‘We come in truth, lord,’ Tayven said. ‘We seek your knowledge for the good of humanity.’
Azcaranoth’s voice rang out like the clash of a mighty bell. ‘Then answer this: who does the Crown serve?’
Tayven took a deep breath. He had to speak what was in his heart. ‘It serves the true king, lord.’
Azcaranoth raised his wings and the whole city shook to a deafening rumble. ‘There can be no king without the crown of knowledge,’ he roared. ‘Without wisdom, without awareness, without mercy, without will, the king does not exist. All these qualities are within the Crown. They are the vital elements of kingship, and when they come together in the flesh of the true king silence covers the sky, the waters and the earth. Are you worthy custodians for this precious gift?’
‘Judge our hearts, lord,’ Tayven murmured, his head lowered.
‘I am not!’ Taropat cried. ‘Smite me now. I am not worthy of this company.’
‘Ah, pride,’ said the angel. ‘You must learn to live with it, temper its excesses. I’ll not smite you.’
‘I no longer want life,’ Taropat said desperately. ‘I cannot live without sight.’
‘You are blinded by your own folly,’ said the angel. ‘You were unwilling to make the sacrifice, because of your ignorance. Yet your brother made it for you. Your eyes are not blind, Taropat, though your heart may be.’
‘We are only human,’ Tayven said, ‘flawed and ignorant. Yet we undertook the quest in good faith. It was all we could do.’
‘Look upon me,’ said the angel.
Tayven raised his face. Before his eyes, he saw the Crown, cupped by the angel’s fingers. It was a simple high coronet of delicate spines, as if made from living coral, emitting its own radiance. It was the manifestation of all that was noble within humanity. Tayven could not bear to look upon it for long. His eyes were streaming.
‘Take it,’ said the angel, ‘if you accept my words as truth.’
‘I do’ Tayven said. ‘I do now.’ He sensed movement behind him, which he knew was Shan reaching out to take the Crown. Instinctively, Tayven reached for it first. He felt an ice cold burn course up his arms as his fingers curled around it.
At once, he fell.
The city was falling, water pouring over him in mighty waves. He was engulfed. Strong currents grabbed hold of his body, throwing it around like an insignificant piece of flotsam. He was being sucked downwards into the darkness, the only light coming from the Crown. Tayven would not let go of it. His lungs were bursting, and his head was so crushed by pressure he was sure it must explode. But he would not let go.
The descent seemed interminable. Tayven drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he awoke, he could not comprehend that he was still alive. He felt he hadn’t drawn breath for hours, but although his chest was on fire with pain, he did not give in and try to breathe. Something sustained him, perhaps the Crown itself. But he was weakening. He could sense it. Why prolong the agony? Why not just open his mouth and let the water fill him? There was to be no rising. It was impossible. He had gone too deep.
No! he screamed in his mind. We got this far. The Crown is in our grasp. No! I am hope. I will not let despair take me.
The moment these thoughts had formed, a vision splashed across his inner eye. He was sitting at the feet of Valraven Palindrake, who was seated upon a great throne, the Crown of Silence upon his brow. Shan stood on the king’s right side, dressed in silver armour. Taropat was at Valraven’s left, resplendent in the purple robes of a magus. The image lasted only an instant, before breaking up into a myriad flashing colours.
Tayven was ejected from the water as if he was an irritant it was compelled to dispel. Blinding sunlight filled his eyes and he sucked in a searing lungful of air. Waves crashed over him, pushing him under for a while, but then he rose again. This was not Pancanara. There were no mountains around him, but what appeared to be sea. He tasted salt in his mouth. How had this happened? Magravandias was not close to the ocean. How had they got here? He trod water and saw that land lay close by. On a broad sandy beach, Shan was crawling slowly from the foam. Merlan lay among the rock pools, covered by a blanket of weed, and Taropat sat next to him, staring out to sea, his eyes restored.
