Limits of Power (26 page)

Before she could speak to them, one turned. In that silvery light—elf-light, as she knew—the shape of face proved beyond doubt this was an elf.

“Marshal-General of Gird,” the elf said. “We are met at great need.”

Their need or hers? she wondered.

The others turned to her now, stepping away from one who stood with his back to the window. The elf wore a crown; the jewels seemed made of light itself. Despite the light from the window streaming past him, she could see his face clearly. Power, majesty, wisdom … an elf king, it must be. Arianya felt her knees loosening and consciously fought the impulse to kneel. This was her place, not theirs.

“What is your need?” she forced herself to say even as the glamour beat on her will. She glanced down just for an instant: she stood on Gird's own stone and in that moment felt the pressure lift.

“It is not ours alone but yours,” the elf said. “I am Master of the Kingsforest.”

“The Kingsforest …?”

“In the far western mountains. North of the land you know as Kolobia.”

“Ah … and what is this need you speak of?”

“You must leave.”

“Leave … here?” She hoped they did not mean that, for she would have to refuse, and then … She did not want to contemplate what might come of her refusal.

“No. There. The west. Leave entirely.”

“Did you make Luap leave?” Arianya asked.

“He … broke his word.”

“I do not think I understand,” she said. “We were surprised, you know, to find records of his time there. We had not known—”

“You were not supposed to go there,” the elf said. “All were to leave after his treachery. We sealed the patterns.”

Arianya had realized for the past several years that local archives and the writings of Luap in the west did not agree, but was that what the elf meant by treachery? She asked.

“He found the place by mistake,” the elf said. From his tone, this was a tale he did not want to tell and would tell only once. “We were never sure how he found the first pattern and came to the west. He brought his master Gird, and to our amazement, the High Lord, the Singer of Songs, the Maker of Worlds, and Namer of All, opened for him a way. So we guardians—we Sinyi, and the dasksinyi and kapristi as well—made treaty with Selamis, Luap of Gird, and gave him leave to make use of that place and bring others. We set limits on that right, which he swore to uphold, and warned him of dangers. But he opened his heart to evil and from the rock freed those imprisoned there, with great effort and danger…”

Freeing prisoners … Falkians laid great store by that, but Luap was not supposed to be Falkian. The Marshal-General's head began to ache. “Who was imprisoned?” she asked.

“Those we do not name,” the elf said.

At a guess … “That would be iynisin,” Arianya said. “Unsingers, haters of trees and elves and men, is it not so?”

“It is so,” the elf said, through clenched teeth.

“And so more were loosed on the lands,” Arianya said. “A great wrong; I understand that. He broke faith with you, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“And so you prisoned his spirit in a wraith on the stone bridge?”

“No. That was not done by us. Nor were the men in the great chamber enchanted there by us. Had they been, we could have removed them. We cannot.”

She felt adrift again. “Then … who? Luap himself?”

“No. We do not know … we could not tell … but they must go.”

“How?” she asked. “If you cannot remove them, why do you think I could?”

“You must find a way. It is not … it is not safe. Not … stable … as it is. We must close the stone. There is evil—”

“There is always evil,” she said. “Evil has existed since the beginning—”

“No.”

The Marshal-General blinked. The elf must be wrong, but she realized arguing theology with an elf would not lead to anything useful. “When do you think evil began?” she asked.

“I do not know,” he said. “But I know the Singer sang no wrong notes, and the Maker's hammer struck the anvil truly, and the Namer spoke true names. Some of us think it began with the coming of the lateborn—humans and others—and some think it came with the First Tree's response—but we do not know. It was long and long—it would seem the beginning to you—but it was not.”

“And now you think more is coming.”

“Dragon flies,” he said, waving one arm sinuously. “The dasksinyi say Dragon removed his grace from them—”

She could not follow this, but it was not the time to ask questions. She had heard of the dragon that visited Vérella from High Marshal Seklis, though he had not seen the beast. He had also said something about Count Arcolin fostering a tribe of—was it dwarves or gnomes? She could not remember.

“We must close the stone forever,” he said. “And all humans must leave first or we cannot do it.”

“Do you have the iynisin confined again, then?”

“Not all. But your people must leave—both those you sent to study there and those enchanted.”

“I can order my people home,” Arianya said, “but I don't know how to wake the others.”

“Someone alive now does,” the elf said. “We can feel that.”

“Who?”

“We do not know. Beyond—I have not been so far sunrising since the first years after we came north.”

They had come north. That was more than Arianya had known. Questions sprang to her lips, but she held them back. Instead, she said, “Forgive my rudeness … we stand here talking when you could rest at ease and take refreshment. There is a garden.”

The elves all looked at the one with the crown, who finally nodded. “I accept your offer.”

They followed her from the hall, and she studiously ignored the looks cast at them by everyone in the courtyard. Instead she said, “It is a walled garden with fruit trees and flowers—the climate here is harsh for these things in the open. We will go through the building.”

Once the garden had opened to the courtyard—larger then—but now the only way to it was down a hall, through the small dining area, and then—on the left—it appeared. As they passed through the dining room, she spoke to a cook's assistant swabbing down one of the tables. “We'll need cool water, fruit, and some of those spiced cakes in the walled garden.”

When all were settled and had been served, Arianya tried to think what questions to ask. Enchanted magelords, yes … but how could the elves think that someone here knew how to wake them? And who could that be?

