Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
Don't mention that name! It makes me want to scream! How are we going to get
Amalie to tell us. . . .
I can only think of one way, and you won't like it.
Mik, I have never forced rapport on anyone deliberately in my life! It is the thing I
hate most about the Alton Gift
—
and fear as well.
I suppose we could hold her feet to the fire until she tells us.
That is not funny! Damn you, Mikhail Hastur! She is right to fear me, isn't she? I
am
a
foul creature.
No, beloved, you are nothing of the sort. More to the point, you are nothing like your
ancestor. You are not cruel or power hungry. But we must find Varzil, and I don't
believe we have a lot of time.
And here I thought I was the logical one. Very well
—
but I loathe what I am about to
do.
Mikhail watched Marguerida as she closed her golden eyes and began to breathe
slowly and deeply. He could sense the energy in her tense body beginning to change,
and even though her shadow-matrixed hand was shielded by the mitts, he could feel
the power coursing along the hidden lines on her flesh.
Then, she opened her eyes and looked directly at Amalie, who was still sobbing into
her hands. There was a gasp, and the woman lifted her head. Two pair of golden eyes
met, and Amalie El Haliene tried to escape the gaze that pierced her consciousness.
Where is Varzil!
Please, please, do not hurt me. I must not tell you
—
you must not see him.
I will not hurt you.
You are her creature! Oh, Goddess
—
why am I so weak? If you obtain it, the world will
never be whole!
Obtain what?
Mikhail was listening intently, lending Marguerida his silent support, as he had done
before, knowing she needed it desperately. He could feel her self-loathing as she
pressed
Amalie for information. For someone who had had so little training, and had the Alton
Gift, she was incredibly gentle. She was not probing Amalie's mind as she might have
done, had she been a less ethical person, and was ignoring the fragments of memory
that spun in the Keeper's struggling mind. There were bits of her past, emotions she
was shamed by, experiences that were embarrassing, and he felt more than a little
discomfort at seeing as much as he did.
Then he saw something gleaming, something huge and faceted, which could not be
other than a starstone of remarkable size. It shone in his mind, glittering, drawing him
into it for an instant. There was a slight mental tug, as if a part of him had been linked
to that huge stone. His heart felt squeezed for an instant, and then the sensation was
gone.
The woman slumped back in her chair, her head lolling back.
"Is she ... ?"
"She just fainted from terror, Mik. She will be all right, or as well as she can be. She's
been tortured like this for years. But I think it would be better if we left before she
comes to. I
hate
this place, almost as much as she does."
"Does she?"
"Amalie wants to keep the Tower, but it will always be a place of torment for her."
"I see. And I think you are right. We have done all we can. But, what happened to the
rest of the people here? I sensed something while you were . . . but it was gone too
quickly.
"They were captured by one of those warlords, poor folk. She is genuinely distressed
about that. Come on." Marguer-ida started for the door, and he followed her.
"Why didn't they catch Amalie?"
"She knows a few tricks, I discovered." The disgust in her voice made him want to
weep, and he knew she hated herself for what she had just done. "Amalie learned how
to make herself almost invisible telepathically—which probably saved her life while
Ashara was Keeper here. What a tragedy."
There seemed nothing to say, so Mikhail went down the stairs behind her. He was
tired, but part of him was very excited. He was going to meet Varzil the Good, perhaps
the single greatest man in the history of his world—if he didn't slip on the stairs and
break his neck! He made himself put one weary foot in front of the other until he
reached the (entryway.
25
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the crow greeted them. Then it flew onto
Mikhail's shoulder and rubbed its beak tenderly across the arch of his ear. He lifted a
hand and stroked the shining feathers softly, as the crow shifted from foot to foot.
Marguerida had already left the Tower, and was standing in a little courtyard looking at
the predawn twilight. The air was cold and crisp, but it did not feel like winter. He
glanced at the sky. There were a few clouds, but it was fairly clear, and he could see
the constellations he had memorized long ago. Astronomy, except for the movement of
the moons, was not a science much practiced on Darkover, but his desire to travel to
other worlds had made him curious, and he had learned the rise and set of the
constellation called Aldones, which was below the horizon until the onset of spring.
The constellation Zandru, centered on the baleful red star called Antares by the
Terranan was visible at the beginning of winter. These, plus Avarra in fall, and Evanda
in summer, were a calendar in the night.
He looked towards the eastern horizon, and saw the head and shoulders of Aldones,
down to the bright, white star that depended from the belt. Yes, it was almost spring
here. He could see Idriel rising, and knew that day would soon follow her.
He walked toward Marguerida, and found her breathing deeply, filling her lungs with
air, as if drinking a rare vintage. "It doesn't even smell like Darkover, Mik." She had
dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders were drooping.
"What?" He sniffed. "Hmm. You are right. I wonder why?"
"Well, I never smelled this carrion scent before, as if
there were a field of carcasses nearby. And there is another odor—ugh! Hot and cold at
the same time. Come on—let's get away from here. I can feel Ashara in the very stones
of this place, for she has walked here, even sat on that little bench. I can feel her
everywhere in the Tower, as if she imprinted herself on the walls themselves."
"She seems to have had a talent for making stones do her bidding, doesn't she?"
Marguerida shuddered. "I wish we had brought -our horses, even though I do not know
if horses can travel in time. I hope Dorilys is all right."
*"Don't worry. I am sure those Guardsmen have both Charger and Dorilys well in
hand, and have probably taken them down to the inn near Hali. They are most likely in
a warm barn, eating their heads off. And speaking of such, there should be some sort of
stable here."
