Then he sat down again, and watched the sails being raised on the great Raktumian trireme. Fresh-gathering stormclouds smothered the light of the Three Moons.
“Tolo! My poor son, what have you done?… Oh, dear God, no! Now Portolanus has recaptured both of them! Talisman! I command you to bring my husband and my son back to me! Smite their abductors! Kill them all, I say! Do it, talisman! Do it …”
Anigel’s brokenhearted screams brought no response whatsoever from her talisman. She flew into a demented rage, and would have run all the way to the water’s edge if Kadiya had not restrained her. The sisters and their cohort of Wyvilo warriors remained at the edge of the grove of lown-trees, watching helplessly as the pirate boats raced back to the trireme. The wind was rising, rattling the long, stiff leaves, and the torch-bearing Aliansa mob was now so near that the individual warriors could be distinguished, waving their weapons. Plainly, the human women and the Wyvilo had already been spotted.
Kadiya tried to restore her distraught sister. “Ani, that way will not work. Calm yourself. Think of some—some positive command for your talisman.”
Her beauty disfigured by grief, the Queen struggled half-crazed in Kadiya’s grip. “Positive command?” she shrieked. “You talk like an idiot! How can I think of anything, save that my darlings are again in the hands of that fiend? He will torture them to death! And this useless talisman of mine can do nothing to save them. Nothing—”
Kadiya slapped her face.
Anigel’s mouth made an O of affronted dignity and pain. And then her heartstricken expression changed to one of sudden determination. “Nay, I am the fool! Thank you for that blow, Kadi. It has restored my poor scattered wits. Of course the talisman can save them!”
And the Queen lifted her face skyward and shouted: “Portolanus! Hear me!”
I hear you, Queen Anigel.
“My talisman is yours!” She tore the Three-Headed Monster coronet from her hair and held it high. “Only give me Antar and Tolo, and I will do with it whatever you say.”
“Ani—no!” Kadiya shouted, and again took hold of her.
But Anigel’s tear-reddened eyes now shone with fevered resolve. “Beware, Sister! Remember that if you touch this talisman without my permission, you will die as surely as the basest Raktumian pirate would!… Are you listening to me, Portolanus? I will give you the talisman now!”
Alas, Queen. I cannot accept your ransom.
Anigel faltered. “You—you cannot accept it?”
No.
“But why not?”
The clairaudient speech was tinged with irony. Now is not a propitious time. No, indeed. If you value your own life and those of your companions, you will flee back to your own ship before you provide the Aliansa crafters with materials for a fine new set of ritual drums. There are more natives coming from the village, as well as the mob on the shore.
“We can make the exchange at sea,” Anigel pleaded. “Anywhere, anytime. Portolanus, give me my husband and my child!”
No. King Antar and Prince Tolivar must now remain my guests for a certain span of time before we can reopen negotiations for their release. I am taking them to the Raktumian capital, Frangine. Fear not for their welfare. They will be well treated if you forbear from rash action.
“No! No! Take the talisman now, I beg of you!”
In time I will bespeak you concerning their ransom. I will not communicate with you again until then. Farewell, Queen.
Dazed, Anigel whispered to her sister: “You heard?”
“Yes.” Kadiya’s voice was glacial. “I heard you attempt to make a craven bargain! Ani, you are a hopeless weakling and a silly fool. Thank God the sorcerer did not accept your offer! With two talismans in his hands, who can tell what evil he would wreak upon the world?”
“Lady of the Eyes, we must flee this place,” one of the Wyvilo said urgently. “Come away! There is no time left. Even now the Aliansa warriors may already have reached the Lyath ahead of us and destroyed it.”
Kadiya turned her back on her sister. “You are right, Wummika. Let us be off.” And she led the Wyvilo into the trees at a run.
After hesitating only a moment, Anigel followed, all feeling gone dead within her and the coronet cold and forgotten in her hand.
It was only much later that she discovered that the Flower within the amber inset at the front of the talisman had turned from black to blood red.
18
The work was desperately hard. And the more that Haramis learned—the more she realized how incompetent an Archimage she had actually been—the more she despaired at ever being able to master herself and her talisman.
