The Shadow Matrix (33 page)

another. She was sure you would take Vincent and be gone within a tenday! If I had not

let you come, then Regis Hastur, may his name be cursed, would have tried to force me

to his will. She said he would do that, if I did not. She tried to make you go away, but

you were stronger than she expected. And the time was growing short."

"Emelda did all this, not ,the Guardian thing?"

"Certainly not! It does not concern itself with such mundane matters." Priscilla looked

offended at the idea. "It is a great being."

Mikhail, she is lost in some terrible delusion. There is nothing you can do to reach her

now.

"Domna,
the children are no longer yours to order," Mikhail said slowly. He knew, in

his bones, that it was not going to be as simple as taking the children away from Halyn

House. He wished he had the counsel of someone older and more experienced, but

there were only himself and Liriel. Her corning had precipitated the crisis, for if he had

not brought her, he would almost certainly have succumbed to the slow poisoning of

his mind that Emelda had wrought. "I am going to have to take all of the children

away, and you as well." He could not help the sorrow in his voice, the sadness he felt

for this poor, crazed woman. "You are ill, and we must see that you are taken care of."

For a moment there was silence in the room. Then Priscilla drew herself up to her full

height, cloaking herself in a dignity he had never seen her demonstrate before.

"Tremble, little man, tremble. You will die, as all who oppose me perish."

Before he could think of any suitable answer, she swept from the room in a flutter of

draperies, leaving Emelda on the floor as if the soothsayer were a discarded garment.

"What in Zandru's hells do you think she meant?"

"You don't understand! You cannot understand. Emelda told me ..."

"A great many foolish things, in all likelihood. Why have you let this little hedge-witch

nearly destroy your children?"

"No, no—she was strengthening them for their change!"

Mik, it is useless to argue with her. She is not sane any longer
—
if she ever was. She

seems to think that soon the children will be transformed into . . . well, angels is the

best I can come up with. Some sort of immortal, as much as I can gather from what she

is thinking.

Wonderful. What should I do?

Your responsibility is to these children. Alain is never going to be well again, but we

might be able to salvage the rest. We must get them away from this dreadful place

now!

What about Priscilla and Emelda? And, for that matter, this Guardian thing they keep

talking about?

Burning Emelda's stone has neutralized her for the moment, though I suspect she is so

far gone that she will return to her former habits as soon as she can.

Who is she? You seem to know her.

I do, though it took me a while to recognize her. She was a blonde when I knew her,

and weighed about twenty pounds more. She came to Tramontana about three and a

half years ago, wanting training, and the Keeper tested her. I don't know the details,

but she was rejected.

But she is a capable telepath. I find it hard to believe that the
leronis
let her leave.

I am unclear about that part. She just vanished one night. As to what happened, we

may never know.

Priscilla staggered to her feet, letting Emelda slip back to the floor. She was breathing

shallowly, and her eyes were like great pools of ice. "I will not permit you to continue

as Regent for my children! If you try to take them away— I know that you are going to

try—I will unleash the Guardian, and nothing can stand up to it! It is more powerful

than any mortal, and more loving." She pressed shaking hands to her modest bosom.

"Now, children, come to your mother. We are going to go to my rooms until these

people leave tomorrow."

Only Alain stirred at all, and he with great reluctance.

"She meant," Vincent answered, "that she is going to call the Guardian." He shuddered

a little. "The only thing is, it is rather difficult to rouse, even during the summer when

it is most active."

"Vincent, what is this Guardian?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've only seen it in trances, and the memory is very faint. It

has nothing to do with me, only with the others." Vincent cast a contemptuous look at

his brothers and sisters.

"What have you seen?" Liriel demanded.

"Something long and skinny that shines."

Miralys was shivering. "It crawls in your brain, doesn't it, Emun? That's what you told

me."

"Mother told me never to talk about it," Emun whispered, looking more and more

anxious. "I never should have told you that—it will come and get us now." Emun's fear

was obvious, even to the bewildered Guardsmen, and Alain was sobbing noisily.

What do you think, Liri? Something like the Sharra Matrix
—
gods forbid!

No, it doesn't have that feel to it. But the children are not good witnesses. They have

been terrified for years with this bogey, and I cannot tell how much of it is this

Guardian and how much is Emelda's meddling. But I think that it might be a
chieri.

Those are never hostile, are they?

No, as far as 1 know. Yet both of the girls have a great deal of
chieri
blood in them, if I

am not mistaken. And from the impression I received from Priscilla, she thinks of the

Guardian as a loving thing.

If it is loving, why has it been terrorizing the children?

I believe that is more Priscilla or Emelda's influence than anything else. Do the locals

fear this Ghost at the Springs?

No, not that I know of. They seem to hold it in awe, but they are unwilling to discuss it

very much. :
Emelda began to move then, and Liriel bent down and hauled the little

soothsayer up by the front of her gown. With a ruthlessness he had never suspected his

sister of possessing, Mikhail watched her examine the other woman as if she were an

insect. He could sense that she was monitoring Emelda not at all gently.

Liriel released Emelda and turned to Mikhail. "We will remain awake, I think, for the

night."

"Yes, I agree. And keep the children here." Emelda seemed shriveled now, and older

than she had appeared a few hours before. Her thin shoulders were stooped, and her

black eyes were dull and lusterless. "It will not do you any good," she muttered.

"Asleep or awake, you will be dead before sunrise." Then she cast a longing look at the

log where her jewel still rested in the • fire. The flames were lower, as the log burned

away, and the stone shone in the dancing light, clear and seeming quite innocuous.

