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Authors: Randall Garrett

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“Not in the dark,” she said suddenly. “Rikardon, bring it outside, into the clean air.” Without waiting for my consent, she stood up and ran for the dim gray rectangle that was the door of the room.

I reached in at the freshly cleared base of the opening, which was at floor level, and worked my fingers carefully around the still-sharp edge of the sword. I pulled at the point until it scraped forward. Guided now by touch rather than sight, I jockeyed the steel blade until the point emerged from the wall, then rocked and turned and twisted and pulled until the hilt came free of its encasement.

I put Rika back through my baldric, and walked cautiously across the rock-strewn floor, carrying the Sword of Kings. My hands had tingled when my fingers first had touched it, but there was no special sensation now, and I attributed that earlier reaction to the memory of Rika's effect on me.

What will this do to
—
or for
—
Tarani and Antonia?
I wondered.

Tarani was waiting for me in the huge square that fronted the audience hall. Diffused moonlight provided fair lighting, though shadows were deceptive and perspectives slightly altered by the silvery quality of the light. This place was very similar to Raithskar's main square, with stone pavement and an occasional bench. I laid the sword down on one of the benches.

“There it is,” I said. “What we came for.”

“For different reasons,” Tarani amended. She stood on the other side of the bench, her hands pressed tightly together in front of her. “Did you ever believe in my reasons?” she demanded.

“Yes and no,” I replied. “I believed what you told me, that the sword existed and that you needed it as a tangible symbol of your right to rule Eddarta.”

“But you did not believe—” she prompted.

“You know what my reasons were,” I said. “I was never sure that you weren't working, subconsciously, for my goal, and that the political value of the sword wasn't merely a rationalization.”

“You mean you thought the
other
was moving me,” Tarani exploded, “and I was searching for a logical reason for my actions.”

“Yes, that's what I mean,” I snapped, then drew several deep breaths. “Tarani, anger won't help either one of us,” I said at last. “What bothers you more—knowing that someone else has lived inside you and guided you? Or not knowing
her
and how she can affect your actions?'

“Both things trouble me,” Tarani said, “but not so much as the knowledge that you knew her, that you know her now, and that
you did not warn me of her presence.”

“I accept fault in that, Tarani. It was fear that kept me silent. To tell you about Antonia, I had to tell you the truth about myself and make you aware that I had lied to you. Your trust and faith are precious to me, and I was afraid to risk them. I knew, too, that knowledge of Antonia would disturb you and make you distrust yourself. When I first learned about Antonia, I could not offer you even the hope of ending the duality.”

“When you learned—” she echoed. “When
did
you learn about her?”

I hesitated.

“Rikardon? No more deception.”

“I had no idea she was here, until we arrived in Eddarta. There was a moment when we were very close… .”

“And you turned away,” she said, her voice suddenly gentle and sad. “It might have been best to tell me then—it could have caused no deeper pain.”

“I was shocked, and confused,” I apologized. “I was just beginning to see what Antonia's hidden presence must have meant to you.”

“How aid you recognize her?” she asked.

“She called me by the name I carried in that other world,” I said, then shrugged. “Tarani, what is the point of all this discussion?”

“The point is,” she began angrily, then stopped. “Rikardon, I am frightened. I believe I can pinpoint the other times at which the one called Antonia has spoken to you. They were moments of passion, words of caring, were they not?”

I nodded. “Until she appeared just before we entered the All-Mind,” I confirmed.

“Knowledge of her has given me more understanding,” she said, walking closer to the bench. “Outside of Thagorn, when I cried out with all my voice and mind against the frustration and loss and despair I have suffered, I know now that I was expressing
her
frustration,
her
loss,
her
despair, as well as mine.”

She gestured toward the sword. “I, too, desire the oneness you say this sword
may
give me. I do, desperately, wish for an end to the uncertainty about what touching the sword
will
do. But before I commit myself to whatever change may occur, there is one more truth I must know.”

“Ask it,” I said.

“The caring we have shared, you and I. Is—is any part of it truly mine?”

“All of it,” I said. “I admit to being unsure on that point, myself, for a while. But I am sure now.” I went around the bench to be close to her. I touched her face, nearly at a level with my own. “If you and Antonia become blended to any degree, you will
know
that I love you, Tarani—because she knows it. I can only tell you so, and your believing it depends on whether I have totally destroyed your trust.”

She came into my arms and held me tightly for a moment, pressing her face into my shoulder. Then she stepped away.

