The Forgotten Beasts of Eld (9 page)

The King is kind to him.

Tam walked beside her, his footsteps deep in the snow, his face bright. “Sybel, I am so happy to see you. Drede’s palace is so big—there are people everywhere— Sybel, they are so courteous to me, because I am Drede’s son. And I have such rich clothes. But I miss Gules Lyon and Nyl.”

“Is he good to you?”

“Of course. I am his protection against the Sirle Lords.”

She glanced at him, startled. He smiled, his eyes clear.

“You have grown a little, I think,” she said.

“Drede says I am like you. But Sybel, he is very kind to me, and I am happy; when we are alone together, sometimes, doing simple things—then sometimes he laughs.” He opened the door. Moriah came to meet him, purring. He knelt down and rubbed his chilled face along her fur, then reached for Gules Lyon’s mane and stared into the golden eyes. “Gules,” he whispered, “Gules,” and the deep throat rumbled. “Do you know what I miss, too, Sybel? Your green fire. It is so beautiful.” He shook snow from his cloak. She touched his pale, wet hair.

“You are growing,” she said wonderingly, and he laughed, his voice deepening.

“I know. Sybel, he wanted me to bring you back with me, but I said I would only ask you—I would not beg. I have asked you, and now we can talk about other things. Are the animals well?”

A smile trembled in her eyes. “Very well,” she said, and went to sit with him beside the hearth. “Tell me now what you do every day.”

“Oh—Sybel, I have never dreamed of so many people! We rode through the city on market day, and the people shouted my father’s name—and Sybel, they shouted mine, too—Tamlorn—and I was so surprised that my father laughed at me. I like to see him laugh.”

She let his voice run over her in a pleasant stream, soothing, comforting; she sat back, watching him, smiling, half listening. His face, bones forming, firming beneath it, lit and changed as he spoke, laughing, sobering, smiling again a clear, curious smile with a hint of secrecy behind it. Her thoughts melted apart; she let them lay strengthless as she had not done for days, and rested content in the warm green fire, and the white walls, and Tam beside her, long-boned, scratching the space between Moriah’s black ears as he talked. Then something rippled, minute, distant, unbidden in the deep part of her mind. Tam touched her and she started.

“You are not listening. Sybel, I brought you a gift—a cloak of white wool with blue flowers woven on it. Drede had some women make it for you.” He paused a moment. “What is the matter?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I am a little tired. A cloak? Tam, thank him for me. Is Ter behaving? I was afraid he might eat someone.”

“Oh, no. We go hunting on still days. He is very polite with Drede’s falcons, but he will let only me take him. Sybel—”

She did not answer him, feeling again the movement in her mind, faint and swift as the movement of a star through the midnight sky. Her hands tightened slowly on the arms of her chair.

“Sybel,” Tam said. His brows flicked together. “Do you hurt somewhere? You should talk to Maelga.”

“I will.” Her fingers loosened, stretched taut. Her eyes sought the fire, wide, black. “I will,” she whispered. Then a knocking sounded at the door and Tam’s face changed.

“So soon? But I just came.”

She turned swiftly. “Oh, my Tam—not yet, surely—”

“I told you I could not stay long.” He stood up, sighing. “Sybel, when times are not so troubled, I will stay longer. I have your cloak in my saddlebag.” The knocking sounded again; he raised his voice. “I am coming! Sybel, talk to Maelga about what hurts you. She can cure everything.”

“Prince Tamlorn—”

“Coming!” He put his arm around her as they walked across the yard, the guard following after them silently. Ter Falcon came to land again on Tam’s shoulder. “Sybel, I will stay longer next time. It—I wish you would come to see me.”

“Perhaps I will.”

“Please come.” He unbuckled his saddlebag, and took out a soft, ivory cloak wound with whorls of blue thread. “This is for you.”

She touched it. “Oh, Tam, it is beautiful, so soft—”

“It is lined with ermine.” He put it in her arms. Then he kissed her quickly. “Please come. And talk to Maelga.”

She smiled. “I will, my Tam. Now, may I say one word to Ter?” Tam stood still a moment, and she looked from his gray, smiling eyes to Ter’s blue, piercing gaze.

Ter.

What is it, Ogam’s daughter? You are troubled.

Tam watched her, saw her face go still a moment, her eyes black, lightless, piercing back at Ter’s.

There is someone calling me to him. Stop him.

FIVE

She went to see Maelga that afternoon. The white doves roosted on Maelga’s rafters, and the raven came in and out through an open corner of window. The little house was thick with strange scents; Maelga bent murmuring over her cauldron, the steam of it loosening her white curls, plastering them glistening against her cheekbones. She did not look up as Sybel came in, so Sybel did not speak. She moved restlessly, opening and closing Maelga’s books, peering at her jars of nameless things, pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, frowning, until Maelga’s murmurings stopped abruptly, and she turned her head.

“My child,” she said in wonderment. “I am losing count of Things.”

