The Master

by Louise Cooper

  ‘Jennat!’ Sister Liss shouted, dismayed. ‘Jennat, this is unseemly! You are a Sister of Aeoris, not a brawling tavern wench! Get up at once!’

  Jennat paid no attention. She had thrust a hand into Cyllan’s shirt, tearing the fabric, and her fingers closed round the soulstone. Cyllan struggled like a feral cat but couldn’t free herself, and Jennat sprang to her feet, triumphant.

  ‘Sister Liss, look!’

  Cold, white radiance spilled across Jennat’s palm as she opened her hand to display the jewel. The older woman flinched, and hastily made the Sign of Aeoris.

  ‘Gods preserve us … ‘

  Those Sisters who weren’t engaged in pinning Cyllan to the ground gathered round, exclaiming. One reached out as if to touch the stone, then swiftly withdrew her hand. Liss turned to look down at the girl who lay on the grass, and the mute defiance she saw in Cyllan’s eyes banished any last doubts.

  ‘So all this time we’ve been harbouring a serpent in our midst,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Gods help us, I can hardly believe it … ‘ Then her mouth set into a hard line. ‘Hide that jewel away, Jennat. It’s an evil thing, and I won’t risk our being tainted by it. Wrap it in a cloth. It mustn’t see the light of day again until it can be given into the hands of the High Initiate.’

  Jennat gazed at the stone and licked her lips uneasily.

  ‘And what of the girl? What are we do with her?’

  ‘Poor child.’ Liss continued to regard Cyllan gravely.

  ‘How one so young could be so corrupt … ‘

  ‘Should we take her to the next town for trial?’ Farial asked.

  ‘No - this is beyond the jurisdiction of the local Elders, or even the Province Margrave. She must be delivered to the Castle of the Star Peninsula, to face the judgment of the Circle itself.’ Her gaze lingered a moment longer, then she shook her head and turned away. ‘To think that she could have deceived us so … ‘

  ‘Even the High Initiate was deceived by these fiends,’

  Farial reminded her solemnly. ‘We shouldn’t reproach ourselves, Sister.’

  ‘No. No, perhaps you’re right. Though when I think that, if it hadn’t been for Sister Jennat - ah, never mind.

  We must turn our attention to the practicalities. We will need an armed escort to conduct us to the Star Peninsula, and if there are any Adepts visiting the province who might be called upon to aid us, I’ll feel a good deal easier about the journey.’ She gathered up the cumbersome skirts of her robe. ‘Bind the girl, Sisters, and secure her in her pony’s saddle. We’ll rest at the next town tonight, then tomorrow we’ll turn northward.’

  Chapter 6

  Keridil Toln watched the departing hawk until it was no more than a tiny dot in the sky, indistinguishable among the flecks of cloud stippling the blue. If he could trust falconer Faramor’s calculations - and past experience had taught him that he could - the vital message would reach its first destination in less than two days, and be relayed to its second the day after that.

  He expressed his thanks to Faramor, but didn’t encourage any further conversation; there was too much on his mind now to allow time for pleasantries. Quickly he climbed the steps to the Castle doorway and went through, giving an involuntary shiver at the sharp contrast between the interior’s warmth and the cold of the morning; then he turned towards his own apartments.

  His study was empty, but he could hear someone moving about in the private suite beyond. Keridil paused briefly to warm his hands at the fire, then pushed open the door to his inner chambers, expecting to find Sashka awaiting him. But instead he saw Gyneth Linto, the elderly steward who had been his father’s servant before him. Gyneth was stooping over a large ottoman that stood in the room’s far corner; as Keridil entered, he straightened and bowed formally.

  ‘Is the bird away safely, sir?’

  ‘Yes.’ Keridil crossed the room and looked with a degree of distaste at the items which the old man was bringing out of the ottoman. A long cloak, heavily embroidered with gold thread … a clasp, bearing his own seal and made of solid gold … a gold circlet …

  the High Initiate’s staff of office …

  ‘There’s a touch of tarnishing on the circlet, sir,’

  Gyneth said, holding it out for him to inspect. ‘But nothing that a little polishing can’t put right.’

