Dark Heart (20 page)

‘I…I will have to think about that, Heredrew,’ she said finally. ‘You kept so much a secret, when honesty might have effected a better cure. Despite your kind act, I feel you thought only of yourself. I hope to see some evidence that this behaviour has changed. Only such a change will give your apology, which is, after all, merely words, some real meaning. Though I wonder if a man such as yourself can really change his ways.’

By now everyone in the cubicle stared at Stella with identical bemused looks. Conal found himself surprised at the harshness of her response: after all, the man had rescued her friend, clearly at some cost to himself.

That the others felt the same way immediately became obvious.

‘Stella, the man saved my life!’ Phemanderac said. ‘If anyone should offer an apology, sir, it should be us, for failing to make you feel welcome. You ought to have felt at ease remaining with us after my healing. Please accept my thanks, and any aid I can offer you. It is a delight to have someone of such moral fibre amongst we insular Dhaurians.’

The tall man nodded, pleased. Stella’s face had now changed from white to red. She appeared deeply angry. Conal felt more than ever that something irregular was happening. He was missing an important subtext. The back of his head began to itch.

‘Aye, Bandy.’ Conal emphasised her travelling name to cover Phemanderac’s slip, which appeared to have gone unnoticed by Heredrew. ‘I admit to feeling uneasy about our guest at first, but his fair words and kind actions surely have earned him welcome. I would be pleased to call him friend.’

A little stronger than I intended,
he thought,
but Stella should get the message.
He sighed.
Sometimes we still get glimpses of the Destroyer’s Consort beneath her beautiful exterior.

‘His face changed,’ little Ena said in her childish voice. ‘He looked like someone else, and that frightened me.’

‘I apologise, my dear,’ Heredrew said to her. ‘Bandy here rejected my first apology, and I was a little upset. With the flickering light it must have seemed as though I was wearing a mask of surprise.’

First apology? Stella had already rejected him?
This is more than odd.
The little girl kept on talking, insisting that the man’s face changed before the apology, but Conal paid her little heed.

‘St—Bandy, is there something between you and Heredrew that we ought to know about?’ Conal asked her.

‘Nothing at all, priest,’ she answered, and Conal felt the sting in her words and wondered why he was their target. ‘Put aside all this male posturing: who is sorry for what, and whose dignity and honour have been offended. What I want to know, Heredrew, is what brings you to this supposedly inaccessible place? What are you looking for in the scriptorium?’

Phemanderac murmured his agreement. ‘Such a question crossed my mind also. Though you must have given the doorkeeper a reason—indeed, you would have had to mount a persuasive argument to gain admittance to the city. And you do not have a guide; how is that?’

‘He did not come through the Mist Gate,’ Ena said.

‘You are right. I approached the city from the east. The keepers of the Wind Gate granted me free access to the city because I came in search of ways to develop my healing powers.

‘This is not my first time here, Stella. I have visited Dhauria three other times over the years, seeking knowledge to harness my unpredictable talent.’

He turned to address Phemanderac. ‘The last time I was here I spoke to you,
dominie
, regarding the efficacy of the Fountain of the Vale.’

A clamour arose at these revelations. Eventually Phemanderac was able to say: ‘You? It was you? I remember—you bore a different name then, I’m sure.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Yes, I spoke to you, at least twenty years ago. We argued, as I recall, though there are those in Dhauria who will tell you that this is not unusual. Friend, there is much to puzzle over regarding this. You looked much different then, not nearly so tall, and somewhat older. How can that be?’

‘
Dominie
, this is why I am here, in truth,’ came the answer. ‘I discovered my talent many years ago, and since employing it more regularly I have grown markedly taller, and my face has taken on a decidedly youthful aspect. I am not sure whether to be thankful or frightened at this, though it does appear to have had the effect of prolonging my vigour. None of my countrymen had ever heard of such a thing; in fact, normal magical use tends to have the effect of inducing physical and mental decay in the practitioner. So I travelled to Dhauria to read the ancient scrolls. I reasoned that perhaps I would learn something to help me interpret my own condition.’

