A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) (26 page)

‘Yes, but do you understand? Oh Ashurek – you are a mystery to me. You did so much fine work for the Serpent – then threw it all away. What were you thinking?'

‘You call it fine work?’ he exclaimed. ‘It was madness! It had to stop.’

‘And you disposed of the Egg-Stone and suffered the pain of the Serpent’s retribution, just for the sake of your independence?’

‘Oh no, there was more to it than that,’ he answered, cold anger in his face. ‘The Egg-Stone caused me to murder my brother and sister. And it seems to me that the Serpent’s power began to increase when the Stone was unleashed upon the world.’

‘That is true, though it is of little use to anyone, lost in a volcano,’ she said. ‘You have disrupted our work and left Gorethria in chaos, with revolution and anarchy in the Empire. You and Silvren are a great disappointment to me.’

‘Let chaos destroy Gorethria then. It is exactly what she deserves.’

‘No! It is not too late to help her. You can return there and reclaim the throne, and the Egg-Stone can be recovered. Together we can rule the Empire and Tearn, the whole Earth.’ Arlenmia smiled, blue lights shimmering in her hair.

‘Are you mad?’ Ashurek cried angrily. ‘You know much about me, but you do not realise that no offer of power can tempt me. I have had power – and I know that it is sick and evil.’

‘Ashurek, be calm. You misunderstand me.’ Her smile became cold. ‘I am not trying to tempt you with power; I am telling you what you must do.’

Ashurek gave a laugh of grim scepticism.

Arlenmia moved round the globe, nearer to him, and went on, ‘I have been very patient with you. I have not tried to drug or hypnotise you to bring you into my power. You’ve had every chance to join me of your own free will.’

‘Not tried – ? What of that subtle substance which makes me think of the Egg-Stone as I have not thought of it for months?’

‘I don’t know what you mean. It was only to help you recover from your ordeal. But what you say is very interesting.’

‘Lying comes to you as easily as breathing, doesn’t it?’ Ashurek said acidly. ‘Spare me your deceitful games.’

‘Very well, to business,’ she said sweetly, unmoved by his attitude. ‘As I said, it was my hope that you would join me of your own accord. However, since you resist… there is the question of Silvren.’

‘What have you to do with her?’ he hissed, gripping her shoulders.

‘We were friends, once; did she never tell you? But as we went our separate ways, I had to send the demon Diheg-El after her.’

‘It was your doing?’ Ashurek shook her, but he might as well have assaulted a statue, so still did she remain in his grasp.

‘Her work was destructive! Better she was out of harm’s way – but I can easily have her released. Or, conversely, if you will not agree to help me, things can be made even more unpleasant for her in the Dark Regions.’

Estarinel thought Ashurek would kill Arlenmia then; but he did not. His hands fell from her shoulders, and she watched him with growing triumph.

‘You wanted to kill the Serpent so that she’d be released, did you not? Well, if you will help me, she will be freed and you’ll be spared your terrible mission,’ she added.

Estarinel’s heart sank; she had won, then. Ashurek could not refuse her offer. He was silent, eyes brooding.

Then he said, ‘Do your damndest.’

‘What?’ Arlenmia said, shocked. ‘I thought even you could not be that cruel!’

‘Think what you like. I am the Worm’s sworn enemy. How would Silvren feel, knowing I’d sold my soul to M’gulfn for her freedom? She’d rather spend eternity with the Shana than that. She, at least, has courage.’

Arlenmia stared at him, her face like white onyx.

‘Very well. You will do my bidding eventually, do not doubt it; and Silvren will be imprisoned forever.’

Estarinel let the scene fade. He was trembling at what he had witnessed, and dreading what else he might learn. He began to slide the pieces over the glass again. An image rippled and cleared, and he saw Skord.

He was by Arlenmia’s fireside, cowering under the force of her wrath.