  ‘Good.’ Keridil waved the circlet away, not wanting to think about the regalia until circumstances forced it. ‘I want to travel light, Gyneth,’ he added. ‘No baggage train, no large entourage - time is of the essence on this journey.’

  The words came out more sharply than he’d intended, and the old man regarded him for a few moments before replying placidly, ‘Of course, sir.’ He replaced the circlet carefully on top of the folded gold cloak, then, with a tactful touch of diffidence, added: ‘Is anything amiss, sir? If I might venture to say, you seem troubled.’

  Shrewdness and experience had given Gyneth more accurate perceptions than any seer, and Keridil sighed.

  ‘It’s nothing of any consequence. Just watching that bird leave, and knowing that I’ve committed myself to this beyond the point of no return … it makes me doubt my own judgement. I wish to the gods my father were still alive.’

  Gyneth pursed his lips. He rarely ventured an opinion on Circle matters, but it saddened him to see his master so distressed. The old High Initiate was a very wise man, sir. In all the years I served him, I never knew him to make a rash decision, or an unsound one.’ His gaze met Keridil’s. ‘I believe that, in your place, he would have acted exactly as you have done.’

  Keridil smiled thinly. ‘Thank you, Gyneth -I appreciate your loyalty, whether or not you’re right.’ He rubbed his still cold hands together and forced a briskness he didn’t feel into his voice. ‘Doubtless we could debate the matter all day, but I can’t afford that indulgence. What’s done’s done, and we have to look to the future.’ He glanced round the room. ‘You seem to have completed most of the preparations.’

  ‘Yes, sir. There are one or two minor questions to clarify, but they’ll keep until later.’

  ‘Good. And where is the Lady Sashka?’

  Gyneth gave him an odd look that, he thought, carried a faint hint of disapproval. ‘She retired to her suite, sir. She said to tell you that she is packing for the journey.’

  ‘Packing?’ Keridil was nonplussed. ‘But it was understood that she isn’t to accompany me!’

  ‘Quite, sir. However, I thought it wasn’t my place to point that out.’

  ‘No … ‘ The relationship between Sashka and Gyneth was uneasy at the best of times; Sashka made no secret of her dislike for the old man and her mistrust of his influence on Keridil, and though nothing would ever induce Gyneth to admit as much, Keridil suspected that the feeling was mutual. But Gyneth was too well bred a servant to make his feelings public, and the knowledge that Sashka would soon be the High Initiate’s consort made him doubly punctilious in his manner towards her - he wouldn’t have dared argue. Nonetheless, Sashka had agreed with Keridil’s insistence that the long journey was too arduous and possibly too dangerous for her to undertake. Whilst he might take chances with his own safety, nothing in the world would induce him to risk hers, and he had thought the matter settled.

  ‘Shall I send word to the lady that you wish to see her, sir?’ Gyneth’s voice impinged on his thoughts.

  ‘What? Oh - no, Gyneth; let it be for now .I’ll speak to her later and see what’s to be done.’

  ‘Very well, High Initiate. Then, with your permission, I’ll go and see Fin Tivan Bruall about your horses.’

  Keridil nodded thanks and dismissal, and when the old man had left the room he sat down on the bed, pushing aside the neatly folded garments which littered it. Tomorrow, he was to start on a journey upon which might hinge the future of the entire land … and right at this moment he’d have given almost anything to turn time back and revoke the decision he had made as the Sun rose this morning.

  Last night, he had spent all the dark hours kneelin
g in vigil before the votive flame that burned perpetually in his study, and he had prayed fervently for guidance.

  Dawn had found him hollow-eyed and exhausted, but with the leaden certainty in his heart of what he must do.

  Stiff with weariness, he had sat at his great table and picked up the two letters that lay there, rereading them both for the hundredth time though he already knew their contents by heart. The Lady Matriarch Ilyaya Kimi’s formal request that he should call a Conclave of Three - and the stiff scroll which had arrived the following day, bearing the seal of the Summer Isle Court and inscribed personally by the High Margrave Fenar Elecar with an identical plea.

  It should, Keridil knew, have been easy to bow to the majority verdict and order the Conclave without any further thought. But he felt his responsibility keenly as the custodian of the world’s spiritual laws and the prime vehicle for the gods’ word and the gods’ will. In all their long history since the fall of the Old Ones a Conclave had never been called; and it was strictly written that it might be invoked only in the event of a dire peril which no other power could avert.

