Chapter Six
When deceit makes a mask,
Trust makes us dance.
—Avalti, Song of the Blade
The east corridor of the Temple of the Earthmother was long and windowless, yet devoted to artistic expressions of devotion. Dozens of glass lamps hung from delicately ornate wall stanchions, shedding plentiful golden light on the paintings, carvings, sculptures and illuminated parchments. Suviel was standing before one of the niches, examining a portrait of the Emperor Korregan, when she saw the Lord Commander and another man emerge from his chambers. The man was heavy-set, aged about forty and carrying a dark cloak over his shoulder. In the torchlight they exchanged muttered words, then the stranger nodded and glanced at her before walking away to disappear down a branch passage.
"Fair morning, my Lord Mazaret," she said with mock solemnity.
"Shin Hantika," he replied with a faint smile, looking either way along the corridor before drawing her to him.
Suviel hugged him, her face against his, enjoying the broadness of his back through his leather jerkin. Then she pulled back slightly, frowning.
"Is something wrong?"
Mazaret sighed. "My father is dead, poisoned while in Casall. That was my brother you saw - he brought the news."
"Your brother Coireg? Was he not responsible for - "
"Yes...yes, I know. But he is not as he was. Something in him has changed." He looked at her. "He is all the family I have left, Suviel. I must try to heal the rift between us."
She put her hand gently on his cheek. "I am so sorry about your father," she said, wanting to say much more but knowing it would be unnecessary.
He went silent for a moment then said: "There is never enough time to get to know someone, Suviel. I do not even know if my father approved of what I have been doing here, and we met at least twice a year since the invasion...since our mother died." He laughed, a quiet, dry sound. "Now she would have approved. We always knew what she thought about anything which involved right and wrong because she was quick to speak her mind..." He breathed in deep and seemed to gather himself together. "How is Tauric?"
She smiled wanly. "He is still full of grief about his father - well, the man he knew as his father. We have not mentioned the matter of his lineage yet. It would just add to his sorrow and confusion."
Mazaret nodded sadly. "I met the Duke of Patrein several times. He was a good man. What of the boy's arm?"
"It cannot be saved. Bardow and the chief surgeon intend to amputate it below the elbow this evening."
"He is young. He will overcome these...losses."
Suviel felt otherwise, but decided against voicing her disagreement. "What about Coireg?" she said. "Are you going to admit him into the Order?"
"He would not wish it, and the discipline would not suit him. No, there is another way in which he can help us, and himself."
* * *
Mazaret would say no more as they made their way to the Abbess's study where the War Council was to be held. Abbess Halimer of the Earthmother Faith was waiting when they were showed in, an elderly, slightly built woman wearing a pale blue cassock. With her was Cheil Bardow, Archmage of the Rootpower, looking amiable and almost unremarkable in his customary brown and grey townsman's attire. Bardow rose from the study's great oval table in greeting.
"My Lord Commander - does the day find you well?"
"Well enough, Archmage, though I am saddened to hear that your patient will lose an arm."
"Some lose much more, my Lord."
"Indeed," Mazaret said stiffly, looking around him. "I see that Captain Volyn is absent."
"Delayed by pressing administrative problems, my Lord," said Abbess Halimer with a hint of amusement. "His messenger assured me that he will not keep us waiting too long."
"Very well. In the meantime, Abbess, tell me how the grain stocks are faring. I assume that you have spoken to the inimitable Gilly..."
As Mazaret and Halimer fell into discussion, Bardow came over to join Suviel.
"Ikarno appears a little cheerless," he said.
Suviel told him about the death of Mazaret's father and the presence of his brother, and the Archmage became grave.
"This is disturbing news." He frowned. "This brother, Coireg, has a somewhat unsavoury history."
"Ikarno has always said as much to me," Suviel agreed. "But he is certain that Coireg is a changed man. He even hinted at giving him some kind of task, but would say no more about it."
Bardow shrugged. "I may be flinching at shadows, but it seems coincidental that this news arrives mere hours after you ride into Krusivel with a lost heir to the Imperial throne. It is almost of a piece with this Byrnak matter."
