Part 66 (2/2)

With only one good arm, Isgrimnur took a little time to lower himself to the makes.h.i.+ft seat, but he was determined to do it without leaning on anyone. ”I am glad to see you up and around, Simon,” he said when he could talk without breathing hard. ”You did not look well this morning.”

The young man nodded and eased down beside him. He moved slowly, too, nursing many hurts, but Isgrimnur knew he would heal soon. The duke could not help feeling a sharp twinge of envy. ”Where are Binabik and Miriamele?” asked Simon.

”Binabik will be here soon,” Strangyeard offered. ”And ... and Miriamele ...”

The youth's calm evaporated. ”She's still here, isn't she? She hasn't run off, or been hurt?”

Tiamak waved his hand. ”No, Simon. She is in camp and healing, just as you. But she ...” He turned to Isgrimnur, seeking help.

”But there are things to be discussed without Miriamele here,” the duke said bluntly. ”That is all.”

Simon absorbed this. ”Very well. I I have questions.” have questions.”

Isgrimnur nodded. ”Ask them.” He had been expecting this since he saw Simon standing in mute absorption before the statue of Eahlstan.

”Binabik said yesterday that bringing the swords was a trick, a 'false messenger'-that Pryrates and the Storm King wanted them all the time.” Simon pushed at one of the sodden banners with the heel of his boot. ”They needed them so they could turn back time to before Ineluki's last spell, before all the wards and prayers and whatnot had been laid on the Hayholt.”

”All of us outside saw the castle change,” the duke said slowly, caught off balance by Simon's question. He had been certain the youth would want to ask about his newly-discovered history. ”Even as we fought against the Norns, the Hayholt just ... melted away. There were strange towers everywhere, and fires burning. I thought I saw ... ghosts, I suppose they were-ghosts of Sithi and Rimmersmen in ancient costume. They were at war, right in the midst of our own battle. What else could it have been?” The clean afternoon light flooding in through the high windows suddenly made it all seem unreal to Isgrimnur. Just days ago, the world had been gripped by sorcerous madness and deadly winter storms. Now a bird twittered outside.

Simon shook his head. ”I believe that. I was there. It was worse inside. But why did they need us to bring the swords? Bright-Nail was less than a league away from Pryrates for two years. And surely, if they had really tried, they could have taken Thorn, either when we were coming back from Yiqanuc or when it was lying on a stone slab in Leavetaking House up on Sesuad'ra. It doesn't make sense.”

Jiriki spoke up. ”Yes, this is perhaps the hardest matter of all to understand, Seoman. I can explain some of it. As we were struggling with Utuk'ku at the Pool of Three Depths, much of her thought was revealed to us. She did not s.h.i.+eld herself, but rather used that strength in her fight to capture and use the Pool. She believed there was little at that point we could do even if we understood the truth.” His slow hand-spread seemed a gesture of regret. ”She was correct.”

”You held her off a long while,” Simon pointed out. ”And at a great price, from what I heard. Who knows what might have happened if the Storm King hadn't been forced to wait?”

Jiriki smiled thinly. ”Of all of who fought beside the Pool, Likimeya understood the most in the short time we touched Utuk'ku's thoughts. My mother is recovering very slowly from the battle with her ancestor, but she has confirmed much that the rest of us suspected.

”The swords were almost living things. That will come as no surprise to anyone who bore one of them. A large part of their might was, as Binabik of Mintahoq suspected, the unwordly forces bound by the Words of Making. But almost as much of their power was in the effect those Words had. Somehow, the swords had life. They were not creatures like us-they had nothing in them that humans or even Sithi can fully understand-yet they lived. This was what made them greater than any other weapons, but it was also what made them difficult for anyone to rule or control. They could be called-their hunger to be together and to release their energies would eventually draw them to the tower-but they could not be compelled. Part of the terrible magic the Storm King needed for his plan to succeed, perhaps the most important part, was that the swords must come to the summoning themselves at the proper time. They must choose their own bearers.”