She now knew the dispassionate, utterly objective frame of mind necessary to command the highest magic; but knowing it and living it were very different things. The mental exercises that Iriane drilled her in, that were intended to strengthen and lend discipline to her immature thought processes, were exhausting and boring. Even worse, they seemed beside the point. She could not understand why she must spend endless hours doing meditational gymnastics rather than actually practicing magic with the talisman itself. The Blue Lady’s stern insistence that mental schooling must precede the actual working of magic at first vexed Haramis, then drove her to the brink of despondency, then finally vouchsafed a glimmer of hope that she might actually be getting it!
After studying for fifteen days, she had laid the groundwork for the commanding of high magic. Like a beginning flute-player who has finally learned to read music and create pure-toned notes but has not yet been able to play a flawless tune, she knew the form of the mental impulses that would call forth magic, yet lacked the expertise to be certain that her technique would produce the desired result. Iriane strictly forbade her to attempt high magic yet, warning her that she risked injury or even death if the new knowledge were applied wrongly.
It sometimes seemed to Haramis that she would never be able to compel her flighty brain to think invariably in the precise and harmonious manner that Iriane insisted upon. Her attempts at deep concentration and free-floating objectivity were always being shattered by stray niggling worries or sudden brainstorms of rebellion or downheartedness. Haramis was also greatly concerned about her two sisters, since the Blue Lady forbade her to use her Sight during the first half of her instruction period. But the most maddening episodes of distraction involved insidious memories of Orogastus. Now that she knew for a fact that he was alive, recollections of his face and voice intruded upon her persistently, and she dreamed almost entirely of him during the brief hours Iriane allowed her to sleep.
At one point, sunk in a morass of discouragement, Haramis begged the Archimage of the Sea to determine whether the sorcerer himself was somehow responsible for her torment and incompetence. The Blue Lady coldly declared that no uninvited intelligence could possibly penetrate her sanctuary. The reassurance served only to depress Haramis more than ever. If Orogastus was not to blame for her distraction, then the fault was entirely her own.
Haramis spent nearly every waking hour laboring over the mental exercises. At first, she worked under Iriane’s merciless tutelage. Then more and more she was isolated in a “meditation chamber” with featureless black walls and floor, her stinging eyes fixed upon the glowing amber embedded within the Three-Winged Circle and her beleaguered mind striving not to give in to fatigue or distraction but only to be at one with the talisman.
I must master it, she told herself again and again. Only one Petal of the Trillium can be the keystone of restored balance, the initiator of world-healing. I am that one!
I initiate. Kadiya gives impetus and endurance. And Anigel provides the human insight and unselfish love necessary for the mission’s fulfillment …
The ancient chant of the Uisgu Folk of the Golden Mire affirmed the roles of the three talismans and their appointed wielders:
One, two, three: three in one.
One the Crown of the Misbegotten, wisdom-gift, thought-magnifier.
Two the Sword of the Eyes, dealing justic
e and mercy.
Three the Wand of the Wings, key and unifier.
Three, two, one: one in three.
Come, Trillium. Come, Almighty.
I can put it all right again! Haramis thought. If only I can truly use this talisman of mine that is the key and unifier of the others. Lords of the Air, help me! Help me!…
“They will,” Iriane’s voice said. “Never lose confidence that they will.”
The featureless dark of the meditation chamber became richly blue, and the ample figure of the Archimage of the Sea materialized. She was smiling, and she carried a covered basket woven of flexible sea-pen stalks on one arm and the creature named Grigri on the other.
“It is time for a respite, child. You have dwelt in my world overlong, and a brief change will refresh you. Follow my little friend, here, and he will lead you to the top of my dwelling. Rest there in the open air, under the sunny sky. Eat and drink of the things packed in this basket. Use your talisman to descry your sisters and your captive brother-in-law, and reassure them of your loving concern. Using such low magic, you can come to no harm. Take Sight even of him, if you feel you must … and then return to me. I know you are dejected, but I somehow sense that you are very close now to opening the ultimate mental door that has thus far defied you. We will lay siege to it together from now on, you and I. And we will prevail.”