‘You obey my orders to the letter!’ she was declaiming. ‘You do not play your own little games with my guests! No matter how bitter you are about your parents or your betrothed, no matter how much you hate Gorethrians or scorn the Forluinish, you act for me and not yourself. Oh! By the Serpent, you are a fool!’ She paced the room.

Skord was crouched on the floor. He muttered something that sounded like, ‘You said I’d done well.’

‘So I thought you had, but I didn’t know the half of it when I praised you. You tried to murder Ashurek! You amaze me! How could you be such an idiot? You let the nemen half-kill them to assuage your own resentment. You let them catch you because you couldn’t resist lording it over them. And how – how did you manage to let yourself be hypnotised? How could Estarinel break through the double entrancements of Siregh-Ma and myself? By the Serpent – what have you brought me?’ In her anger she was a vibrant tongue of green flame. ‘Well. If it has brought back your memory it is a just punishment.’ She laughed maliciously. ‘How ironic that you, in catching Ashurek, are the envy of all my other messengers. Her Favourite, they call you; what a position of power you could have reached. Oh Skord – what did you think you’d gain by being so stupid?’

She bent down and stroked his hair, suddenly gentle. He tried to draw away but she entangled her fingers in a clump of hair and held him. ‘Ah, but I know. I know that you hate both me and Ashurek. Your thought was to play us off against each other, hoping that one or both would be destroyed. Oh, you foolish scheming wretch!’ She dragged him to his feet and cast him bodily back to the floor. ‘Most stupid of my messengers! I am not going to give you another chance. I won’t take your memory again. I release you from service, and leave you to your demon, Siregh-Ma.’

Then Skord looked up, absolute defeat and terror in his brown fox eyes. There was no trace of dignity or even arrogance left in him. He was broken. Estarinel felt pity for him then; he was a pathetic sight.

‘Please… make Siregh-Ma leave me…’

Ashurek had said, ‘The Dark Regions… one slip and you will be down there yourself.’ Now the boy saw that it was about to come true.

Estarinel shuddered as full realisation came to him; he was responsible for Skord’s awful fate. If he had not hypnotised him, the youth would not now be in this doomed and sorry state. What a dangerous thing was curiosity. With hesitant hands he shifted the mirror’s image and sought Medrian. He could not imagine what use Arlenmia would have for her; Alaak was only a small island, and part of the Empire anyway. But there was probably no limit to Arlenmia’s ingenuity.

At last the chess pieces brought the mirror into focus, and he beheld a third scene.

Medrian and Arlenmia were sitting at the dining table. For a moment he did not recognise Medrian; she was wearing a long dress of white silk with her ebony hair falling around her shoulders. Her head was bowed as if she was listening intently to Arlenmia.

‘The one I could never see, and you arrive on my very doorstep!’ Her eyes were warm and luminous as she looked at Medrian. ‘Most precious of my guests and helpers – you alone are worth every one of them.’

‘You know, then,’ Medrian said flatly.

‘Of course. You are as limpid as crystal to me. So, before you start fighting me, let me explain what I can offer.’

‘Please don’t; I can do nothing to further your aims, so don’t waste your time.’

Arlenmia reached out and took her hands.

‘I don’t want you to do anything, Medrian; just let yourself be helped.’

‘Let me go,’ the Alaakian said coldly. ‘You won’t change anything.’

‘There you are wrong. Haven’t you ever thought what it would be like to be free?’ At this, Medrian looked up at Arlenmia; as if realising that she possessed a precise and terrible power.

‘You couldn’t!’ Medrian exclaimed.

‘Oh, but I could. You know it,’ answered Arlenmia, warm and gentle. ‘Now, if you like. Rest your head on my shoulder, and sleep. You will wake free of pain, and you can go home.’

The look in Medrian’s dark eyes was one of such misery and longing that Estarinel yearned to comfort her. Tears burned his eyes. Arlenmia held out her arms and Medrian wavered, her body swaying slightly as if pulled by a mesmeric impulse. It was so easy to fall, and so hard to resist.