Earlier, the Archmage's reaction on hearing of her sorcerous encounter with the Honjir warlord had been one of alarm. Only after she had related the full tale had he revealed that there was another warlord, Grazan of Northern Yularia, who was known to openly wield Wellsource powers.
"What is Ikarno going to do with his brother?" Bardow asked. "Allow him into the Order?"
Suviel shook her head. "He does have something in mind, but would not confide in me."
"Perhaps he intends to discuss it her, should Volyn actually arrive." Bardow gave a wry smile. "No doubt the honoured captain shall once more exhort us to include a siege of Besh-Darok in the battle plans," he said with a dry chuckle. "On the other hand, one of his rangers was present when we brought Tauric into the healer's chamber, so perhaps he has been considering the position of the Hunter's Children on the matter."
"And if they decide to decamp over it," said Suviel, "where does that leave us?"
"In serious trouble." Bardow glanced at her. "But that's not going to happen. If Volyn was going to make the break, all two hundred of his men would be saddled and ready to leave now. I have been keeping an eye on their barracks and apart from some kind of minor brawl a few hours ago, everything is as it should be."
"So why the delay?"
The Archmage was about to reply when there was a knock at the door and Suviel turned to see a temple sister entering ahead of two men dressed in sombre green.
"Reverence," the sister said to Halimer. "Captain Volyn and Sentinel Kodel."
The first, Kodel, was slender and dark-skinned, his long black hair tied back in a queue, his hawkish eyes surveying everyone in the room. After him came Volyn who was shorter, barrel-chested and muscular, full of restless energy, like a wrestler always ready to wade into a fight. Curly fair hair and a dense but neatly trimmed beard added a roguish demeanour to his appearance. Volyn and his subordinate inclined their heads to the Abbess and the Archmage and finally to Mazaret. Volyn grinned widely. Mazaret offered a thin smile.
Suviel watched the two war leaders carefully. The contrast between them went beyond differences in height and build, or in military methods. It was history that set them apart, a weighty veil that neither could forget despite these past six years of cooperation.
Nearly five hundred years ago, the Khatrimantine Empire's ruling dynasty, House tor-Cavarill, was deposed by another branch of the Imperial family, House tor-Galantai. The Emperor Hasmeric tor-Cavarill had died of a stroke mere hours after his wife's death from giving birth to their sole issue, a son. Hasmeric himself had been an only child and with no immediate relations to take up the role of regent, the responsibility for choosing a suitable candidate fell to the Conclave of Rods. Under the influence of House tor-Galantai, the Conclave conferred the crown on Lord Arravek tor-Galantai, citing the need for a strong Imperium in the face of the pirate princes whose fleets were threatening the northern coast at that time.
Hasmeric's son, Coulabric, was brought up among the myriad isles of western Dalbar, far from the capital, Besh-Darok. In time he grew into a strong young man skilled in the arts of the sword as well as the quill, and waiting for Arravek to pass away so that the crown and throne would be returned to House tor-Cavarill. But on the day of Arravek's death, a crossbow bolt found Coulabric's heart while he was out riding the hunt, slaying him instantly. When Arravek's son was crowned Emperor, Coulabric's supporters accused him of murder and conspiracy, named themselves the Hunter's Children and declared eternal enmity against House tor-Galantai.
Considering this, Suviel felt a sense of foreboding as Mazaret greeted Volyn. With a living descendant of Arravek here in Krusivel, there was no telling what proposal Volyn would put to the Council.
Their greetings done, everyone moved to sit at the oval table, apart from Abbess Halimer who went over to unlock a plain blackwood cabinet. From it she took three rolls of paper which she brought over and unfurled. As wide as the table and half as long, the maps were of heavy Anghatan paper and bordered with grey-brown cotton. One showed the entirety of the former Empire of Khatrimantine, another depicted in greater detail the south-western provinces of Dalbar, Kejana, most of Honjir and southern Jefren, and the third was of the centre of the continent from Prekine to Besh-Darok and the Gulf of Brykon. All three maps showed signs of wear, small tears, an occasional scorch mark or wine stain, and were all that remained of the Order of the Fathertree's great archive of war.