  Was this such an occasion? Or had the rousing of ancient, dormant fears taken too strong a hold on them all and distorted the truth out of proportion? Keridil knew he could never be certain of the answer; he must trust to his own judgement. The Conclave would be little more than a formality, its outcome a foregone conclusion - and then he, as High Initiate, must climb to the shrine on the White Isle, unlock the clasp which would open the sacred casket and prepare to meet Aeoris face to face.

  To call the great god back to the world … it was a responsibility that chilled him to the marrow. If the judgement of the Conclave were ill-founded, what wrath would he incur? What punishments would be unleashed on them all? To trifle with a god was the ultimate insanity … what if the decision to open the casket should prove to be wrong?

  Keridil looked at the two letters again, then at the growing sheaf of reports and depositions which had been flooding in, by messenger-bird and by despatch rider, from almost all the provinces. Trials, accusations, executions - flooding and crop failure - inarticulate terrors and pleas for the Circle’s help or advice - the fear of Chaos was running riot through the land, and nothing save the destruction of those evil forces could stop it.

  The Adepts had tried everything they knew to track down the fugitives and with them the Chaos stone; but their rituals and conjurations proved fruitless, and that in itself had convinced Keridil of the true extent of the peril they faced.

  He had, once, looked on the face of Chaos, and the memory was burned forever on his brain. Yandros, the quintessence of evil, with his golden hair and everchanging eyes and beautiful, malignant smile …

  Yandros, who had mocked the Circle and challenged them, if they dared, to stand against him when his forces rose to conquer … Yandros, who had called Tarod brother …

  No, Keridil thought, he wouldn’t trifle with a god - but neither would he trifle with Chaos. And if the soulstone wasn’t found and destroyed, the gates which had been closed against the dark powers so many centuries ago would be breached, and the world would be engulfed in madness.

  And so, with a hand that wasn’t quite steady, he had taken up pen and parchment, and written the vital words that would commit him finally to his decision. Only the High Initiate had the sanction to order the Conclave, and as he at last set his seal to the paper the unsteadiness in his hand had become a palsied shaking, so that the hot wax spattered across the parchment’s surface.

  It was done. And within minutes the message could be on its way, carried by hawk to speed to its destination.

  He could send for the falconer … or he could tear the parchment into shreds, burn the fragments, forget he had ever considered such a deed …

  Keridil licked dry lips, then rang a small handbell that stood on the table. When Gyneth answered the summons, he looked up and said, ‘Gyneth - will you send for falconer Faramor, and ask him to meet me in the courtyard immediately?’

  There could be no going back now. As soon as his message reached the Matriarch’s Cot in Southern Chaun, Ilyaya Kimi would begin her preparations for the journey to ShuNhadek. And a day or so later, a ship would set sail from the Summer Isle, bearing the young High Margrave and his entourage. Keridil’s own journey would begin in the morning, as he and a few chosen companions rode hard for the South to meet his peers.

  He stared bleakly at the clothes which Gyneth had laid out, and realised how tired he was. A night without sleep had taken its toll, and even on previous nights when he’d sought his bed he had been racked by nightmares. He’d be in no fit condition to face an eight-day journey unless he could rest for a while, and until Gyneth returned later he should be free from interruption.

  He pushed the folded garments aside, making space for himself on the bed, and stretched out. For a few minutes uneasy thoughts continued to assail him; then, mercifully, he drifted away into a sound sleep.

  Keridil was woken two hours later by the light touch of a hand on his brow. He stirred, then opened his eyes to see Sashka sitting beside him, a gentle smile on her face.

  ‘You’ve been asleep, love.’ She pushed a strand of hair away from his mouth.

  Keridil blinked and struggled to sit up. ‘What’s the hour?’

  ‘Past noon. I’d have come to you earlier, but I’ve been with Father and Mother in our rooms.’ She paused, then added: ‘Packing.’

  He remembered what Gyneth had told him, and reached out to take hold of her hand, squeezing it.

