The Heart of the Mirage (34 page)

‘As for why they take such special care with me, well, I think they know I am important to their own future. They do not approve of my imprisonment, Garis. They may have deliberately made your shleth throw you in the hope you’d be hurt enough to have to stay behind, just so I wouldn’t be left alone here with the likes of Pinar and Reftim.’

He was horrified. ‘They wouldn’t have done that, would they? Shiverdamn, I wish Temellin were here. Perhaps I should ride after him. I don’t know what to do, Shirin. I can’t take all you say on trust.’

‘No. Never mind.’ I held up the book I had taken from the shelf. ‘This provides an answer to your problem of trust. Read the fourth chapter tonight, Garis, and come back tomorrow morning—and if you value my life at all, don’t tell Pinar anything.’

When he returned in the morning, Garis looked unhappier than ever. In his good hand, he was holding the book out from him as if he would have liked to have thrown it away. He was also carrying my sword thrust through the loop of his sling. ‘I can’t,’ he blurted out to me the moment I opened the door to him. ‘You can’t. What if—?’

I waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Don’t you trust the Magor who wrote the book?’

‘How do we know this volume is actually what he wrote? There may be mistakes in the copying. Or the Mirage Makers may have changed it.’

‘I’ve found no other mistakes in anything I’ve read or tried. Garis, this renewal of vows is for a Magor who is believed to have broken the Covenant. You all believe I have done just that. It is right, therefore, that
I should be tested in this way. If I am false, then it kills me. If I am true, I survive. I don’t have a problem with that. Why should you? I do know the Stalwarts are coming, and soon—and that unless someone stops them, they will conquer the Mirage. Have you thought about what that means? All the Magoroth children, your future, are right here, in this city. Remembering the Shimmer Festival, what do you think the legionnaires’ orders will be concerning children? And the Kardis who have escaped slavery will be faced with a Tyranian army. Who is there to protect them? Who did Temellin leave behind, anyway?’

Garis licked his lips uncertainly. ‘Pinar, Gretha, me. A few of the older Theuros and Illusos, people like Illuser-reftim. That’s all. Even Zerise went with them.’

‘That’s all? Dear Goddess! Garis,
think
! How do you imagine I feel being trapped in this room? I will do anything, anything, to be free, even risk death.’

‘Shirin, if you are doing this because you think I will relent rather than let you undergo this trial by sword, you are mistaken. I will not stay your hand at the last minute.’

‘Have faith, Garis. Haven’t you always been told it is impossible for a Magor to be harmed by their own sword?’

‘Yes, but no one has actually proved it impossible by driving the blade into their own heart,’ he said miserably.‘At least, not as far as I know. There is a ritual that involves driving your blade into the palm of your hand, but the
heart
? We also know that if someone else turns your sword against you, they die. Horribly. Your sword kills them…There could be a paradox here.’

‘That’s irrelevant,’ I said. ‘We are not talking about someone else doing this to me. I’m going to do it to myself.’

He still looked unhappy as he added, ‘The sword may divert, just the way it did when Temellin flung his at you.’

He was so agitated he didn’t even notice I had stripped to the waist. I said, ‘I’m not going to give it that chance. My sword, Garis.’

‘I—I should tell you, I fitted my cabochon to the hilt.’

I chuckled. ‘Wise lad. But I wasn’t thinking of turning it against you.’

‘I can’t risk anything,’ he said wretchedly. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s perfectly all right.’ I took up the sword and fitted it to my hand. It sprang into light joyously, as if recognising its owner; I welcomed the feel of it. Just to hold it made me feel younger, stronger, more powerful.

I thought it was just as well Magor swords were short, otherwise what was required of me would have been physically impossible. I placed the tip of the blade on my chest and prepared to drive it into my heart, wondering—with surprising calm—if my blood would fill up the hollow of the blade through the open tip.

