The Naming (44 page)

"I. . . I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what happened." The sense of power that had so dizzied her before was still there, but now it no longer muddled her mind. She felt completely lucid, her mind clearer perhaps than it had ever been. Her first thought was that she could not let Enkir know that she recognized him. It would probably make no difference; he was no doubt signing her death warrant in his head right now. Her name was enough for that.

Slowly she got to her feet, and then turned to the table of Bards and bowed. She saw Nelac to her left, staring at her in concern.

"I ask the Bards of the First Circle and you, Enkir, First Bard, to forgive my weakness," she said. "I was overwhelmed by the honor of being here." Her voice was steady and certain, and Cadvan glanced at her with surprise.

"Then please sit down," snapped Enkir. She met his eyes, veiling her expression with polite humility; he stared at her coldly. She realized that he could do nothing to her here, in front of all the First Circle, without revealing his treachery. She took her place at the table, between Saliman and Cadvan, and the Council began.

Saliman spoke first, telling of increasing pressures in the Suderain: continual harassment from the forces of the Black Sorcerer Imank in Den Raven, which was increasing in both frequency and power.

"We are now hard beset, and if we fall, then all Annar lies open to the Black Army," he said. "So the Circle of Turbansk sent me to ask for help. I have traveled north and east in Annar since this winter, and I think now that help cannot come. Your borders are already threatened. Yet still I ask." He nodded and sat down.

"We will consider this," said Enkir. "Thank you, Saliman of Turbansk. And now, Cadvan of Lirigon. We hear that you come bearing news from the north." He glanced at Maerad as he said this, and despite her resolve, she shivered.

Cadvan spoke first of his capture and subsequent escape from the Landrost. "It is very clear to me now," he concluded. "From what I saw in the Landrost's throne room, I am certain that the Nameless One has indeed returned and that the recent troubles of Annar do, as some of us have feared, stem from his stratagems."

An audible stir went around the table.

"I remain to be convinced," said Enkir, staring at Cadvan with dislike. Maerad looked between the two Bards: surely they were somehow alike? A dreadful doubt began to stir within her; she struggled with some memory, something the Hulls had said....

"But of course there are many of the lesser Dark who would like us to believe such a thing. You admit yourself you were weakened, and I question your judgment. How can you be so sure that you are not misled, Cadvan of Lirigon?"

"If I am indeed a Truthteller, then what I saw in the throne room was true," Cadvan answered. "But tell me, Enkir of Norloch,"—and here Maerad caught a flash of mockery in his eyes—"what makes you so certain that he will
not
return? Has not the Lore always spoken of that as a certainty?"

"The Lore is open to many interpretations, as well you know, Cadvan of Lirigon," answered Enkir. "I counsel caution on this subject."

"Hulls ride openly in Annar, the Schools are threatened or corrupted, we are beset from all sides: evil fears, long chained, are awoken in this land, and you counsel caution!" said Cadvan heatedly.

"What do you mean?" asked another Bard. "Saliman spoke of Hulls...."

"I have not finished my tale, Tared," Cadvan replied. "I beg you, bear with me. Before I journeyed down the Empty Realm to the east of the Annova and was captured by the Landrost, I went, as I was instructed, north to Zmarkan. I traveled there from west to east, and I heard many rumors of unrest and travail. Many people, and not all of them fools, say that a black power has awoken there, an ancient power. I followed the rumors to their source, as far north as I could go. There, in the wastes, a shadow is spreading. I saw from afar the peaks of its fortress, and I felt its deadly breath. I can think only one thing: the renegade Elidhu, the Ice Witch, the Winterking himself, is now woken from his long sleep, and seeks to reestablish his sway over the north."

There was an astonished silence.

"Surely this cannot be!" said a short Bard on Cadvan's right. "The Winterking was banished beyond the circles of the world, long, long ago." He shook his head.

"It cannot be, Caragal, and yet it is so," said Cadvan, turning to face him. "Just as some say the Nameless cannot return, and yet he does."

Caragal nodded sadly. "The Flame ever darkens," he said. "I cannot argue that."

"Now," said Cadvan, "we come to the nub of this tale. For it seems to me certain, as I have said, that all the signs we have traced in the past years are, as we feared, the mark of the Nameless as he prepares his most deadly assault against the Light. And worse, that he has made alliance with the Winterking. I suspect that the Nameless himself brought him back."

"There are many kinds of shadow," said Enkir mockingly. "We must not leap in fear to the worst conclusions."

"I am convinced of his return," said Cadvan. "And I think if we do not move now, then we are lost."

"Move where?" Enkir smiled. Maerad thought it as cold as
the glimmer of winterlight over frost. "Always you were impulsive, Cadvan of Lirigon, and apt to leap where the more wise might pause and see an abyss."

"Do you claim that I lie?" said Cadvan. He seemed calm, almost serene, but Maerad sensed an overwhelming anger rising within him. There was a tense pause, and then Enkir smiled again.

