The Heart of the Mirage (30 page)

His resolution, as hard as the iron in his voice, was thick in the air about him, but so was his underlying horror. He believed he had come close to another such abomination occurring because of me.
And he was right
. I had come to the Mirage with the intention to betray them all. And what then? Would I have stood by and watched while the legionnaires killed babies, and thought it a job well done? Dear Goddess, what had I been?

I ripped away all the covers from my inner mind, let him sense whatever he wanted, bared myself to him as I had never done to anyone before. Even so, the words did not come easily. ‘Temel, I was too ashamed to tell you the truth. Ashamed of what I had been. Ashamed of the role I played in strengthening the Exaltarchy. And I was afraid you would despise me, reject me. I was going to tell you eventually—I just wanted you all to know me better first. It was what I wanted to tell you about, the day you arrived back from Sandmurram. I knew I could not delay any longer.’ Everything I said sounded weak to my ears. Ridiculous. I had been a Brotherhood Compeer, and here I was describing the doubts and frailties more appropriate to an adolescent girl. Yet it was the truth. It was just that loving him had rendered me an idiot.

He snorted. ‘You knew you couldn’t delay because you were afraid Pinar might find out about you in Madrinya. Perhaps you even guessed she had gone there expressly to investigate you.’

‘Perhaps. I was a coward, Temellin. I didn’t really want you to know, so I kept on postponing the telling.’

He put his head to one side and looked at me. ‘Do you know,’ he said finally, ‘I have a great deal of trouble believing that. If there was ever anything that impressed me, it was—is—your courage.’

‘There are different kinds of fear, Temellin. I was afraid of losing your respect. Perhaps I was even afraid of having made the wrong choice. As long as I didn’t tell you about the Stalwarts, I could always change my mind…and betray you to Tyrans. I knew I loved you—loved you as a lover. But it was hard for me to believe in this love of mine for you. I was brought up to believe love was a weakness I must never allow. I was taught that to feel too much was a failing, not a virtue. It was even harder for me to acknowledge this respect I was learning for much that was Kardi; it went against everything I had ever been. You want the absolute truth? I had made my choice. I made it before I took the oath, and when I swore to uphold the Covenant, I meant it, but it wasn’t until I stood there in the dining room and knew you were going to kill me that I was certain I had made the
right
choice. In that moment, I knew it didn’t matter if I died—what mattered was
you
, and what you believed in. For the first time in my life, I cared more about someone else than I cared about myself.’

He looked down at the floor. ‘I wish I could believe you. But I can’t; on your own admission you were lying to us when we first met, and I had no inkling of it. Not even when I lay with you. You were very clever.
No one I know could hide so much when cabochon to cabochon. Your lies are impossible to detect. How can I ever believe what you say now?’

‘But, Temel, I
didn’t
lie to you! I never lied to you. I just—just didn’t tell you the whole truth. I let you jump to conclusions. There’s a difference. Temellin, please—look into me now. You must be able to sense my truth.’

‘How can I be sure? I doubt everything now! I doubt every relationship I’ve ever had because of what you have done. I even look at my friends with suspicion, and wonder if they deceive me as you did. I look at Korden, and wonder if one day he’ll stab me in the back because he wants to be the Mirager. I look at my wife and wonder if I dare tell her my secrets. You’ve made me doubt myself. Doubt my fitness to lead this land and these people.’

We stared at each other. I choked on the lump in my throat, aware of the damage I had done. Useless to say I hadn’t meant it.

He continued, ‘And as for this supposed invasion over the Alps, Aemid says you have a lover among the Stalwarts. Someone you have been bedding for years. She says anything you knew about the Stalwarts would have come from him, so if there was an invasion, he would probably be part of it. But she also says you would never betray this man; you are too close. She says you would never deliberately endanger his life.’

‘Do you think that comes easily to me?’ I asked and allowed him to feel my bitterness. ‘I had to make a choice between Kardiastan and Tyrans, and I made it. Either way a man…a man I care about is endangered. I chose you and Kardiastan rather than Favonius and Tyrans. I stand by that choice, although if Favonius dies, his death will haunt me. He is a brave man, and he has been a good friend.’

