thief too timid to wield them, knowing that the Vanished Ones themselves were afraid of their terrible power? Or is our wily pilferer merely cautious? Has he been testing the magical devices in un.o.btrusive ways until he attains expertise and confidence in their use?”
”I think we will find out before long,” Haramis said with dark certainty, ”and to our woe.”
”Perhaps, Archimage,” he said lightly, ”we should consider an alliance against this mutual menace.”
Her smile was cold. ”I am no longer the simple child you hoped to win over to your Dark Powers, Star Master.”
”I know that full well. And you shall discover that I am no longer the man I was when I last contended with the Petals of the Living Trillium and... went the way of the Vanished Ones.”
For an instant, ardent hope transfigured her face. But then she looked away from him, lips tightening in unrelenting resolve. ”I can only judge you by your actions, which tell me you are the same as ever: charming, persuasive, and completely ruthless in pursuit of your evil ambition.”
He threw back his head and laughed, and his brilliantly white hair reflected the fire like high clouds at sundown. His amus.e.m.e.nt was youthful, heartfelt, having nothing in it of slyness or cynicism. ”You know nothing of my present ambition, dear Haramis, any more than you know where I was held captive while you thought me dead.” His eyes sparkled as he bent closer to her over the table. ”Would you care to hear the tale?”
She nodded, still frowning, not trusting herself to speak.
He sat back then and took a deep draft of the wine. ”It was the Great Cynosure that saved me, of course-that magical device of my Guild that was created as a countermeasure to the Sceptre of Power, drawing to it any wearer of the Star who is smitten with the Sceptre's magic. Twice it has preserved my life. The first time, with the existence of the Cynosure unbeknownst to any of us, I was drawn to the Inaccessible Kimilon deep within the icecap and marooned there for twelve years. I knew not how I had been transported to that Land of Fire and Ice. The Archimage Iriane made off with the Cynosure after it had done its work and in time gave it to you. Cruel Haramis! You intended to use it to imprison me forever in that Chasm of Durance that lies beneath the Place of Knowledge. But death would have been more merciful.”
”I-I hoped you would amend your ways. I could not bear to destroy you, even indirectly.” Her eyes were fixed upon her tightly clasped hands lying in her lap. She felt ashamed, as he knew she would. He was manipulating her feelings again, as he had done before. But this time the outcome would be different.
”As it happened,” he went on, ”another person thwarted your plan. He took the Cynosure from the chasm just before you and your sisters conquered me with the Sceptre for the second time.
And thus it was that I awoke to find myself safe abed... within one of the Three Moons.”
”By the Flower!” Haramis cried in sudden understanding. ”Denby! And now I suppose he has sent you back to carry on where you left off. Oh, the perfidious wretch! What manner of Archimage is he to play such games with the very balance of the world?”
”In my opinion, the Dark Man is a senile lunatic, but one who nevertheless taught me much. Do you know who the Archimage of the Firmament really is?”
”Iriane told me something of his aloof and vagarious ways. I know he is very old and cares little for events of our world. Yet he did vouchsafe to us the a.s.sistance of those sindona called Sentinels of the Mortal Dictum, defeating your army and saving the Two Thrones. Why he saved you-” She shook her head.
”Are you glad that he did?” Orogastus spoke very softly.
She replied, ”Yes... G.o.d help me!” And this was not a lie.
”Even now,” the sorcerer continued, ”I know almost nothing of the Man in the Moon's motives. But I do know who he is. He is that same great hero of the Vanished Ones who both conquered the Guild of the Star and brought about the birth of the Folk. He is Denby Varcour, a man of dusky complexion who is over twelve thousand years old. When the Vanished Ones fled the Conquering Ice, he remained, together with a small cohort of others, hoping to undo some of the damage humankind had wrought upon the world. The Vispi Folk and their telepathic bird friends were created in workshops inside his Moon.”
Haramis was shocked. ”The Moon is hollow? He does not live upon the orb's surface, as we live upon the world?”
”All of the Three Moons are artifacts of ancient magic. The one called the Dark Man's Moon, where I was incarcerated, has every manner of thing necessary for civilized life inside of it, including abandoned workrooms with marvelous tools, and beautifully appointed apartments without a single soul dwelling within. The second orb is called the Garden Moon. Although I was not allowed to visit it, I know that it is a conservatory of plants and animals, and some of our food came from there. It is also the residence of numbers of those d.a.m.ned living statues, who acted as my jailers and served Denby in other mysterious ways.”
”The sindona,” Haramis murmured. She had recovered her composure and now sipped a bit of wine and tasted one of the small cakes.
”The third orb is called the Death Moon. I do not know why. The Three Moons are connected to each other and to this world by viaducts. I escaped two years ago through one of these bizarre pa.s.sages. Never mind how. Oddly enough, the Archimage of the Firmament has made no attempt to recapture me since then- but of course he is mad.”
”Why do you call him so?”