“I will gladly assist you and my Royal Husband in rallying the nations,” said Queen Anigel. “I suppose Kadi will be doing the same work amongst the Folk.”
“Not for some time,” the Lady of the Eyes said, “for I have been given a larger job to do. Only one state balked at Hara’s plan of alliance: Sobrania.”
The Queen assumed a rueful face. “I might have known. The Feathered Barbarians are so fearful of plots against them by Galanar or the Imlit and Okamisi republics that they resist any pact that infringes upon their much-vaunted independence. Emperor Denombo of Sobrania is an honorable man, according to his lights—but impetuous and shortsighted, and hardly inclined to concern himself with nations other than his own collection of fractious tribes. Will you go to him, Kadi, and attempt persuasion?”
“Yes, may the Flower defend me. Hara has commanded it and I will willingly obey.”
“She will also have another task.” The Archimage spoke more quietly, even though musicians had begun to play the introduction to the night’s entertainment, making such a noise that eavesdropping seemed impossible. “I told you of observing a young Star Man in the mountains above Zinora. He had with him feathered saddlebags of Sobranian make. This could be a meaningless detail … or it might be a valuable clue.”
“To the location of the Star Guild headquarters!” Queen Anigel’s eyes, blue as the Dry Time sky, sparkled with excitement. “Have you any other indication pointing to Sobrania?”
“None as yet,” Haramis admitted, “for my talisman is powerless to descry Guildsmen who are in full control of the Star’s magic. It was only good fortune—or the kindness of the Lords of the Air—that enabled me to detect and Send to that young Star Man who incited the Skritek. He was a novice, not yet fully adept in commanding the Star’s protection, perhaps undertaking a mission of minor import while his fellows deal with weightier conspiracies.”
They left off talking for a moment while pages cleared the table of earlier courses of food, brought in tarts and fresh fruit, and refilled the wine goblets. Then there was a fanfare of bugle-horns. A troupe of Tuzameni acrobats pranced into the hall to much applause.
“But how,” the Queen asked Haramis under cover of the renewed noise, “will Kadi hope to spy out the Star Men in Sobrania, if your own great magic is powerless to do so?”
“Eyes,” said Kadiya laconically. “Not Three-Lobed Burning ones, but the two that God set into my head. Wherever the Star Men hide—and it might well be in a backward place like the Land of Feathered Barbarians—the scoundrels must eat and sleep. And unless they subsist wretchedly as wanderers in the wilderness they require a permanent dwelling of fair size, food to eat, clean clothes to wear, beasts to ride when they are not zipping hither and yon through magic viaducts, and a corps of servants to keep all these things in order. Nor will they go invisible at all times, for that takes much effort. If they are hiding in Sobrania I will find them. If they are not, I will look elsewhere, as Hara instructs me.”
“The Star Men will know that you search for them,” Anigel said baldly. “They will descry you through sorcery and hunt you down.”
“Have you forgotten,” Kadiya said, pretending to watch the performers with an idle smile, “how we three, as young princesses, fled for our lives from Orogastus, his Voices, and the evil King Voltrik? None of those miscreants could seek us out through magic, because we were protected then … as we are protected now.”
She drew from the shirt beneath her forester’s jerkin a faintly glowing amber pendant with a fossil Black Trillium within, swinging upon a golden chain. “Only the three talismans of the Sceptre of Power were able to countermand the magic of the Flower.”
“Ah,” breathed the Queen, smiling with relief. “Of course. I fear that I take its magic too much for granted.” Her hand moved briefly to touch her bodice, where her own amulet was hidden.
Haramis smiled. Her trillium-amber nestled within the silvery wings of the Circle wand hanging about her neck. “Kadi will be shielded from the oversight of those who would do her harm through magic. The amber has other powers, but that one is perhaps the most valuable.”
“The Star Men or their followers may still recognize my person as I go among them,” Kadiya admitted, “as I may know them by their Stars. But I will disguise myself and my traveling party well. Perhaps, if I can persuade the amber to obey, I will even be able to go invisible!”