Her body became still, and she said, ‘No.’

‘Come, Medrian,’ Arlenmia said softly. ‘Don’t torment yourself.’

‘It’s too late. My mind was made up, in snow and lead and ice, years ago. I no longer have a choice.’

‘You’d condemn yourself to a life without hope?’ Frustration crept into Arlenmia’s persuasive voice.

‘Hope was a small bird guarding an egg in her mountain nest; when the egg was taken, hope fled the world,’ Medrian said, her voice bleak as the wind. ‘Now I am the world’s only hope.’

‘The alternative is for me to kill you,’ Arlenmia said harshly.

‘Do what you like. When you finally understand it will be too late.’

The scene turned misty and was lost in the still silver of the mirror. Estarinel sat back from the table, breathless. He felt amazed at his ability to control the mirror; surely Arlenmia had not anticipated it?

He was also aware that the effort had drained much energy from him. He was sweating and shivering at the same time, and suffering the cramps about which Arlenmia had so solicitously enquired earlier. Even gathering the strength to think was exhausting.

He glanced down and noticed her glass on the floor. He saw that the remaining drops of water had evaporated and left a whitish powder on the inside. Curious, he picked it up and sniffed it. It had a faint but distinctive smell, gingery, bitter and unmistakeable.

It was mircam, a drug extracted from the herb called Brownblade, which had powerful properties. It was never used in Forluinish medicine as it was addictive and affected the personality in unpredictable ways.

That was the cause of the strange languor she had about her and the unnatural dilation of her eyes; she was addicted to the herb. At last he had discovered a possible weakness in her. Surprise, followed by a faint ignition of hope, gave him just enough strength to decide what to do.

Somehow he must break through the multiple reflections separating him from Medrian and Ashurek. He would begin by looking into the mirror to see if he could discern their nature. Perhaps that way he would gain a clue as to how to undo her sorcery.

Control of the mirror came more easily than before. He summoned to mind an image of a long golden corridor with several doors leading off it. Then he called forth all possible aspects of that view at one particular time – the present. The image moved out of focus, revealing several identical reflections that seemed just out of register with each other. His eyes strained to make sense of what he was seeing. Illogical lines of perspective intersected and faded into other lines, all edged with glittering, blurred lights where they reflected sunlight falling through a confused multiplicity of windows.

He knew what to do.

He brought each reflection into equal prominence, disregarding the pains that stabbed through his head with the effort. Then, with nightmarish, slow precision, he began to drag each reflection into line with all the others. Strings of diamond light danced achingly across his vision, sparkling in and out of focus, until at last all slid into register. In the mirror was an image of one sunlit golden corridor.

Two servants, going about their business in different reflections, stopped short with exclamations of surprise when they saw each other.

Estarinel let out a cry of elation. He let the picture shift and began searching swiftly for his companions. ‘Ashurek! Ashurek!’ he called out loud as he scanned through reflection after reflection, intent on contacting the Gorethrian.

But his strength was exhausted.

He saw into infinite depths of mercury that drew his mind further and further down. He was fighting, drowning. A small hole broke open in the fluid metal, ripples spreading out from it as it increased in size. Then Estarinel knew that Arlenmia’s myriad reflections were broken, but his own mind was lost in the dark hole, and he could not surface.

There was a terrible sensation of falling, falling into blueness, and it was as if a laughing, evil power revealed to him terrible phantasms of the future. There was snow and ice, and red glass, and a dark-haired woman – or was it a bird? – crying out for help he could not give.

‘I never dreamed it would be so difficult,’ Arlenmia said, looking at her reflection in her dressing-table mirror. Behind her, her maid Gulla combed and threaded jade beads into her blue-green hair. ‘I’ve come to despise them; how can three so foolish and blind give me such a fight?’

‘I’m sure it is only a matter of hours before they give in to you, my Lady,’ said the maid.

