Caught in Crystal: A Lyra Novel (32 page)

“We remember you,” Kayl said grimly.

“Really?” The man looked surprisingly pleased. “I’m so glad. It will make things much easier. You see, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Looking for us?”

“
All
of us?” Bryn put in, twitching an ear.

“In a way,” Ferianek replied calmly. “I need your help, and I think you may be glad of mine.”

“Really.” Kayl made herself smile at Ferianek. “And just what help do you need from the Silver Sisters?”

“There are twenty swordsmen from the Circle of Silence on the road to Glendura’s Tomb,” Ferianek said bluntly. “Alone, I can do little more than slow them down.”

“Why would you wish to?”

“Tradition, a sense of honor, a wish to remedy my own mistakes…” Ferianek shrugged.

“Your own mistakes?” Glyndon said, pouncing on Ferianek’s final words like a cat pouncing on the end of a dangling string. “What do you mean?”

“My family has watched over Glendura’s Tomb since the Wars of Binding; in some sense it is my responsibility,” Ferianek replied evasively.

“I’m afraid you go too fast for me,” Kayl said. “I have never heard of a place called Glendura’s Tomb.”

“Forgive me; I forget, sometimes, that the name is obscure. You may know the place as Iralor’s Sorrow, or Iralor’s Bane, or perhaps Kalervon’s Curse. And the folk around the mountains, those few who know of it, call it the Twisted Tower. It is a fearful place.” Ferianek paused, studying Kayl. “Have I convinced you yet that I am what I claim to be?”

Kayl sighed. “I believe you… I think. Not that it matters; it’s the Elder Mothers you’ll need to convince.” By now she was reasonably sure that Ferianek was the wandering scholar the Elder Mothers had been hoping to find; she wondered what they would make of him. “In the meantime, you might explain just what help you are offering us.”

“I can show you how to avoid the Magicseekers,” Ferianek said promptly. “I know several ways of reaching Glendura’s Tomb besides the one I told you of so many years ago. I doubt that anyone unfamiliar with the mountains would be aware of them.”

“Which won’t help at all if the Magicseekers have already reached the Tower, or if they come to the valley while we’re still there,” Glyndon said.

“I am afraid the Magicseekers will not find the path as easily as they had expected,” Ferianek said solemnly, but Kayl could hear the currents of mischief buried in the depths of his voice. “I doubt that they will reach the valley before you, unless you travel very slowly indeed.”

“I take it you have arranged to delay them,” Kayl said.

Ferianek nodded. “Delay, yes. But it will not stop them.”

“Then it seems we have little choice,” Kayl said. Glyndon looked at her in surprise, and she shook her head. “If Ferianek has set traps along the main road to the Tower, we must find another way to reach it. You remember what those mountains are like, Glyndon; we could spend days or weeks looking for a passable route. We’ll have to accept Ferianek’s help.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Glyndon muttered. He studied Ferianek for a moment, then asked abruptly, “Why do you call the valley Glendura’s Tomb?”

“It is a personal preference only,” Ferianek replied. “That name seems… less ominous, somehow, than the others. Perhaps it is because Glendura’s story is the only one that comes from before the Tower was twisted and the valley died.”

“Would you tell us some of these stories?”

“Of course,” Ferianek said. His voice took on a richer tone that pulled his listeners into the story almost at once. “Glendura lived long before the Wars of Binding. She and her husband, Iralor, were magicians more powerful than any wizard living today, for they knew all of the arts which were lost in the Times of Darkness, and others besides which we no longer even remember. Their home was a tower of gold, built in a single night by virtue of their power. But all their magic was not sufficient to keep catastrophe from falling on their children. Glendura died trying to protect them; Iralor alone escaped.

“All of the legends agree on that much. What killed Glendura and her children varies from story to story. Several versions have them killed by the evil Shadow-born; in others, they die of a curse. One has them ambushed by Wyrds in the Kathkari Mountains.” Ferianek broke off and looked apologetically at Bryn and Alden. “Iralor seems to have had a grudge against Wyrds, and I think someone wanted to account for it.”

“We understand,” Alden said. He sounded mildly amused. “Please continue.”

Kayl felt a hand touch her arm. She looked down to find Dara standing beside her, with Mark and Xaya just beyond; apparently Ferianek’s storytelling had attracted their attention. Kayl smiled. She took her daughter’s hand and drew her a little to one side, so that Mark and Xaya could come nearer.