‘Betrayal comes easy to you, it seems.’

I drew a sharp breath at the hurt in that. ‘You can’t have it both ways, Temellin. Either I am betraying you or I am betraying Favonius. It can’t be both. To one of you I am true. To you—my brother.’ I stood up and went to go to him, but he held up his hands as if to fend off my approach and I stopped. ‘You still don’t believe me, do you? Not a word of it—’

‘No,’ he said sadly. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re my sister, and just the thought of what was done to you rasps my soul. The bastards took a child and corrupted her. That was the little Shirin I remember. They bent her and used her and probably laughed at her behind her back while they did it. But all that doesn’t make me trust you now. I can’t see anything of her in you. She was sweet and trusting and kind.’ He folded his arms, his whole stance one of rejection. ‘And now I am left with a puzzling question. Just why do you want us to believe in this Stalwart invasion?’

I didn’t answer. What could I have said?

‘There must be a good reason. It’s a diversion of some sort, isn’t it? You want us to worry about the wrong place, or the wrong kind of danger. What is it the Brotherhood really has planned for us, Legata? I’ve heard enough about them to know they are masters of deviousness, of deception, of plots and counterplots. And this, I know, must be one such. You’re General Gayed’s daughter and Rathrox Ligatan’s apprentice, and Aemid says she believes you were sent here at the express order of Exaltarch Bator Korbus. All three men were once humiliated at the hands of Kardiastan. You came as the lance blade of their revenge, Shirin. Did they know when they took you that you were my sister? They did, didn’t they! Were you to gain the trust of us all, then kill me and take over as Mirager? Is that
what you are trying to hide from us with this fanciful tale of the Stalwarts crossing the Alps, a tale you conveniently tell only when your main deception is uncovered?’

I still didn’t speak; I couldn’t think of any words to convince him of the truth.

A fleeting look of anguish crossed his face. ‘Ah, Shirin, Shirin—it hurts so much to look at you, to see what they made of you. It could so easily have been…different. When Solad sent the Ten to the Mirage, I cried because they didn’t include you. “Can’t you make it eleven?” I asked. Shirin, we shouldn’t be standing here like this, as enemies. We should be husband and wife with children playing at our feet. You’ve lived among us, you’ve seen what sort of people we are—can’t you be one of us now?’ He must have known the question was ridiculous. It was exactly what I did want, and exactly what his disbelief wouldn’t allow him to grant.

I said, ‘No matter what I said, you’d still doubt me. The truth remains the same. I’m not your enemy, Temellin. Not any more.’

The look he gave me then was poignant in its sadness. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t blame you for what you are. As a child I was taken to the Mirage; you were taken to Tyrans. Had it been the other way around, who is to say what might have been? And you’re right, of course; no matter what you said, I would have my doubts. So much of you is Tyranian. Worse still, you know too much. You have too much power and the potential for so much more. We cannot let you have your liberty, perhaps not ever. When I threw my sword at you, I acted in passion and it was an evil thing I did. I’m glad you had deliberately protected yourself against it, for cabochon knows, you are still my sister
and I don’t want your death. But in truth, perhaps it would have been kinder for you to have died then, for I doubt you can ever be freed.’

My heart wobbled absurdly; there were tears in his eyes.

‘It wasn’t deliberate,’ I said, but I doubt he heard.

‘I’m sorry, Shirin. I’m sorrier than I can say—for everything. I wish—I wish things could have been different.’

‘They could be, if you believed me. Never mind. When the Stalwarts attack, perhaps you’ll think again.’
If it’s not too late for all of us. Too late for the Mirage
.

‘If there’s anything you need, ask. I will see that you receive anything within reason to make your imprisonment more comfortable.’

‘Oh, go away, Temellin. Imprisonment cannot be anything but uncomfortable, even when the Mirage does its best to entertain me. Watch out for the fish,’ I added as he turned abruptly to leave me.

After he had gone I sat down shakily, all my emotions spilling free once I was alone.

Two nights later, Pinar came.

She came late, long after I had fallen asleep and she came silently, yet I was attuned to the malignancy of the emotional aura surrounding her. I woke the moment she stepped into the room. ‘What do you want, Pinar?’ I asked.

