Part 20 (1/2)
”My fault, my lord,” Saryon mumbled. ”I wasn't watching ...” His voice died.
”Perhaps you should get out more, Father,” Lord Samuels suggested as the servant was causing the brandy to flow from a crystal decanter into fragile goblets of gla.s.s. ”You and that young man, Mosiah. I can understand why this young man prefers my garden to the fabulous gardens of City Below” - he gave Joram a meaningful look, a slight frown marring his forehead - ”but I do think you and Mosiah should see the wonders of our beautiful city before you leave before you leave.” There was an unconscious emphasis on the words.
Alarmed, Joram glanced at Saryon, but the catalyst could only return his look with a shrug of the shoulders. There was nothing either could do or say; Lord Samuels was obviously keeping the conversation carefully innocuous until the servant had been dismissed. Joram stiffened, his hands curled over the arms of his chair.
”I understand that you once lived here, Father Dunstable?” continued Lord Samuels.
Saryon could trust himself only to nod.
”You are familiar with our city, then. But this is the young man - Mosiah's - first visit. Yet my lady tells me he spends his hours in here, reading!”
”He likes to read, my lord,” Joram said shortly.
Saryon tensed. A week with Prince Garald had given Joram a thin coating of courtesy and court manners. The young man believed fondly that this had changed his life. But Saryon knew it was only temporary, like the cooled top crust of a lava flow. The fire and rage were there still, bubbling just below the surface. Let the crust crack, and they would spew forth.
”Will there be anything more you require, my lord?” the servant asked.
”No, thank you,” Lord Samuels replied. Bowing, the servant left the room, shutting the door behind him. With a spoken word, Lord Samuels cast a spell of sealing on it, and the three were alone in the library that smelled faintly of musty parchment and old leather.
”We have a matter of some unpleasantness to discuss,” Lord Samuels said in a cool, grave tone. ”I find it never helps to put these things off, and so I will get right to the point. A difficulty has arisen concerning the records of your birth, Joram.”
Lord Samuels paused, apparently expecting some response - perhaps even a confused admission from the young man that he was, after all, an imposter. But Joram said nothing. His dark eyes maintained their fixed, steady gaze, staring so intently into Lord Samuels's eyes that it was His Lords.h.i.+p who eventually lowered his head, clearing his throat in some embarra.s.sment.
”I am not saying that you have deliberately lied to me, young man,” Lord Samuels continued, his brandy hovering untasted in the air beside him. ”And I admit that perhaps I compounded the problem by becoming too ... enthusiastic. I believe I may have raised false hopes in you -”
”What is the problem with the records?” asked Joram, his voice so brittle that Saryon shuddered, seeing the rock start to crack.
”To put it simply - they do not exist,” replied Lord Samuels, spreading his hands out wide, the palms empty. ”My friend has found the record of this woman's, Anja's, admittance to the Font's lying-in chambers. But there is no record at all of her baby's birth. Father Dunstable” - milord interrupted himself - ”are you feeling quite well? Should I send for the servant?”
”N-no, my lord. Please ...” Saryon murmured in an inaudible voice. He took a gulp of brandy, gasping slightly as the fiery liquid bit into his throat. ”A slight indisposition. It will pa.s.s.”
Joram opened his mouth to speak again, but Lord Samuels raised his hand and, with an obvious effort of self-control, the young man remained silent.
”Now, there are undoubtedly reasons why this could be. From what you have told me about your mother's tragic past, it would be consistent with her distraught state of mind at this period of her life to think she might have taken the records of your birth with her. Particularly if she thought she could come back and use them to claim what was rightfully her inheritance. Did she ever mention to you that she had such records in her possession?”
”No,” Joram answered. ”My lord,” he added stiffly.
”Joram” - Lord Samuels's voice grew stern, annoyed at the young man's tone - ”I want very much to believe you. I have gone to a great deal of trouble to investigate your claims. I did this not only for you, but for my daughter, as well. My child's happiness means everything to me. I can see quite clearly that she is ... shall we say ... infatuated with you. And you with her. Therefore, until this matter can be resolved, I think it is in both your best interests if you leave my house -”
”Infatuated? I love love her, my lord!” Joram interrupted. her, my lord!” Joram interrupted.
”If you do truly love my daughter as you claim,” Lord Samuels continued coolly, ”then you will agree with me that it is in her best interests that you leave this house immediately. If this claim of yours can be proven, of course, I will give my consent to -”
”It is true, I tell you!” Joram cried pa.s.sionately, half rising from his chair.
The young man's dark eyes burned, his face flushed in anger. Frowning, Lord Samuels made a slight movement toward the small silver bell that would summon the servants.
Seeing this, Saryon reached out his hand and laid it restrainingly upon Joram's arm, causing the young man to sink slowly back into his chair.
”I'll get proof! What proof do you want?” Joram demanded, breathing heavily. His hands clutched the armrests of the chair in his effort to control his temper.
Lord Samuels sighed. ”According to my friend, the midwife he spoke to in the Font is of the opinion that the former midwife - the one who was there at the time of your birth - remembered that occasion, due to the ... um ... unusual circ.u.mstances surrounding it. If you had a birthmark” - milord shrugged - ”anything that she might recall, the Church would undoubtedly accept her testimony. She is now a high-ranking Theldara Theldara attending the Empress,” Lord Samuels added by way of explanation to Saryon, who wasn't listening. attending the Empress,” Lord Samuels added by way of explanation to Saryon, who wasn't listening.