‘You told us you were searching for Dona Mihst,’ Conal said, trying to keep out of his voice the whine his colleagues in the Koinobia hated so much. ‘If you are telling the truth, you had no need to search.’

‘A traveller’s fiction; I hope you forgive me for it. Eventually,’ he added, turning to Stella. ‘Care with strangers has kept me alive and safe throughout many long journeys. And you should note I never actually lied. I did not say I had not been to Dhauria before.’

Conal leaned forward. ‘You called Bandy “Stella” a moment ago. How did you learn that name?’

There it was: the merest flicker of unease. The man had been far too glib. And, most suspiciously, it appeared he was prepared to answer questions all day. An innocent man, in Conal’s experience, would not be so patient.

‘Her name has been mentioned several times,’ the man said, adopting a puzzled air. ‘Is it supposed to be a secret? I assumed the name she took for herself was your own piece of traveller’s fiction.’

‘So,’ said Stella, ‘you are a self-confessed sorcerer with a talent for healing. You have been here in the past, looking for ways to understand and harness your sorcerous power. You met us on the road, proffered a large amount of fiction mixed with a degree of truth, and healed our desperately ill friend. Now we meet you again. We appreciate your willingness to answer our questions, but I have yet another. Are you willing to help us in our own quest for knowledge?’

Conal frowned. This was too much. Stella had just delivered a speech to rival the dissembling of the Archpriest himself. It was the sort of thing he had heard at the Koinobia every day; perhaps the others would be fooled by it, but Conal was not.

These two know each other. I need to find out how.

As do I,
said a voice in his head.
As do I.

The doorkeeper approached their cubicle. ‘Once again I apologise,
dominie
, but another outsider seeks admittance to the scriptorium. Actually, he is searching for the man named Conal. I thought it best to admit him.’

There was no doubt who this was. Conal did not even look up as the insolent, block-headed guardsman sat down heavily on the bench beside him.

‘Can’t keep you away, can we, priest? You always have to be in her shadow.’

‘You wouldn’t be talking about yourself, would you,’ Conal said in an undertone. ‘Of course not; you wouldn’t fit in her shadow, much as you try to.’

‘Enough!’ Stella said. ‘Or I’ll ask the doorkeeper to see you out, and arrange for Ena’s clan to escort you to the gate. Clear?’

Robal apologised, and Conal mumbled some words that might be construed as penitent. But he wasn’t: he meant every word.

‘I remember having a number of discussions with you when last you visited the scriptorium,’ Phemanderac said to Heredrew. ‘Your opinions, as I recall, were lively and unconventional, and I based more than one paper on the conversations we had. I could show you…no, to the point. Heredrew, we have found an unusual scroll. Would you care to cast an eye over it and offer an opinion on the authenticity of its contents?’

‘
Dominie
, I am no scholar,’ the man said. ‘But if you think I can help, I’ll have a look for you.’

With the arrival of Heredrew and Robal the cubicle had become too small to spread out the scrolls, so Phemanderac sent Moralye to request a large table and more light. There they sat, on small stools that instantly set Robal’s back aching, debating old scrolls.

The guardsman knew why this was important, of course. Stella was an unusual and very concerned woman. She had been cursed with immortality by the Destroyer, and had to live with the knowledge that in all likelihood she would never die. So, as she had explained to her companions many times during their travels, she sought knowledge to understand how to deal with such a life—and, perhaps, to seek a cure.
Even if it kills her,
the soldier thought, but did not laugh.

Robal, however, knew something the others did not. From comments she had made, the guard had pieced together the realisation that, if she did not find what she was seeking here, she would go further east—to Andratan, if necessary, and the Destroyer’s feet. His arms. If the only solace she was to have in this world was with someone like him, she would choose him.

So he forced himself to listen carefully to the discussion. If they could wring anything out of these old pieces of parchment that could prevent the sickening image in his mind—her and him together—it would be worth all this brain-racking.

The stranger Heredrew looked up from the scroll before him. ‘The man who wrote this was certainly self-obsessed,’ he said. ‘If the author wasn’t the Destroyer himself, it was someone who has spent time imagining what it would be like to be powerful, immortal and hated.’