‘No!’ The word exploded out of him, making me pause. ‘It’s all right, Shirin. I’ll believe you—’

I shook my head with a smile. ‘No, you won’t. Not really. It has to be done this way, Garis.’ I eased the sword towards me, feeling it slip upwards between my ribs. I had studied the diagram in the book carefully, and took care to avoid the sternum and the lung. Still the sword resisted me, protesting the path I sent it on. Blood trickled down the blade. I applied more pressure and knew it had entered my heart. In confirmation, the sword flamed blue, crackling and sparking. Pain flared, impossibly intense, and I had to divert some cabochon power to reduce it to a
manageable level. Even so, moans escaped my throat, beyond my control. My vision changed; everything became tinged with red, without other colour.

Garis held the book up, so I could read the required words. I saw he was crying, tortured by his inability to do more to help me, worried we were doing the wrong thing.

I repeated the vow of the Covenant aloud, and followed it with the caveat that would kill me if I lied: ‘
In the name of my Magoroth sword and in the name of the Magoroth blood that runs in my veins, in the name of the heart’s blood that I spill, may I die here and now if my intentions are not to fulfil my vow, or may I die in the future at the moment I am foresworn
.’ I looked up at Garis through a red haze.

‘That’s enough, Shirin! Please, withdraw your sword.’

I pulled the hilt back. A little blood followed the withdrawal of the blade, which had filled with gold light. The blue light faded and then the gold as I laid the weapon down. I was still standing, but weakness dragged at me. Garis pushed me into a chair and took up the washbowl and towel I had ready. Gently he washed the blood away, his hands trembling as he did so. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked in an agony of apprehension.

‘I think so.’ I felt weak. My vision was still distorted and pain still rippled through my chest, but I thought it was the pain of healing, not of death.

‘I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.’

‘Yes, you would have,’ I said, with an attempt at a smile. ‘If I’d died it would have been because I intended to betray Kardiastan, and you would have felt satisfaction.’

‘I don’t think so.’ He was staring at my skin where the blade had entered; not only was there no more blood, but there was no recent cut, either. The only mark, where earlier there had been nothing, was a white sword-shaped scar, perfect in detail. I stared at it, fascinated. Garis touched it gently with his fingers in awed reverence. ‘I have heard of this,’ he whispered.

‘What is it?’

‘I always thought it a legend, a story. It is said that anyone who bears the shape of a Magor sword on their body is especially holy.’

‘
Holy?
Garis, you have to be joking! If there is one thing I am not, it’s holy! Goddess knows—’

‘Oh, not holy in the religious sense. Holy to us, to the Magor, in that such a person is special, of importance in our history, to our land.’

My hand went involuntarily to my womb and I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘Don’t say any more. I don’t want to hear it.’

He suddenly realised where he had placed his fingers, and drew back, blushing furiously. I pulled on my blouse and, still weak, went to lie on my pallet. ‘Will you let me out of here, Garis?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course. I can bring down the wards. Now, if you like. But what ought we to do, Shirin? Shall I have someone ride after Temellin? Ought I go myself? He may not believe anyone else. I’m not even sure he’ll believe me.’

‘No. Let him go on. Let him face the legions in Kardiastan. Someone must. I shall deal with the Stalwarts myself.’

He looked at me in confusion. ‘But we need more people—you yourself said that! They are the
Stalwarts
. Even I’ve heard of them.’

‘I think I can do it, if I plan carefully. I am stronger in Magor power now. I shall have their trust, remember. And they don’t know what they face.’

‘But won’t it be—well, especially difficult for you? Because of this Favonius?’

‘That is why I must do it. I would like to save him. I know I must try. But what of Pinar? She will never let you release me.’

‘Mirage damn it! I had forgotten her. Shirin, what we did was foolish; we should have had witnesses. Others who could testify to your truth—’

‘Too late now. I don’t think I could go through that again. Anyway, Pinar wouldn’t believe anything good about me no matter what she saw or heard. Listen, Garis, break the wards tonight, immediately after Reftim has taken away the dinner dishes. Arrange shleths and food—all that I’ll need. By the time anyone knows I am gone, I will be well away. There’s no need for you to be implicated. Let them wonder how I did it.’

‘But you can’t go alone!’

‘Well, I was wondering if you’d also release Brand.’

‘Oh. Um, good idea. But I shall come with you as well.’

‘Still don’t trust me, Garis?’

‘It’s not that. It’s just that I want to be in on this too.’

‘And what about your arm?’

‘Damn the arm. I can still use my cabochon. Can’t I come?’