Dorrin, perhaps? Dorrin Verrakai, a magelord who still had mage powers. Could they have sensed Dorrin from afar? How? And should she tell these elves about Dorrin or send word to Dorrin herself, warning her?

“What do you know of the situation here?” Arianya asked. “Do you send messengers back and forth to the Ladysforest, for instance?”

“Never,” said the king. His face expressed extreme distaste.

Arianya blinked. She had assumed elves communicated from one of their realms to another just as humans did. She could think of nothing to say for a moment. Then she said, “You do know Lyonya has a new king … Kieri Phelan. I met him when he was Duke Phelan of Tsaia and none of us knew his parentage. Did you?”

No answer to that. She felt pressure in her head, almost like the start of a headache before a summer thunderstorm.

“Stop that,” she said without heat; the feeling vanished. She went on. “The king is half-elven; the Lady of the Ladysforest is his grandmother.” Again he said nothing; she went on. “But to your main problem, as you state it—the mageborn in that hall. I have no idea how to break that enchantment. We Girdish do not deal in magery. There is but one magelord I know of who is presently capable of effective magery.” Should she have said that? What would Dorrin Verrakai think if an elf king showed up in her house?

“You must tell the magelord to come to us and break the enchantment,” the king said.

“Me?” Arianya felt her brows rising. “I am not her commander. She is not Girdish but Falkian, and she is the vassal of Tsaia's king. You must go to her directly—or, better, to Tsaia's king—and gain his permission for anything she does.”

He shifted in his seat. “I have never been to Tsaia,” he said. “Is it far by road?”

Arianya had no idea what “far” meant to an elf who usually traveled from pattern to pattern. “Three hands of days, perhaps,” she said. “Longer if the river has flooded; it does most springs.”

He frowned. “I have no … no sight for Tsaia.”

Arianya had no idea what that meant.

“Perhaps I should go instead to visit the Lady's grandson, the new king, in Lyonya.”

“That would be a good idea,” Arianya said. She would like to see that meeting of kings.

“But you must recall those of your people—the Girdish—from the west,” he said. “For I do not know when we will be able to close the rock.”

“We would like to bring back the archives,” Arianya said. “I understand it was your land first, but what the humans there left—the writings, the things they made—are important to us. For our history.”

“History!” one of the other elves said, with a dismissive wave of the hand.

“History to us,” Arianya said firmly, “though but a blink of time to you. Since we do not live long, we need the records of past times to give us some guidance for the future.”

“How long will that take?” the king asked.

“I will ask our archivist,” Arianya said. “We have brought back some already. The archivist will know how much is left. How long can you stay? It may take a few days for the archivist to determine how many trips it will take.”

“We will go … I must prepare my kingdom for the longer journeys to eastern lands,” the king said.

“You could not send an ambassador?”

“I do not know,” the king said. “Would he be believed? Respected?”

“Why not?” Arianya said. “From what I know, both kings have dealt with elves before. King Kieri certainly has.”

The elven king frowned. “I will consider it. And for now we will leave open the patterns your people have used to go back and forth. Only you must bring them away as soon as you can.”

“How can I tell you when we are all gone?”

“We will know. We are watching.”

That was all he would say; the elves bowed courteously enough and then went back to the High Lord's Hall, stepped onto the transfer pattern, and disappeared.

“I wonder if it's their fault,” Marshal Pedar said. “Whatever they're doing to close the rock—could that be what's waking magery?”

“Or was it our first expedition out there?” Arianya wondered. “It seemed so reasonable, with the scrolls of Luap Paksenarrion brought to us … a joint expedition of humans, elves, dwarves, just to find out what happened.”

“So … Paksenarrion started it?”

Arianya shook her head. “I acquit her of that: whatever it was started long ago, before even Gird. But her finding those scrolls … that might be the shove that starts a boulder downhill.”

“What now?”

“I don't know. We cannot wake those enchanted magelords; that, I'm sure of. I don't know why the combined skills of the Elders will not wake them … what enchantment could be stronger than theirs?”

“A dragon's?”

“Perhaps, but … why would a dragon cast embattled magelords into enchanted sleep?” She rubbed her temples. “I thought the return of magery more than enough challenge for the Fellowship. I suppose I had best write the letters to both kings and also Duke Verrakai. I doubt they will know any better than I what to do, but at least they must know what the problem is.”

A
rian left Vérella with relief she carefully concealed from the king and court. They had been cordial; they had done everything they could think of—but to be surrounded by buildings and walls in spring, of all seasons—to be so distant from trees—stifled her. Besides, she had information Kieri needed, which she had not trusted to a courier, since at least one had disappeared between Chaya and Vérella.

Riding east with only her own Squires, her heart lifted with every league covered. Flowering trees, flowering hedges, drifts of flowers in some fields … Their perfume filled the air, and the various shades of spring green looked edible. It felt like a holiday—all the strain of trying to uphold Lyonyan honor in a foreign court past, and any duties to come days away.

At the border, the taig welcomed her, the sense of that living grace rising from the ground. Even riding up the scathefire track toward Chaya … Though the scar remained, ferns and flowers already grew along the margins where only natural fire had burned.

At last they came out of the forest track into the open and rode across the bridge onto the meadow just outside the palace. On the far side of the bridge, Kieri waited with his Squires. Behind them a small crowd stood waving flowering branches and cheering.