by Andre Norton
She meant the time of my journey in the Shadow land. But—and this I was now sure of—unlike the snow cat she could not speak mind-to-mind. If so, she would not have meddled to give me the ability to answer aloud. Therefore, it should follow that she could not read my mind either. I could pick and choose the words of my answer, giving enough of the truth to satisfy her, but not all.
“When—you—called—” It was very difficult to mouth human speech, and my throat began to ache from the effort. “I—was—in—edge—place—of—Power had defense—used it to break—contact between us—”
“A place of Power,” Ursilla repeated. “There are such in the forest, some long forgot. Of what manner was this place you discovered?”
I dared not tell her of the Star Tower, or even of the clearing wherein grew the moonflowers. Though I had found no refuge there, those dwelling within had assuaged my hurts. And the snow cat had saved my life (perhaps more than just the life of my body), when he had broken the web of the lurker. The ruin! It would do no harm to give her the ruin!
“Two pillars—old carvings on them—but nigh worn away—They guard a ruin—the blocks so tumbled—I could—not—tell what manner of place it was—”
The wand swung again in her hand and I felt a queer pain between my eyes. That she was in some manner judging the truth I spoke, I understood. I felt a heavy burden of unease lest she could still drag from me what I determined not to disclose.
“Truth it is between us. Later you shall tell me more of this place. If, even though a ruin, it has Power to break the door spell, then it must have soaked up much might of some great talent in the past. Was it also the place that gave you the semblance of man again, Kethan?”
“Yes.”
I braced myself for another testing. What would she do when she found that answer a lie? However, to my overwhelming relief, she was disposed to accept my answer without prying into its truth.
“Power indeed! Surely must we find the place!” The fingers of the hand that did not hold the rod crooked as if she would grasp some treasure. Then she sighed. “But that must wait another day. As for you, shape-changer—” She gave me again her full attention. “You shall do as I bid. My messenger, who left his marks across your loins, dart very well. I hold the belt. And there are various things that can be accomplished through it—as you shall discover if you try to stand against my will!”
Her cold voice held no idle threat, but deadly promise. The worst of my burden was that I could not be sure whether or not she was right. Could I, within range of her Power, use my key and put on my proper shape, even for a short time? I had no answer to that until I tried. And I must not risk such a trial until I was sure that it was the only manner of defense left me.
“Maughus commands the Keep since the Lord Erach has ridden with most of the men to the ingathering,” Ursilla continued. “He has had silver bolts forged since his first hunting failed, and he has sworn to bring you down. Nor will any here lift hand or voice to gainsay him. For all fear the coming of the Shadow and it was very easy for him to argue that a shape-changer in our midst is an open door for worse things. He moves—” She stopped, biting her lower lip between her teeth as one who betrays too much.
I believed that I could supply the end of the sentence she had enough prudence not to complete. Maughus moved also against Ursilla. However, I did not think him wise in that. Having had a goodly taste of what she could summon to aid her in her desires, I knew that my cousin would have little chance if he turned Ursilla openly against him. Were I he, I would be more than a little cautious of how I went—for Ursilla threatened was a peril few men would care to reckon with.
“Only here are you safe,” she said, with no change in her features, though that fact gave her satisfaction to point out, I knew. “You have no friends herein, Kethan. Your fair betrothed,” her smile now was gloating, “has broken the bond between you, and her father did not gainsay her in that, having the testimony of those who hunted a pard from these walls.”
“If Lord Erach—” I forced the words from my maltreated throat, “has so spoken, what manner of use am I now to you? For never will they shield-raise me as his heir—”
Her pinched smile did not lessen. “Not so. What sorcery has wrought, sorcery can mend. I have sworn that you shall be restored to your proper person—and that you shall, if you obey me. Then will I govern—”
That she need not complete either. I could well do it for her. If she restored me from what she proclaimed to be a curse laid upon me by the Lady Eldris working with Maughus, then her position would be very strong. Not only would she be properly feared for the Power she wielded, but I must be slave to her who might return me at whim to beast shape. Yes, Ursilla's place in the Keep was assured—if she could keep me alive and out of Maughus's hands, if she could defeat the belt and make me wholly human.
At that moment, I knew I did not want my body back at the price Ursilla would place upon such a bargain. I had known for many seasons that she stood behind my ambitious mother with plans of her own. Now all my suspicions were fully confirmed. It would be Ursilla who ruled here if I was shield-raised, the Lord Erach dead.
“Now”—she rose from her throne, snapped her fingers at me as a man summons the attention of a hound—“we shall keep you secret for a while. Also, I have that to do which will reveal the future, that I may lay my plans well based and prepared against all eventualities.”
So summoned, I followed her meekly into the inner chamber where lay the star painted on the floor. Into the center of the star I went, when she pointed to me with the wand. Then, she raised the symbol of Power and indicated with it each of the candles set in the points. They blazed up though no fire had been touched to them.
“Safe,” she commented. “None can come at you here, nor can you fare forth, shape-changer. Thus you shall remain awaiting my future pleasure.”
She turned and left me, while the candles burned with a steady flame. Crowding in upon me (for the star might have been filled with unseen bodies jostling in a throng), was the sense of Power unleased.
