But before the Purple Voice could reach the cabin door, a loud banging upon it commenced. The Voice yanked the door open and there stood the First Mate, a tall, saturnine pirate named Kalardis.
“Your prisoners have escaped,” he said brusquely. “While you were frolicking with the sea-monster, three Wyvilo aborigines invaded the quarters of the galley slaves, freed King Antar, and took him away through one of the slop-doors. Nearly fifty oarsmen of the third bank also absconded, and this cursed storm of your concoction has very likely drowned the lot of them!”
“The royal children are gone, too?” croaked Portolanus. He had immediately reassumed the cloak of old age as the mate appeared.
“Aye,” said Kalardis. “My men checked the chain-locker immediately. Its doors were smashed from the inside, as were those of the locked holds hard by and those in the corridors leading to the slave compartments. The rascals must have come up the anchor chains.”
The sorcerer spoke low, with an anxious urgency. “Have we enough oarsmen left to move the ship? We must get away from this place before hostile Sea Oddlings attack us. I do not think my storm will hold them off for long. There is also the possibility of Queen Anigel doing us some great mischief with her own talisman, now that her family has escaped the ship.”
“I met your minion on my way here and he told me of your orders to get under way. The other two banks of oars are still manned. We will move—although not as swiftly as before. We would not be able to make any turn of speed under the best of circumstances, however. Your storm will hinder the lookouts, as does the darkness, and we will have to take constant soundings to keep from running aground or piling up on a reef.”
“The storm will soon cease, and I will see us safe with my magical talisman—” Portolanus started to say, but the mate broke in.
“Not until you wait upon the Queen Regent’s pleasure.” Kalardis grinned, revealing stained and broken teeth. “Or, rather, her displeasure. She expects you at once in the royal saloon, and I would not be in your boots for all the plunder in Taloazin.”
Queen Ganondri, attended by six heavily armed pirate-knights, sat at a gilded table with a chart of the islands spread upon it. No sooner had Portolanus stepped into the saloon than two of the big Raktumians seized his arms and held him fast. He had not had time to pull the Three-Lobed Burning Eye from his belt.
“Give me a reason,” Ganondri said with venomous sweetness, “why I should not command my men to cut your scrawny throat, since you allowed the royal prisoners to escape.”
The sorcerer took a deep breath. “Talisman! I command you to strike my captors dead!”
The two pirates uttered gasping curses. At once they unhanded Portolanus and drew their swords. The Queen Regent started up from her seat, her face livid.
Nothing happened.
Desperately, the sorcerer took hold of the talisman and waved it in a sweeping arc. “Talisman, smite all mine enemies in this room with your vengeful fire!”
Again, nothing happened.
Ganondri fell back, laughing in relief. All six of the enraged knights converged upon Portolanus. One of them ripped the talisman from the sorcerer’s fingers, taking hold of it by the dull-edged blade.
At once the three orbs of the pommel opened and the living eyes stared for a moment at the hapless Raktumian. Then from the human eye shot a golden beam, and from the Folk eye a green, and from the strange silver-blue eye a ray of searing white.
The armored pirate was instantly bathed from helmet to heel in pulsating radiance. His gauntleted fingers let the talisman fall, but the magical flames only waxed brighter, wrapping him in a tricolored shroud of light. He uttered no sound, but those around him cried out in horror and revulsion, for his face had gone black and charred below its uplifted visor, and thick smoke leaked from every joint in his armor. There was a dreadful crackling sound and a subdued roar like a fire up a flue. The burning knight crashed to the carpet. Two of the other pirates hauled down a tapestry and flung it over their doomed comrade, but none dared touch him. Portolanus, who had backed against one wall, regarded the scene with as much amazement and fear as did the Queen and her men.
Abruptly, the awful muffled sounds beneath the tapestry ceased. The smoke and stench vanished, leaving the air in the saloon clear and sweet. Portolanus squared his shoulders, assumed a solemn mien, and marched forward to lift the heavy cloth.