The War Council began, and at once descended into disagreement. As Bardow had predicted, Volyn renewed his demand that Besh-Darok be included in the forthcoming campaign. Mazaret rejected the idea as unacceptably perilous, pointing out the small matter of the Warlord Yasgur's fourteen thousand troops. Volyn countered with the argument that with information from spies and sympathisers in Besh-Darok, their knowledge of the situation there was far more detailed than even six months ago. Suviel was surprised when, instead of dismissing this, Mazaret sat back and listened as Kodel revealed that the Hunter's Children now knew the location of troop barracks, the order of their defenses, the pattern of the guard patrols, even the level of the city's war supplies. The Sentinel also produced maps of Besh-Darok, its fortifications, and of the docks by which a small force of two hundred would enter the city while the bulk of the allies' army assaulted the landward battlements.
"Our losses would be slight," said Volyn. "The main aim of the infiltrators is to capture all of Yasgur's senior officers, not to mention Yasgur himself. Without the head - " He made a chopping gesture, " - the body is easy prey."
The silence that followed was full of tense uncertainty as Mazaret gazed thoughtfully at the map of the entire continent of Toluveraz. Finally he spoke.
"Your plan has merit, Captain. From what you say, it seems that it may indeed be possible to take Besh-Darok."
Volyn almost managed to keep his surprise from showing while Abbess Halimer was visibly taken aback. Bardow glanced at Suviel, smiling faintly as Mazaret went on.
"However, before deciding upon such a fundamental change to our strategy, there is another matter to be settled."
"Ah yes," Volyn said amiably. "Korregan's bastard son."
Halimer leaned forward in surprise. "What's this?"
"Tauric, the young man who arrived with Suviel," Bardow explained. "He has the lineage birthmark and must therefore be the late Emperor's by-blow. ."
"Rumours have been rife all night," Volyn said, bending his head towards the Abbess. "You see, the honoured Lord Commander harbours doubts about the Hunter's Children's willingness to fight on behalf of Korregan's heir. Let me assure everyone at this table that all we want is to deliver our land from tyranny. If, once that has been acheived, it is the will of the council that this Tauric be crowned Emperor, then the Hunter's Children would not stand in his way."
"Your words are most welcome, Captain," Mazaret said with a faint smile. "In the light of such sentiments, I am sure you would be keen to see Korregan's heir properly prepared for the role he may be called upon to assume."
"Of course," Volyn said guardedly.
"Good, good. You see, young Tauric knows almost nothing of the responsibilties that the crown carries, whereas the Hunter's Children have a detailed knowledge of such matters. Also, it is a sad fact that Tauric will lose an arm due to the torture he underwent. However, even a one-armed man can hold a weapon and we all know that the Hunter's Children are skilled in the use of many weapons, as well as the Empty-Hand Pattern."
"What are you suggesting?" said Bardow.
"Simply this - that the honourable Captain takes Tauric under his custodianship and sends him to one of the Children's sanctuaries in Dalbar or Kejana where he will receive the tutelage and training that he lacks. Naturally, as Lord Commander of the Knights of the Fathertree, I would insist that several advisors accompany the boy, a mage or scholar nominated by Bardow, a sister from the Abbess's order, and another of my own choosing."
His brother, Suviel realised. She regarded Mazaret in admiration: Volyn would have to accept this task or risk losing the opportunity of an assault on Besh-Darok, as well as stirring up the kind of fear and suspicion that could break the War Council.
Volyn sat back, stroking his beard and staring at Mazaret while Kodel whispered in his ear. Then he nodded sharply. "This is an unusual request, my Lord, but we shall not shirk it. This mild autumn will not last forever, and we must be ready to bare the knife before winter bares its teeth. If it pleases this council, my deputy, Sentinel Kodel, will accompany the boy as custodian in my stead, and have responsibility for his safety and instruction. These advisors, however, must be prepared to accept the Sentinel's authority on all matters while within one of our sanctuaries."
