Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 03 (40 page)

 
          
“Still
I am loath to ... she was about to say, take that risk, but thought better of
it, amending the sentence to, “remove it even for so short a time. When Sister
Lavia presented us with the stones she was insistent that we should not remove
them.”

 
          
Eyrik
shrugged, his tone light as he suggested, “Surely that was when danger
threatened? Were you not then intent on a descent into the underworld?”

 
          
It
was a reasonable enough presumption and Wynett found it impossible to judge
whether some deeper design lay behind it. Indeed, she was more confused now
than before. Eyrik’s explanation of the images seemed plausible within the
utterly implausible parameters of this strange place, where—her own eyes gave
clear evidence—the natural laws governing the world she knew did not apply. Yet
his explanation gave clear reason to distrust the pool, and her instincts told
her that she should from henceforth ignore it; but were she to do that, she
would be entirely dependent on Eyrik for any news of Kedryn, and it came to her
that she might easily lose her sanity in this irrational place should she find
herself cut off from all knowledge of Kedryn. The pool was a temptation, both
alluring and forbidding; a quandary.

 
          
Further,
she thought
,
if those suspicions she had felt were
true, then likely some intent other than her peace of mind lay hidden within
his suggestion. But if he told the truth . . . then by means of the talisman
she might ascertain the reality that applied to her; and if the talisman had
the power to protect her from the leviathan, then would it not likely have the
power to overcome any threat offered by the pool?

 
          
“I
must think on it,” she said.

 
          
“Certainly.”
Eyrik’s response was easy, devoid of pressure,
save that which it aroused from her own emotions. “But I think that may be the
only way in which you can know the ultimate truth.”

 
          
Wynett
stared at his face, seeing only goodwill, the desire to set her mind at rest.
He smiled and said, “And now a little wine? This must all be horrendously
confiising.”

 
          
He
appeared so genuine she found herself wondering if her doubts were unfounded,
her suspicions groundless. She nodded and raised her glass, sipping the
delicately flavored wine.

 
          
“You
must not be afraid, for no harm will come to you here and I have only your best
interests at heart.” His tone was gentle, his expression calm, yet the words
startled Wynett and she struggled to conceal her surprise for they suggested he
read her better than she was able to read him, seeing past the facade she
sought to present to the inner doubts, the fears.

 
          
“Confusion
is a natural reaction when faced with such unknown concepts as the pool.”

 
          
“Aye,”
she said, using ambiguous honesty as a screen, “it is.”

 
          
“Consider
my suggestion,” he advised, setting down his goblet and rising, “and forgive me
for leaving you alone again, but there are tasks that await my presence.”

 
          
He
bowed, striding to the door, and was gone before Wynett had opportunity to ask
what tasks awaited him. She turned, seeing the door swing closed and drained
her own cup. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps the wine was drugged, or
the excellent food, but she dismissed it as paranoia, recognizing the danger
inherent in such consideration. She could not go without food or drink and
there seemed little purpose that she could conceive in such clandestine
measures. She was, after all, entirely in Eyrik’s powers and the very nature of
her surroundings suggested that so mundane a device was unnecessary should he
wish to distort her perceptions.

 
          
She
leaned forward, elbows on the table as she cupped both hands about the talisman
and called upon the teachings of Estrevan to bring that calm that might allow
her to properly assess her situation.

 
          
The
rituals were simple and effective: extraneous thoughts were rapidly banished,
her mind clearing, blanking, then focusing on the problem in hand, what facts
she had at her disposal reviewed, her impressions presented, conclusions
considered, rejected, her mind become a mixing bowl in which ingredients
mingled, hopefully emerging in some single form, some beacon that would guide
her through this maze of incomprehension.

 
          
If
Eyrik told the truth he was a valuable ally; indeed, her only ally, and his
suggestion that she utilize the talisman to seek truth from the pool valid.

 
          
If
he lied, then the suggestion was likely some ploy by which he hoped to part her
from the stone, and if that was the case all that transpired here a mockery,
some elaborate design.

 
          
But
to what end?
To gain control of the talisman?
If that,
then he must not be able to take it by force. Ergo: if Eyrik was false the
talisman protected her in some measure.

 
          
If
so, then would it not also protect her, and itself, from any danger offered by
the pool? But if the talisman was impervious to threat from the pool then—if
Eyrik lied—what was the point in his advising that move?

 
          
If,
on the other hand, he spoke honestly, by using the talisman she might find a
way through the alternatives shown and gain information of Kedryn.

 
          
Could
she continue without such knowledge, ignore the pool? It would require
fortitude, to inhabit this unreal realm in blind ignorance, unaware of any
measures Kedryn took to find her. It seemed the pool was her only link with the
world outside and she was not sure how long she might retain her sanity
isolated in this weird, fabulous place. She had found no library, nor any other
source of diversion save the woods and gardens, the exploration of the palace,
which in itself served only to bewilder her further.

 
          
All
hinged on the single consideration: did Eyrik lie or speak the truth?