“I do believe you, Rikardon,” she said. “And I think more gently, now, of your friend, for the person you care for would not exist, but for the changes she wrought in my life. Will you—”

Her voice failed, and she pointed a trembling hand toward the sword. I lifted it by the blade, and offered her the hilt. She took it in both her hands.

A shock ran through her body, stirring my memory of Thanasset handing me Rika, and the peculiar sensation of learning everything about Markasset in one crashing, overwhelming instant. She staggered back a few steps, her hands clenching the sword hilt. Then she fell to her knees, dropped the point of the sword to the pavement, hunched over, and began to sob.

I knelt beside her and put my arm lightly around her shoulders. She seemed not to notice me, and I merely waited until her breathing slowed. Finally, she lifted her head and looked at me.

I searched her face for change, and could find none. She smiled, a tender and wavering curving of her lips, and moved her feet. I helped her stand; she sagged against me and my concern mounted.

“Sit here,” I said, leading her to the bench. “I'll bring the water sack, and some food.'

Her hand on my arm held me beside her.

“That will be most welcome, in a moment,” the girl said. “We have ignored the needs of our bodies, following our visit to the All-Mind. But do not look so stricken, Rikardon—it is only fatigue which weakens me.”

I could not contain the question any longer.

“Who are you?”

“I am Tarani,” she said. “Antonia has gone, but she has left behind her memory and understanding of your world—
Ricardo Carillo.”

I drew her hand down my arm until I could hold it. “That person exists
only
in memory,” I said. “I am Rikardon now.”

“Her memories are too many, and too strange, to bear close examination now,” Tarani said.

I nodded. “It was that way for me, too. Markasset is still a stranger to me in many ways.”

Tarani rested her head on my shoulder. “I met Antonia for a brief instant,” she said. “I suspect it was her choice, because she wanted me to understand that she did not regret the need of her going. She truly loved you, Rikardon, wholly and separately from my feelings. Yet there was no bitterness in her for my winning your love—only the kindest wishes for our happiness.”

I tightened my arm around her shoulders, moved by the wistfulness and wonder in her voice—moved, too, by the basic goodness I had seen in my brief association with Antonia, which was now lost to both of us.

“I would weep in sadness for her and gratitude, if it were possible,” Tarani said. Then she lifted her head, smiling with more spirit, and a trace of mischief. “But in Raithskar there is a large ‘cat' who wants me to play with her ‘kittens.'”

We both laughed, then she grew serious again and looked down at the sword in her hand.

“In Eddarta, there is a danger to be controlled.”

The thoughtful mood passed from her quickly.

“It was whispered in Recorder School that the infamous Somil used a rather unorthodox method to restore his energy after a session. Tell me,” she said lightly, “is that true?”

“I can't speak from personal observation,” I said, “but it seemed likely. I think your real question,” I added, taking the sword from her hands and replacing it on the bench, “is whether his method is effective.

“Shall we test it for ourselves?”

END PROCEEDINGS:
INPUT SESSION FIVE

—
I have withdrawn our minds from the All-Mind … and now I withdraw mine from yours … was the session as painful as you anticipated?

—
Yes. But I believe, in making this portion of the Record, that I have finally freed myself from the guilt I felt over deceiving Tarani.

—
Be consoled by her own statement, that she could not have been herself without the hidden presence of your friend.

—
It is true of us all, I believe, that we are shaped by our choices and circumstances.

—
You are sad. Why?

—
Antonia.

—
Your grief honors her. But now, you must rest. You will be needed at the close of the festival. When time permits, we will continue the Record.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Vicki Ann Heydron met Randall Garrett in 1975. In 1978, they were married, and also began planning the Gandalara Cycle. A broad outline for the entire Cycle had been completed, and a draft of
The Steel of Raithskar
nearly finished, when Randall suffered serious and permanent injury. Working from their outline, Vicki has completed the Cycle. Of all seven books, Vicki feels that
The River Wall
is most uniquely hers. The other titles in the Cycle are
The Glass of Dyskornis, The Bronze of Eddarta, The Well of Darkness, The Search for Kä
, and
Return to Eddarta.

ALSO BY RANDALL GARRETT

THE GANDALARA CYCLE
(with Vicki Ann Heydron)

The Steel of Rathskar

The Glass of Dyskornis

The Bronze of Eddarta

The Well of Darkness

The Search for Kä

Return to Eddarta

The River Wall

THE LORD DARCY SERIES

Murder and Magic

Too Many Magicians

Lord Darcy Investigates

all available as Jabberwocky ebooks

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BOOK: The Search for Kä
13.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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