"I find that acceptable," Mazaret said, looking at Bardow and Halimer who both nodded.
"And as for the proposed attack on Besh-Darok," he continued. "I will give it my cautious approval, provided that we commit no more than half our troops and that I command the infiltration force."
For a brief moment Volyn said nothing, just stared at his hands which lay on the table, palms up. Then he clasped them together and looked up.
"Very well," he said. "Provided the command is held jointly with Sentinel Kodel."
The two men regarded each other, their gazes unwavering till Mazaret gave a smile and a sharp nod. The tension in the room eased and Abbess Halimer sighed.
"Then it is agreed," she said. "New battle plans will have to be drawn up."
"I would be willing to meet with the honoured Lord Commander and his senior officers on the morrow," said Volyn. "Or sooner, if necessary."
"Tomorrow is timely enough," Mazaret said. "We are still to hear from Archmage Bardow. What he has to say could greatly influence our deliberations."
Bardow leaned forward. "You may be correct, my Lord. All here must understand the gravity of what is being proposed, not least in the light of Gunderlek's ill-fated rebellion."
"He did ask for our help," Volyn said.
"And we were right to refuse," Bardow retorted. "For all his bravery, Gunderlek was a foolish man. We made it clear to him how perilous his undertaking would be. So understand - we shall be walking into a veritable drakken's mouth. But before I say anymore, Shin Hantika has something to tell you."
He nodded at Suviel and without adornment she related all that happened from the encounter at Wujad's Pool to her arrival at Krusivel in the early hours of that morning. Volyn was first startled then grave as she told of the incident involving Byrnak, while Halimer remained sombre throughout. When she finished everyone was silent for a moment till Volyn spoke, addressing Bardow.
"So what is the meaning of Shin Hantika's tale?" he said. "Are the Acolytes concocting some dark scheme?"
Bardow folded his arms. "I fear that is the case, Honoured Captain. It is too early to be certain, but it may be that the Acolytes have found a way to confer Wellsource powers upon selected persons. We strongly suspect that one such is the Warlord Grazan - at the siege at Rauthaz he played a decisive role, accompanied by certain senior Acolytes."
Volyn shook his head, face dark and brooding. "So what are you saying? That we will be facing an invincible enemy?"
"I repeat, it is as yet too early to be sure, despite Suviel' account of this Byrnak's abilities. Thankfully there has been neither sight nor sign of the Daemonkind, but that does not lessen the danger of the Acolytes and their agents acting against us in the coming war."
"Can your mages protect us?" Volyn said restively. "This is what we need to be certain of."
Bardow regarded him. "While the Wellsource is significantly more potent than the Lesser Power, there has since the War of Invasion been little evidence of anyone employing it to its full measure, till recently." He spread his hands. "Captain, I could offer you bland and comforting assurances about our abilities and preparations but that would be doing us all a disservice. The truth is that we do not know enough about the Acolytes' strengths and weaknesses." He looked from face to face. "Which is why I ask leave of this council to send someone to Trevada to spy on the Acolytes in their fastness and try to discern something of their plans."
Everyone was uneasily quiet for a moment.
"Prekine is a desolation," Abbess Halimer said grimly. "And Trevada has become a deadly trap. We have never sent any scouts there."
"Nor have the Hunter's Children," echoed Volyn.
Suviel watched Bardow nod at each comment, his eyes studying the map on the table. "My intention was not to send a scout, but a mage."
There was a murmur of approval. Then Mazaret spoke, his voice low, controlled. "Who will it be?"
"Shin Hantika," the Archmage said. "Her mastery of the Lesser Power will allow her to penetrate the web of illusions that surround Trevada, while her skills in disguise and stealth will enable her to deal with more mundane difficulties."
Astonished, Suviel stared at Bardow who smiled apologetically. "There was no time to talk with you before now. It will be dangerous, but I know you are more than equal to the task." He turned back to the others. "Does the War Council give its consent?"