So far I had made but a sorry showing in my own attempt to win free from Ursilla. She had the belt, and there were half-a-hundred places within the Keep where it might be concealed. Here I was pent and unable to hunt. What did I have? Only the strength that I had earned to make me man again for intervals that were all too far short.
I prowled around the altar of stone set in the middle of the star—the one on which my mother had laid me on the long ago night when Ursilla had set her guard upon my mind. My mother? Did she know I had returned to Car Do Prawn? Or was she now so submissive to Ursilla that the Wise Woman saw no reason for sharing with the Lady Heroise any part of what she believed I could gain here?
However, the relationship between the two was of little importance to me now. What mattered was that Ursilla had me pent with her sorcery. I advanced cautiously toward the nearest portion of the star drawing. A paw put out to the line brought about the same shock that I had felt when I tried to enter the garden at the forest Tower.
The Star Tower! I sat back on my haunches. As the Moon Maid had urged, I had sought and found the key, though I was still unsteady and limited in the use of it. Could—could the same key apply not only to the control of my shape, but other things? Might my will be turned outward to defeat the barrier Ursilla had set around me?
I could—
But I was to have no time, for the door of the chamber opened and in came my mother, her richly bordered robe sweeping the floor, her eyes seeking me out. Like Ursilla, she was smiling. There was no mirth in her smile, only pleasure in my state of prisoner.
“You have gone your way, fool,” she said as she paused between two of the star points’ candles, their stiffly upstanding, unbending flames awaking a glitter from her collar neckace, her girdle, the gems at her ears caught in the net about her hair, on her fingers. She was dressed as one bound for a high feasting. “And how has it served you?”
; I would not try to croak an answer in the half-voice Ursilla had forced upon me. There was no use in adding pleasure to her delight in seeing me so imprisoned.
The Lady Heroise laughed. “You—you are trying to pit yourself against our Power! Did you think you had a chance?
Our Power, she had said. But I believed that Ursilla would not agree to that. If my mother was so deceived as to think the Wise Woman was only her handmaid in my subduing, then perhaps a hint of the truth might set a useful wedge between them. I did find my voice:
“Ursilla brought me.” I got out the words with difficulty. “She would use me. Nothing was said of you—”
Her smile did not alter. “Ursilla is very strong, Kethan. But just perhaps—not as all seeing, all performing, as she would like us to think. We do not quarrel now, for our purpose is the same.”
With her usual grace, she turned from between the candles to approach a table above which hung a single lamp. To this she pointed as Ursilla had done, to start a flame leaping there. I think with this small gesture she wished to show me that she, too, could command some forces, though such tricks were among the lesser of any talent.
There were no throne-backed chairs here, only a three-legged stool such as might be found in a villager's kitchen. It was carved and much timeworn. My mother seated herself thereon, and took up, from where it dangled on a chain from her belt, a box that I could see—even through the haze the flame set about it—was covered with runes.
She slipped off its lid with long-practiced ease and spilled out into her hand a pack of cards made from stiffened parchment. I knew them for her greatest treasure, for such aided in foretelling. They were not generally used among our people. It was said that they were not of the Power of Arvon at all, but one of the tools that those who had opened Other World Gates in the past had drawn through for service here. They were seldom put into use as there were few learned in reading any message they had to tell.
That my mother could do so was her great pride. At Garth Howel, this much talent had she shown, rather confounding those who had instructed her in the mysteries, for she was not otherwise greatly endowed. Now her smile grew brighter as she looked upon them in her grasp.
“Unfortunately, Kethan, you cannot shuffle or cut these as you should, having not the hands to do so. But this day and hour is the proper one for a reading and I shall keep you in mind as I do this.”
She had flipped swiftly through the cards and now chose one that she held up to let me view the picture it bore. “This will stand—or rather lie—for you. It is the Page of Swords, being a youth surrounded with a certain strength.”
This she laid upon the table. Now her fingers moved gracefully and skillfully, shuffling the cards once, cutting them with her left hand three times in my direction, shuffling again, cutting again, and then once more shuffling. She paid no more attention to me as she did this, the expression on her face one of intense concentration. I found myself as intent upon what she would do next as if indeed I hung across the board opposite her, believing that she could read what would chance for me in days to come.
Now she laid the cards out in a circle, beginning to the left, moving downward, then up to complete the round. She seemed not to look at them until she was through. Then, when she pushed aside those she did not use, she bent over the twelve on the board with the same fixed concentration.
“The Devil in the First House—that House that is yours. Ah—” She drew a deep breath. “Bondage—Magic for you—The Two of Wands in your House of Property —Lord of the Manor—Fortune—dominance—
“The Third House—there lies the Moon—peril—dreams—The Four of Wands for your Fourth House—coming of peace and perfected work—a haven of refuge—” As she spoke, her voice quickened, her face revealed shadows of emotion I could not read.
“In the Fifth House, the Ace of Wands—a birth—yes, the starting of Fortune—an inheritance—true, all true!” With her fingertips she drummed lightly beneath each card as she revealed the meaning it held for her.