"I will ride a donkey to get away from here! We must hurry, Mik. I don't think Ashara
knows about me yet, but she will soon." Her beautiful voice was thick with terror and
exhaustion. Mikhail could only marvel quietly at her strength, knowing what entering
Amalie's mind had cost her.
"Why do you think that?"
"She knew that I would exist, though I am not sure how. She was determined to
destroy me before I destroyed her. None of that has happened yet. But I am starting to
wonder if the reason she was waiting for me was that she had already encountered me
here."
"That doesn't make any sense at all, Marguerida."
She gave him a weak smile and blinked away .an unshed tear. "That is why they call it
a paradox, my dearest."
They left the little courtyard, following a worn path and their noses. The distinctive
odor of manure drew them to the stables, and they found, to their surprise and delight,
several horses standing in the stalls, munching hay and stamping their hooves. Two
were huge beasts, clearly bred for pulling carts or carriages, and one was an old mare,
the whiskers around her-,>muzzle white with years.
But there were three others, a roan gelding and two dun mares, which looked young
and healthy. The roan poked its head out through the end of its stall and twitched its
ears at the sight of strangers. Then there was a little rustling
noise, and Mikhail saw a young man appear in the shadowy light of the barn. He was
rubbing sleep from his eyes, and he had hay in his lank hair. His clothing was worn and
filthy, and he stank, even at a, distance of ten paces.
"Wha?" The man stared at them with vacant eyes, and rubbed his head in
bewilderment.
"We need horses," Mikhail replied quietly.
The fellow gave a cackle that sent shivers up Mikhail's spine, a gruesome sound. "I ken
no one was here but me and them." He made a rude wave at the animals. "Bandits," he
added, smacking his wide lips. "Ye be bandits."
"No, we are not thieves." Mikhail hated the idea of being a horse thief, even in these
odd circumstances.
"Ye doan belong heres."
"Mik, I think he is a little slow." Marguerida had been standing in a deep shadow, but
as she spoke, she stepped from it, and the man gaped at her. The hood of her cloak was
down, revealing the windswept tangle of her abundant red hair, half of which had
escaped from the amethyst-encrusted clasp she had worn at the ball.
The stableman stared at Marguerida for a moment, then gave a clumsy bow. "I never
heard of no women bandits." Then he turned away, shaking his head as if he could not
make heads or tails out of the situation. Mikhail watched him go, then unlatched the
wooden catch that held the roan's stall door closed, and began to lead the gelding out
of it.
He turned at a dragging sound, and found the man had returned, pulling two saddles
behind him. One had a high cantle, and was clearly intended for battle, but the other
was recognizably a woman's saddle, for riding sidewise.
"I am
not
going to ride in that thing—I would fall off in twenty paces!"
"No, of course not." Mikhail agreed with her, though he was sure that women did not
ride astride in this time, or at least women of the Comyn never did. "You, there, bring
another saddle for the lady—not a woman's but a man's."
The young man gaped at him, then let both saddles fall to the floor with a soft thump.
Then he scratched his dirty head, his crotch, and just stood there clearly confused.
"Never mind. I'll find one myself, Mik. We have to get out of here as soon as possible!
I can't stand this place!"
She lunged through the barn, pushing a tangle of fine hair off her face with an
impatient gesture. "I should cut the damn stuff off," he heard her mutter.
The gelding had taken his scent, and Mikhail began to saddle the animal, talking softly
to it. It seemed to be a steady beast. He threw a worn blanket over the back, then lifted
the saddle up. It was much heavier than those he was accustomed to, awkward and
difficult to get into place.
Finally, Mikhail had the saddle on the horse's back, and he began to work the
unfamiliar cinches and straps. He had just gotten them into place when he heard
Marguerida return, lugging another high-cantled saddle behind her, cursing softly. She
used a mixture of Darkovan, Terran, and some tongues he did not recognize, a muddle
of abuse that was remarkable in its variety.
He left the roan, went to the stall where one of the dun mares waited, and opened the
door. He led the animal out, then started to saddle it for Marguerida. She was strong,
but she would never be able to raise the heavy thing alone. He watched her put the bit
and bridle on the mare as he pulled the straps into position and tightened them.
Before they mounted, Mikhail tried to think of anything he should do before they left.
He decided some extra blankets would be a good idea, and found a couple of horsey-
smelling ones in the tack room. He was hungry, and the mulled wine had made him a
bit muzzy. Still, he could not bring himself to go back into the tower and ask Amalie
for food. He tied the blankets behind the cantle, and swung up into the saddle.
Marguerida was already on her horse, looking anxious and wan. "Which way?"
"Toward the Lake. Varzil is somewhere to the north of us—more I cannot guess. I can
sense his presence, but he is hidden in some fashion."
"I know. He doesn't want Ashara to find him." The grim note in her voice as she spoke
the hated name of her nemesis made the hairs on the nape of his neck bristle. "He is
dying, but he is still more powerful than she is, powerful enough to conceal himself.
And something else is distracting her. I am sure of that. And grateful.
“If I could hide,
I would. I feel as if I will be discovered at any moment.
They set out from the
Tower as the dawn turned into
day. Mikhail noticed a stand of balsam trees, and another of some shrubs he had never
seen before. How much had Darkover changed since the Ages of Chaos? How many
plants and animals had been lost in the many devastating wars of the period?
After perhaps a mile's ride along the road that ran to the north of the Tower, toward