 
          
It
was a conclusion she could not yet decide and she opened eyes she had not known
she closed and looked about the chamber. Impatience gripped her and she rose to
her feet, going to the door uncertain of her purpose. Rain still filled the
atrium with a wet, gray curtain and abruptly she determined to make a further
exploration. A door stood to her right, one she had not yet opened, and she
went to it, entering a chamber containing the appurtenances of a salon, as
though grand entertainments might be held therein. The floor was an intricate
parquet of polished wood, sprung as for dancing, and a minstrels’ gallery stood
high above the entrance. Small tables and chairs, two to each table, were
arranged along the walls, which were plastered and washed with pale yellow.
Banquettes stood at intervals between the more intimate seating arrangements,
and great tapestries depicting woodland scenes stretched from the vaulted
ceiling to the floor. High windows of multicolored glass were cut into all four
walls, dulled by the rain, what little light they shed gloomy. The chandeliers
suspended from the roof were unlit and the chamber had a musty air, as if
little used. There were no other doors and Wynett left the place gladly,
turning resolutely to the next portal.

 
          
This
gave ingress to a chamber of gray stone, windowless and containing nothing save
a stairway that rose from the flags to angle up the far wall. She began to
climb, finding herself on a narrow landing that again held nothing but the
continuation of the staircase, visible through an arched doorway. Intrigued,
she resumed her ascent, the stone steps spiraling as though built within a
tower. A second landing was reached and she opened the door there on a long
gallery overlooking the salon. A portal stood at the far end but she chose to
continue upward, unwilling to lose herself again in the maze of chambers. She
seemed to climb forever, her thighs and calves aching with the tension of the
steady ascent, pausing to glance through the windows that were occasionally set
into the various landings only to find her senses befuddled by the prospects
they revealed. Some looked out over the lawns, although her senses told her
they faced inward; others oversaw the atrium, some the salon, several down into
rooms she recognized from her earlier investigations, more into chambers she
had not explored, and after a while she ignored them, concentrating on the
climb.

 
          
Her
breath grew short and her aching muscles were stabbed with painful complaint
but she continued doggedly upward, wondering how far toward the sky the winding
stairway went or, indeed, if it would ever end, for it began to seem that it
might
rise
forever, a ceaseless spiral leading
nowhere.

 
          
Then
a door showed, dark oak, hinged with thick metal, a heavy ring set at waist
height. Before it the stairs ended on a circle of stone gray as the windowless
walls. She halted, breathing hard, aware that her legs trembled with the effort
of the climb, then took the metal ring and pulled the door inward.

 
          
Rain
struck her face, gusted on a wind that suggested great height, and she looked
onto a colonnade open to the elements. It was fashioned of marble, pale and
slick with rain, the columns glistening dully in the wan light. There was
little shelter to be found beneath the roof, but she ignored the discomfort of
rapidly soaked clothing as she walked toward the cupola visible at the far end
of the colonnade. It was raised by three steps above the level of the walkway,
circular, with a pillared rail of black marble striated with gold. She brushed
wet hair from her face, blinking against the rain that buffeted her eyes and
stared out over a vista she had not seen before.

 
          
The
sky was gray, the light poor, rendering judgment of distance uneasy, but her
impression was that she stood higher than the levels of the palace she had
counted from the ground, the cupola seeming to float beneath the lowering cloud
like some aerial platform. Dizziness assailed her and she set her hands on the
marble of the rail, the very loftiness of her vantage point, its aeriness,
suggesting that she might let loose her grip and throw herself forward,
outward, to sail birdlike downward. She stepped back, peering into the gloom,
resisting the insane temptation. Below, she saw lawns, dull in the rain, cut by
a wide road she guessed led to the gates of the palace. To one side, beyond the
angle of the roof, she recognized the woodland, the stream she had crossed
winding into a river, gray-silver from this height and broad, curving in a
great oxbow before the building. A bridge spanned its course where the road ran
down to meet the water, and from the far bank to the misty horizon there was a
profusion of trees to dwarf even the Beltrevan. They were no kin to the
woodlands where she had walked with Eyrik but a vast solidity of timber, wild
and dark, no meadows showing, nor any waterways other than the great river that
swept before the palace, a liquid boundary between gentle lawns and primeval
forest. She could not be sure, but in the distance, at the outermost limits of
her sight, she thought she discerned the faint outlines of mountains, as though
a range of colossal height bulked along the horizon. As far as she could see
the timber spread, the building atop which she stood the only habitation,
isolated in that vast gray arboreal ocean.

 
          
Abruptly
she was filled with a terrible emptiness. She felt herself horribly alone,
forsaken.
An eremitical figure in the vast, rain-sodden
landscape, helpless in this strange place.
She turned away, wiping tears
and rain from her eyes, shivering even though the wind that
gusted
her hair was warm, and a decision formed: she would trust the power of the
talisman and seek knowledge, genuine knowledge, of Kedryn in the pool.

 
          
In
Gerat’s absence Lavia had, by common consent, assumed the duties of Paramount
Sister and so it was that the travel- weary mehdri delivered his message to the
tall woman with the gray-streaked hair. Lavia took it, recognizing Gerat’s seal
and, after seeing the messenger settled with food and drink, retired to her own
chambers to read the communication. She studied it with alarm widening her
eyes,
then
read it once more before calling an acolyte
to summon those senior members of the Sorority comprising the governing council
of Estrevan.

 
          
Jara,
Porelle, and Reena came on her bidding, the older woman grumbling that her
luncheon was
interrupted,
the two younger Sisters
intrigued, for news of the mehdri’s arrival had spread rapidly through the
Sacred
City
.