Isgrimnur watched Simon think carefully before speaking. ”But Binabik also told me that the night Miriamele and I left Josua's camp, the Norns tried to kill Camaris. But the sword had already chosen him-chosen him a long time ago! So why would they want him dead?”

”I may have the beginning of the answer to that,” Strangyeard spoke up. He was still nearly as diffident as when Isgrimnur had first met him years before, but a little boldness had begun to show through in recent days. ”When we fled Naglimund, the Norns who pursued us behaved very strangely. Sir Deornoth was the first to realize that they were ... oh!” The archivist looked up, startled.

A gray shape had rushed into the throne room. It bounded up onto the steps before the dais, knocking Simon onto his side. The young man laughed, tangling his fingers in the wolf's hackles, trying to keep the probing muzzle and long tongue from his face.

”She is full of gladness to see you, Simon!” Binabik called. He was just coming through the doorway, trotting in a futile effort to keep pace with Qantaqa. ”She has been waiting long to bring you greeting. I was keeping her away before, while your wounds were new-bandaged.” The troll hurried forward, distractedly greeting the rest of the company as he wrestled Qantaqa to the stone floor beside the dais. She yielded, then stretched out between Binabik and Simon, huge and content. ”You will be pleased for knowing I have found Homefinder this afternoon,” the troll told the young man. ”She wandered away from the fighting and was roaming in the depths of the Kynswood.”

”Homefinder.” Simon said the name slowly. ”Thank you, Binabik. Thank you.”

”I will take you for seeing her later.”

When all had settled in once more, Strangyeard continued. ”Sir Deornoth was the first to see that they were not so much chasing us as ... herding us. They drove us out in fright, but they did not kill us when they surely could have. And they only became desperate to stop us when we turned toward the innermost depths of Aldheorte.”

”Toward Jao e-Tinukai'i,” said Aditu softly.

”... And they also killed Amerasu when she had begun to see Ineluki's plan.” Simon pondered. ”But I still do not see why they tried to kill Camaris.”

Jiriki spoke. ”They were content when you had the sword, Seoman, although I am sure it made Utuk'ku unhappy when Ingen Jegger brought her the news that Dawn Children accompanied you. Still, she and Ineluki must have thought it doubtful we would so quickly grasp what they planned-and as it turned out, they were correct. Only First Grandmother perceived the lineaments of their plot. They removed her and sowed much other confusion beside. For those who dwelled in Stormspike, the Zida'ya were then little threat. They must have felt sure that when the time came, the black sword would select you or the Rimmersman Sludig or someone else to be its bearer. Josua would come for Bright-Nail-his father's sword, after all-and the final rituals could take place.”

”But Camaris came back,” said Simon. ”I suppose they didn't suspect that might happen: Still, he had carried Thorn for decades. It only makes sense the sword would choose him again. Why should they fear him?”

Strangyeard cleared his throat. ”Sir Camaris, may G.o.d rest his troubled soul-” the priest quickly sketched the Tree, ”-confessed to me what he could not tell others. That confession must go with me to my grave.” Strangyeard shook his head. ”Ransomer preserve him! But the reason he confessed to me at all was that Aditu and Geloe wished to know whether he had traveled to Jao ... whether he had met Amerasu. He had.”

”He told Prince Josua his secret, I am sure,” muttered Isgrimnur. Remembering that night, and Josua's terrible expression, he wondered again at what mere words could have made the prince look as he had. ”But Josua is dead, too, G.o.d rest him. We will never know.”

”But even though Father Strangyeard swears that it had nothing to do with our battles here,” Jiriki said, ”it seems that Utuk'ku and her ally did not know that. Nakkiga's queen knew that Amerasu had met Camaris-perhaps she somehow gleaned the knowledge from First Grandmother herself during their tests of will. Having Camaris suddenly and unexpectedly appear On the scene, perhaps with some special wisdom Amerasu might have given him, and also with his long experience of one of the Great Swords ...” Jiriki shook his head. ”We cannot know, but it seems they decided it was too much of a risk. They must have thought that with Camaris dead, the sword would find a new bearer, one less likely to complicate their scheme. After all, Thorn was not a loyal creature like Binabik's wolf.”