Painfully, Haramis arose from the kneeling posture prescribed for her mental exercise. She took the basket without a word. The segmented many-legged Grigri, who resembled a worram except for his scanty white pelt and red eyes, uttered a brief hiss and wriggled off, looking back once to be sure that she followed.
They went out of the Blue Lady’s apartment into the transparent part of the artificial iceberg, where curious fish and other creatures once again came swimming to peer at her through the glassy, irregular walls. A corridor with shallow steps spiraled upward, upward, while the light grew gradually brighter. Haramis realized finally that true sunshine was illuminating the magical aquarium, not some subtle enchantment, and her spirits rose. She found herself almost running after Grigri, who also seemed energized by the daylight. As they emerged into the brilliant open air the animal gave a purring trill and reared up on his hindmost set of legs, exposing his bare underbelly and closing his eyes in ecstasy.
“Poor Grigri! So you miss the sun, too.”
The creature seemed to sigh in contentment. As Haramis watched, his body darkened, the fur becoming richly green and the twelve legs turning from ghostly white to black. When he opened his eyes, they were no longer red but deep blue, like those of the common worrams of the Misty Mire.
“So life in this enchanted iceberg is unnatural for you, too,” Haramis mused, stroking Grigri’s back. “I wonder why your mistress does not take pity on you and set you free?”
The creature turned on her and hissed indignantly. He slithered out from under her caress and pattered off in a comical huff, resuming his sunning some distance away.
“I beg your pardon, Grigri. I should have known that your love for the Archimage is stronger than the demands of nature.”
The animal ignored her; but he did begin to purr again.
The view from the summit of the gigantic artificial iceberg was one of exquisite beauty. The sea was purest cobalt blue, dotted with genuine bergs and intricate mosaics of floating ice. The far horizon, punctuated by tall islands with ice-clad summits, met a cloudless sky. The mainland a few leagues away had a gently rolling, dun-colored surface with no trees; but much of it fell off precipitously at the water’s edge in dramatic cliffs, and the exposed strata revealed gorgeous layers of pink and orange and even wine-purple rock, with equally gaudy sea-stacks lying offshore. White birds reeled and dived in all directions. If there was a disturbance in the balance of the world, it did not extend to these tranquil northern waters.
Haramis sat down on the dry, irregular surface. Its transparency was somewhat unnerving, as were the occasional fish that swam obliviously beneath her. She opened the basket—and was touched to find that the Archimage had filled it with foods familiar to her from her childhood in Ruwenda, rather than the peculiar marine delicacies that Haramis had bravely eaten for politeness’ sake since the beginning of her visit. Smiling, she took up a rosy ladu-fruit and bit into its crisp skin.
But, what am I thinking of?…
Ashamed, she put the fruit back in the basket, swallowed the morsel, and put her hand to the talisman hanging about her neck.
“Anigel! Sister, respond to me!”
The vision came—and Haramis exclaimed in astonishment.
This was no mere depiction within the talisman’s silvery circle, nor even a Sight that blinded her to events around her, while her mind’s eye took in a faraway scene. Instead, she stood beside Anigel on the canopied fantail of the Laboruwendian flagship as it raced along with all sails set, on an easterly course a few leagues from land. She smelled salt air, felt the wind of passage and the planks of the deck beneath her feet. Lady Ellinis and the Lords Penapat, Owanon, and Lampiar were seated with the Queen at a table spread with maps and documents. And on the carpeted deck nearby, playing at a hop-square board, were Prince Nikalon and Princess Janeel.
“Hara!” Anigel cried, leaping to her feet with a face gone white. “You’re here?”
The others were similarly overcome with surprise at the apparition, and Haramis made swift to tell them that her appearance was only a Sending. “I did not even do it consciously,” she said, with a small laugh of embarrassment. “It seems that the lessons I am learning at the feet of the Archimage of the Sea are more effective than I heretofore supposed.”
Still exclaiming, the Queen and her officials bade Haramis to be seated. Young Princess Janeel crept up and made as if to touch her gown, but then cried out in disappointment when her hand encountered no substance.