She did not answer. She raised her left hand and sent a narrow beam of light around the room from her cabochon. When it illuminated the candle on the desk under the window, she let it linger a moment and the candle flamed. By its light she began a circuit of the room, investigating the fish in their water, the bubbles and their pictures, the wall paintings, the bathroom.
By the time she had finished, I had flung on a shawl and was sprawled casually in the room’s only chair.

She came to stand before me, sword sheathed, hands on her hips. ‘What is the meaning of all this?’ she asked.‘Why do the Mirage Makers do this for you?’

I shrugged. ‘Perhaps to compensate for my wrongful imprisonment?’

‘Temellin should have killed you. You are dangerous to us somehow—’

I made a gesture of weariness. ‘Pinar, don’t be moondaft. Soon you’ll be convincing yourself I really did try to kill you and not the other way around.’

‘What I did was justified. You are still a danger to us. And just as bad, having to imprison you here like this is devastating Temellin. He is tortured by guilt. Guilt! As if he has anything to be guilty about! I’ve tried to tell him we’d all be better off if you were dead, but he won’t listen.’

I raised an eyebrow, the mockery a cover to my own pain. ‘Poor Pinar, only a few weeks married, and already your husband ignores your suggestions?’

The tight expression on her face reminded me of Rathrox when he was planning revenge on someone who had slighted him.

The feeling remained, even when she’d gone. For the first time in my adult life, I had no control over my own destiny. I’d never felt so helpless and frustrated. So
powerless
. I doubt if anyone could have devised a more effective form of revenge than this one.

The next morning, as usual, Illuser-reftim brought my breakfast and left it on the desk. Normally he gave a swift look around to see what changes had been wrought during the night; this time he didn’t seem interested. There wasn’t anything new anyway, nor had anything been taken away. The fish were still
swimming in their unconfined waters and occasionally one would poke its nose out into the air before withdrawing into the safety of its element. Reftim ignored them, ducked his head in my direction without looking at me, either, and left the room as quickly as he could.

Worried by his behaviour, I went to the desk and sat down. Fresh bread, a glass of juice, a pot of hot herbal tea, smoked fish, fresh fruit. My normal breakfast. I stared at it without appetite.

I jabbed my knife into the fish, more in a gesture of disgust at my situation than with any intent of eating it. And smelled something that didn’t seem quite right: a faint whiff of unpleasantness. It was vaguely familiar and, a moment later, I knew why: it reminded me of the Ravage.

I stared at the fish; it looked normal. I opened up my palm and passed my left hand over the meal without believing anything would come of such a gesture, yet as I looked, I saw a writhing black mass appear in the middle of the fish. In revulsion I flung the tray and all its contents away from me, smashing them from the desk onto the floor.

Some time later, Reftim returned to clear away the tray. His face glistened with sweat and his initial step into the room, even before his glance took in the empty desk and the food on the floor, was the palsied movement of an old man. Then he paled, the colour draining from his plump face so fast I thought he would faint. His guilt was obvious, but I knew he was not the initiator. I stood leaning against the door, waiting while he wordlessly cleaned up the mess. When he had finished and was on his way out with the tray, I did not move and he was forced to stop in front of me.

‘In all my years working for the Brotherhood, I never poisoned anyone,’ I said.

The colour returned to his face as rapidly as it had left it. ‘Magoria—’ he began, but his shame strangled any further words in the back of his throat.

‘Do you think the Mirager would approve?’

He did not reply.

I knew I had no hope of him reporting the attempt, not when he himself was involved. ‘Tell Pinar she will have to do better than that,’ I said and stood aside to let him pass.

Once he had gone, I crossed the room to the desk and hit the desktop with the flat of my right hand, all my repressed anger and frustration surfacing. My helplessness was suffocating me. I plunged away from the desk, forgot the uncontained water and splashed into it, sending fish flying about the room.

‘Vortex
damn
you!’ I shouted, venting my rage on the Mirage Makers. ‘Do you think a poisoned baby is going to do you any good? Why don’t you find some way of getting me out of this? Or at least send me something useful, like a—a—a book!’

For a moment I continued to stand, hands clenched by my sides, and then calm prevailed.