“If you take any of your Mere Folk with you to Sobrania, you will be conspicuous,” Anigel warned. “The aborigines of that distant region are said to be much different in appearance from those of the Peninsula.”
“I must take Jagun, for his counsel is necessary, as is his ability to speak without words across long distances and keep me in touch with Haramis. My other comrades on this quest will be human … Ani, I ask that you find six of your most valiant young Oathed Companions to accompany me as volunteers. The Wyvilo will take us down the Great Mutar to Var and the sea. I have friends in the Varonian capital who will provide us with a ship and all other things necessary for the Sobranian quest.”
The acrobats did a spectacular turn and the Queen clapped her hands dutifully. “It seems you have thought of everything. Of course I will find you six brave knights. More, if you wish.”
“I would travel lightly and swiftly. Six will suffice.”
“There is still great danger in the enterprise,” Haramis noted. “And as you have said, if Orogastus should once again obtain a working talisman, not even trillium-amber would prevent him from viewing and listening to all of us. With a talisman, he could locate you easily, Kadi. I do not know if he could slay you while you wear the amber, but you would ill serve our cause embedded in a block of blue ice like poor Iriane.”
Kadiya grinned at the Archimage. “It is your job to see that does not happen. Keep me under surveillance as best you can, and warn me of danger if you are able to. I will find the Star Men’s nest and smoke them out like night-carolers from a honey tree.”
“You will act only according to our agreed plan!” the Archimage admonished. “You must not attack Orogastus or the Star Guild on your own!”
Kadiya sketched a mocking bow. “Of course not, White Lady.”
“Forgive my abruptness,” Haramis apologized. “But for the love of God, Kadi—promise me to eschew any rash action.”
“You must take great care,” Anigel added. “I feel guilty—my own task is so much easier and safer than yours. Dearest Kadi, I would accompany you myself, together with all my knights of the Oathed Company, if I were bearing but a single babe and not triplets.”
“Triplets!” Both Kadiya and the Archimage were astounded.
“Immu has only lately been certain of it,” the Queen said, referring to the little old Nyssomu woman who had been midwife to their own unfortunate mother, Queen Kalanthe, and later the nurse and trusted friend to the sisters.
“Can this pregnancy be another omen?” Haramis wondered. “Might these also be children of high and awful destiny, as we Three were?”
Anigel placed a reassuring hand on that of the Archimage. “More likely it is an entirely natural thing. At any rate, Immu says that all of my unborn babes are boys, so the Petals of the Living Trillium need fear no usurpers.”
“Idiot!” laughed Kadiya, and turned in her chair to embrace and kiss Anigel. “May the Flower bless you and your new sons. Antar must be so proud.”
“He is,” said the Queen, “and so are my two eldest children. Only Tolivar seems dismayed by the prospect. Twelve is such a difficult age, when a boy is on the brink of manhood and torn by unfamiliar emotions. Poor Tolo has always been plagued by self-doubt and envy of his older brother and sister, and he seems now to resent the impending birth of the babes. But when he sees them, I am sure he will love them dearly.”
Haramis and Kadiya exchanged glances over their sister’s head. Young Prince Tolivar was a secretive and jealous boy who had been a thoroughgoing brat not too many years earlier. He bitterly resented being subo
rdinate to Crown Prince Nikalon, who at fifteen was not only taller and better-looking but also considerably more popular with the courtiers and common people. Princess Janeel, a year younger than Niki and clever as a shefedok, had never been able to resist teasing her little brother, whom she thought deficient in character. Tolo loathed her heartily in return.
Over the years, Kadiya had made a special effort to be kind to the unhappy younger Prince; but she feared he might think she was only taking pity on him. Tolivar seemed to have no real affection for either of his illustrious aunts and had been barely civil when presented to them tonight before dinner.
