The Lightstone: The Ninth Kingdom

by David Zindell

  ‘Val,’ he said as he walked up to me, ‘it’s good you haven’t left yet.’

  ‘No, not yet,’ I said. ‘But it’s time. It seemed you wouldn’t come.’

  ‘It seemed that way to me, too. But farewells should be said.’

  I stared at my father’s sad, deep eyes and said, ‘Thank you, sir. It can’t be easy for you seeing me leave like this.’

  ‘No, it’s not. But you always went your own way.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And you always accepted your punishments when you did.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, nodding my head. ‘And sometimes that was hard; you were hard, sir.’

  ‘But you never complained.’

  ‘No – you taught me not to.’

  ‘And you never apologized, either.’

  ‘No, that’s true.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, looking at my war lance and glistening armor, ‘this time the hardships of your journey will be punishment enough.’

  ‘Very likely they will.’

  ‘And dangers,’ he continued. There will be dangers aplenty on the road to Tria – and beyond.’

  I nodded my head and smiled bravely to show him that I knew there would be. But inside, my belly was fluttering as before a battle.

  ‘And so,’ he said, ‘it would please me if you would take this shield on your journey.’

  He took another step closer to me, all the while keeping a watchful eye upon the snorting Altaru and his great hooves. Not wishing to arouse the ferocious stallion’s protective instincts, he slowly held his shield out to me.

  ‘But, sir,’ I said, looking at this fine piece of workmanship, ‘this is your war shield! If there’s war with Ishka, you’ll need it.’

  ‘Please take it all the same,’ he told me.

  For a long moment, I gazed at the shield’s swan and silver stars.

  ‘Would you disobey in this, as well?’

  ‘No, sir,’ I said at last, taking the shield and thrusting my forearm through its leather straps. It was slightly heavier than my own shield, but somehow seemed to fit me better. ‘Thank you – it’s magnificent.’

  He embraced me then, and kissed me, once, on my forehead. He looked at me strangely in a way that I had never seen him look at Karshur or Yarashan – or even Asaru. Then he told me, ‘Always remember who you are.’

  I bowed to him, then hoisted myself up onto Altaru’s back. The great beast’s entire body trembled with the excitement of setting out into the world.

  I cleared my throat to say my final farewells, but just as I was about to speak, there came the sound of a horse galloping up the road beyond the open gate. A cloaked figure astride a big, panting sorrel came pounding into the courtyard. The rider wore a saber strapped to his thick black belt and bore a lance in his saddle’s holster but seemed otherwise unarmed. His clothes, I saw, as his cloak pulled back, were of bright scarlet, and he wore a jeweled ring on each of the fingers of his two hands. I smiled because it was, of course, Maram.

  ‘Val!’ he called out to me as he reached forward to stroke and calm his sweating horse. ‘I was afraid I’d have to intercept you on the road.’

  I smiled again in appreciation of what must have been a hard ride down from the Brotherhood Sanctuary. My family all looked upon him approvingly for this act of seeming loyalty.

  ‘Thank you for coming to say goodbye,’ I told him.

  ‘Say goodbye?’ he called out. ‘No, no – I’ve come to say that I’d like to accompany you on your journey. That is, at least as far as Tria, if you’ll have me.’

  This news surprised everyone, except perhaps my father, who gazed at Maram quietly. My mother gazed at him, too, with obvious gratitude that I wouldn’t be setting out at night on a dangerous journey alone.

  ‘Will I have you?’ I said to him. I felt as if the weight of my unaccustomed armor had suddenly been lifted from my shoulders. ‘Gladly. But what’s happened, Maram?’

  ‘Didn’t you read my letter?’

  I patted the square of paper still folded into my belt. ‘No, my apologies, but there wasn’t time.’

  ‘Well,’ he began, ‘I couldn’t just abandon my best friend to go out questing alone, now could I?’

  ‘Is that all?’

  Maram licked his lips as he glanced from my mother to Asaru, who was eyeing him discreetly. ‘Well, no, it is not all,’ he forced out. ‘I suppose I should tell you the truth: Lord Harsha has threatened to cut off my, ah … head.’

