“Only if he gains as much knowledge of his talismans as you have of yours. Even then, yours is the key to the Sceptre, as I have told you.”
“Both of my sisters were able to use their talismans to kill, but I think this was done accidentally, and without their true volition. I presume that Orogastus might also inadvertently cause death. But would he be able to kill me deliberately?”
Iriane shook her head. “Thus far, he lacks the occult knowledge to wreak intentional mortal harm upon you with his talismans.”
“But I … do I have the power to kill him?”
“No Archimage may deliberately bring about the death of another thinking creature. I do not know whether you would be able to kill him through indirect means. That information was not in my reference books. The Vanished Ones would have been very circumspect about such things. Denby claims not to know, either, but he may be lying. There is probably only one place where you might find out—the ancient Place of Knowledge where the Vanished Ones had their greatest university. The Star Men attempted to destroy it with a terrible weapon shortly before the hero Varcour managed to vanquish and scatter them. The buildings aboveground were obliterated, but there still exists a labyrinth of underground structures, guarded by inhuman beings called sindona.”
“I know of them and the Place of Knowledge. My sister Kadiya received her talisman there—and she was on her way back to the place when last I bespoke her. There is a certain sindona in the place called the Teacher—”
Iriane nodded. “Go to her. She may be able to tell you more about the Sceptre. It was the sindona who were charged with breaking it and concealing its three parts twelve times ten hundreds ago. Since they are not flesh and blood, it was known that they would not be tempted to keep the talismans for their own use, nor impart knowledge of them to the unworthy.”
Haramis suppressed a shiver, drawing her white cloak about her. “Iriane, would you mind very much if I went away to the Place of Knowledge at once?”
The Archimage of the Sea touched her lips with a blue napkin and arose. “Of course not. But there is something you had better take with you.” She went to her workbench in the corner of the room. “Do you remember my telling you the way that Orogastus escaped death and was sent to the Inaccessible Kimilon?”
“Through some device you called a Cynosure.”
“Exactly! And here it is.”
The Archimage had been rummaging among the clutter of strange objects on the bench, and she now held up a hexagon less than half an ell wide, made of some dark metal. At its center was emblazoned a small many-rayed star.
“I secretly retrieved it from the Kimilon immediately after Orogastus arrived there unconscious. He does not even know that it exists. I have kept the Cynosure ever since, to ensure that it was not used to a mischievous end.”
Haramis stared at her blankly. “You mean, so that Orogastus would not use it somehow to escape the Kimilon?”
“No, no … never mind!” Iriane was strangely flustered. “Recall how it works: If one of the Star Men is in danger of having his own soul’s magic turned against him by the Sceptre of Power (and this is the way the Sceptre kills), this Cynosure will draw the intended victim to it ahead of the consuming magic fire, saving his life.”
The Archimage of the Sea handed the thin hexagon to Haramis.
“But what am I to do with this?” Haramis inquired, mystified.
“Keep it safe from him, for a start,” said Iriane incisively. “If he ever gets hold of it and learns its purpose, he will be all but invulnerable! Perhaps the Teacher will know a safe hiding place. At any rate, the Cynosure is properly your responsibility now, and you must take charge of it.”
“But would it not be easiest to simply destroy it?”
“Try,” the Blue Lady invited. “I did, and it resisted my every attempt! Perhaps you, with your talismanic powers, will have better luck.”
Haramis commanded the Cynosure to suspend itself in the air before her. It complied. Then she told it to dissolve, visualizing its crystal simulacrum turning to bright dust.
It continued to float in the blue twilight, unchanged. Haramis tried again to demolish it, but the thing remained obstinately whole, with the star twinkling at its center.
“You see?” Iriane shrugged. “That star emblem on it perfuses it with resistant magic. You will have to find some other way to safely dispose of it.”
Haramis plucked the hexagon out of the air. “Perhaps the Teacher at the Place of Knowledge will have a suggestion … But now I must go.”