The leather straps joining the victim’s armor had burnt away, and scorched plates lay helter-skelter. There was no sign of a body, or even bones. In the midst of the heat-warped pieces of armor was the talisman, quite unharmed, once again seeming to be nothing more than a Sword of Mercy made of dark metal, lacking a point and having unsharpened edges.
Portolanus picked it up and thrust it into his belt, then let the tapestry fall again. He said to the knights: “You men, leave us.”
“No!” Ganondri cried. “Wizard, take care! Have you forgotten my warning? Even if all on this ship should perish, in the end you would find your ambitions confounded without the aid of great Raktum. Only with my help can you achieve your goal!”
The sorcerer came forward and leaned upon the table with both palms flat. His face was now drawn and tired, and his voice harsh. “You are quite right: I need your help more than ever now that Anigel’s talisman is out of reach. But unless you would have these louts witness talk that should remain privy between us, dismiss them.”
He pulled up a gilded chair, dropped down into it, and smiled wryly. “You are safe enough with me, Great Queen. You have seen that my mastery of the talisman is imperfect. It kills only the person who tries to take it from me—worst luck! I swear by the Dark Powers I serve, and by the talisman itself, that I will not harm you.”
The Queen’s hand was shaking as she finally gestured for the knights to gather up the blackened armor of their incinerated companion and leave. She then took a decanter, poured brandy into a large goblet, and was barely able to lift it to her lips. After she had gulped the whole thing, she seemed steadied, although her eyes still smoldered with hate, together with a profound terror barely suppressed by her great power of will. She said:
“This situation is unacceptable, wizard. We must renegotiate our alliance once again. You have your talisman, but mine is now beyond reach.”
“Not necessarily! Let us see if this balky magical sword can do more than roast the unwary pilferer.” Before the Queen could protest, he drew it and held it upright by the blade. “Talisman! Show the two of us King Antar.”
Ganondri gave an exclamation as the vision formed. She saw a dark and choppy sea pocked with a few raindrops. Appearing and disappearing amidst the waves were the silhouettes of three grotesque muzzled heads clustered about a smaller human one. Antar and the Wyvilo were paddling slowly toward the luminous surf-line of the island shore.
“Ah,” said Portolanus. “So they did make their escape in spite of the storm and Heldo. It should not be too difficult to resnare our regal guest!… Now, talisman, show us Prince Nikalon, Princess Janeel, and Prince Tolivar.”
In their mind’s eye the sorcerer and the Queen Regent saw Niki and Jan lying supine in the wet mud of a native village compound. Their limbs were tied to stakes and they seemed to be unconscious. With the rain dwindling to occasional drops, a few Aliansa were peering from the doors of their huts and calling out to each other.
“Well, well! It seems the two elder waifs are being honored with some local demonstration of hospitality. I don’t think their fate need concern us. Now what about the third royal child?”
Obediently, the vision shifted to Tolivar. He was moving purposefully through the jungle undergrowth, muttering to himself. Portolanus and the Queen could distinguish only a few phrases:
“… Aunt Kadiya can’t make me … don’t care if the pirates find me … rather be a wizard than a rotten second prince … I’ll miss Ralabun, but none of them …”
Portolanus banished the vision and sat frowning thoughtfully. Finally he commanded: “
Talisman, show me precisely where King Antar and his three children are situated now—and also Kadiya.”
In his mind a picture of Council Isle materialized, together with glowing points of white light. He knew immediately what each light signified. King Antar was still nearly half a league offshore, swept some distance to the south by the storm winds. Little Tolivar was at the forest edge approaching the open beach, opposite the anchorage of the Raktumian flagship. The two captive children were at the large Aliansa village a league or so inland and further north. Kadiya was near them, apparently not having moved from her previous position.
“Now show me Prince Tolivar again,” Portolanus commanded.
Through the open ports of the saloon came a sound of shouted commands and running feet. A vibration spread through the trireme as the twin capstans in the bow were manned and the two great anchors were raised.