  As Maram went on to relate, Lord Harsha had discovered him talking with Behira early that morning and had again drawn his sword. He had chased Maram up and down the women’s guest quarters, but his broken knee and Maram’s greater agility, much quickened by his panic, enabled Maram to evade the threatened decapitation – or worse. After Lord Harsha’s temper had cooled somewhat, he had told Maram to leave Mesh that day or face his sword when they next met. Maram had fled from the castle and returned to the Brotherhood Sanctuary to gather up his belongings. And then returned as quickly as he could to join me.

  ‘It would be an honor to have you with me,’ I told him. ‘But what about your schooling?’

  ‘I’ve only taken a leave of absence,’ he said. ‘I’m not quite ready to quit the Brotherhood altogether.’

  And, it seemed, the Brotherhood wasn’t ready to quit him. Even as Maram started in his saddle at the sound of more horses coming up to the castle, I looked down the road to see Master Juwain riding another sorrel and leading two pack horses behind him. He made his way through the gateway and came to a halt near Maram. He glanced at the weapons that Maram bore. Maram must have persuaded him that the lance and sword would be used only for their protection and not war. He shook his head sadly at having yet again to bend the Brotherhood’s rules on Maram’s behalf.

  Master Juwain quickly explained that the news of the quest had created a great stir among the Brothers. For three long ages they had sought the secrets of the Lightstone. And now, if the prophecy proved true, it seemed that this cup of healing might finally be found. And so the Brothers had decided to send Master Juwain to Tria to determine the veracity of the prophecy. That he also might have other, and more secret, business in the City of Light remained unsaid.

  ‘Then it isn’t your intention to make this quest?’ my father asked.

  ‘Not at this time. I’ll accompany Val only as far as Tria, if that’s agreeable with him.’

  ‘Nothing could please more, sir.’ I smiled, unable to hide my delight. ‘But it’s my intention to take the road through Ishka, and that may not prove entirely safe.’

  ‘Where can safety be found these days?’ Master Juwain said, looking up at the great iron gate and the castle walls all around us. ‘Lord Salmelu has promised you safe passage, and we’ll have to hope for the best.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ I told him.

  And with that, I turned to look at my brothers one last time. I nodded my head to my grandmother and my mother, who was quietly weeping again. Then I smiled grimly at my father and said, ‘Farewell, sir.’

  ‘Farewell, Valashu Elahad,’ he said, speaking for the rest of my family. ‘May you always walk in the light of the One.’

  At last I put on the great helm, whose hard steel face plates immediately cut out the sight of my weeping mother. I wheeled Altaru about and nudged him forward with a gentle pressure of my heels. Then, with Master Juwain and Maram following, I rode out through the gate toward the long road that led down from the castle. And so my father finally had the satisfaction of seeing me set out as a Valari knight in all his glory.

  It was a clear night with the first stars slicing open the blue-black vault of the heavens. To the west, Arakel’s icy peak glowed blood-red in light of the sun lost somewhere beyond the world’s edge. To the east, Mount Eluru was already sunk in darkness. The cool air sifted through the slits in my helm, carrying the scents of forest and earth and almost infinite possibilities. Soon, after perhaps half a mile of such joyous travel, I took off my helm
, the better to feel the starlight on my face. I listened to the measured beat of Altaru’s hooves against the hard-packed dirt as I looked out at the wonder of the world.

  It seemed almost a foolish thing to begin such a long journey with night falling fast and deep all around us. But I knew that the moon would soon be up, and there would be light enough for riding along the well-made North Road that led toward Ishka. With the wind at my back and visions of golden cups blazing inside me, I thought that I might be able to ride perhaps until midnight. Certainly the seventh day of Soldru would come all too soon, and I wanted very badly to be in Tria with the knights of the free lands when King Kiritan called the great quest. Six hundred miles, as the raven flies, lay between Silvassu and Tria to the northwest. But I – we – would not be traveling as a bird flying free in the sky. There would be mountains to cross and rivers to ford, and the road toward that which the heart most desires is seldom straight.