The two women, one tall and black-haired and robed in white, the other rotund and swathed in sparkling azure draperies, eyed each other in sudden silence. Then Iriane took both of Haramis’s hands in hers, drew her down, and planted a moist kiss on her forehead.
“Do not forget me, dear Haramis, Archimage of the Land. I am ever your good friend and sister in duty. If you ever find yourself in a dire extremity, call upon me and I will do what I can.”
“Thank you for what you have already done.” Haramis returned the embrace. “I hope we will meet again on a more happy day.”
She stepped away, holding the Cynosure tucked under her left arm. With her right hand she clasped the talisman. Nodding one final time, she vanished.
Iriane sighed and shook her head. Then she called to Grigri, went back to the table, and shared the rest of the plate of tarts with him.
The musical tone connoting travel through space sounded in Haramis’s mind. She saw for a fleeting instant a scene seeming to be carven from glittering diamonds—and then it became real. She stood in a large brightly lit chamber, striking in its silence. Turning, she saw a pool of deep water surrounded by a low wall of white marble. The pavement beneath her feet was of metallic blue mosaic tiles. Opposite the pool was a marble stairway leading upward into the source of the light. On either side of the stairs, stationed on each broad step, were ranks of what appeared to be statues.
The sindona.
Haramis approached the nearest pair. They were a full head taller than she, but otherwise had the appearance of human male and female images, fashioned by a master sculptor. Their bodies had no trace of hair, pore, fleshly crease, or blemish. They were perfectly smooth, universally of an ivory tint, and resembled polished bone. The dark eyes of the sindona were like inset stones, and within the pupils lurked that glint of gold that Haramis had come to associate with the Vanished Ones. Their pale, serene faces were shadowed by elaborate crown-helms with the visors lifted. These and three belts—two crossed over the breast and one about the waist—were all they wore. The belts and helms were inset with small shining scales having many different tints of blue and aqua and green. Scales of gold edged the habiliments and formed elegant designs.
Haramis touched one of the statues with her talisman, and at once its carven lips parted and it spoke in resonant tones that were more like the sounding of a musical instrument than human speech.
“Welcome to the Place of Knowledge, Archimage. What is your desire?”
“To consult the Teacher,” Haramis replied.
The sindona nodded and lifted one hand to point up the stairway. Even though it moved, it still appeared to remain hard as stone, and Haramis marveled at the ingenuity of those who had created it.
“The Teacher awaits you in the garden above, Archimage. Please ascend.”
“Thank you,” she said, and slowly went up the deep steps, studying the inhuman beings as she went. Each one had features subtly different from the others. They were not merely machines, nor were they creatures of flesh, but something utterly different.
“Why were you made?” she asked.
“For service,” scores of gentle voices replied, and the sound of them was as breathtaking as a sweet chord from a great orchestra. “We are the sentinels, the messengers, and the bearers. Some of us also teach, some are consolers, and some take away life according to the Mortal Dictum.”
“You kill?”
“Some sentinels ha
ve that ability.”
“Great God!” Haramis murmured, climbing more energetically. Startling new thoughts flew about her mind like bright papillons. Might these strange sindona be allies against the evil of Orogastus?
“We were created to oppose the Star.” The sindona seemed to read her thoughts. “Most of us perished in bringing about its first downfall in ages past. Those sindona who remain defend the Place of Knowledge.”
Haramis stood stock-still, a great notion blooming within her. “And would you follow me, if I ordered you to once again defend the world against a threat by a latter-day Star Man?”
“Only the entire Archimagical College may issue to us a new duty,” sighed the motionless sentinels.
Haramis saw her idea die stillborn, along with the hope it had engendered. The entire College? But they were long dead!… Well, it had only been a thought.