Kadiya now studied the lad, who sat with the other royal and noble youth at one of the tables not far from the triplet sisters. Crown Prince Nikalon and Princess Janeel were laughing and throwing coins with the others as the acrobats retired, but Tolivar only sat with his elbows on the table, an inscrutable expression on his face.
The boy’s mire-name was Hiddenheart. And Kadiya thought that it suited him only too well.
“Tolo needs to be given useful work to do,” she said. “Ani, have you ever considered cutting him free of your apron strings? Letting him leave the court for a time, so he would not constantly compare himself to Niki or feel belittled by Jan?”
“He was always my baby,” Anigel confessed, “and since he was restored to me four years ago I have kept him close to me, hoping that my love would suffice to boost his fragile self-esteem. But perhaps you are right. The newborn sons will take all of my attention for some time, and Tolo might possibly feel worse than ever.”
“Let the lad accompany me,” Kadiya said impulsively. “Perhaps not as far as Sobrania, but at least during the first part of my mission. Jagun and I will keep him so busy he’ll have no time to sulk or feel sorry for himself.”
“He is so young,” Anigel said, looking doubtful, “and his body is not strong.”
Kadiya’s expression was sardonic. “He survived being snatched by pirates and held captive by Orogastus. Even though he is a bit lacking in stature, he is robust enough. Do not over-protect the boy, Ani. We may not deny children the right to encounter and overcome great obstacles. Such can turn even a shy or petulant soul heroic.”
“As I myself know full well,” the Queen admitted, smiling. “What do you think, Hara?”
“The idea has merit,” said the Archimage, “provided that the lad is carefully supervised. Is not the retired stablemaster Ralabun his close friend? He is a responsible person, if not overly endowed with brains. Perhaps he could accompany Tolo.”
“Let us put it to the boy himself,” Kadiya suggested. “I would not take him, were he unwilling.”
“Very well.” Queen Anigel gave in with reluctance. “But if he accepts, you must promise to send him home before you venture beyond the Peninsula.”
“He and Ralabun can catch a fast Engian cutter to Labornok from Mutavari,” Kadiya said, “and with fair winds, reach Derorguila not too long after the arrival of the royal entourage. What say we speak to the boy right now?”
“We may as well.” The Queen beckoned to a page, telling him to summon Prince Tolivar to the high table.
6
Tolo’s mouth tightened as the message was given to him. “Now what trouble have you got yourself into?” Princess Janeel inquired. “Have you filled too many wagons with boxes of your precious books?”
“Perhaps,” Crown Prince Nikalon suggested, “he decided to take so many that there was no room for his boots or underwear.”
That set the entire table of young people to laughing. Tolo flushed and lowered his head to hide his anger as he accompanied the page to the high table and bowed deeply.
“How may I serve you, Great Queen and Mother?” he inquired. All expression had now been banished from his features. He was a thin lad with fair hair and skin that was very pale, as though he spent too much time sequestered indoors.
“Your Aunt Kadiya has a proposition to put to you,” Anigel said.
The Lady of the Eyes explained in some detail, not minimizing the hardships of the expedition, for they would travel downstream when the Great Mutar was in flood, and the seas on his journey home from Var would doubtless be racked by storms.
To Anigel’s surprise, Prince Tolivar’s listlessness dropped away like the husk of an emergent nas-beetle. His eyes shone with excitement and he exclaimed, “Oh, yes, Aunt Kadi! Take me and Ralabun with you! I promise to obey you in everything, and never complain or shirk my duties or vex you.”
“Then it is settled,” the Lady of the Eyes said, clapping the boy on the shoulder.
“I only wish you would let me help in your quest against the Star Men,” Tolivar said stoutly.
The three women laughed.
“You are brave, but still too young,” said the Archimage.
“The world must be saved from Orogastus,” the lad said in a low voice. “I have personal knowledge of his evil and treacherous ways. If necessary, I would give my life to destroy him.”
“It will suffice if you serve your aunt faithfully,” said the Queen. “Leave graver matters to those older and wiser.”