Volyn nodded and after a slight hesitation Abbess Halimer did so too. Suviel looked across at Mazaret, hoping to see something like concern in his face, but her heart sank a little at the cool distance she saw there. Then he gave a slow, sombre nod and it was sealed.
"How long till Shin Hantika returns?" Volyn said.
"Four, maybe five weeks," Bardow said. "Contrary to what the Lord Commander said, do not be influenced in your plans by what I have told you. The arrangements previously made for the Mage Order will suffice."
"You cannot take back your words, Archmage," Mazaret said with a wry smile. "How can we help but worry over them?" He looked over at Halimer. "Your Reverence, could we have some more applewater? This listening is thirsty business!"
* * *
The remaining matters - an appraisal of Krusivel's supplies of provisions and weapons, and reports on recruitment and training - were soon dealt with. Volyn and Kodel were the first to leave and as Bardow went over to speak to the Abbess who was rolling up the maps, Mazaret drew Suviel off to one side.
"Prekine is a dread place," he said. "You cannot imagine the dangers you will face. Will you not reconsider this undertaking?"
By the light of the chamber's wall lamps his long thin face looked suddenly careworn, his soft brown eyes full of anxiety. Her hand sought his.
"How could I?" she said quietly. "Bardow was my mentor and now he is the leader of my order. I cannot refuse his bidding, Ikarno, any more than you could have refused the Emperor's command."
She felt his hand tighten around hers. "My heart...aches for you," he whispered. A wave of love and sorrow passed through her and she fought to stave off the tears.
"Tonight," she murmured. "I shall not leave till the morning, I promise."
He nodded, then released her hand and drew back slightly as Bardow came over. The Archmage regarded her with a raised eyebrow to which she gave a slight shake of the head, then said;
"The honoured Lord Commander was just remarking that the way to Trevada passes through very dangerous territory."
"Danger lies all about us," Bardow said evenly. "All that differs is the degree of its malice." He looked at Mazaret. "Have you decided upon who to send with young Tauric, my Lord?"
"Yes, my brother, Coireg Mazaret."
"Ah, the man who arrived with an old servant this morning."
Suviel bit her lip as Bardow went on in a voice of calm amusement.
"I understand he has something of a mixed past, but clearly you are satisfied with him."
"I trust him implicitly, Archmage," Mazaret said cooly. "Now, you must excuse me - I have arrangements for tomorrow to tend to."
He gave Bardow a polite nod, and a slower bow to Suviel who watched him turn and leave. Bardow waited till he was out of sight before crossing to close the door. When he sat at the table, Suviel did likewise and regarded him nervously for a moment before speaking.
"Weren't you understating the power of the Wellsource?" she said.
"Of course. If the others really knew how perilous our situation is, then we would truly be lost." His eyes seemed to contemplate something beyond her sight, dark eyes which now held none of the warmth others were used to seeing. Suviel shivered inwardly as he turned that hard, focussed gaze on her.
"Suviel," he said. "Your real task is far more vital than gathering information - once you reach Trevada, I want you to find a way inside what used to be the High Basilica and retrieve the Crystal Eye."
The enormity of his words struck hard. Suviel felt as if she were suddenly hanging over a vast, empty gulf instead of sitting on a solid chair with one arm on the smooth table top. There was no fear, just a hollowness in her chest where her heart should have been. Foreboding, she told herself, suppressing an odd impulse to laugh out loud. When the danger is so great and so far away, the mind cannot encompass it.
"I thought the Eye was destroyed," she said.
Bardow smiled bleakly. "The Acolytes would never allow such a glittering trophy to be damaged." He met her worried gaze with a touch of his old humour. "Suffice to say that I know it's still intact and being kept in the Basilica.
"We have to have it, Suviel. If the Lord of Twilight's agents are growing in strength mere months before our rebellion begins, we will be forced to rely more heavily on the Lesser Power than we thought."
"And the Crystal Eye magnifies it, lends force to its effects," Suviel murmured.
"Exactly," Bardow said, reaching out to take her hand. "I am sorry to have to lay this terrible burden on you but there is almost no-one else I can trust. Guldamar and Terzis are stronger in the Lesser Power, but neither is able to move among ordinary folk with your ease."