  And so we rode north through the gently rolling country of the Valley of the Swans. After an hour or so, the moon rose over the Culhadosh Range and silvered the fields and trees all about us. We rode in its soft light, which seemed to fill all the valley like a marvelous shimmering liquid. The farmhouses we passed sent plumes of smoke curling up black against the luminous sky. And in the yards of each of those houses, I thought, no matter how tiring the day’s work had been, warriors would be practicing at arms while their wives taught their children the meditative discipline so vital to all that was Valari. Only later would they take their evening meal, perhaps of cheese and apples and black barley bread. It came to me that I would miss these simple foods, grown out of Meshian soil, rich in tastes of the star-touched earth that recalled the deepest dreams of my people. I wondered if I were seeing my homeland for the last time even while strangely beholding it as if for the first time. It came to me as well that a Valari warrior, with sword and shield and a lifetime of discipline drilled into his soul, was much more than a dealer of death. For everything about me – the rocks and earth, the wind and trees and starlight – were just the things of life, and ultimately a warrior existed only to protect life and the land and people that he loved.

  We made camp late that night in a fallow field by a small hill off the side of the road. The farmer who owned it, an old man named Yushur Kaldad, came out to greet us with a pot of stew that his wife had made. Although he hadn’t been present at the feast, he had heard of my quest. After giving us permission to make a fire, he wished me well and walked back through the moonlight toward his little stone house.

  ‘It’s a lovely night,’ I said to Maram as I tied Altaru to the wooden fence by the side of the field. There was thick grass growing all about the fence, which would make the horses happy. ‘We don’t really need a fire.’

  Maram, working with Master Juwain, had already spread the sleeping furs across the husks of old barley that covered the cool ground. He moved off toward the rocks at the side of the road, and told me, ‘I’m worried about bears.’

  ‘But there aren’t many bears in this part of the valley,’ I told him.

  ‘Not many?’

  ‘In any case, the bears will leave us alone if we leave them alone.’

  ‘Yes, and a fire will help encourage them to leave us alone.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ I told him. ‘But perhaps it would only give them a better light to do their work in case they get really hungry.’

  ‘Val!’ Maram called out as he stood up with a large rock in either hand. ‘I don’t want to hear any more talk of hungry bears, all right?’

  ‘All right,’ I said, smiling. ‘But please don’t worry. If a bear comes close, the horses will give us warning.’

  In the end, Maram had his way. In the space around which our sleeping furs were laid out, he dug a shallow pit and circled it with rocks. Then he moved off toward the hill where he found some dried twigs and branches among the deadwood beneath the trees and with great care he arrayed the tinder and kindling into a pyramid at the center of the pit. Then from his pocket he produced a flint and steel, and in only a few moments he coaxed the sparks from them into a cone of bright orange flames.

  ‘You have a talent with fire,’ Master Juwain told him. He dropped his gnarly body onto his sleeping fur and began ladling out the stew into three large bowls. Despite his years, he moved with both strength and suppleness, as if he had practiced his healing arts on himself. ‘Perhaps you should study to be an alchemist.’

  Maram’s sensuous lips pulled back in a smile as he held his hands out toward the flames. His large eyes reflected the colors of the fire, and he said, ‘It has always fascinated me. I think I made my first fire when I was four. When I was fourteen, I burned down my father’s hunting lodge, for which he has never forgiven me.’

  At this news, Master Juwain rubbed his lumpy face and told him, ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be an alchemist.’

  Maram shrugged off his comment with a good-natured smile. He clicked his fire-making stones together, and watched the sparks jump out of them.

  ‘What is the magic in flint and steel?’ he asked, speaking mostly to himself. ‘Why don’t flint and quartz, for instance, make such little lights? And what is the secret of the flames bound up in wood? How is it that logs will burn but not stone?’

  Of course, I had no answers for him. I sat on my furs watching Master Juwain pulling at his jowls in deep thought. To Maram, I said, ‘Perhaps if we find the Lightstone, you’ll solve your mysteries.’