“It is not clear whether Iralor ran from whatever killed his family, or whether he fought his way free but was unable to save them as well,” Ferianek went on. “He may not even have been present when Glendura and her children died. But whatever the reason, he
did
survive, and he brought their bodies back to the valley and buried them there. In his grief and guilt, he used his magic to twist and blacken the Tower. He lived there for years—centuries, some stories claim—bitter and angry and grieving for his wife. And so the valley is called Iralor’s Sorrow, as well as Glendura’s Tomb.

“There are even more stories about Iralor’s death than about his life. Some legends say that his magic twisted him, even as it had twisted the Tower, and so he brought about his own death. Another version has it that he was killed by his brother, Iraman, when he turned to evil in his grief and bitterness. But all the tales agree that Iralor died in the valley, hence the name Iralor’s Bane.”

“You mentioned another name as well,” Kayl said when Ferianek did not go on. “Kalervon’s Curse. Where does that come from?”

Ferianek smiled and shook his head. “Another legend, even more confused and obscure than the stories about Iralor. Kalervon was another magician who fought against Iralor. He was defeated or destroyed—it is not clear which—and in dying he set loose, or perhaps became, a dreadful creature that either destroyed Iralor in turn or became his servant. The creature made its home in the valley, and both the valley and the creature were called Kalervon’s Curse.”

“I see why you said it was confused,” Bryn murmured.

Kayl and Glyndon exchanged glances. “Do the tales give any description of the creature itself?” Kayl asked.

“Very little, which is unusual. ‘A dark creature,’ ‘an evil power,’ and ‘a wave of shadow’ are the extent of it. Most stories are much more graphic about the looks of their monsters.”

“Why didn’t you tell us any of these stories sixteen years ago?” Kayl said. “You must have suspected we would find them useful.”

Ferianek looked uncomfortable. “No one asked, and I wasn’t sure I ought to volunteer. Most people don’t think of legends as a particularly reliable guide.”

“Ignorance is a worse one,” Glyndon said. “You can make up for your negligence now. Have you ever heard of a man named Gadeiron in connection with the Tower?”

“Oh, he was long after Iralor’s death,” Ferianek said. He seemed relieved to return to the subject of the Twisted Tower. “Gadeiron wasn’t very interesting, really; just a fairly typical evil magician who was killed in the end by a band of heroes.”

“I want to hear that one!” Mark said.

“You always want stories about heroes and magicians,” Dara complained.

“Some other time, Mark,” Kayl said. She wondered what Javieri would think of Ferianek and his stories.

“Perhaps we should return to the question of paths through the mountains,” Ferianek suggested.

“An excellent idea,” Glyndon said blandly. “You said you knew several routes to the Tower. Would all of them be passable this early in the spring, or would we have to wait a week or two?”

“Mother?” Mark spoke softly, so as not to interrupt Glyndon or Ferianek.

Kayl turned. “What is it, Mark?”

“Is Ferianek coming with us?”

“I don’t know yet. It will depend on what Javieri and Miracote decide.”

“I hope he does,” Dara said wistfully. “He’s nice.”

“He certainly seems to be. Now, I think it’s time for you two to get to bed.”

“But Mother!” Mark protested. “It’s still early!”

“And we haven’t seen Xaya in
ages,
” Dara added.

Kayl was pleased to note that, despite their dismay, both of the children kept their voices low. She was tempted to give in as a kind of reward, but she knew it would be unwise. “We’re going to have to leave before sunrise,” she said, trying to sound gentle as well as firm. “I don’t want you half-asleep on the trip.”

Before Mark and Dara could resume their pleading, Xaya said, “Mother?” Both Bryn and Alden turned, and Xaya said, “Kayl is sending Dara and Mark to bed, and I wondered whether you’d decided anything.”

Bryn sighed and glanced at Kayl. “Not yet, dear. In the meantime—Kayl, would it be too much trouble to let mine spend the night with yours? It might turn out to be convenient.”

“Oh, yes, Mother, please!” Dara said.

Kayl hesitated, then nodded. “But only if you go up to bed right now,” she said.

“Oh, we will,” the children chorused, and trooped out of the kitchen.

“They’ll be awake half the night, talking,” Kayl said, shaking her head.

“But they’ll be determined not to show it in the morning,” Alden pointed out.