‘Hurry up; I must go and see how Estarinel is faring. If he still resists after seeing my mirror, I will have to fetch a demon to deal with him.’ She bent forward and rubbed some mist off the glass. ‘It’s such a perfect opportunity to complete the work. I control five countries, Belhadra and her neighbours, yet I cannot control a mere three people!’

‘My Lady, they are the gift of the Serpent, after all, and such a gift cannot be taken for granted,’ said Gulla.

‘You and your words of wisdom!’ Arlenmia exclaimed. ‘Are you really on my side? Perhaps you’ll betray me as Skord has.’

‘My Lady,’ Gulla answered, ‘everything you have taught me and shown me, I truly believe.’

‘Yes, Gulla,’ she sighed, taking the maid’s hand. ‘I know you do.’

The calm energies that the mircam provided seemed to be waning, as if she needed yet another dose. The drug had been useful once, when she had first come to the world and needed to stay awake for many nights to establish her powers. But now she felt anger at her dependence upon it. The Serpent’s energy should be enough.

#

Ashurek was approaching Arlenmia’s courtyard, having spent another wasted hour trying to find a way out of the city. It was like perpetually walking out of one reflection and into another and he felt sure Arlenmia must be watching and laughing at his attempts to escape.

He was certain that she had thwarted him utterly, and wished she would make her final move to enslave him soon; then at least he might have something to fight against. He toyed with the possibility of pretending to co-operate, at least until Silvren was free… yet he could not believe Arlenmia would keep her word. He would happily have killed her, had he not feared for Silvren’s safety.

As he entered the courtyard he had the sensation that something had changed, just as a place in a dream looks the same but is different. He looked around him and noticed two of Arlenmia’s messengers crossing the far side; this was strange, as the city was usually deserted. Then he saw the small dark-haired figure sitting by one of the fountains.

‘Medrian!’

For the first time, she actually looked pleased to see him. ‘Ashurek – how did you find me?’

‘It wasn’t deliberate,’ he said drily. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, perfectly.’ They regarded each other, each looking for signs that the other had been seduced to Arlenmia’s side.

‘What do you make of our gracious hostess?’

Medrian’s expression was one of distaste. ‘She is a very dangerous woman – fanatical but sane.’

‘A chilling combination,’ he agreed. ‘How has she treated you?’ Medrian did not answer at once, so he went on, ‘I have been drugged, lied to, threatened and driven half-mad – and that was merely a preliminary. What of you?’

‘She’s been most kind,’ said Medrian. ‘At least, until yesterday, when I refused to co-operate with her. Now she wants to kill me.’

‘So,’ Ashurek concluded with a sour grin, ‘we’ve both observed that she is our enemy, and a powerful servant of the Serpent. But neither of us has yet surrendered.’

‘It’s understandable that her patience is running out.’ Medrian’s voice took on a brittle edge. ‘We’re too valuable to her to be lost. Now that a gentle approach has failed, she’ll go to any lengths to enslave us.’

‘Gentle?’ Ashurek exclaimed. ‘Subtle, perhaps… I wonder if our meeting after a week of deliberate separation is part of her plan?’

‘More than likely.’ Medrian stood up. Her long white dress looked incongruous, made him think of Silvren. ‘What shall we do?’

‘What would she expect us to do?’ Ashurek wondered. ‘Find Estarinel and try to escape. Predictable, but we seem to have no other choice.’

‘You’re right…’ she hesitated as they shared the same thought. ‘Perhaps that is the trap – perhaps Estarinel has been deceived or forced onto her side.’

‘Aye, I fear for him… Whatever happens there must be a confrontation with her and we must be ready to escape. Get some travelling gear on and try to find some horses. I’ll seek Estarinel.’

In his room Ashurek swiftly pulled on a high-collared quilted jacket of purple and strapped on his sword. As he turned for the door he noticed something strange about a small looking glass on the wall. It revealed not his own reflection but an infinite silver-green corridor, as if it was facing another mirror. There was a weird sensation in his skull, as if someone was calling his name just out of earshot. Was this the beginning of Arlenmia’s last plan?

