Legend of the Sorcerer (33 page)

Jordy was forced to grab the bars to say upright as her cage began to descend to the floor of the chamber.

“Time to clip your wings, my bold little bird.”

D
ilys shoved books aside and sat the trunk on a chest-high table. “Sit.”

Cai didn’t waste precious time arguing.

Dilys nodded. “Open the trunk.”

Cai reached over and shifted the trunk around so the lock faced him. Even for a small trunk, he was surprised by its lightness. “It feels empty.”

Dilys said only, “Open it.”

There was a lock on the front hasp. Only, when he looked at it more closely, he realized it wasn’t an ordinary lock. There was no keyhole, no combination dial. In fact, it looked more like an amulet of some kind.

“How am I supposed to open this?”

“Precisely.”

“I don’t have time for games, Dilys.”

“This is no game, Master Malacai. Most problems in life can be resolved if one knows the right words to say.”

“Abracadabra?”

Dilys’ lips were tight with disapproval. “There is also something to be said for the sincerity with which the words are spoken. Empty vows are never a solution.”

“Teach me what to say.”

Dilys opened the book next to her. It looked almost
exactly like the incantations book they’d found the symbol in at home. He remembered what he’d thought about the handwriting in Alfred’s notes. He turned the book around and looked at the words. The pages were yellowed, the edges ragged. The script looked handwritten in rusty brown ink. The words were in Welsh, or something like it. The handwriting was familiar.

“Did Alfred write this?”

For the first time that day, warmth entered Dilys’ dark eyes. “Indeed, this is his work.” She motioned to the shelves that ringed the room. “As are most of these.”

Cai knew his expression was disbelieving. There were hundreds, possibly thousands, of books lining those shelves.

“His achievements in Arthurian lore were a small hobby, but one in which he took great pride,” she went on.

“These are his true life’s work. These and the volumes of notes he left behind for you. For your son.”

Cai couldn’t think that far into the future right now, it was too much. So he simply nodded and said, “Teach me the words to the combination. I don’t know how to pronounce these. You know Alfred gave up trying to teach me Welsh.”

“That would have been helpful, but this is an ancient form that was influential in creating the language.”

Impatience clawed at him. “Teach me to say them.”

Dilys went over the words once, then several more times. Eventually she had him say them, one at a time, after her. He couldn’t get the inflection and the guttural sounds right. He finally slapped the table. “Is this really necessary?”

Dilys slapped the table even harder. “Do ye think I’d put ye through this, let Mistress Jordalyn sit in that spawn’s lair for one second if this weren’t the only way?” She spun the trunk around to him. “Wrap your hand
around the lock and speak the words. It matters more that they are from your heart, than that the inflection is just right.”

Cai wrapped his hand around the amulet and read the words that he had now memorized. Nothing happened.

“Ye’re reciting them as a schoolboy would his letters. Speak them and believe. Speak them as if your life depended on opening that box.”

His life did depend on it. His mind went to Jordy, to wherever she was at this moment. He spoke the words again.

The amulet grew warm in his hand. He could see its glow seep out between his clenched fingers. It slid free of the hasp, then went dark and cold. He quickly opened the trunk. There was nothing inside but a thick bed of deep blue velvet.

He looked up at Dilys. “Where is it?”

“It’s right there.”

He blew out a harsh breath and swore. “Fine. Then get it and let’s be going.”

“Yer strong, loving heart was enough to open the box, but it is only yer mind that will let you wield the Pearl.”

“It’s enough that it’s in here.”

Dilys slid the trunk from his grasp, having correctly assumed he was about to take off with it. “One thing a true Keeper learns is that life is long, and patience is not only a virtue, but an intrinsic element of that life. You are not a Keeper. You do not have the luxury of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years to learn the folly of impulse.” She stood and somehow seemed to tower over him. “Sit down and heed my words and those of your grandfather. Do not again defy me, Master Malacai, or you will lose everything you hold dear. Everything.”

The rage of impotence was there inside him, but he had
to manage his emotions. She was indeed his only hope. He couldn’t afford to lose her.

“If I could wield the Dark Pearl, I would have done so. I have no Keeper’s blood in me,” she said. “It is not enough to open the trunk. Margaron believes. And she could wield the dark Pearl to the destruction of us all. Were you to carry this to her, how easily she would take from you what you cannot see. And once in her possession, all is lost. Jordalyn’s life would only be the beginning of the suffering. She would consume you as well. And then there would be no future Keeper. Your grandfather, and the L’Baan’s before him, would have spent their centuries on this earth for nothing because of the impatience of one arrogant mortal man.” She stalked off into the shadows of the far side of the chamber.

Cai looked into the box. He thought about all his grandfather’s ravings. It was impossible to grasp it, to wrap his mind around it. Somewhat like being asked to understand all the mysteries of the universe without any proof other than the stars twinkling above. He created fantasy, but believing it to be real was something else all together. He stared as hard as he could into the depths of the dark velvet, willing the Pearl to appear.

Nothing.

He stared harder. He thought of Jordy, let his heart go out, let the pain in, felt the fear, the terror, felt his throat burn and his heart break. Nothing.

He slammed both fists on the table, but he did not take his eyes off the interior of the box.