Eventually she came out into an open area flooded with radiance, where white pathways twined among lavish plantings of flowers, blossoming shrubs, and graceful ornamental trees. Here and there were ponds set like jewels in the midst of neat areas of short grass, and from them flowed small streams crossed by exquisite bridges of marble. Dotted amongst the greenery were benches, also of white stone, flower-banked grottoes, open garden houses, and arbors supporting fruit-laden vines. One particular path seemed to beckon Haramis, and she followed it to a graceful belvedere having a domed roof supported by slender columns. All about it grew bushes laden with purple and white and vivid pink blooms that filled the air with fragrance.
But there were no insects probing for nectar, no birds singing in the trees, no small animals frisking about and making off with the fruit. The landscape was uncannily silent except for the purling of the little brooks and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Haramis looked up into the dazzling sky and saw no clouds—and no sun. She remembered suddenly that Iriane had said that the Place of Knowledge was located underground …
“Can it really be true?” she asked herself. She knelt to examine a bed of mixed flowers, riotously colorful, and recognized not a single one. The silhouettes of the trees were also unfamiliar, and the very greensward had grass that was exotic in appearance, unusually fine and as dense and springy as a carpet. Each individual blade was smooth-edged rather than finely serrated, as were all the grasses she knew—
“Greetings, Daughter of the Threefold.”
Haramis started at the sound of the voice, which was human in its intonation. She looked up from her inspection of the grass to discover that a woman was coming toward her from the garden house.
A woman? No, not really. For all that she was of normal stature and clothed in flowing pastel gauze. Her bare arms and face gleamed an inhuman ivory white, and on her head was a close-fitting cap of metallic gold, carved into the semblance of a short, curled coiffure. She, like the noble sentinels, was a sindona.
“I am the Teacher,” she said, her features impossibly smiling while at the same time remaining hard as stone. “I am at your service, Archimage Haramis. If you would, accompany me to the belvedere yonder, where we may sit in the cool shade and you may question me at your leisure.”
Haramis followed her along the path. Inside the little domed structure was a white marble table and two wicker chairs with russet velvet cushions. A crystal pitcher of some rosy drink and a single tumbler half-filled with balls of ice waited. The Teacher gestured for her guest to be seated, poured the beverage over the ice, and handed the tinkling glass to Haramis.
“You may find this way of serving fruit-juice to be strange, but our former rulers, the Vanished Ones, were very fond of it.”
“Thank you for your courtesy, Teacher.”
Haramis sipped. The unusual sensation of the ice touching her lips at the same time as the chilled juice was delightfully refreshing. Unbidden, the inane thought came to her that she must search for an icemaker among the ancient machines of the Cavern of Black Ice when she finally returned home to Mount Brom …
Recalling the seriousness of the situation, Haramis looked into the Teacher’s calm face and began her interrogation. “Is it true that you and your kind were created by the Vanished Ones, and that you are not truly alive?”
“We were made by the members of the original Archimagical College. We live, but our lives are not the same as those of ensouled ones such as humans and Folk. We do not give birth; and when we die, our spirits merge with those of us who still live. I am the only Teacher now living, but within me reside the spirits of two hundred Teachers of lesser longevity. When I die, I must pass into a sentinel or a bearer or a messenger or a consoler, and share its duty. Thus it shall be until only a single sindona remains, and at that one’s death we shall be extinguished at last, like the last ember of a great fire finally fading to ash.”
“How—how many sentinels remain?” Haramis inquired.
“Three hundred and twenty-one. And there are seventeen servers, and twelve bearers, and five messengers, and two consolers. But these latter reside with the Archimage of the Sky and are unable to minister to those of land or sea without his permission.”
“This Archimage of the Sky!” Haramis’s interest was intense. “What can you tell me of him? My friend the Archimage of the Sea gave his name as Denby, and would say only that he was a remote personage, having little to do with worldly affairs. Yet it seems to me that if he is a true Archimage, then it is his duty to guard and counsel humanity. If I besought him, would he lend me aid?”
“I do not know. I can tell you nothing of him without his express permission … and this he does not grant. Nor is he disposed, at the present time, to become involved in affairs of the land and sea. Or so he says.”
Haramis eyed the Teacher sharply. “You have just now consulted him on this?”
“Yes.”