They rejoined Glyndon and Ferianek, who had moved to the hearth and were using Dara’s discarded twig to draw maps of their own on the gray stone. Halfway through Ferianek’s explanation, Barthelmy walked into the kitchen, frustrated and fuming over the endless repetition of the Sisters’ discussion. When Kayl gave her a summary of Ferianek’s story, she insisted on summoning Javieri at once, and the whole thing had to be gone over again.

Javieri listened with a carefully neutral expression to the various suggestions, then nodded thoughtfully. “We seem to have little choice,” she said, echoing Kayl’s earlier observation. “Still, at least now we know how many Magicseekers we have ahead of us.”

“Then you agree?” Barthelmy said.

“I do, but there are still the others to convince.” Javieri glanced around the kitchen. “I think it would be best if I was the one to present this suggestion to them.”

Kayl saw Glyndon’s mouth twist in a wry smile as he joined the rest in nodding agreement. “Very good,” Javieri said. She looked at Ferianek. “Will you come and tell us your stories; if I send for you in a few minutes?”

“I would be glad to,” Ferianek said.

As Javieri started to leave, Alden stopped her and said something in a low voice. Javieri nodded and went out. Alden came back to the little group by the hearth, looking smug.

Kayl studied him. “You aren’t still seriously thinking about coming with us, are you?”

“If you’re willing to have us, yes,” Alden replied.

“Why?”

Bryn gave Alden a fierce grin. “I told you she would insist on knowing. We’re taking a chance, Kayl. The last half-reliable rumor we heard put a city of Wyrds somewhere in the north end of the Windhome Mountains. We’ll be heading in that direction in any case.”

“The Magicseekers—”

“It’s still safer for us to travel with humans, at least as long as we’re in human-settled territory,” Bryn said. “Believe me, we know.”

Barthelmy looked surprised and angry. “But this is the Estarren Alliance!”

Alden shrugged. “Things are better here than in Mindaria, but that’s not saying much.”

“Why do you think we’ve spent so much time looking for a
Wyrd
settlement?” Bryn added. “There are still plenty of human cities that have a good-sized Wyrd section, but we’ve seen what happens when humans and Wyrds try to live together.”

“Humans and Wyrds have lived together for over twelve hundred years,” Barthelmy said. “It’s only recently that there’s been trouble.”

“Things have been going wrong for a lot longer than you think,” Alden said. “It’s just that they’ve finally gone wrong enough for you to notice.”

“True,” Ferianek said. “But Her Virtue is right to say that it is not because humans and Wyrds live in the same place. The real problem is that the use of magic comes easily to only three of the Four Races: the Wyrds, the Shee, and the Neira. Therefore few humans understand magic, and they resent and envy those who do.”

“Which is part of the reason Varnans are so unpopular,” Glyndon put in. “You wouldn’t believe the number of people I’ve met in the past fifteen years who think anyone from Varna can dry up rivers, walk through mountains, and make gold from ashes and air.”

Kayl saw Barthelmy nod reluctantly; she had good reason to know how ex-magicians, at least, reacted to one who still had power.

“Whatever the cause, we have to deal with the result,” Bryn said. “So if any of you hear of a Wyrd city…”

“None of us are likely to, if we haven’t already,” Kayl said. “Unless Ferianek has another surprise under his cloak.”

“Not exactly,” Ferianek said slowly. “There’s a Waywalker settlement in a valley a bit north of Glendura’s Tomb that’s mainly Shee and Wyrds, but I believe they’re planning to leave soon.”

“How do you know that?” Kayl said. She had heard of the Waywalkers; they were a small group, generally considered to be harmless eccentrics. They also had the reputation of being close-mouthed, particularly in regard to the locations of their permanent settlements.

“I’m a follower of the Way of the Third Moon myself,” Ferianek said apologetically.

“Why are they leaving?” Alden asked.

“And where are they going?” Bryn added.

“There’s an island just south of the Melyranne Sea that the Waywalkers bought from the Empire of Rathane a few years ago. We’ve started a colony there. The settlement in the mountains is a gathering place for people who plan to move to the island permanently.”

“Moving or not, they’d be worth talking to,” Bryn said. She looked at Alden, who twitched an ear at her. Bryn nodded decisively. “It’s settled, then. Now all we need to know is whether your Elder Mothers will agree to take us.”

“They aren’t
my
Elder Mothers anymore, and I still think you’re mad,” Kayl said.