The Catswold Portal (9 page)

F
rom behind the draperies Melissa listened to the queen's muffled voice in the next chamber, heard the king reply to some question, then the queen snapped irritably at him. Slipping the mirror inside her bodice Melissa moved out from the draperies. Pressing against the door, she listened.

“…be a fool,” Siddonie was saying, “of course she is. You had a colossal nerve to approach
her.
And in public. Everyone saw you. Briccha has orders to confine her to the scullery. I have instructed the guards not to let her out of the palace. If you—”

“And I suppose you will put her in the dungeons,” he interrupted.

“And what of it?”

“You'll never train her if you lock her up. She will be no use to you.”

“And she will be no use to you,” Siddonie said coldly.

“Don't you understand that she would bring them all here, that they would destroy Affandar!” Another pause, then the
queen's voice came closer. Melissa fled to the draperies. Behind them, she opened the glass door and slipped out onto the balcony. She had a leg over the rail, searching for a foothold in the vines, when she saw three guards below and drew back.

She stood against the wall listening to their idle conversation. She heard an inner door open, but when after a very long time she heard nothing more from the chamber, she slipped inside.

Efil's room was empty. She crossed to the door and listened, then drew it open, faint with fear.

The solar was empty. She hurried across the pale carpet between the satin chairs and cracked open the outer door. When she saw no one in the hall, she fled to the back stairs and down. She was halfway down the first flight when she saw a guard below, walking the corridor. She drew back into the shadows. When he moved away, she slipped down past him, silent and quick.

She reached the storeroom at last, her heart thundering. She slipped behind a row of shelves as two girls went out carrying a big bag of flour between them. When they had passed she fled for the cellar door. She didn't breathe until she was through and closing the door behind her.

She brought no light; she felt her way down through the blackness. She hadn't reached the bottom when she heard a man shout above, and a door slam. She raced down into the stench of the Hell Beasts and fled past them. When she reached the Harpy's cage she was shaking. Now she brought a light, so glad to see the white womanbird she almost hugged her. She slipped the mirror from her bodice and the Harpy cried out, flapping her wings and reaching for it. Melissa held it away from her. “First show me the spell to free the prisoners. Then show me the five visions you promised, then you will have your mirror.”

“Don't be silly. I cannot make visions until I have my mirror.”

“You can make visions at great distances. You made visions in the queen's chambers. I will hold the mirror.”

“One vision.”

“Five visions. First, the spell.”

The Harpy sat down against the wall and turned her face away. But in Melissa's hands the mirror clouded, then reflected a stone wall.

The queen stood beside the wall in miniature that quickly enlarged until she seemed to stand beside Melissa. She was pressing her hands against the stone, speaking a spell of opening. Melissa had never heard these cadences. She memorized them at one hearing, but she made the Harpy show her again, to be sure. As the second vision faded she fled for the wall.

“Wait! My mirror! You can't…”

Pressing her hands against the stone, she cried out the spell. The stone under her hands vanished, and a ragged opening yawned. The stink of the cells made her gag. She stepped through, increasing her spell-light.

Inside the cages were crowded with men, ten and twelve to a cage, all watching her. They were thin, nearly naked, their beards straggling over bony chests. What clothes remained were shreds held together by matted filth. She saw hope in some eyes, fear and distrust in others. She repeated the spell and swung open the barred doors.

The prisoners surged out. As some brought spell-lights, she could see in their faces their despair etched deep. Three were not as thin as the others, and their beards were only stubble. She took the hands of stoop-shouldered Halek, and of thin little Methmen.

Methmen hugged her. He smelled terrible; they all did. She led them through the hole in the wall, then closed the barred doors and sealed the wall.

Halek said, “Did Mag send you?”

“She doesn't know I'm here. There is food above, on the next level.”