Haramis fumed inwardly. Another hope dashed! Was there no one who would join her in actively opposing Orogastus?
“There are,” the Teacher responded unexpectedly. “Humans and Folk, sindona and Archimagi, the plants and animals of the world, the very air and water and rock and the bolides of the firmament—all may respond to your request for help if it is made in the proper fashion, at an appropriate time.”
“Can you teach me how to summon this help?”
“I am sorry. This is knowledge that you alone can discover. Your talisman must enlighten you.”
“I see.” Haramis was becoming not a little exasperated, but she plunged ahead with her other questions. “Tell me, please: Does Orogastus have the advantage over me, since he has possession of two talismans of the Sceptre of Power, while I have only one?”
“Orogastus does not have the advantage—except in his natural gifts.”
Taken aback, Haramis exclaimed: “Do you mean he is more clever than I?”
“Not more clever. He is wiser and more experienced, and his mind’s working is colder and more logical because of his devotion to the Dark Powers. But you, O Archimage of the Land, have a greater potential in that you are a Daughter of the Threefold.”
“My sisters … but their flowers have turned blood red.”
“When their amulets again hold the Black Trillium in their hearts, they will be capable of great and selfless deeds once again. And able to rejoin you as Daughters of the Threefold—Petals of the Living Trillium. Until then, they are relegated to the mass of unadept.”
Haramis nodded. “And so Orogastus and I are essentially equal in magical power?”
“This is not strictly true. But with the parts of the Threefold Sceptre cleaving two to the Star and one to the Flower, the world will ever stay unbalanced, to its peril … until the talismans in Orogastus’s unlawful possession are taken from him, and the Three Petals of the Living Trillium combine to turn his Dark Powers against him.”
“But how is this to be done?”
“I am unable advise you on that. The way depends too much upon mere happenstance. I suspect, however, that its fulfillment will not involve high magic, but rather some more
human action.”
“Can you give me no help at all in discovering how best to overcome Orogastus?” Haramis pleaded. “Can I not … somehow convert him from his Dark Powers?”
“Love is permissible,” the Teacher said mysteriously. “Devotion is not. As to conversion, I have no information. He is of the Star, and his predecessors were steadfast in their evil beliefs unto death. The heart of Orogastus is unknown to me.”
“And to me,” Haramis murmured. “But then, so is my own heart, God help me!” Abruptly, she cast aside the dangerous pall of self-pity that threatened to deflect her from her goal and became once again calm and to the point. “Teacher, when I leave here, I know my sister Anigel will ask my aid in defending her country against villainous invaders. I have already determined that a great fleet of warships will shortly set forth from Raktum. Orogastus and King Ledavardis plan to lay siege to the northern capital city of Laboruwenda. I have notified my sister Queen Anigel of her danger, and she has begged me to lend her magical assistance. Is it wise for me to go at once to help her, or should I concentrate entirely on the problem of Orogastus and the talismans?”
“Your most immediate concern,” the sindona woman said, “is not Anigel but your other sister, Kadiya, who came here some days ago to consult me about a way to prevent Queen Anigel from giving up her talisman. When I told Kadiya that the ransom for Antar was surely destined to be paid, she was beside herself with rage. I advised her to reconcile with Anigel and put herself at your service. This counsel Kadiya rejected forthwith. She is now on her way to an aboriginal village on the Upper Mutar River. When she arrives, she will attempt to rally the stouthearted little Uisgu of the Thorny Hell and the Goldenmire around her. She also plans to have the Uisgu send out a Call to the Nyssomu, the Wyvilo, and the Glismak—and even hopes to entreat the abominable Skritek to join her cause. When a great horde of Folk has been assembled, Kadiya, the Lady of the Eyes, hopes to seize all of Ruwenda as an inviolate homeland for aborigines.”
“She would make war against the human dwellers therein?” Haramis was aghast. “Oh, no! Not when the Two Thrones must succor Var on the one hand and defend themselves against Raktum and Tuzamen on the other—”