Tayven swam towards them, and it was only when they saw him and began to shout his name that he raised his arm above the water, the Crown shining there, still gripped in his numb fingers. The Crown of Silence.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Parting of the Company
Lady Sinaclara dribbled incense into a bowl before the statue of Azcaranoth. All day, her heart had beat too quickly in her breast. They would be here soon. She had waited so long for this moment, and this was only the beginning. There was no easy path to what was right, what was truth.
She heard Nana come into the temple, recognising the soft graceful tread of her assistant. ‘It has come,’ said the Jessapurian.
Sinaclara turned and for some moments looked into Nana’s eyes in silence. She felt like weeping rather than laughing. Joy filled her, but also terror and sadness.
‘It is a burden you chose,’ said Nana.
Sinaclara nodded. ‘I know. And if I have regrets, it is not that.’
They were waiting in her sitting room, looking gaunt and tired. It had been a long journey and it had changed them. Sinaclara could sense that they’d travelled guided only by instinct, bemused and shocked by what had happened to them. She had been with them in spirit, unable to intervene, sharing their anguish, their hope, their weakness and their strength. Pancanara had revealed its secret and given up the Crown. They had been sucked into underground channels and reborn in the Magravandian inland sea, Magar’s Stretch. Sinaclara could see, even now, they were unsure how that had happened. They were disorientated, separated, even though they were also securely bound by their shared experience. A bond they did not want, perhaps. Whatever moments of unity they might have shared when they came out of the water had gone. Secrets estranged them, unspoken words. At least Taropat had brought the Crown to her. Ultimately, she could never have been sure of that. She knew he would never trust her completely, but he clearly trusted her enough. For now. Sinaclara’s servants had given the men something to eat and drink, but their plates appeared untouched.
‘Well?’ Sinaclara said, addressing Taropat.
He stood up and gestured to Tayven, who unstrapped a large leather satchel lying between his feet. From this, he withdrew an object wrapped in several layers of linen.
‘Give it to me,’ Sinaclara said.
Tayven glanced at Taropat, who nodded. With some reluctance, he held the object out. It was hard for them to surrender it, she knew. Within each of them, even the one who was so clearly Taropat’s kin, burned the desire to take the Crown for themselves. They could not help it, for they were only men, and the allure of the Crown was strong. But upon the head of any but the true king, it would be a force of chaos, no matter how good or true the owner of that head might believe themselves to be.
Reverently, Sinaclara unwrapped the Crown and held it up before her face. Just an artefact, fashioned in an ancient time, hidden for centuries, perhaps longer. She turned it in her hands. There were marks upon it, scars of earlier battles. Each dent upon its surface was a relic of humanity’s ignorance, for even those who had aspired to wear the Crown had not always lived up to its potential. Perhaps she was wrong now and the path she had unveiled was that of a lie. How could she tell? The allure of the Crown was strong indeed. Sinaclara sighed, and placed it upon a table. The men gathered around her.
‘You must tell me of your adventure,’ she said. ‘Please, refresh yourselves. This may be a long day.’
She listened without commenting as they related the story, even though she knew they left many details out. They could not speak of the embarrassment and pain of their individual lessons and experiences, but despite that she could see it shining from them.
Taropat spoke bitterly of his temporary blindness
at the last lake. The episode had marked him. Sinaclara could smell his anger and resentment at not witnessing the city of angels for himself, something he wholeheartedly believed he had deserved.
At the end of the story, Sinaclara said, ‘You surrendered the prizes that had become most dear to you. I am sure it was this act alone that allowed you to attain the Crown.’
‘We have not lost the prizes,’ Tayven said, touching his throat. ‘They are within us. We do not need the artefacts anymore.’ He turned to Taropat. ‘The gift of the Eye is within you too, no matter what happened at the lake.’
‘You have your brother to thank for that,’ Sinaclara said.
Taropat’s face was pinched. ‘I know.’ He sighed and smiled sadly at Merlan. ‘Perhaps I do not deserve it. Perhaps the gift is rightly Merlan’s.’
Merlan shook his head. ‘I don’t believe so. We each had our part to play, and one aspect of mine was to be your strength.’