Halek sent six men up the dark stairs. They returned with hams, a barrel of crackers, a bag of apples, canned fruit, and ale. Halek said, “Drink the juice of the fruit. Wash yourselves with the ale. We're too weak for spirits; we'd be
drunk and couldn't fight.” They wolfed the crackers and ham, slashing the meat into chunks with Melissa's knife. She watched them straighten the metal barrel rings into blunt weapons, and she helped them rip the apple bag apart and bind the barrel staves together as cudgels. They ate the fruit and broke the jars into weapons, tying the broken glass onto the ends of the cudgels. Then Halek took her hand. “Come, there must be passages deep within the cellars.”

She drew back, pulling her hand away. “I can't come. There's something I must do. I will try to follow.”

The men stared at her, then turned away. Halek, distressed, reached to touch her face. “You are certain?”

“Yes, certain.” She watched them move away and begin to search along the walls for a hidden door, then she returned to the Harpy.

The womanbird said, “One vision, then I want my mirror.”

“You promised five visions.”

The Harpy combed her breast feathers with long fingers, looking sideways at Melissa, but at last she looked inward again, her gaze remote, and began to whisper in a soft, whistling bird language. The mirror's bright surface turned dark, then showed vast space unlike the Netherworld that faded into a dark forest with huge trees, not Netherworld trees. Images followed, quick and startling: a garden with flowers too bright to be real. A man, lean, bronze skinned, unlike a Netherworld man. Then a more familiar scene of the dark green Netherworld night. Flames reflected against the granite sky from torches set into a castle wall: not this castle but a dark, hulking structure. The vision was so real she felt that she stood beside the wall looking into the dark forest where armed shadows gathered, slipping toward her.

T
he torchlight guttered and hissed, sending shadows running down the castle walls as a band of armed rebels moved out of the woods carrying ladders. They tilted them against the thick stone walls, but as they climbed suddenly mounted soldiers swept out of the castle gates. They picked men off with quick arrows, toppled the ladders and skewered men with their blades.

The king's soldiers were making quick work of the small band, when from the forest boiled a mass of dark, small beasts running. Cats! They were cats. Hundreds of cats stormed the attacking soldiers and leapt onto the backs of their horses, raking claws into soldiers' faces then leaping up the wall, swarming over. Cats dropped into the palace courtyard and onto the backs of mounted soldiers. And suddenly the cats changed to human warriors whose eyes reflected light.

Melissa stared into the mirror as, within the courtyard, a king tried to rally his troops against the attacking cat-folk. He was a broad, dark-haired man, and there was something familiar about him. She watched him kneel beside two fallen soldiers, touching their bloody wounds. She saw him pull a third man from battle, a young man so like the king, he must surely be the king's son. She watched the two of them snatch a child from the fighting, a little girl wielding a bloody lance though she could not have been more than nine. The king shoved her at the wounded prince, and pushed them toward a door. “Save yourself—save your sister.” Melissa saw a woman join them, heard her whisper, “Ithilel.” The prince grabbed her arm and dragged her with
them as, behind them, the king turned to fight off their attackers. Then the king fell, with a sword in his chest. She saw the small daughter break free from her brother and run back to the king and try to lift him. She watched the three lift him and carry him through the battle, escaping down a dark passage.

In a cellar chamber son and daughter laid the dying king on the stone floor and knelt over him. The young woman moved apart from them, watching from the shadows. She had many-colored hair, all shades of gold. Beside the king, young Ithilel wept but the little girl's eyes held no tears, her dark eyes blazed. The dying king half rose, touching her face; then he stared toward the woman in the shadows. “How did the Catswold know my plan?”

“She is my wife,” the prince said hotly.

The king coughed blood. “You are a fool, Ithilel.
She
has destroyed us, she has used you.”

“No! She…”

Melissa caught her breath, realizing suddenly that if this was young Prince Ithilel, if she was seeing the fall of Xendenton, then the little girl was Queen Siddonie. But who was the young woman?

The king fixed his eyes on Ithilel. “If you were a man you would kill the Catswold traitor. Your wife has betrayed us. Do you not realize she has destroyed us?” He coughed, spitting blood, then looked evenly at Ithilel.

“There is no choice, you must go from the Netherworld. Take your cursed wife—do not leave her here to do more damage.” He turned from Ithilel and reached to the child Siddonie, taking her hand.