“I am sorry,” Sybel said. Something she held, worrying with her fingers, snapped; she stared down at it, unseeing. Maelga dropped her spoon in the cauldron.

“My bone—”

“What bone?”

“The forefinger of a wizard’s right hand. It took me so many years to find one.”

Sybel blinked at the broken pieces in her hand. Then she said, “I will bring you bones, if you wish. I will bring you a grinning skull, if I can find the brain beheath it.”

Maelga’s eyes focused, sharp beneath her untidy curls. “What is it?”

She put the bone down, and her fingers closed tight on her arms. “I am being called. I do not know who is calling me, but I cannot close my mind to him. I am being searched and called surely and skillfully as I would call an animal. I am angry, but so is a fish angry, caught on a line, and so helpless.”

Maelga’s hands clasped, her rings sparkling. She sat down slowly in her rocking chair. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew you would get into trouble stealing those books.”

Sybel stopped midpace. “Do you think it is only that?” she said hopefully. Then she shook her head. “No. There is a more powerful mind than mine at work. That frightens me. If he knows I have his books, he does not have to trouble me so for them. Maelga, I do not know what to do. There is no place to hide. If anyone came to do me harm, my animals would fight for me, but there is no one to fight this.”

“Oh, dear,” Maelga said. “Oh, my dear.” She rocked a little, one hand straying through her curls. Then she stopped. “I can do one thing for you. I will send a raven with his black, searching eyes to peer into wizards’ windows.”

Sybel nodded. “I have sent Ter looking, too.” Then she sighed, covering her eyes with her open hands. “I am a fool. If he can call me, he can call Ter, too—”

“If he knows to call him.”

“Yes. He may not know Ter. But who? Who is it! I have seen little wizards in their cold towers with straw pallets and dusty books; I have seen greater ones in lords’ courts growing fat and pompous with riches. But I have seen no one that I ever thought to fear. I do not know why I am being called.” She stared helplessly at Maelga. “What possible reason could there be? I can do nothing for anyone that strong.”

“Is he so strong? Perhaps if you do not answer he will yield.”

“Perhaps... But Maelga, he has broken into my silence, and I cannot follow his call. I cannot find him anywhere, to put a name to him.” She resumed her restless pacing, arms folded, her hair drifting behind her like a white cloak. “I am so angry... but anger is of no use, and neither is fear. I do not know what to do—I can only hope he is not so strong he can take my name from me.”

“Is there a place you can go away to for a while?”

“Where? I could go beyond the borders of Eldwold, and he could still seek me out, bring me to him.” She sat down finally, despairingly, beside the fire. “Oh, Maelga,” she whispered, “I do not know what to do. If I only had the Liralen... I could fly away to the end of the world... to the edge of the stars...”

“Do not cry,” Maelga said anxiously. “You frighten me when you cry.”

“I am not crying. Tears are of no use. There is nothing for me but waiting.” She turned her head. “Maelga, if—if one day you cannot find me, and no one knows where I am, will you watch over my animals?”

Maelga rose, her hands splayed in her hair. “Oh, Sybel, it cannot come to that. My raven will find him. Ter will find him, and then I will make him such a thing that will dissolve the bones within his skin.”

“No, you must keep his finger bone...” She rested her cheek against the stones of the fireplace and stared into the flames, seeing nothing as they danced beneath the black cauldron. She sighed. “I will go and let you work. There is nothing you can do for me, and little I can do for myself. Perhaps Ter will find him before he finds me, and perhaps then I can do something.” She rose. Maelga watched her, the lines of her face puckering into worry.

“My white one, be careful,” she whispered.

“I will. I hope the one who is calling me has such a friend to give him that warning.”

She woke that night to the nudge in her mind, gentle as a fingertip stirring water. She sat straight in her bed, her eyes wide to the darkness, while above her the stars flung their icy patterns across the crystal dome. The nudge came again, an unbidden, formless thought, and she heard like a whisper in a motionless night, the faint, breathed call of her name.

Sybel.

A small cry broke from her in the darkness. She heard a movement by her bed; Gules’ golden eyes sparkled like cut stones.

What is it you fear, Ogam’s child?

I had a dream...

And the voice came again, a toneless murmur: Sybel.

She spent a day and a night in the domed room, neither eating nor sleeping, searching ancient books for the name of such a powerful wizard, but she found no hint of it. At dawn, she let the book fall limp in her hands and stared out at the clearing sky. A line of rose traced the rim of the world; white clouds, silver-rimmed, blazing, caught the sun’s rays, broke and scattered them over Fallow Field, over the Plain of Terbrec, across the walled city of Mondor, where they warmed the chill, dark walls and towers. She thought hopelessly of the Liralen with its bright, white wings, and called it a little, sending the call toward the white dawn world. The animals began to stir in the house. Then she heard Maelga’s voice, calling at her door.

“Sybel! Sybel, wake up—”

She rose slowly, stiff, and went through the chill house. The sun streaked the snow with fire; it leaped at her eyes as she opened the door, hurting them. She blinked.

“Maelga. Come in.”