‘Do you understand the significance of the city of angels?’ Sinaclara asked, looking from Merlan to Taropat. ‘There is a link here with your native sea dragons.’
‘I have a feeling they come from the same source.’ Taropat frowned. ‘No, if I had the knowledge once, it eludes me now. What do you know?’
‘Azcaranoth had an alliance with the dragons,’ she said. ‘It is a very ancient story, perhaps history, perhaps allegory, who knows? But the legend goes that the king of the angels sent the dragons of every element to destroy Azcaranoth and his conspirators. They were to be punished for consorting with mortals, for helping them create civilisation. Azcaranoth passed to humanity great knowledge that was sacred in nature. For that indiscretion, he had to die. However, the angel king had not counted on Azcaranoth’s persuasive nature. He managed to charm the dragon spirits to ally with him. Together they built vast cities, one of which was Pelagra, beneath the ocean. Here the Ustredi were spawned, the sea people, who were the ancient ancestors of the Palindrakes.’
Taropat’s mouth turned down into a sneer. ‘Do not taint the day with that name. It should not be spoken before the Crown.’
Sinaclara paused, judging the moment. Then she said, ‘It is only a story. I thought you might be interested in it.’ Merlan, she could tell, was anxious to hear more, as was Tayven. Shan, Taropat’s apprentice, shared his master’s prejudices. She could feel the black waves of hatred pulsing out of him. He should learn to think for himself. Sinaclara’s heart was heavy within her breast. There would be a severing here. It was inevitable. Strange the way it would go. Tayven and Shan were so alike physically, as were Taropat and his brother. The pairs would be like warped reflections of one another.
‘Did you believe we could do it?’ Shan asked in a husky voice.
She nodded. ‘Oh yes. I was both afraid and hopeful that you would.’
‘Who will you crown, now you have it?’
She heard the hope in his voice, the determination and mettle. She could feel the burn of Taropat’s desire to make a better world, scoured of monsters. She could feel Tayven’s uncertainty warring with a sense of purpose, and she could hear the murmur of Taropat’s brother’s troubled soul, because he feared he knew her answer. And he did.
She drew in her breath. ‘There is only one man in this time,’ she said. ‘He is the sum of all of you. I know that during your journey, two of you have come to feel the Crown is yours. One of you is afraid of who should wear it, and it clouds his judgement. But the fourth companion knows the answer.’ She looked into Merlan Leckery’s dark eyes. ‘Will you tell them?’
He shook his head and turned away. ‘I know only what others think,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ Taropat asked harshly.
The tension in the room had heightened. I shall break this company, Sinaclara thought. I do not want to, and it will be wrong, but my words will break them. ‘Valraven Palindrake,’ she said.
For a moment, there was silence, then Taropat laughed. ‘I might have known,’ he said. ‘Wrap the Crown, Tayven. It will not remain here.’
Tayven hesitated, then reached out to take it, but Sinaclara stayed his hand. ‘You will not,’ she said.
‘Take it, Tay,’ Shan said.
‘You are not thinking,’ Sinaclara said. ‘You are just reacting, driven by your own fears. Taropat, whatever your feelings for me, I know you trust my judgement. Remember our alliance, how we planned this quest together.’
‘I knew it!’ Shan cried. ‘It was planned all along. You used us!’
Sinaclara fixed him with a level gaze. ‘Never that,’ she said. ‘The quest was planned only in some respects, Shan. You must believe that. Taropat and I spoke about it before he left for Mewt. And,’ she added, ‘you would not have succeeded if I had not told you what to expect, and what to do, at Recolletine. You must accept I speak the truth.’
‘I will never accept that,’ Taropat said.
‘Nor I!’ snapped Shan. ‘You lied to me.’
Sinaclara spread out her hands. ‘Shan, don’t be so naïve. The days of divinely-picked heroes have gone. I did what was best.’
‘It makes a travesty of what we’ve been through,’ Taropat said. ‘None of us survived the lakes to be told an incarnation of evil should attain the fruit of our labour. I would never have confided in you if I’d known your secret desire. You want your dark angel to become flesh. I should have known better than to trust a woman again.’