‘There is no call to have sympathy for the Destroyer,’ Conal said, with exactly the look on his face Robal detested. As though lard wouldn’t melt in his mouth. ‘He deserves any pain he suffers.’

‘I doubt anyone disagrees with you,’ Stella said sharply. Robal thought her reply odd; in fact, she had been behaving queerly all day.

‘Yet I can identify with him,’ Heredrew said quietly. ‘My former Haurnian companions noticed my good fortune and hated me for it, even as they accepted my healing help. Eventually their scandalised talk became so pervasive I had to leave. If someone were to write my story, it might cast me in a very bad light, as does the
Domaz Skreud
Kannwar.’ He moved slightly on his stool. ‘Sometimes I think I am wandering the world to avoid forming relationships, rather than seeking knowledge as I claim.’

‘If you can identify with him,’ Stella asked, ‘do you think he is telling the truth? Is the
Domaz Skreud
wrong?’

‘I don’t think those are the best questions,’ he answered, and beside him Phemanderac nodded. ‘I’m inclined to think that Kannwar—if he was indeed the author—told the truth as he saw it. I say this with the following provisos. He wrote this over two hundred years after the event. Who knows what excuses and justifications became fact in his tortured mind? Or what events he may have minimised or neglected to mention in his account? Yet if we apply those conditions to his recollections, ought we not to do the same to the
Domaz Skreud
? It reflects the point of view of one who sought someone to blame for what was undoubtedly a tragic and shocking event. From the
Domaz Skreud
we can deduce that conditions in Dona Mihst at the time of the Rebellion were far from the idyll many think. Yet the writer lays the blame squarely on Kannwar’s shoulders, attributing nothing to the overcrowding and political agitation of the time. Is that not evidence of partiality? Perhaps a combination of both documents might bring us closer to the truth.’

All through this statement the priest had been huffing and puffing like a bellows, obviously building up to some overinflated pronouncement. As soon as the man finished, Conal jumped to his feet.

‘This is nonsense!’ he said as his stool clattered to the floor behind him. ‘Is anyone seriously arguing for the truth of any of this’—he struck the scroll with the flat of his hand, eliciting a gasp from Moralye—‘specious self-justification? I am a priest. You ought to be coming to me to ask my opinion as to whether this blasphemy regarding the Most High is to be taken seriously. How can it be? How could the One who created the worlds and all within them be defeated and driven out by a pair of jumped-up humans? If he did elevate two humans to be gods, why is no mention made of them in our holy scrolls? And is anyone taking seriously the suggestion that Kannwar might have
deceived
the omniscient Most High God? Let us waste not one more minute on this absurdity.’

He bent down and righted his stool, then sat back on it.

‘It’s always good to hear from the oracle,’ Robal said, filling the silence. ‘Boy-priest, do you yet have a notion as to why the great and the wise consistently fail to consult you on matters of importance? Because there is no need. To understand what you think, one need read no further than the Koinobia-sanctioned Halite propaganda. We do not ask your opinion because we want to understand, not learn meaningless catechisms.’

‘Have you finished insulting people of faith? Because I am proud of following the sacred scrolls to the letter. Why bother calling into question the result of debate between people wiser than us, who were there at the time?’

‘Conal, you are such a fool,’ Stella snapped. ‘Was Kannwar wiser than you?’

Fool he might be, but by the trapped look on the priest’s face, he could see where this was going. Robal settled back to watch the fun.

‘Of course he wasn’t. How can anyone cursed by the Most High be called wise?’

‘Come now. What does “Kannwar” mean, according to the
Domaz Skreud
?’

‘You know as well as I. “Guardian of knowledge”. It was just a name.’

‘Doesn’t the scroll tell us Kannwar was surpassingly knowledgeable in the
Fuirfad
, the Way of Fire?’

‘Yes,’ Conal answered sullenly.

‘So, Kannwar was wise, and he was there at the time. Or will you dispute that as well? No? Then why not at least consider his words?’

‘What I want an answer to,’ Heredrew said suddenly, ‘is why it was wrong of Kannwar to oppose the Most High when, it is clear from this document, he honestly believed the Most High to be misguided.’