The catalyst's head was bursting with intense pain; blood beat in his ears. He knew what Joram was going to say, he could see the light of hope dawning upon the young man's face, he could see the lips moving, his hands going to the fabric of the s.h.i.+rt that covered his chest.
I must stop him! the catalyst thought desperately, but a paralyzing fear gripped him. Saryon's lips were rigid, he could not speak. He could not draw breath. He might have been turned to stone. He could hear Joram talking, but the words came to him with a m.u.f.fled sound as if spoken out of a thick mist. the catalyst thought desperately, but a paralyzing fear gripped him. Saryon's lips were rigid, he could not speak. He could not draw breath. He might have been turned to stone. He could hear Joram talking, but the words came to him with a m.u.f.fled sound as if spoken out of a thick mist.
”I do have a birthmark!” The young man's hands tore his s.h.i.+rt open. ”One she's certain to remember! Look! These scars ... on my chest! Anja said they were caused by the clumsy midwife who delivered me! Her nails dug into my flesh as she drew me from my mother's womb! These will prove my true ident.i.ty!”
No! No! Saryon screamed silently. Not the nails of a clumsy midwife! He remembered it all with vivid, aching clarity. Those scars - the tears of your mother! Your real mother, the Empress, weeping over you in the magnificent Cathedral of Merilon; her crystal tears falling upon her Dead baby, shattering, cutting; the blood running red down the baby's white skin; Bishop Vanya's look of annoyance, for now the tiny baby would have to be purified all over again ...
The books were caving in on Saryon ... The books ... forbidden books ... forbidden knowledge ... The Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith surrounding him ... Their black robes, smothering him ... He was suffocating ... He couldn't breathe ... surrounding him ... Their black robes, smothering him ... He was suffocating ... He couldn't breathe ...
These ... will prove my true ident.i.ty....
Darkness.
8.
In the Night ”Will he live?”
”Yes,” said the Theldara Theldara, coming out of the room to which they had carried the inert, and to all appearances lifeless, catalyst. She studied the young man standing before her intently. In the stern face and thick black hair, she saw little resemblance to the features of the sick man. Yet the pain and anguish and even fear visible in the dark eyes made the Druidess doubt.
”Are you his son?” she asked.
”No ... no,” responded the young man, shaking his head. ”I am a ... friend.” He said this almost wistfully. ”We have traveled far together.”
The Theldara Theldara frowned. ”Yes. I can tell from the body's impulses that this man has long been separated from his home. He is a man accustomed to peace and quiet pursuits, his colors are grays and soft blues. Yet I see auras of fiery red emanating from his skin. If it were not impossible in these days of peace,” the frowned. ”Yes. I can tell from the body's impulses that this man has long been separated from his home. He is a man accustomed to peace and quiet pursuits, his colors are grays and soft blues. Yet I see auras of fiery red emanating from his skin. If it were not impossible in these days of peace,” the Theldara Theldara continued, ”I would say this catalyst had been involved in a battle! But there is no war ...” continued, ”I would say this catalyst had been involved in a battle! But there is no war ...”
Stopping, the Druidess eyed Joram questioningly.
”No,” he replied.
”Therefore,” the Theldara Theldara continued, ”I must judge the turmoil to be internal. This is affecting his fluids; indeed, it is affecting the total harmony of his body! And there is something else, some dread secret he bears ...” continued, ”I must judge the turmoil to be internal. This is affecting his fluids; indeed, it is affecting the total harmony of his body! And there is something else, some dread secret he bears ...”
”We all bear secrets,” Joram said impatiently. Looking beyond the Theldara Theldara, he tried to see into the darkened room. ”Can I visit him?”
”Just a moment, young man,” said the Theldara Theldara sternly, catching hold of Joram's arm in her hand. sternly, catching hold of Joram's arm in her hand.
The Theldara Theldara was a large woman of middle age. Considered one of the best Healers in the city of Merilon, she had, in her time, wrestled with the insane until her healing powers brought order to their troubled minds. She cradled the living in her arms when they came into the world, she cradled the dying as they left it. Possessed of a strong grip and a stronger will, she was not the least bit intimidated by Joram's scowl at her touch, and held onto him firmly. was a large woman of middle age. Considered one of the best Healers in the city of Merilon, she had, in her time, wrestled with the insane until her healing powers brought order to their troubled minds. She cradled the living in her arms when they came into the world, she cradled the dying as they left it. Possessed of a strong grip and a stronger will, she was not the least bit intimidated by Joram's scowl at her touch, and held onto him firmly.
”Listen to me,” she said in a low voice, so as not to disturb the catalyst lying within the room near them. ”If you are his friend, you will draw this secret out of him. As a thorn in the flesh poisons the blood, so this secret is poisoning his soul and has very nearly led to his death. That and the fact that he hasn't been eating well, nor sleeping regularly. I don't suppose you noticed that, did you?”
Joram could do nothing but stare at the woman grimly.
”I thought not!” The Druidess sniffed. ”You young people, wrapped up in your own concerns!”