“Yes, Mother.” The Prince’s demeanor could not have been more respectful and docile. He bowed and took his leave from the great hall, saying he was eager to tell the great news to Ralabun.
“Poor Tolo.” Anigel’s concerned gaze followed her son. “He was so deeply affected by his time of captivity with Orogastus. He still feels guilty because he believed the sorcerer’s lies about becoming his heir and his apprentice in enchantment.”
“He was too immature then to understand the enormity of his actions,” the Archimage said kindly.
But the Queen shook her head. “He was eight years old, and capable of knowing evil. Again and again he has besought Antar and me to forgive him for repudiating us, and we have tried with all our hearts to reassure him. But his guilt remains unassuaged. Kadi … be kind to him. Try to ease his troubled spirit.”
“I will do what I can,” said the Lady of the Eyes, “but I suspect Tolo’s healing will come only with time. And with some atoning action he himself must perform.”
“The times are perilous,” Haramis said with a sigh. “There will be dangers and challenges and opportunities for heroism sufficient for all of us, even the young Prince. Pray that we will measure up to them, Sisters. Pray with all your hearts and souls, for I cannot help but feel that some fresh disaster will confront us very soon.”
Long after the midnight hour he dared to unlock his iron strongbox, which he had refused to let the servants take away until the very moment of the caravan’s departure. He took out the smaller cloth bag, unwrapped the Three-Headed Monster, and held it in trembling hands. The silvery coronet shone in the light of the guttering candle on the bedside stand, shadows making the awful faces carved upon it seem almost alive.
Did he dare? Was there a chance of success if he did?
The unexpected great opportunity had come almost like a miracle, but it would not last long. He placed the coronet upon his head, took a deep breath, and strove to speak without faltering.
“Three-Headed Monster,” he whispered, “you belong to me! Answer me true: If I obtain the dead Three-Lobed Burning Eye from my Aunt Kadiya and place it in the star-box, will it bond to me?”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a mysterious voice within his own head replied: Yes. If you press the colored gems within the box in consecutive order, the Eye will cleave to you alone, slaying any other person who presumes to touch it without your permission.
“Will the Eye obey my commands?”
It will, if the commands are pertinent.
Tolivar nearly shouted with elation. “Can—can you make me invisible so that I may enter my aunt’s room without her seeing me?”
The question is impertinent.
The Prince nearly burst into tears of frustration. Not again! Not now! “Make me invisible! I command you!”
The request is impertinent.
Th
e talisman would sometimes obey his commands—especially when he asked it simple questions, or bade it give him Sight of some person or place far distant—but more often it spoke that maddening phrase of refusal. His attempts at sorcery, undertaken either in the hut out in the mire or in his other hiding place in the Derorguila ruins, had always been timid and hesitant and not often successful. Tolivar had good reason to be afraid of his talisman. Sometimes, for reasons unknown, the power would turn upon the one who wielded it. This had happened to Orogastus while Tolivar was his hostage. The sorcerer had not been seriously hurt.
But even though there was danger, Tolivar could not let this fortuitous opportunity pass by.
“I will not give way to faintheartedness,” the Prince said to himself. “After all, the Monster did make me invisible once before, when I first obtained it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, breathed slowly in and out until he felt calmer, and then spoke to the talisman again, this time choosing his words with care.
“Instruct me how I may become invisible.”
Visualize the deed to be accomplished and then command it.
Could it be that simple? Was the talisman’s operation triggered by his thoughts, then, rather than by spoken words? Was that the great secret to successful wizardry? It was a notion that the boy had never considered before. Had he perhaps done the visualization inadvertently earlier on, when issuing the successful magical commands?
Let it be! Please, let it be!
With his eyes still closed, Tolivar conjured a picture of himself within his imagination, sitting on the bed in his room, wearing the coronet. Keeping the vision clear, he caused his body to fade away like dissipating smoke. He did not speak until the imaginary bedroom was empty.