‘Temellin wouldn’t let you ride out disabled, and therefore I won’t, either. Sorry.’

‘You may need help—’

‘Trust me. Garis, I have worked for two whole months with these texts here. And I have come to believe that my powers are special, just as Temellin’s are. True, I haven’t really had enough time, but I will
manage. And now, can you fetch Brand to me without anyone knowing?’

Only when I saw Brand again did I realise how much I had missed him. He knelt by my pallet where I lay, and took hold of my hand, squeezing it so tight I almost cried out—but there was no denying the surge of gladness I felt.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he said.

‘And I you. Has Garis told you he’s setting us free?’

‘Yes. I might have known you’d find a way to do it. In fact, I’m surprised it took you so confoundedly long.’ I pulled a face and hit him. He laughed. ‘What now?’ he asked.

‘I’m going back to Tyrans, but first I have something to do.’

I explained about the Stalwarts, concluding with the words, ‘So, I want to stop their invasion, without—I hope—killing Favonius.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that. Believe me, Brand, I have the power now.’

‘And you want me to go with you?’

‘I’d like you to. But you are a free man, remember.’

‘You want me to help you save your Tyranian lover and then have me watch while you go back to his arms and I lose you all over again?’

‘I was never yours to lose, Brand,’ I said tartly. ‘And no, I’ll never go back to Favonius. I can’t. If I belong to anybody at all, it is Temellin. But perhaps I’m not cut out for—for a partnership with anyone. I like my independence too much.’

‘You’re mad. A week or so in a man’s arms and you’d condemn yourself to a lifetime of celibacy when he turns out to be your brother and marries someone
else? That’s crazy! Just because I love you, but can’t have you, doesn’t mean I deny myself the pleasures of a friendship and, er, other things, with another woman.’

‘So I’ve noticed. But you haven’t given me your answer: will you come to the Alps with me?’

He threw up his hands in capitulation. ‘Ocrastes help me, yes, I’ll come. But one of these days I’ll either have you in my arms—or I’ll break free of your spell and leave you.’

We both wrote letters before we left; Brand’s was for Caleh, mine for Temellin. It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to write; it didn’t say one-quarter of what I wanted to tell him, and it certainly didn’t come close to telling him all the truth.

Temellin,
I began,
by the time you read this, I shall be gone—out of your life, and out of Kardiastan
—
probably forever. I’m sorry I have brought you grief. Ironic, isn’t it? It was originally my intention to bring about your death; now I worry because I have caused you pain…but perhaps you won’t believe that.

I go to stop the Stalwarts
—
yes, they do come, whether you believe in them or not. I hope it won’t come to a fight, but if it does, I have every intention of winning and none of dying. You see, I am carrying your child. Your son.

Nonetheless, it is not my intention to stay in Kardiastan. I will go on to Tyrans where I will bear the child and there I shall stay. I will send the boy to you so he can receive his cabochon. And I shall keep all your Magor secrets, never fear.

I suppose there is a chance I shall not live long enough to bear this child. The Mirage Makers showed me what it is they want from the Magoroth. I believe you know to what I refer. I will fight such a fate for myself and our child, but should I lose, then so be it.

I don’t regret a thing. At first I told myself all I felt was lust, soon quenched, but we know differently, don’t we? Even when you meant to kill me, we both knew how much we loved.

Full life, Tem.

Your Shirin

Just before we left, I gave the letter to Garis, who looked at me uncertainly and said, ‘I wish I could be sure you’re doing the right thing.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Impossible, I know. But how will you know what part of the Alps the Stalwarts will cross? You may miss them.’

‘I won’t miss them. The Mirage Makers will see to that,’ I said with certainty. I swung myself up onto one of the shleths he had procured for us. ‘Full life, Garis.’

He nodded unhappily and stood watching while Brand and I rode out of the Mirage City.

This time there was no cheering.

‘This place gives me the spine-crawls,’ Brand said, looking around uneasily. ‘It’s so unnatural.’

I shrugged. ‘It’s a mirage. I find it…entertaining.’ Enjoying the view from the back of my shleth, I saw a landscape of green and blue boulders, of bushes scurrying along trying to hide behind one another like frightened furry animals, of pink and white lakes hovering in the distance, of tree blossoms tinkling in song or birds wafting past in perfumed flight or insects floating along streams in flower-petal boats.