“Oh, Sybel—you have let your fire die.” She stepped in, and Sybel stared at the dark thing in her hands.

“That is not the only dead thing in this room, I think.” She touched the black, stiff body of Maelga’s raven. A lightning stroke of fear she had never known before shot through her. Maelga said wearily, “Sybel, I sent him out, and this morning he flew into my house and dropped dead at my feet. I think he was dead as he flew.”

Sybel shuddered. “It is cold,” she murmured. “I am sorry.” She stared down at the motionless bird until Maelga touched her gently, and she started.

“Sybel, you are tired. Have you eaten lately?”

“I do not think so. I have been reading.” Her shoulders, strained taut, fell suddenly; she covered her face with her hands. Maelga’s arms closed about her.

“My white child,” she mourned, “what can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” Sybel whispered. “Nothing.” She dropped her hands, sighing. “I hope Ter is safe. I will call him, send him back to Tam.”

“I will cook you something. You are so thin since Tam left.”

She went into the kitchen, still carrying the dead raven. Sybel caught the Falcon’s mind, felt the sudden sweep of earth beneath its flying.

Ter. Go back to Tam. There is danger.

There was silence a moment, before the drive of Ter’s heartbeat and the run of fire in his veins. Then he said,

No.

Ter. Go back to Tam.

Ogam’s child, ask of me anything else. But I have a pair of eyes to pick and a dark mind to still.

Ter—

She lost him suddenly, groped for him, amazed, and lost him again; and a whisper broke into her mind, strong, implacable.

Sybel.

“No,” she said, and the word fell lifeless against white stones. “No!”

She sat under the domed roof at midnight, and the full moon watched her like an eye. The world lay silent beyond the dome, hushed and hidden; the mountain itself was still, the stars frozen like ice crystals. The night was voiceless as her own mind, resting in its heart of silence that no wind, no whisper of leaves disturbed. Her eyes were dark in the darkness, motionless as she waited, listening to the quiet of her mind, waiting for the moment, the calls that rippled to the core of its silence. Gules lay beside her, his head raised, golden eyes unblinking, motionless as though he did not breathe. She felt movement near her after a while and found Cyrin, the gleam of his tusks white as starlight.

Answer me a riddle, Lord of Wisdom
, she said to him, and in his mind heard the swift passage of all the riddles of the world. And his red eyes vanished as his great, glowing head sank before her.

That one I cannot answer.

Her head dropped onto her knees. “I am weary,” she whispered, wide-eyed, to the darkness. “I do not know what to do.” She sat there awhile, still, feeling now and then the faint tug of herself away from herself, like the soft withdrawal of a moon-drawn wave. The moonlight etched her shadow on the white marble floor, and the dark massive shadows of Boar and Lyon. She closed her eyes finally, sent forth a call. And as she called she heard a faint, familiar shouting at her gates.

“Sybel,” Coren said, as she ran through the night snow to him. “Sybel.” His hands were closed tight on the bars as though he had tried to pull them apart. “I am sorry—I am so sorry—I was away from Sirle—”

“I just called you,” she said breathlessly, pulling at the frozen bolts. “Just a moment ag—-Coren, did you fly here?”

“I tried to.” He led his horse in, stopped in front of her, trying to see her face in the dark. “What is it?” he said anxiously. “Sybel, I wanted to come three days ago, but Rok had sent me to Hilt to talk to Lord Horst about some hopeless plan—I knew you were troubled; I knew it even while I slept, but I could not leave until yesterday. What is it? Is it Tam?”

She stared up at his shadowed face, wordless. She shook her head. “No. How—how did you know I wanted you before I knew that?”

“I knew. Sybel, what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Just—a little thing.”

“Anything.”

“Just—hold me.”

He dropped the reins in the snow. He opened his cloak, drew her into it until it closed on her white hair, and the crown of her head gleamed faintly below his face. She dropped her head against him, smelled the dark, damp fur around her, felt the draw of Coren’s breath and the beat of his blood. His breath caught, and she opened her eyes.

“Sybel—you are afraid.”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“Hold me closer,” she said, and his arms shifted around her, drew her nearer. She heard his heart beneath her ear, felt one gloved hand cupping her head. She drew a long, slow breath and loosed it. “I would have called you all the way from Sirle to ask you to hold me like this. Just for this.”

“I would have come. I would have come only to do this and to go back. But Sybel, there must be more I can do for you.”

“No. Your voice is like the sunlight; it belongs to the world of men, not the dark world of wizards.”

His voice tangled in her hair. “What is it? What is troubling you?”

She was silent. Then she lifted her head, sighing, drew away from him and the circle of his arms broke. “I did not want to tell you. But now perhaps I should, because if anything happens to me, you—you may be troubled until you know.”

His hands rose, creased with snow, to circle her face, and his voice rose. “Sybel—what?”

“Come in to the fire. I will tell you.”

She told him after he had stabled his horse in her shed and fed it. He hung up his cloak by the fire and sat beside her. She gave him a cup of heated wine and said simply,