He hurried from the room and, to his amazement, found his way with unerring instinct directly to one of the tower rooms. He opened the door and saw Estarinel.

The Forluinishman was slumped across a low mirror-topped table with alabaster chess pieces scattered about him. He did not seem to be breathing. Ashurek shook him, calling his name. After a minute, to his relief, the Forluinishman groaned and slowly came awake. He looked dazedly up at the grim, dark face of the Gorethrian.

‘By the heavens,’ said Ashurek. ‘I thought you were dead.’

‘I think I would have been, if you hadn’t found me.’ He rubbed his forehead and stood up so unsteadily that Ashurek quickly guided him to the bed and let him sit down. ‘Where’s Skord? What happened?’ Estarinel muttered. Then awareness surfaced and his eyes brightened with excitement. ‘Ashurek – it worked!’

‘What worked?’

‘Tell me how you managed to find me.’

Ashurek related his meeting with Medrian and the strange illusion in the looking glass. Estarinel nodded, a grin spreading across his pale and exhausted face. ‘Yes, so it did work! Arlenmia was trying to entrance me by making scenes appear in the mirror, but I found I could control the images too. I concentrated on shattering her reflections and contacting you.’

Ashurek stared at him, incredulous. ‘You’re saying that you – you were responsible for–’

‘Yes!’ Estarinel laughed. ‘You don’t believe me?’

‘It is somewhat hard to credit. We thought it was another of Arlenmia’s traps.’

‘Not this time, I assure you.’

‘Can you prove it?’ asked the ever-skeptical Gorethrian.

‘Ah – I suppose I can’t. Anyway, there isn’t time; Arlenmia may know what has happened already,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘You must take my word that I am not working for her.’

Ashurek thought that Estarinel probably could not lie even if he wanted to.

‘Very well; if what you say is true, it changes everything. Speed is of the essence, if we are to escape. But there’s more to it than just walking out of the city. Have you discovered anything that may help us?’

‘I don’t know. Arlenmia actually took me out of the city yesterday, but I doubt that I could find the way again.’

‘She works with demons,’ Ashurek said with a sigh, ‘and it will go badly for us if she decides to summon them.’

‘There is this.’ Estarinel leaned forward and picked up Arlenmia’s glass from the floor. ‘Do you see the white powder crusted on the inside of this glass? It’s mircam.’

‘I’m no expert on herbs, but that’s some kind of drug, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, a very powerful one. And Arlenmia has taken it continually since we’ve been here. It’s highly addictive, and the effects are harsh. That’s why we don’t use it in Forluin.’

‘Why would she wish to take such a drug?’

‘To increase her energy and strength, to survive on very little sleep. Silvren said she thought her vitality was drawn–’

‘What did you say?’ Ashurek interrupted sharply. ‘What do you know of Silvren?’

Unnerved by the hellish light that had come into Ashurek’s eyes, Estarinel began to explain his unexpected meeting with Silvren in astral form. Ashurek seemed to have forgotten how little time they had and Estarinel thought the questioning would never stop. Eventually Ashurek strode to the window and stared broodingly out at the city, while the Forluinishman went on to describe the scenes he had observed through the mirror.

‘So Arlenmia was telling the truth, damn her,’ Ashurek said. ‘I didn't believe she’d ever known Silvren – how could they have been friends? How?’

‘I don’t know,’ Estarinel replied, made uncomfortable by Ashurek’s obvious distress. ‘Didn’t Silvren ever mention Arlenmia to you?’

‘Never. But that was like her; she’d have been so devastated by Arlenmia’s betrayal that she would have kept the whole thing to herself. She never would tell me who sent the demon after her, and I did not press the matter. But now I know.’ Ashurek turned, his face menacing with the cold logic that had made his ancestors rulers of half the world. ‘This drug, mircam. What could happen if she were suddenly to stop taking it?’