Occasionally we saw something more commonplace: a Kardi with a cartload of fruit on his way into the city, or a field of grain being hoed and weeded by people who waved as we rode by—sights that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Kardi vale or along a Tyranian river, except they were set against a mauve sky studded with candleholders.

Brand regarded it all sourly. He indicated the grey and white brick paving we were following. ‘And you think this road will lead us directly to the Stalwarts?’

‘If the Mirage Makers have already seen the invaders, I think they will supply us with the path to
the place of their intrusion. I could be wrong, I suppose. Let me check…’ Several women were digging pottery clay from a small pit beside the road. I pulled up beside them and asked them how long the paving had been there.

‘Ah, about ten minutes,’ one of them said matter-of-factly, using a clay-smeared arm to push her hair away from her face, with interesting results. ‘Nice one, isn’t it? I hope it stays. It’ll be much more convenient for us. The old road was much further east.’

I raised an eyebrow at Brand. ‘Ten minutes. I’d say it was made for us, wouldn’t you?’

Brand remarked it was convenient to be on such good terms with the Mirage Makers. As we rode on, he added, with less flippancy, ‘You think we’re being followed, don’t you? You’re not pressing these poor beasts of ours merely out of your eagerness to meet the Stalwarts.’ The shleths were at that moment only ambling at a walk, but that was just because they needed the respite; they had been pushed hard for three days now. His animal reached back with a feeding arm to scratch absentmindedly at an itch, and connected with Brand’s sandal instead. He knocked the offending limb away in annoyance.

I said, ‘There is a possibility Pinar might take it into her head to come after us. I’m hoping Garis can persuade her not to; that’s really why I wanted him to stay in the city.’

‘But if he doesn’t tell her where we’ve gone, surely she won’t know where to find us.’

‘Yes, she will. She has a certain, um, affinity with me, Brand. She has put her cabochon into the hollow on my sword hilt; that gives her some advantages, including the ability to follow the traces my sword leaves behind it as it passes, or so I have read. And no,’
I added, forestalling his next suggestion, ‘I can’t leave the sword behind. I need it.’

He frowned uncertainly, not liking the nature of the conversation, but persisting nonetheless. ‘If these Mirage Makers can help us, then can’t they hinder her? Stop her from following us? Couldn’t they throw a lake across the landscape between her and us, or something?’

‘I’m sure they could. But I’m not sure they will. She is Magor, so presumably the Mirage Makers think of her as an ally. There may be other considerations as well.’

He sighed. ‘Ligea, I think you ought to tell me everything you know instead of just hinting at things. It is
very
irritating.’

I tried not to feel exasperated. His persistence was edging me towards the thing that had been skipping around the fringes of my mind for weeks; something I had been doing my unsuccessful best to stave off because I didn’t want to think about it. I said, ‘I’m not being deliberately obscure, Brand. It’s just that I don’t really
know
anything. I only guess. All those weeks we were imprisoned, I had time to do a lot of thinking. And I had access to a great many books about Kardiastan and the Magor. And then I have what the Mirage Makers have told me more directly…’

‘And?’

I pointed at a black patch scoring a hillside with darkness. ‘You’ve seen those diseased areas?’

‘Of course. They are—foul.’

‘Yes. Evil. I have come to believe they are a sort of physical manifestation of things we usually think of as abstracts: things like cruelty and hate. Just as a mirage can have solidity here, so can evil have a physical reality. Those patches are slowly and surely destroying
the Mirage. But I think the Mirage Makers know a way to make themselves strong enough to resist. I think they believe an infusion of humanity, of Magoroth humanity, will provide them with what they now lack.’

‘Dubious reasoning,’ he objected. ‘Surely humanity is more usually known for committing evil than for combating it.’

‘Perhaps those who are capable of committing evil are also the best at fighting it, for just that reason. And there are those who do combat it, especially among the Magor.’ There was another hole in my reasoning, though, one that was harder to plug. I could be right about the nature of the Ravage, but where did it come from in the first place? Ravage patches predated the arrival of the Ten in the Mirage…

‘What do you mean by an infusion anyway?’