"I would not have the temerity to say any such thing," he answered smoothly. "I say only that what you suggest is unlikely in the extreme. The Winterking, the Nameless: such figures are shadows from a child's tale of fear. I think, for all your well-meaning enthusiasm, that you are mistaken, Cadvan of Lirigon."

The insult was clear, and Maerad saw a faint flush in Cadvan's cheek. He took Enkir's eye and held it, and it seemed the two wrestled together, although neither moved. Maerad held her breath. They
were
alike. She could not say how. Her heart hammered painfully in her breast. At the last, it was the older Bard who desisted and looked down.

"Your arrogance will be your downfall, Cadvan of Lirigon," he said, and his voice was icy with rage. "It takes no Seer to prophesy that."

There was another uncomfortable silence. The Nine seemed all to be inspecting their fingernails, except for Nelac, whose face betrayed exasperation: whether with Cadvan or with Enkir, Maerad could not tell. At length, Caragal stirred. "I think, Enkir, we should give some credence to this. I myself am disturbed by the movements of Hulls."

"There is more," said Cadvan. "I have yet to tell the bulk of my tale, and the news of most importance."

Maerad looked at him with a silent plea, willing Cadvan to stop, to say nothing of his suspicions that she was the Foretold, not to betray her to Enkir. Mistaking it for nerves, he smiled at her reassuringly, and then plunged into the tale of their adventures. Maerad's heart shrank, colder and colder, as he spoke. She saw Enkir shooting glances at her, and each glance was deadly. How could Cadvan not know?

Suddenly, with a blinding shock at her own folly, she remembered what had been nagging her earlier. Cadvan had known one of the Hulls who attacked them in the Broken Teeth on the Edinur Downs. Likud. That was his name. What had he said?
Think we have forgotten, Cadvan, how eagerly you studied the secrets of the Dark?

Maerad stopped listening and sank into a black reverie. Was Cadvan a traitor as well? Her soul felt as if it were dying within her, but she bleakly followed her thoughts. Treachery was what had killed her mother; if she wasn't careful, it could be the cause of her own death as well. Maybe Cadvan and Enkir were rivals in the service of the Dark; maybe that was the real source of the enmity between them. And if so, she was trapped, a trophy to be bartered between them, until such time as she was no longer useful.

She suddenly felt unutterably lonely, more lonely than even in the worst days at Gilman's Cot. She was on her own now. As she had always been, since her mother was murdered:
murdered twice,
she thought bitterly,
once by Enkir, and once by Gilman.
No, she had Hem, at least she had Hem. Now she had to find Hem and get out of Norloch, out of Enkir's clutches. Could she trust Cadvan? She always had; but perhaps the friendship he had shown her had all been sham, a pretense to lull her into his power. How well did she know him, really?

But now Enkir was speaking, his voice sharp with disbelief. Or was it rage? "And you are asking us to believe that this girl, who not three months ago was a mere slave, this girl, whom you admit freely can barely read, who has not the fortitude even to walk into the Crystal Hall without fainting, is the One who was Foretold?"

"I have told you the evidence," said Cadvan calmly. "It is compelling, and I think at least we have to say that it is likely. At the very least, we must instate her, so we can be sure whether it is so or not."

Saliman, who had been staring down at the table through all of Cadvan's narration, now looked up. "I think that perhaps the Dark is more apt to move than we are, and perhaps quicker to recognize its own danger," he said. "It would seem to me a serious misjudgment to forbid this. I too have heard the evidence, and I believe that Cadvan is correct. I urge you to consider his advice seriously."

"The Nameless returns, the Winterking stirs, and the Foretold appears in the guise of a wretched girl?" Enkir's eyes flashed with malice. "It is a pretty bundle of news you bring with you, and no mistake. You should be a troubador, Cadvan of Lirigon, and travel the hamlets, scaring the peasants. It will not do here."

There was an uncomfortable pause, and Enkir cast Maerad another look of dislike. "Do not think I have not had separate word of this .. . discovery of yours," he said. "You do not have a monopoly on information, Cadvan of Lirigon. If you think to surprise me, you are wrong. The only thing that surprises me is your temerity."

A clear vision of Helgar gazing at her spitefully during the Council in Innail rose in Maerad's mind. She felt suddenly certain that Helgar had sent word to Enkir of the Innail Meet. Perhaps Helgar, who was a Bard of Ettinor, was a Hull too? It was all so confusing.. . . And the force of the Light beating in that room seemed to be growing stronger again; it made thinking difficult. Her head began to pulse with an incipient headache.

Nelac spoke for the first time. "I am convinced of the truth of this argument," he said. The other Bards turned to look at him, listening gravely. "It would risk little to instate her, and I fear what may happen if we do not. I too strongly counsel this action. I recommend that we instate Maerad of Pellinor with the greatest urgency."

"The true treachery lies in those who seek to distract us with false fears, dispersing our proper vigilance," said Enkir dangerously. "I must ask why you seek to present us with such arguments, at such a time?"