‘That would have a terrible effect – she’d be very ill, and possibly die.’

‘Good. Then we are going to find a way to deprive her of it.’

‘That’s if she’s human.’

‘You look strangely regretful at the prospect of doing her any harm; what’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ Estarinel sighed. ‘It’s just that she so nearly fooled me.’

Ashurek went on glaring narrowly at him. ‘Beguiling, isn’t she? It’s said the Forluinish are altogether over-generous with their affections, in every sense.’

‘Nothing happened!’ Estarinel said heatedly. ‘It’s just hard to forget some of the things she said.’

‘Then remember that she threatened Forluin, caused Silvren to be imprisoned, and seems to have no qualms about murdering Medrian,’ Ashurek said in a sharp tone. ‘She might even be the Serpent’s human host – where safer than its own High Priestess?’

‘Yes – yes, I know. So what are you planning to do?’

‘We need the help of someone who was very close to her. Estarinel, can you look in the mirror again and see where Skord is?’

‘No, Ashurek, I can’t look again. I’m exhausted. It almost killed me – nearly destroyed my mind, at least. Now I know why Arlenmia needs the mircam.’ Ashurek glowered at him, but he went on, ‘However, I do know that Skord is in this house somewhere. He’s broken. He wouldn’t have gone far.’

‘Then let us find him. There’s Medrian in the courtyard. Are you sufficiently recovered? Come on, then.’

Estarinel stood up, trying to ignore the dark spots swimming before his eyes. He donned his cloak and sword and made sure he had the white lodestone, in case it was of use again. As they left the room, Ashurek clapped him on the shoulder. ‘If we escape this place,’ he said, ‘it will be thanks to you. I swear I’ll never underestimate you again.’

They met Medrian coming in from the courtyard, now dressed in breeches, boots and a blue tabard. Estarinel had to restrain himself from hugging her, so glad was he to see her.

‘I can’t find the horses,’ she said. ‘I found my way to the city’s edge, but there’s a kind of thin glass barrier around it.’

‘I rode out of the city yesterday and there was no such wall then,’ Estarinel said.

‘There is now! I shattered a stone trying to break through it.’ Medrian looked pale and apprehensive. ‘She must be able to see us together by now.’

‘Not necessarily. It was Estarinel who broke her enchantment,’ Ashurek said with a grin, and explained briefly what had happened.

‘She is bound to know, and she’ll be furious,’ Medrian persisted. ‘You haven’t seen the half of her power yet.’

‘It’s unlike you to panic, Medrian,’ said Ashurek.

‘You also might feel a sense of urgency if you knew she’d decided to kill you, and was quite capable of doing so.’ Medrian broke off and glanced over her shoulder down the corridor of gold. Deserted.

Estarinel looked at her, mystified. After witnessing her strange conversation with Arlenmia, Medrian was more of an enigma than ever. He began to explain about the mircam, hoping to reassure her, while Ashurek led them along the corridor in search of Skord.

‘So if we can find the herb and keep it from her, she’ll collapse without it.’

‘Is that so?’ The touch of hope in Medrian’s voice faded quickly. ‘Forgive me for doubting, but it sounds impossible. We couldn’t even find each other; I can’t find the horses; won’t she keep her drugs even better hidden?’

They walked on in silence past rows of the paintings and tapestries that Arlenmia loved so much. They turned a corner and something slipped out of sight just ahead of them. At once Ashurek lengthened his stride until he drew level with an alcove.

A figure tried to dart past him, but was cornered by the tall Gorethrian.

‘What’s this, creeping along the walls like a brown mouse?’

Skord looked as if he had not eaten or slept for days. At the sight of Ashurek there was stark terror in his eyes, which showed little more intelligence than a trapped animal. He crumpled forwards onto the floor, hiding his face.

‘You have fallen out of favour, haven’t you?’

‘Ashurek, don’t!’ Estarinel exclaimed.