‘The Mirage Makers need a life. A Magoroth life to grow inside the Mirage, to become one of them, one of the immortal entities that comprise the Mirage. At least, that’s what I have come to understand.’

He interrupted. ‘Yes, I remember. I was there when Temellin told us.’

‘Years ago, the then Mirager—a man called Solad—made some sort of bargain with the Mirage Makers.

‘That debt has yet to be paid. I think he promised them a Magoroth life, a living, unborn child, in exchange for shelter inside the Mirage for the Magor fleeing the invasion. They want a child to become one of them. A child who, when his mind is grown, will provide them with the strength to destroy the Ravage. I suppose I could be wrong in this, but I don’t think so.’
And I believe the Ravage hates me so much because it knows I am bearing such a child…

He was silent for a while, absorbing all I had said with a growing horror. His mount, sensing his
inattention, stopped, forcing me to pull up as well. ‘Sweet Elysium,’ he said finally, his voice hardly more than an appalled whisper. ‘Are you saying you think these Mirage Makers want
your
child, your unborn baby?’

‘Not exactly. I think they want—need—
a
Magoroth child, any such child. I think they believe the most, er, appropriate would be one sired by Temellin. It is, after all, the ruler who has the responsibility for Solad’s decisions and promises.’ I could have added: and what better than a child from the womb of Solad’s daughter, Kardiastan’s
truly
legitimate ruler?

He stared at me, appalled. ‘You—you think they’re going to kill you to rip the child out of your womb?’

I shook my head. ‘Under the terms of a covenant made way, way back with the Magor, the Mirage Makers are prohibited from the deliberate killing of humans. If the Mirage Makers could still kill, then I wouldn’t be needing to ride all this way to halt an invasion. The Mirage would do it instead—drown the legionnaires in a lake or drop them into a gorge or something. I have been hoping they may be able to hinder the advance of the Stalwarts without actually hurting them, but I’m not sure enough of that to leave it up to them. You see, the Mirage Makers are not human. They sometimes don’t understand just what is useful—or conversely, what is of a hindrance to us.’ My mount reached out to groom Brand’s animal with its feeding arms. I thwarted its intention by urging it into a walk once more.

Brand hurried his beast after me. ‘What about the Shiver Barrens? They kill enough people—’

‘The Barrens are not the Mirage. The Barrens are a natural physical phenomenon caused by the heating
and cooling of a certain kind of desert sand. The Mirage Makers use the Barrens as a barrier, that’s all.’ I paused, remembering. ‘When I was inside the Shiver Barrens, under the sands, I thought I caught a glimpse of the Mirage Makers; now I think what I saw was a mere projection. Another mirage, if you like, with no substance. The reality of the Mirage Makers
is
the Mirage, just what you see around you now—nothing else. This is the closest they get to having a body, a physical being.’

He swallowed. ‘You went inside the Barrens? Ocrastes’ balls!’ He made a helpless gesture with his hand. ‘It seems I may as well have been asleep for all I have understood about what has been happening since we came to this place!’ He gave me an uneasy look. ‘Ligea, there is surely no way to remove a child from its mother’s womb without killing the mother.’

‘Not that I know of. However, my feeling is that the Mirage Makers take an intense interest in me because—because of my son. They might not kill me, but they might not save me, either; they may even have an interest in seeing Pinar catch up with us…’

‘So that
she
can kill you on their behalf?’ For a moment he was speechless, searching for the right words to express his outrage. Then he exploded. ‘Goddess
damn
them! They are a sly, shifty piece of worm-ridden
dirt
!’

‘I wouldn’t insult them too much, my hasty Altani friend. Their understanding might be a little unconventional, but I suspect they do hear every word we say. I could add, too, that Pinar’s death might serve the Mirage Makers just as well. She also carries Temellin’s child.’

He was further incensed; this time—illogically—with Temellin. ‘That bastard. Vortexdamn it, Ligea,
what do you see in that frigging whoreson? Never mind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear. And if Pinar’s death would suit the Mirage Makers just as well as yours, why don’t you let her catch up with you, always supposing she
is
following us, and kill her off? She’s no loss to the world, not even to Temellin. The woman’s a murdering vixen.’