The Queen surged to her feet. “Who ordered that we get under way? We must send armed parties ashore at once! If we regain even one of the escaped prisoners, we will have sufficient leverage to force Anigel to give up her talisman to me.” She rushed toward the door, flung it open, and began to shout for Admiral Jorot.
Portolanus was still engrossed in his vision of Prince Tolivar, speaking to himself. “The little devil! So he would, would he? The audacity!… But he did seem quite taken with me, did he not? And I thought I detected about him the faintest aura of magical potential! I suppose that’s why I hadn’t the heart to consider torturing him. One very well might be able to make a sorcerer of him … I wonder if he is old enough yet to understand matters of state? Might he be of direct assistance to us in the overthrow of the Two Thrones?”
Ganondri reentered the stateroom. “I have ordered that the flagship remain hove to with the anchors up while six boats full of armed men go after King Antar and the little Prince. We can forget about the two children held captive by the Sea Oddlings. No doubt Queen Anigel has already spied them out. She will pay scant attention to us while her precious brats are menaced by savages. Now you must—”
“I will not go ashore!” the sorcerer declared.
“Surely the Sea Oddlings would not endanger a mighty enchanter such as yourself,” the Queen said archly. And then her tone sharpened. “You must guide the landing party directly to Antar and Prince Tolivar through your talisman. There is no time to waste!”
“My Black Voice will accompany the party going after the King, and my Purple Voice will guide those who seek Prince Tolivar. I will communicate to the Voices the exact places where the King and the little Prince are to be found. There is no reason for me to leave the flagship.”
“You will go because I command it!”
“No! It is unnecessary.”
Portolanus and Queen Regent Ganondri glared at one another in silence for a moment. Then he said softly: “You will not maroon me on this Oddling island, Pirate Queen. Get that notion out of your head. We will remain allies, for better or worse, and I will see that at least one royal hostage is retaken so that you may barter with Queen Anigel for her talisman. However, I strongly suggest that you do not attempt the exchange here. Anigel will be in no mood to be reasonable once the Aliansa have tormented and slain two of her children. We should set sail just as soon as we have either Antar or the little Prince.”
“And then?” the Queen snapped.
“You will deliver me and my people safely to my Tuzameni vessel. Through my talisman’s Sight, I can ensure a speedy rendezvous with it and with the three other ships of your flotilla. They cannot be more than a few days’ sail away from us. After that, if you wish our alliance to continue, we can undertake our journey home in convoy. You may carry the royal prisoners as before—”
“And the star-box,” Ganondri said firmly. “You will give it to me now, or your alliance with great Raktum is at an end—and so are your ambitions to conquer Laboruwenda!”
Portolanus drew the talisman from his belt and slowly brought the pointless dark blade toward the Queen Regent’s throat. She stiffened, but neither flinched nor cried out as the metal touched her flesh harmlessly. If the sorcerer was commanding her destruction in his mind, the talisman declined to obey.
Ganondri’s mouth curved in a small, wintry smile. “The star-box,” she repeated. “Now. And you will show me how to use it.”
Portolanus withdrew the talisman, stood up from the table, and bowed. “It seems we have reached a stalemate, Great Queen. Let us both attempt to dismiss the rancor that divides us at this moment. Let us try to think instead upon the considerations that originally brought us together. We need not love one another to work toward a common goal. You know very well that my ambition is not so petty as the conquest of Laboruwenda. That proud Land of the Two Thrones shall be yours.”
“And so will Queen Anigel’s talisman.” The Queen’s smile tightened to the ferocity of a lothok’s grimace and she tapped the fingers of one hand upon the table before her, so that her many rings flashed in the lamplight. “Let me tell you what the new terms of our agreement are to be, magician. Great Raktum will be your loyal ally for as long as you forswear treachery against her and her Queen Regent. But I will retain Anigel’s talisman until the day I die, and you will instruct me in its operation.”
Portolanus flung up his hands in frustration. “I do not yet know how to use my own talisman properly!”
“I have no doubt that you will learn.”
The sorcerer sighed. “Very well … I swear by the Dark Powers and by this talisman—may it destroy me if I violate this oath—that I will faithfully adhere to the conditions you have set. I will send my Yellow Voice to you with the star-box immediately, and then undertake the recovery of the royal prisoners.”