Simon leaned back and stared at nothing. ”So all our hopes, our quest for the swords, were a trap. And we walked into it like children.” He scowled. Isgrimnur knew that it was himself he berated.

”It was a d.a.m.nably clever trap,” the duke offered. ”One that must have been a-building for a long time. And in the end they failed.”

”Are we sure?” Simon turned to Jiriki. ”Do we know they've failed?”

”Isgrimnur has told how the Hikeda'ya fled when the tower fell-those that still lived. I am not sorry that he did not pursue them, for they are few now, and our kind give birth infrequently. Many died at Naglimund, and many here. The fact that they fled instead of fighting to the death tells much: they are broken.”

”Even after Utuk'ku wrested control of the Pool from us,” Aditu said, ”we fought her still. And when Ineluki began to cross over, we felt it.” The long pause was eloquent. ”It was terrible. terrible. But we also felt it when his mortal body-King Elias' body-died. Ineluki had abandoned the nowhere-place which had been his refuge, and risked final dissolution to enter back into the world. He risked, and he lost. There is surely nothing left of him.” But we also felt it when his mortal body-King Elias' body-died. Ineluki had abandoned the nowhere-place which had been his refuge, and risked final dissolution to enter back into the world. He risked, and he lost. There is surely nothing left of him.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. ”And Utuk'ku?”

”She lives, but her power is destroyed. She, too, gambled much, and it was through her magics that Ineluki's being could be fixed in the tower during the moment when Time was turned withers.h.i.+ns. The failure blasted her.” Aditu fixed him with her amber eyes. ”I saw her, Seoman, saw her in my thoughts as clearly as if she stood before me. The fires of Stormspike have gone dark and the halls are empty. She is all but alone, her silver mask shattered.”

”You mean you saw her? Saw her face?”

Aditu inclined her head. ”Horror of her own antiquity made her hide her features long ago-but to you, Seoman Snowlock, she would seem nothing but an old woman. Her features are lined and sagging, her skin mottled. Utuk'ku Seyt-Hamakha is the Eldest, but her wisdom was corrupted by selfishness and vanity ages ago. She was ashamed that the years had caught up with her. And now even the terror and strength she wielded is gone.”

”So the power of Sturmrspeik Sturmrspeik and the White Foxes is finished,” Isgrimnur said. ”We have suffered many losses, but we could have lost far more, Simon-lost everything. We have much to thank you and Binabik for.” and the White Foxes is finished,” Isgrimnur said. ”We have suffered many losses, but we could have lost far more, Simon-lost everything. We have much to thank you and Binabik for.”

”And Miriamele,” Simon said quietly.

”And Miriamele, of course.”

The young man looked at the gathering, then turned back to the duke. ”There's more brings you here, I know. You answered my questions. What are yours?”

Isgrimnur couldn't help noticing how Simon's confidence had grown. He was still courteous, but his voice suggested that he deferred to no one. Which was as it should be. But there was an undercurrent of anger which made Isgrimnur hesitate before speaking. ”Jiriki has been talking to me about you, about your ... heritage. I was astonished, I must say, but I can only believe him, since it fits with everything else we've learned-about John, about the Sithi, everything. I thought we would be bringing you the news, but something in your face told me you had already discovered it.”

Simon's lips quirked in an odd half-smile. ”I did.”

”So you know that you are of the blood of Eahlstan Fiskerne,” Isgrimnur forged on, ”last king of Erkynland in the centuries before Prester John.”

”And the founder of the Scroll League,” Binabik added.

”And the one who truly truly killed the dragon,” Simon said dryly. ”What of it?” Despite his calm, something intense and powerful moved beneath the surface. Isgrimnur was puzzled. killed the dragon,” Simon said dryly. ”What of it?” Despite his calm, something intense and powerful moved beneath the surface. Isgrimnur was puzzled.

Before Isgrimnur could say anything more, Jiriki spoke. ”I am sorry I could not tell you earlier what I knew, Seoman, my friend. I feared it could only burden and confuse you, or perhaps lead you to take dangerous risks.”

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