‘Yes, she is. She’s also well on the way to madness.’

He blinked. ‘You sound almost sympathetic!’

‘I wouldn’t put it quite so strongly. I do pity her, though. Her instincts with regard to me were good, yet no matter what she did, she couldn’t get rid of me. Her husband loves me still. However, if I had to choose between the two of us, yes, I’d kill her if I could, and it wouldn’t particularly worry me to do so. Unfortunately, in any confrontation between Pinar and me,
I
would probably be the one to end up dead. Pinar is a Magoria with years of experience and training, and my sword can’t be used against her. She, however, can kill me from across a room with hers. If she’d really put her mind to it, I’d already be just so many bones scattered in the soil of the Mirage. So far she has been hampered by a need not to be associated with my death—but out here, with me an escaped prisoner—who will blame her?’

‘I still have my own sword. Hardly a patch on yours, I know, but why don’t we lay a trap for her? Kill her before she has a chance to get you?’

‘She’s a Magoroth, Brand. She has the power to sense the position of people around her. An ambush is not going to work.’

He stared at me, aghast. He had finally absorbed the magnitude of the danger I was in. ‘Does she know about this child business?’ he asked.

‘I haven’t the faintest idea. I doubt she knows I’m pregnant.’

‘And Temellin?’

‘He knows about the bargain, yes. But I never did tell him I was pregnant.’

I had never seen Brand so enraged. ‘He got two women pregnant at the same time,
knowing
one of them may have to be killed to save the Mirage and the Magor?’

‘That’s an oversimplification of the situation, and you know it.’

‘The situation
stinks
, Ligea, and so does Temellin.’

I ignored that and said instead, ‘You may as well know another thing I’ve found out, which no one else realises. I’m not Shirin. I’m not Temellin’s sister. I’m his cousin, Sarana. Solad’s daughter.’

His grip slackened on the reins and his shleth halted again. I felt his bewilderment. ‘But didn’t Temellin tell us she was—’ He gaped. ‘You’re the rightful—?’

‘Miragerin. Yes.’

He rolled his eyes upwards. ‘Elysium save me. Ligea, all this stuff—it’s unreal. Magic swords and Mirage Makers and dancing sands, I don’t know how to deal with it.’ He sighed and added, ‘And if you are the Miragerin, why in all Acheron’s mists are you thinking of leaving Kardiastan?’

‘What difference does being the Miragerin make? In Magor eyes, I would still be a traitor. Worse still, the daughter of a traitor. I can’t explain who I am without revealing the extent of Solad’s treachery. He’s the one who betrayed Kardiastan. I’m the daughter of a man who sold his country and his people into slavery and humiliation and subjection—just to save
me
. They would never accept me, and I can’t say I blame them.’

I shook my head at the accumulation of bewildering irony. ‘I revered Gayed, and have found
him since to be a man who feigned affection for me so I would become the instrument of his revenge. I know now why Salacia was complacent about my presence. She knew, and revelled in the joke. And now, when I discover the lie and replace Gayed with my real father, what do I find? A man who loved me so much, he didn’t care how many people died and how many others suffered just to keep me alive. My life was bought with a pile of corpses and a tide of suffering that’s lasted a generation.’

I turned to Brand, and the shleth took advantage of my inattention to start pulling leaves from a nearby bush with its fingers. ‘I could atone by giving up my life and my child, but I’m damned if I’ll do that willingly. It’s just not in me. But I
can
try to stop the Stalwarts. And my only chance to do that is to stay ahead of Pinar if she is indeed following me. Or hope Garis manages to delay her.’

He was thoughtful. ‘Once the Kardis find out you were telling the truth about the Stalwarts, they will forgive much. Especially if you turn the legionnaires back. You could return to the Mirage City. They can hardly blame you for what Solad did. You could claim your rightful place as their Miragerin.’

‘No.’

He looked at me shrewdly. ‘You’re doing this for
him
. Denying your chance to have the kind of power you’ve always wanted, because it would be at his expense.’ For once I felt his emotions, and they were such a contradictory mix I couldn’t decide exactly what dominated. There was certainly plenty of rage, but I suspected most of that was directed at Temellin.