Ganondri nodded imperiously. Portolanus then went out of the royal stateroom, closing the door softly behind him. When he had gone, the Queen Regent began to laugh, and her mirth and exultant triumph so overwhelmed her that she could not stop until she drank another full goblet of brandy.
When the Yellow Voice came anon with the star-box, she snatched it rudely from him and pushed him out the door. Then she began to laugh again.
15
Haramis did not hurry along the Way of Light. She walked over the cold deep waters of the sea deliberately, as though the sparkling insubstantiality beneath her feet were a stone pavement. The arctic breeze bore the peculiar scent of sea-ice, and the aurora flamed over the entire sky, veiling the stars and the Three Moons and illuminating the gigantic drifting icebergs with pale rays of blue and red.
The largest of the floating ice-mountains, toward which the Way of Light led, shone also with an interior glow of its own. This had not been evident to Haramis when she started out from the shore; but as she drew closer the iceberg seemed to become more and more luminous, until it finally took on the appearance of a titanic beryl gemstone, blue green in a hundred different tints, embedded in the black glass of the northern ocean. Its radiance continued underwater, dimming with depth, and Haramis realized that the great mass of ice towering above the water was only a small proportion of the incredible bulk that lay hidden beneath.
She walked for over two leagues before she reached it. The Way of Light took her into an overarching grotto that pierced one side of the iceberg, a corridor having a floor of water that was no longer black but midnight blue, still skinned with the Stardust sparkle that rendered it firm for her feet. The walls had a gleaming irregular surface and were cupped and faceted and carved so that the light within seemed to shine through fantastic shapes of pale emerald and aquamarine, shadowed with sapphire blue.
Without thinking, she reached out and touched the nearest wall.
“By the Flower! It is not ice after all!”
The surface was smooth and wet, but only moderately cold to the touch and certainly warmer than the sea. Could it be glass? She rapped it with her fingernails. It seemed more yielding than crystal, unlike any substance she had ever known. It was magical stuff, undoubtedly made by the Archimage of the Sea. A sim
ulation of an iceberg.
And then Haramis realized that inside the transparent walls fishes and other marine animals were swimming toward her. They rushed in countless numbers to swarm in on both sides of the cleft, as high as her eye could see into blue dimness. The artificial iceberg was hollow and crowded with life.
She stared, and the creatures looked her over as well, their eyes seeming to be wide with astonishment. They were mostly colored silver, grayish blue, or white, and some were transparent save for the pulsing organs within. There were huge fish with glittering mirror-scales and mouths full of jagged teeth, resembling the deadly milingals of the rivers in the Mazy Mire. Schools of smaller fish with electric-blue eyes whisked about with a unified precision that made them seem directed by a single brain. There were languidly flowing fish like wide white ribbons stitched with silver foil, and fish shaped like swords, and fish so grotesque that they were scarcely recognizable as such, all studded with knobs and spikes and appendages like flexible lances with silver banners waving at the tips. There were great passive hydrozoans like fringed ovoids of rainbow-tinted jelly, and smaller ones that resembled lovely floating blossoms with questing pastel petals. Snowy tentacled creatures with droll faces zipped about among the slower swimmers, and shoals of translucent shellfish traveled in stately splendor, harried by some kind of shapeless silver predator that occasionally engulfed a heedless victim and then dropped out of sight. Glassy, angular little crustaceans were everywhere, hovering like crystal bees about the flower-animals, moving fearlessly in and out of the gaping maws of the silvery milingals and even hitching rides on the less fierce-looking creatures.
Haramis could not help uttering an exclamation of delight.
I am glad that you enjoy my pets.
Startled, she looked about her. But the aquariumlike cleft was empty of other humans. “Is it the Archimage of the Sea?” she whispered.
Of course! Do hurry along, child. I’m so impatient to meet you. You may study the denizens of my home later if you wish. But our supper is getting cold and I’m so very hungry!