"There are no ordinary folk in Prekine," she said, remembering the white-eyed Acolyte at Wujad's Pool.
Bardow sighed. "Jeopardy and evil hazards abound where peace and harmony once held sway. If Besh-Darok and the Rootpower were the heart and soul of the Empire, Trevada was its mind, its calm, assessing regard. The Acolytes knew what they were doing when they took our towers and halls for their own. They know how to corrupt everything, even symbols."
"They cannot corrupt everything," Suviel said, "because they cannot reach everything."
The Archmage gave a rueful smile then straightened in his chair, as if putting remembrances and regret aside. "Now, go and rest, prepare for the morning. Yes, I'm not asking you to leave before then. I wish it could be longer but time is against us."
Suviel stood, laid a hand on his shoulder and said: "I shall not fail."
Bardow looked up at her. "I hope so, Suviel, I hope so. For all our sakes."
* * *
In another part of the Temple, a man in a brown cloak came to a door at the end of a corridor and was about to knock when a voice came from within. "Enter!"
With a shrug he entered, closed the door behind him and leaned against it, weariness making him feel suddenly weak. The room was small with two low cots, a crude trunk and a plain square table at which a short, grey-haired elderly man sat, wrinkled hands cupping a small bowl of water glinting with pinpoints from the candles placed around the walls. The elderly man turned in his seat and fixed him with a frowning look.
"Well?"
Coireg Mazaret gave a shaky laugh. "The boy is being sent to one of Volyn's refuges, and I am to go with him."
"And I will accompany you?"
"I insisted."
The older man's frown relaxed. "Excellent. Events are moving in our favour. Lord Ystregul will be greatly pleased."
At that name, Coireg felt nausea ripple through his innards and he had to grit his teeth to subdue a wave of dizzyness. Ystregul, the Black Priest of the Fiery Tree. A face came to mind, a man with pronounced cheekbones, long black hair hanging in braids, and eyes like daggers. Then he remembered his own hands and arms and chest covered in blood all those months ago, the blood of his father. He shuddered.
The man pushed the other chair away from the table with his foot. "Sit," he said.
Gratefully, Coireg went over and sat down heavily. "Seftal, I'm sorry, I - "
Seftal silenced him with an upraised hand. "The weaving of the Wellsource brings burdens to all its servants, and It takes time to find the strength to bear it. You will be strong soon."
Coireg almost felt like weeping. The memory of waking to discover that he had murdered his own father was a collar of thorns that choked his every waking hour. It was Seftal, friend and fellow smuggler, who had spirited him away from Casall and, in an abandoned farmhouse, revealed his allegiance to the Wellsource and promised him redemption. Their later meeting with Ystregul had filled him with terror: the Black Priest had also promised him deliverance, but it was Seftal he listened to.
"Tell me what you know," Seftal said.
Coireg related all had taken place, both between himself and his brother, and during the brief meeting they had after the War Council.
"The boy will be guarded by three score of the Hunter's Children, as well as the advisors. An ambush would have to be planned carefully."
"It will," Seftal said. "We shall be in the enemy's camp and able to seize the boy at the right moment." He smiled. "You have done well, Coireg. Your place in the realm to come is assured."
"And my dreams?"
"They will become calm and untroubled," Seftal said soothingly. "All things will be new and sweet, and great power shall be yours to command."
Coireg breathed in deep as tears welled in his eyes. He covered them with a trembling hand. "When I spoke to him the first time...when he said what he would do, I almost ran. But I faced him, I really did." He shook his head. "Without the clawseed draught you gave me, I don't think I could have gone through with it. I can feel it starting to wane now. Perhaps I could have another draught, just for the rest of the day."
Seftal was silent a moment as he stared down at the bowl of water, and Coireg's heart seemed to beat in his chest like a slow, heavy hammer. Then he felt a wave of relief as the older man nodded.
"Yes," Seftal said thoughtfully, without raising his gaze. "Later."