“For the Sixth House—success—prudence—safety—!” With each reading her voice arose a little, her excitement grew more plain. “The House of Seven—here lies the Six of Swords, which means passage from difficulties—success after anxiety—
“Now the Eighth House—wherein lie your nature gifts—The Magician!”
She sat staring at the card for a long moment, puzzlement replacing the satisfaction she had earlier expressed. “Mastery of skill, of wisdom, the ability to direct Power through desire into manifestation—But how can that be! Ah, such cannot be meant for you. No, of course, you are the tool through which others shall work.” But I do not think she wholly believed the quick answer to the problem that her previous cards had shown her. While in me, for the first time, grew a truer interest in what she was saying.
The ability to take Power from above, direct that through desire into manifestation. Was that not exactly what I had learned in my shape-changing? But if it had been a true reading, then what of the rest she had so lightly foretold—success—peace? If I could only believe that they were true!
“The Ninth House.” My mother swept on as if she wished to leave the troublesome eighth card well behind her. “Five of Wands—Ah, this is truth—struggle to obtain success—loss—unless there is vigilance. But we shall be vigilant! Of that there is no doubting.
“Now—the Eleventh House—what lies there? Seven of Swords—a plan that may fail—uncertainty. Again a warning, and one we little need. Last of all—the Twelfth House—the Hierophant—ruling Power of belief, the need to be one with others—”
She raised her hands from the table, no longer regarding the cards, but watching me across the candles in the star points.
“You see the truth in this, Kethan? There lie great things ahead for your grasping. The way shall be hard, but no path to rulership is ever easy. You are told to be wary, but you are promised success, a oneness with others. It is a good reading—Still—” Once more she looked at the card she named the Magician lying in the Eighth House. “This I do not quite understand. Ah, well, ofttimes some parts of any foreseeing lie hid. The rest is all correct within my knowledge. You shall rule in Car Do Prawn yet, my son, and perhaps even beyond this single holding—”
She gazed over the cards to the wall, her expression that of one lost in some splendid fantasy of imagining. Twice she nodded in answer to her thoughts, not to any speech. Then she swept the cards swiftly together, restored them to their case, arose from the table.
“Be glad that Ursilla has left you safe,” she said as she turned toward the door. “Maughus has had silver bolts forged, he swears within his heart to bring you down— and silver is the death for any shape-changer when it is weapon wrought. Let him lord it here while yet he can. His day shall be a short one.”
I heard the whisper of her fine skirts across the floor, then she was gone. But her foretelling had left me with several thoughts. Now I tried to remember each card, the message she had gained from it. I would not have been so impressed had I not been struck by the answer she had read from the Magician, that which had puzzled her so. Master of skill and wisdom—I was very far from that. There were such—one heard tales of them—the Voices, others, some of the Dark, some of the Light. But they dwelt apart and one might not see one in a long lifetime —nor even meet another human who had seen one!
Restlessly, I paced around the altar block. I felt no hunger or thirst, nor was I tired. Perhaps some virtue within the wall Ursilla had erected kept me from such bodily discomforts. Only I could not practice patience and wait. I wanted to be at the action that had brought me back to Car Do Prawn.
Now I began to survey the room with all the keenness of the pard sight. It seemed to me that if Ursilla concealed the belt she would keep it in this place, which was the repository for all her tools of Power. There was a cabinet against the wall, its doors tight shut. Within that were stored the containers of herbs, the various liquids and powders that were used
for ensorcellment. But, that was too obvious. Another case near the door held the rune rolls she had never let me touch. Could the belt perhaps be inside one of those? If so, it was as far from me as if it lay on the silver surface of the moon itself!
Back and forth I paced, my impatience like a whip upon me, or a hunger gnawing from within. The candles continued to burn, yet they did not shrink much in size. It must take a long time for their wax to melt. The stale smell of herbs hung heavy, my head ached a little, a vast depression settled upon me slowly but steadily. I could see no success for any save Ursilla. And, to that success, she would make me the sacrifice if she could.
Of How the Three from the Star Tower Took an Interest in My Fate
I do not know just when I recognized depression for an enemy. Perhaps within me, when I had tried and tested the strength I had for controlling my shape, a long dormant part of my mind had partly stirred to life. Had it been strengthened by the foretelling that had so pleased my mother—even though she was puzzled over that single card?
Such speculation did not serve any purpose. My Kethan mind began once more to assume the rulership of my dual nature. I deliberately fought under the restlessness of the pacing pard and stretched out by the altar. Anyone spying upon me there might think that I had surrendered and now waited tamely for whatever Ursilla planned.
That was far from the truth. I was exploring in another fashion than that of the merely physical. First, I studied the candles burning on the star points. That they in some manner controlled the barrier imprisoning me was a thought that grew steadier. Their flame was orange-red. Those colors mixed, related to physical strength of the body and self-confidence. Yes, those were the Magics Ursilla could well draw upon.
What stood against them? As never before my shape-changing, I began to concentrate on the subject of Magic and the Power. Though Ursilla had carefully selected the Chronicles she had permitted me to read, many of the stories therein had dealt in detail with the exploits of men in Arvon when the Lords and Voices had dueled with forces beyond any strength of arm or weapon.