Sinaclara couldn’t help bridling at that. ‘If we are speaking of secret desires, perhaps we should discuss your own. You want to possess the Crown as the ultimate revenge on Valraven. You believe he bettered you in the one thing that mattered.’
‘Meaning?’ Taropat said.
‘Bedding his own sister, your wife, Pharinet. You cannot forgive him for the love she bore him.’
Taropat laughed coldly. ‘How wrong you are. I care nothing for that conniving whore. Khaster is dead in me. Your insults mean nothing. I am strong. I may not be fit to wear the Crown, but I am eminently more suitable than a dissolute wretch like Valraven Palindrake. Perhaps we have yet to find the man who will be the true king. But the Crown will not stay here with you, madam, and your strength is no match for ours.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Sinaclara said quietly. ‘However, beyond my door, a dozen of my Jessapurian colleagues wait for my command. They are armed. If you touch the Crown, you’ll never leave this house alive. I’m sorry. It’s what must be. I cannot let personal feelings sway my judgement. There are greater matters at stake.’
‘So, it has come to this,’ Taropat said. ‘You have used us for your own foul ends. You are part of all that is wrong with the world. What fools we were!’
‘You are wrong Taropat,’ Sinaclara said. ‘Your own shuttered mind prevents you from seeing the truth. Only two of you have spoken. What is your view, Tayven? Can you look into my eyes and say I am mistaken?’
Tayven drew a hand across his face. ‘I know that some factions believe Palindrake should be king.’
‘I’m asking you what you think, what you really think.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. That is the truth. I can sense what might be, but I’m faced with what is.’
‘And you, Merlan Leckery,’ Sinaclara said, raising her voice. ‘Tell your brother your thoughts. Tell him how you convinced Varencienne Palindrake to take her husband back to the old domain. What was your argument, eh? Have you kept so silent on this matter?’
‘Merlan, what does she mean?’ Taropat said.
Merlan’s face was utterly white. ‘Maycarpe thinks Valraven is the one.’
‘Rather more than that,’ Sinaclara said. ‘Merlan convinced Varencienne she should help Valraven reawaken the sea dragons and reclaim his heritage. Is that not so, Merlan?’
‘I was working under Maycarpe’s directive,’ Merlan said.
‘I can’t believe this of you,’ Taropat whispered. ‘After all that has happened to our family – to Ellony. No wonder the ques
t took its toll upon you.’
‘I am not wholly convinced, believe me,’ Merlan said. ‘But I do not think personal concerns should enter this matter.’
‘Merlan, are you mad?’ Shan cried. ‘Palindrake is the embodiment of the empire’s power. He is the destroyer.’
‘He is many things,’ Merlan said. ‘All that you say and more.’ He made an anguished sound. ‘Damn this, I won’t keep silent. Taropat, there is something you should know.’
‘Shut up, I don’t want to hear it!’ Taropat snarled.
‘Of course you don’t. It might compromise your righteous anger! Hasn’t the lesson of your blindness taught you anything about your stubborn pride? I know the full story of what happened between you and Tayven, because Shan has told it to me.’
‘Shan!’ Taropat glared at his apprentice, who shrugged in embarrassment.
‘I felt he should know.’
‘Don’t blame him,’ Merlan said. ‘The fact is that after hearing the story, I understood so much. Something you have failed to do. You hate Valraven most because he would not help you save Tayven. You resented feeling so powerless, so in need of his aid. You hated him then for not being the great saviour he’d always been for you. But in a way, you have always hated him: for being stronger than you, for bettering you and saving your skin.’
‘Thank you for this lesson,’ Taropat said in a strangely sweet tone. ‘I’d not thought of it before.’
‘Oh, don’t play with me!’ Merlan cried. ‘It is the truth. You wanted the Crown for yourself, so you could be the stronger and better man for once. You can’t bear to think that Valraven is like the rest of us – a mixture of attributes, both good and bad.’
‘Oh, tell me some good!’ Taropat said, throwing up his arms. ‘I can’t wait to hear it.’