“Aunt Hara, you are not truly here at all!” the girl said. “Is it your ghost that we see?”
“Something like unto it, sweeting,” Haramis said. “And I am sorry for it. But let me kiss you and Niki and hug you—and your mother as well. Even if you cannot feel me, I can touch you! My dear ones, I am so relieved that you are safe.”
And relieved to see the talisman called the Three-Headed Monster resting safe on the table, half-covered by the Queen’s papers.
“We are not all safe,” the Queen said, her eyes looking away and her lips tightening after she had accepted Haramis’s spectral embrace. She took a deep breath and addressed the courtiers. “I must speak to my sister alone. Would you and the children withdraw, and return when I summon you?”
The four arose, bowed, and retired, Lady Ellinis shepherding the Crown Prince and the Princess.
When they two were alone, Anigel seated herself again at the table with the illusionary form of her sister. The Queen’s face was reproachful.
“I tried so many times to bespeak you of the events that had transpired, Hara—tried to seek your advice and comfort—but you never responded to me!”
“It was not possible for me to communicate with you. I will explain it all. But first, tell me everything that has happened since Orogastus took Kadi’s talisman.”
“Orogastus!” Anigel was wide-eyed with dismay. “Then he did disguise himself as the mountebank Portolanus?”
“Yes. For what purpose, I do not know. He was not killed by the Sceptre twelve years ago, but transported instead to a remote place of exile deep within the Sempiternal Icecap. He escaped and became Master of Tuzamen. I am relieved beyond measure that you did not have to give up your talisman to him in ransom—”
“I would have. I offered it to him! But he refused to take it. Antar and little Tolo are still his prisoners in the great flagship of the Queen Regent of Raktum. By now they must be nearing the Raktumian capital of Frangine, propelled by winds of sorcery.”
“He would not accept the talisman as ransom? But why?”
“I do not know.” The Queen’s voice was dull, and she would not meet her s
ister’s eyes. “He said the time was not propitious, and that he would communicate with me later. When he does, I will give him the coronet freely—and nothing you or Kadi can say will dissuade me.”
The Archimage bit back the horrified protest that rose to her lips. If Antar and the boy were still prisoners, any pleading on behalf of a greater good would have to wait until Anigel truly understood the situation.
“Tell me,” Haramis said quietly, “exactly what befell.”
Anigel did, describing how Kadiya had rescued the Crown Prince and Janeel, and how Antar was recaptured, and how Tolo had gone willingly with the sorcerer’s minion. The Queen, Kadiya, and their friends had scarcely made it back to the little ship Lyath before canoes full of enraged Aliansa came racing after them. Only another great storm, which the sorcerer undoubtedly called up to aid his own escape, saved them. The Wyvilo warrior Huri-Kamo had been killed in the attempt to rescue King Antar; but Speaker Lummomu-Ko and his companion Mok-La managed to swim back to the Lyath, even though they were wounded.
“We met with our own flotilla once the storm blew itself out,” Anigel said. “The doughty captain of the little Okamisi ship was tendered a handsome bonus for having helped us and sent on his way. Our four Laboruwendian ships then sailed north in pursuit of the five enemy vessels. We caught up with the Tuzameni galley of Portolanus, which was much slower than the pirate ships. We engaged it in battle and sank it with all hands aboard. The sorcerer was unfortunately still on the Raktumian flagship, so he is quite safe. He made no attempt to aid his doomed compatriots. As we chased him northward the distance between the Raktumian ships and ours steadily increased. They reprovisioned in Zinora and were gone two days before we arrived.
“King Yondrimel refused my request to send fast cutters in pursuit of the pirates. His excuse was original: that his entire fleet was on a special mission to Galanar, escorting a royal envoy who was requesting the hand of one of Queen Jiri’s daughters on Yondrimel’s behalf. But when we arrived in Mutavari a sixnight later, we learned that it was far more likely that the Zinoran fleet was out on war games, preparing for an invasion of Var. The capital of Var was in an uproar, and poor King Fiomadek and Queen Ila were petrified at the dire rumors, which had Zinora allying with the Raktumian pirates.