By midnight the dining room was quiet, the children having settled as well as they

could into their chairs, drawing them close to the fireplace. Mikhail had ordered

Duncan to bring blankets from the bedrooms, and the youngsters were bundled up in

them. All the children looked anxious, except Alain who did not really understand what

was happening.

Val stood abruptly, and Mikhail started. But the youngest girl was only putting her

blanket on the floor. She gave him a twinkling grin. He knew she was not nearly as

cheerful as she looked, only a bit more resilient than the rest.

He picked up another small log and added it to the fire. The sound of embers falling

onto the hearth seemed enormous in the stillness of the room. Outside, the wind had

lessened to a breeze.

In his mind, Mikhail began to go over the preparations he had to make for leaving

Halyn House in the morning. He knew he had to get the children away—and quickly—

Guardian or no Guardian. He was glad of the men that Liriel had brought, for he

suspected that removing Priscilla Elhalyn was going to be a cat-fight. But his primary

concern was the well-being of the youngsters. He had to keep them safe, not for the

kingdom, and not to release him from the Regency, but because they were unable to

protect themselves.

It gave him a peculiar sensation, to feel this degree of devotion to a bunch of brats he

had barely known two months before. They had grown on him, even Alain, who was

so pathetic. He had never before experienced the quiet

passion he felt for these odd children, and he began to wonder if he would feel that

way about his own some day. Parenting, he decided, was a great deal more complex

than he had ever imagined.

They would need blankets, food, cloaks, and such warm clothing as the children

possessed. He would take not only the horses which had drawn Liriel's carriage, but

another team as well. He tried to remember if there was a harness in the stables for a

team of four.

Suddenly, the light of the fire seemed to dim, casting dark shadows in the corners of

the room. Alain jerked in his chair. The room seemed colder now, and there was a

smell in the room, a faint minty scent that was pleasant.

WHO DISTURBS MY REST?
Mikhail felt the question rattle his mind—a booming sort

of voice that sounded like thunder.

No one,
Liriel replied quickly. She threw Mikhail a brief look.

WHO CALLS ME FROM SLEEP?
Mikhail had the sensation of being thoroughly

examined in a moment, then discarded just as rapidly. The children, on the other hand*

reacted as if they had been hit by a bolt of lightning.

Val shot up from her cocoon of blankets, and Mira pulled hers over her head, as if she

could escape the voice by hiding. Vincent leaped to his feet, roaring and shaking his

fist. "Get out of my mind!" he howled.

Then Alain began to convulse again, and Mikhail strode toward him. Emun whimpered

a little, then stuffed his knuckles into his mouth and bit down hard.

By the time Mikhail reached Alain, the youngster's back was arched, and he was

choking on his own saliva. The slender body was racked with convulsions, great waves

of muscular tremors that raced along his arms and legs. He turned the young man to

one side, feeling more powerless than he ever had before.

Vincent staggered to his feet, roaring, and then rammed his head into the wall. Daryll

and Tomas rushed to him, grabbed his arms, and dragged him away from the wall as

blood began to course down the high forehead. Vincent fought them with amazing

strength, and managed to pull free of Daryll. He balled a fist and swung wildly at the

Guardsman.

The sound of laughter rang out in the room, loud enough to be heard even above

Vincent's fury and the screams of the younger children. It was Emelda, and the sound

of it was like the shriek of the wind.

"Now you are going to die!" She sounded quite pleased with this prospect, and not the

least afraid. Mikhail could have killed her himself.

WHO DISTURBS ME?
The booming mental voice nearly knocked Mikhail off his

knees.

I,
Priscilla Elhalyn, your servant, have called you. Destroy these impudent intruders!

So that I and my children can come to you as has been appointed.

I DO NOT DESTROY!

These are enemies, and they will prevent me from bringing the children!

I WANT NO CHILDREN! LEAVE ME IN PEACE, WOMAN. YOU HAVE PESTERED

ME ENOUGH!

Now the Guardian sounded annoyed more than anything else. Vincent was still

struggling to get free of the Guardsmen. The younger children were quiet now, too

quiet.

But you promised that I could.
...

DELUDED FEMALE. I PROMISED NOTHING. GO AWAY.

I must bring the children to you, so that they may . . .

SILENCE!

The dining room became very still then, and Vincent stopped struggling. The sound of

the fire and the ragged breathing of the company were the only noises. Even Alain's

seizure ceased, and he went slack and boneless in Mikhail's hands.

Then there was a single wail from the back of the house, a half scream that made the

hairs on Mikhail's neck bristle and his body go cold with fear. It ended abruptly, in

midcry, and he knew that Priscilla Elhalyn had died in that moment.

Emelda knew it, too, and her eyes went wide with panic. She tried to rise from the

chair where she was bound, her clawlike hands scrabbling at the ropes they had used to

bind her. "No, no. It isn't supposed to be like this! We were going to live forever! We

were going to be gods!"

Liriel rose from beside Miralys, drawing herself up

grandly. A fine sheen of moisture gleamed on her face, and her gown rested damply

against her bosom. There were lines of weariness around her mouth, and her red hair

had half escaped from the butterfly clasp, so she presented the appearance of having

just risen from sleep. In spite of this, she was a dignified figure, strong and sure of

herself, and Mikhail regarded her with awe.

"Only gods are gods, not human beings," she told Emelda.

Outside the window of the dining room, a rough caw sounded, as if the crow agreed.

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