What do you want of me?
he begged silently. His throat was raw from constriction against the tears of frustration that wanted to flow. He held them in check, allowing nothing to blur his single-minded determination to will the Pearl to appear.
I’ll do whatever you want. Just end this
torture, prove to me you exist. I’m here, I’m willing, what more can I do? Appear dammit!

You must believe in it, Malacai
.

He jerked his head up, but Alfred wasn’t standing there. He’d heard the words as clearly as if Alfred were right there next to him. Anguish ripped through him. He was so exhausted now that his mind was playing cruel games on him as well.

He should leave, find the police. Get helicopters, search dogs, whatever they had at their disposal, and crawl all over that mountain until they found her hiding place.

He looked up, but Dilys was nowhere to be seen. He looked at the trunk, picked it up. He could leave, take this to the ruins. Have the police with him as well. Surely they could take her down.

Do not fail me, Malacai
.

He pressed his hands to his head. Surely he was losing his mind. He was crazy from grief, from fear for Jordy.

And yet he knew he was not.

He looked into the trunk. It was still empty.

“Dilys.” He spoke without taking his eyes off the blue velvet.

“Yes?” She spoke from just behind him.

“What do I have to do when I have the Pearl?”

“You cannot wield what you cannot see.”

“Just tell me what to do, dammit!”

She said nothing for a moment, then, “You say nothing. You hold it in your hand and lift it out toward the force of evil. The energy within you, the belief in what is right, will transfer into the Pearl. The Pearl will project that, magnified beyond any mortal power.”

“You said only a Keeper could wield it. I am not one.”

“No, you are not. But you have the Keeper’s blood in your veins. That and your will should be enough.”

“If it stays here. If we do nothing, then what?”

“Then it will be only a matter of time before she comes to you. She knows you possess it now. You are not a Keeper, you cannot protect it. She will simply take it.”

“Then why hasn’t she? Why take Jordy?”

“Because she wants more than the Pearl. She wants you.”

“Why? I am nothing.”

“You may not be the Keeper, but only you can create him. Perhaps she wishes to be the one to carry that child. And the way to get you is through Jordalyn. Margaron, if she is like her grandmother, enjoys confrontation. She enjoys a grand display. And that is what she has set up here. She will wait for you. She knows you will come.”

In his heart, whatever else he believed or did not, he knew this was Margaron’s plan. He had only to think over her letters and know the truth of it. And still, the trunk was empty.

“I can’t see it, Dilys.”

“Ye didn’t question the lock growing warm in yer hands, nor the glow it emitted. Nor did you question how it came off. Why?”

“It did what it was supposed to do. I didn’t have time to question why.”

“Ye heard him, earlier, did ye no’?”

He looked at her sharply. “Yes.”

“How did ye know wha’ I meant just now? That ye heard himself inside yer head. How did I know that?”

“You know every other damn thing. I just know you did.”

Rather than get mad, she nodded in satisfaction. “That is how ye must think of the Pearl. You must ‘just know’ it will work, that it will be there when you call upon it, without questioning it.”

Cai looked back to the trunk. “Maybe we have to take the trunk to her. Trust that it will be there when I need it.”
He looked to her. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m willing, Dilys. I will do anything I have to in order to free her, and the others, you know that. I can’t sit here any longer.”

She studied him, then nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. Ye remember the words to open it?”

He nodded.

“Then it’s time we go.”

J
ordy squeezed the bars and willed her legs to stop shaking and her heart to stop pounding as the cage touched the stone floor. She called on some deep reservoir of strength and did whatever she had to, to maintain eye contact with Margaron.

The beautiful young woman arched a perfectly sculpted brow and Jordy knew she’d surprised her. She moved on the advantage. She’d had all she ever wanted of being a pawn in someone else’s game.

“You didn’t have to take them,” she said.

Margaron didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. “Oh, yes, I did. I had to present Malacai with a challenge equal to his abilities.”

“He’s not a Keeper.” Another surprise. Good. “He has no powers. He can’t use the Dark Pearl. He doesn’t even know where it is.”

Margaron’s expression hardened. “I see I have underestimated him. And his choice in mates.”

Jordy forced a laugh. “I am nothing to him. We’re just having a fling.”

“You traveled halfway around the world with him. For a fling, as you call it?”

Jordy shrugged, even as she held on to the bars for continued support. She’d sat in that courtroom and watched Suzanne work the jury as well as their friends and clients. Maybe she’d picked up a pointer or two. “He has money. I flew on the Concorde. I get to see the British Isles. Not a bad fling if you ask me.”

Margaron eyed her, but remained silent.

She had her thinking now. Jordy pressed on, careful not to overplay her hand. “He had no idea about Alfred’s past. We didn’t find out until it was too late. And even then, he believed it was just a senile fantasy.”

This provoked a livid scowl and Jordy braced herself.

Margaron remained where she stood. “He will not stand by while you suffer. He will use that pathetic excuse for an assistant Alfred had tagging along with him all those years. She will help him, teach him.”

Jordy lifted one shoulder. “Dilys? He thinks she’s as batty as Alfred. You know, he wasn’t thrilled about what you’d done with those other women. But he never thought of this as a real quest. He called the police, he wanted them to handle it.”