  ‘Well, there’s one mystery I’d like solved more than any other,’ he confided. ‘And that is this: How is it that when a man and a woman come together, they’re like flint and steel throwing out sparks into the night?’

  I smiled and looked straight at him. ‘Isn’t that one of the lines of the poem you recited to Behira?’

  ‘Ah, Behira, Behira,’ he said as he struck off another round of sparks. ‘Perhaps I should never have gone to her room. But I had to know.’

  ‘Did you …?’

  I started to ask him if he had stolen Behira’s virtue, as Lord Harsha feared, but then decided that it was none of my business.

  ‘No, no, I swear I didn’t,’ Maram said, understanding me perfectly well. ‘I only wanted to tell her the rest of my poem and –’

  ‘Your poem, Maram?’ We both knew that he had stolen it from the Book of Songs, and so perhaps did Master Juwain.

  ‘Ah, well,’ Maram said, flushing, ‘I never said outright that I had written it, only that the words came to me the first moment I saw her.’

  ‘You parse words like a courtier,’ I said to him.

  ‘Sometimes one must to get at the truth.’

  I looked at the stars twinkling in the sky and said, ‘My grandfather taught me that unless one tries to get at the spirit of truth, it’s no truth at all.’

  ‘And we should honor him for that, for he was a great Valari king.’ He smiled, and his thick beard glistened in the reddish firelight. ‘But I’m not Valari, am I? No, I’m just a simple man, and it’s as a man that I went to Behira’s room. I had to know if she was the one.’

  ‘What one, Maram?’

  The woman with whom I could make the ineffable flame. Ah, the fire that never goes out.’ He turned toward the fire, his eyes gleaming. ‘If ever I held the Lightstone in my hands, I’d use it to discover the place where love blazes eternally like the stars. That’s the secret of the universe.’

  For a while, no one spoke as we sat there eating our midnight meal beneath the stars. Yushur had brought us an excellent stew full of succulent lamb, new potatoes, carrots, onions and herbs; we consumed it down to the last drop of gravy, which we mopped up with the fresh bread that Master Juwain had brought down from the Sanctuary. To celebrate our first night together on the road, I had cracked open a cask of beer. Master Juwain had taken only the smallest sip of it, but of course Maram had drunk much more. After his first serving, as his rumbling voice built castles in the air, I rationed the precious black liquid into his cup. But as the time approached
for sleeping, it became apparent that I hadn’t measured out the beer carefully enough.

  ‘I simply must see Tria before I die,’ Maram told me in his rumbling voice. ‘As for the Quest, though, I’m afraid that from there you’ll be on your own, my friend. I’m no Valari knight, after all. Ah, but if I were, and I did gain the Lightstone, there are so many things I might do.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, to begin with, I would return with it to Delu in glory. Then the nobles would have to make me king. Women would flock to me like lambs to sweet grass. I would establish a great harem as did the Delian kings of old. Then famous artists and warriors from all lands would gather in my court.’

  I pushed the cork stopper into the half-empty cask as I looked at him and asked, ‘But what about love?’

  ‘Ah, yes, love,’ he said. He belched then sighed as he rubbed his eyes. ‘The always-elusive dream. As elusive as the Lightstone itself.’

  In a voice full of self-pity, he declared that the Lightstone had certainly been destroyed, and that neither he nor anyone else was ever likely to find his heart’s deepest desire.

  Master Juwain had so far endured Maram’s drinking spree in silence. But now he fixed him with his clear eyes and said, ‘My heart tells me that the prophecy will prove true. Starlight is elusive, too, but we do not doubt that it exists.’

  ‘Ah, well, the prophecy,’ Maram muttered. ‘But who are these seven brothers and sisters? And what are these seven stones?’

  ‘That, at least, should be obvious,’ Master Juwain said. ‘The stones must be the seven greater gelstei.’

  He went on to say that although there were hundreds of types of gelstei, there were only seven of the great stones: the white, blue and green, the purple and black, the red firestones and the noble silver. Of course, there was the gold gelstei, but only one, known as the Gelstei, and that was the Lightstone itself.