  ‘Sashka, you’re not thinking to come with me? After all that we said - ‘

  ‘I know what we said, Keridil. But did you really believe I’d let you go without me by your side? I want to be with you - and I feel that you’ll need me.’

  She was more right than she knew, Keridil thought; but he still couldn’t agree to it.

  ‘No, love,’ he told her. ‘It’s too long a journey, and too dangerous. The entire world’s in a ferment, and the gods alone know what we’re going to encounter on the way South. Should the powers of Chaos realise what’s afoot there could be attempts to stop us reaching our destination, and if any harm should come to you because of me, I couldn’t bear that!’

  Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘D’you think I lack the courage to face danger?’

  ‘No - no, of course not! But - ‘

  ‘And d’you think I could wait behind, not knowing where you were or how you fared? What would I do whilst you were away?’

  ‘Your father is returning to Han. Go with him, love; you’ll be safe at your home.’

  ‘The Castle is my home now - if I went to Han, I’d go mad with waiting and fretting!’ Sashka argued. She locked her fingers with his, aware that he was beginning to weaken. He wanted her with him, she could tell; and she was determined to wear down his protests. Keridil was about to embark on the most momentous course that any High Initiate had ever taken, and when it was over he would be famed throughout history as the saviour of his people; the man who had saved the world from the threat of Chaos. No power on earth was going to stop her from being at his side when that history was made.

  ‘Listen to me, Keridil,’ she said, softly but persuasively, ‘I couldn’t bear to be parted from you, not now, not while you have this burden to bear.’ Her fingers traced a gentle line around his jaw and she saw with satisfaction his answering, hesitant smile. ‘Once, when I was so distressed after - well, after the events that began this whole unhappy affair - you gave me your strength and your love, when I thought that life was no longer worth living. I’ve never been able to repay the debt I owe you, until now.’

  Keridil shook his head, though he was still smiling, ‘You gave me yourself, love. You could do me no greater honour than that.’

  ‘But it isn’t enough; not for me.’ Sashka was pleased with her stratagem, and it was clearly working. ‘I want to show you now that, as you helped me when I so desperately needed help, I can be a pillar of strength for you in return. Pleas
e, Keridil - I’m not afraid of what’s to come. I’m only afraid of any ill befalling you, and I want to be by your side to prevent it.’

  Keridil remembered the day when Tarod had been brought back, captive and drugged insensible, to the Castle. Sashka had been pledged to marry him, and she had, he thought, shown tremendous courage in overcoming her grief and despair at the revelations about him. She had been bereft, and he had tried to offer her comfort as she faced up to the grim truth. He had made her laugh - a small beginning, but an auspicious one - and slowly she had forgotten her misery as their love took root and flourished …

  He wanted her with him. Her presence would give him strength, as she had said, and keep doubt and fear at bay. And if she was so determined to come, he had no more arguments to counter her.

  He said, ‘Sashka … if you’re sure … ‘

  Her expression broke into a sparkling smile and she flung her arms around his neck. ‘I’m sure! Of course I’m sure!’ Relief and triumph flooded through her as she released him, and her smile changed to one of fond concern. ‘You should rest for a while longer,’ she said solicitously. ‘If we’re to leave at dawn tomorrow, you’ll need all your strength.’

  There isn’t the time. Gyneth will be back soon, and - ‘

  ‘Never mind Gyneth! If he finds your door locked, he can’t trouble you.’ She rose, moving gracefully across the room, and he heard the sound of a bolt being pushed home. ‘There,’ Sashka said. ‘Now there’ll be no one to disturb us.’ She came back to the bed and sank down on it, her arms winding warmly, possessively around him.

  ‘We’re together, and we’ll stay together from now on.’

  Her voice was soft and persuasive. ‘That’s all that matters.’

  *****

  The big bay horse cantered at an easy, ground-eating pace on the track, hoofs kicking up eddies of dust in its wake. Since leaving the timber-caravan as it lumbered along the edge of the forest that straddled the border between Han and Wishet, Tarod had made good speed southward, and was now crossing the arable plains of Prospect. The weather was little short of perfect - high, brilliant skies with a brisk and drying East wind - but the fresh optimism of the elements was in obscene contrast to the sights he had witnessed on the road.