“You are the strong one. You must keep yourself safe, my child, until you can win back Xendenton.”

Siddonie's dark eyes were hard as glass. One thin hand remained clenched on her sword. “I will return.” She stared at her father, brazen with a queen's challenge. “And when I return I will rule more than Xendenton.” There were tears on her face, but she smiled coldly. “One day I will rule the Netherworld. And,” she said, smiling, “I will build a formi
dable power in the upperworld as well—in memory of you, Father. And for my own amusement.

“And,” she said, “I will take revenge on the Catswold beasts. Revenge such as they have never dreamed.” She knelt before the king straight as a shaft, waiting without tears for his death. But the dying king clasped her to him, holding her rigid little body, his white face buried in her black hair.

The king of Xendenton breathed his last.

Melissa watched in the mirror as the prince crossed his father's hands over his chest to protect him from the creatures of the Hell Pit that could come for the souls of the dead. He closed the king's eyes with two gold
griffons
and then, rising, he took up a heavy bag of jewels from an iron chest by the door, and jerked his young wife out of the shadows.

Prince Ithilel sealed the wall behind them, making of the secret chamber the king's burial tomb. They hurried along dark passages, the prince holding the young wife's wrist. At last he opened the passage wall with words like spitting snakes and pulled his wife through the gaping hole and stepped aside for the child.

They lit three of the oil lamps stored within the tunnel, and then began to climb up the black twisting way. Their journey became a montage of the miles of tunnel. Melissa saw deep cracks in the ancient earth, dark trickles of water, falling space; time tilted and changed, and the earth around them changed as they rose within it. Melissa thought many hours had passed when suddenly thunder echoed above them and they entered a tunnel with smooth pale walls and a floor of glazed tiles marked with occasional shallow puddles. Then, where a black rune marked the pale wall, the prince said an opening spell.

A portion of the wall swung back. They passed into another smooth tunnel lit from above by yellow lights which were not oil lamps. This passage led to an echoing basement. They climbed iron steps strewn with paper and bottles. At the top of the long flight they pushed out through a metal door into white fog. Lights sped past them incredibly
fast, smeared within the fog. A hissing noise ran with the lights, like wet snakes. The young woman drew back, afraid. The prince took her hand, urging her on. But Siddonie walked alone, small and erect, staring around her at this world with a sharp, canny interest.

The three refugees crossed half the city, climbing hills crowded with tall, pale buildings. High up, they left the fog behind them. It lay below them like a white sea. Now above them a black sky reeled away empty, pierced with lights that Melissa knew were stars. The vast space in which those stars swam terrified her.

Then came a scene of daylight painfully bright. Melissa could see through a large window the city spread below, the tall smooth buildings thrusting up through that vast space that was bright now, pale blue and awash with the yellow sun. She thought of elven tales of the sun. The yellow ball blinded her. The young wife stood at the window, her hair more golden than the sun. Behind her Ithilel and young Siddonie worked at a desk littered with papers. Another montage of scenes showed Siddonie and Ithilel writing in ledgers, entering figures, then the two out on the street, going into buildings carrying a leather satchel. She saw them enter a paneled room and empty Netherworld trinkets from the satchel onto a desk: emeralds, opals, diamonds, sapphires. She watched them trade these for a slip of paper. This happened many times. Their clothing became rich. Their dwelling changed to a huge house looking down at a bay. She saw servants, rich food, and rich fabrics. She saw in a last sharp scene the face of the child Siddonie looking directly into the mirror. Her black eyes were appraising and cold. Then Melissa was jerked back to the dungeons.

She felt as weary and drained as if she herself had made that terrible journey. Before her, the Harpy ruffled and stroked her white feathers. Melissa saw that the rebels were still in sight, searching the cellar as if no time had passed. She faced the Harpy crossly. “That was a fine vision but it told me nothing about who I am.”

The Harpy snorted with disgust. “Yes, it told you. You will figure it out soon if you are using your mind.” The beast looked hard at her then brought another vision. “After this I will have my mirror or I will yell so loud every guard in the palace will hear me.”