There was an electric silence.

"My fealty to the Light is without question, and I wonder that you impugn it," said Nelac quietly. "I suggest you think again, Enkir."

"It is not your fealty I question, Nelac," said Enkir, unable to hide his spite. "I know you have a blind spot where Cadvan of Lirigon is concerned. Perhaps the soft partiality of a mentor for his former student might be excused, but we all know that Cadvan's history is a little ... checkered."

At this, Maerad looked up. Had she been blind? Again and again people had hinted of something dubious in Cadvan's past. Why had she so blithely taken no notice of them?

"I do not doubt Nelac's good will," said a dark-haired Bard next to Nelac. "Nevertheless, I think, like Enkir, that Cadvan's tale beggars belief." Several others nodded. "There are so many other explanations for the ills that beset our realm. This is only the most fantastic."

Enkir glared at Nelac. "It is not so easy to become a Bard of the White Flame. It would be an insult even to consider instating a boy of this inexperience to such a height, let alone a girl. I forbid it. I will waste my time discussing this matter no more; my judgment has been given. We shall give thought to the other issues raised here, and make our doom known."

He looked around the table and met the gaze of each Bard of the First Circle. Only Nelac, Caragal, Tared, and another Bard, whom Maerad had not heard speak, shook their heads.

"Five against four. You are outvoted, Nelac. The First Circle has decided." Enkir looked to Nelac with a flash of triumph. "The petitioners are dismissed."

Maerad had listened to the debate indifferently. It no longer mattered to her whether she was instated or not. She felt a bile rising in her throat, a hatred of all these men, a hatred of Enkir most of all—Enkir, the most treacherous. He was, she thought, out of place at a round table; he should be in a high seat with his minions at the level of his knees.

All the Bards stood and bowed, and wordlessly Maerad, Cadvan, and Saliman left the Crystal Hall. Behind her, Maerad heard the Bards sit down again, their voices rising in argument.

She paced dully through the streets of the First Circle, blind to the beauty around her. Her thoughts made her feel nauseous. If Cadvan was a traitor, she felt that she couldn't bear it. But how could she trust him now?

^XXIII

OLD
 
SCARS

THAT was a total disaster," said Saliman disgustedly. He unbuckled his sword and leaned it against the wall. "Well, first things first. I sorely need a drink."

They had walked back to Nelac's house in oppressed silence. Maerad was wrapped deeply in her thoughts; she was scarcely aware of the other two Bards.

"A glass of good ale would be very welcome," Cadvan said to Saliman. "You'd probably get something in the kitchens, if you asked Brin."

"I'll see if I can find anything," said Saliman, and he left the room.

"I'm sorry," said Cadvan, smiling at Maerad crookedly. "I knew it would be a challenge to convince the First Circle; but I confess the depth of resistance to your instatement surprised me. I thought that there would have been room for some doubt there, given what we had to say."

Maerad glowered at him, and he looked taken aback.

"It's not the end of the world," he said. "There are other alternatives. When Nelac returns, we'll be able to discuss what to do. The best possible course would have been to have you instated in the sight of the Bards of Annar. That has now been strictly forbidden." Cadvan settled into a chair by the fire, taking off his own sword. "Sit down, Maerad," he said, waving his hand. "And look not so black; our failure is no reflection on you."

Maerad lifted her eyes to his and stared into him. For the
first time Cadvan realized the force of her fury, and for a second he looked staggered. He started out of the chair.

"By the Light, Maerad, what's wrong?" he said. "We just failed to convince a few Bards. That's a setback, I agree—"

"Where's Hem?" Maerad's voice was cold and hard.

"I don't know. Probably in the kitchens."

"I'll go find him." She turned to leave, but Cadvan took her arm and spun her around, earnestly examining her face. At last he spoke softly. "What's wrong, Maerad? What's happened to you?"

"Perhaps I have no need of you." Maerad looked at him with hatred. No, she wouldn't be taken in by his wiles this time.

"Have you gone mad?" Cadvan's face was pale, and the whiplashes stood out starkly against it. For a second Maerad faltered.

"No." She thought again of the Hull Likud at the Broken Teeth, and hardened herself. "Please let go of my arm."

"What's possessing you?" Cadvan said. "Where would you go by yourself? Do you think that you and Hem would have a chance, with Hulls all over Annar hunting you down?"

Maerad glared at him scornfully and shook herself free of his grasp. "I've managed before," she said. "I might do better if I'm not traveling with a Hull in the first place."

The blood drained out of Cadvan's face, and his hand fell nervelessly to his side. For a few seconds he was speechless. Then he gazed intently into her eyes, and spoke softly in the Speech.
Il ver umonor imenval kor, dhor Dhillareare de niker kor.

The words fell as gently as rain into Maerad's mind, but she winced as if they bruised her. "By all we have suffered together, by the sworn bond you owe me as your teacher, and by the deeper bond you owe me as your friend, I bid you tell me now: what has happened to you, Maerad of Pellinor?"