Heritage Of The Xandim

by Maggie Furey

  Once again, Iriana felt a surge of excitement. To actually see the legendary Phaerie steeds . . . For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming; then she recalled Cyran’s terrifying prognostications. No, this was serious business, very serious indeed, and she would be carrying a great deal of responsibility. She realised that not only Cyran but all of the Wizardfolk - indeed, all of the Magefolk - were depending on her to make a success of this mission.

  Avithan, in the meantime, had been looking increasingly grave. ‘And why are you sending me, Father?’ he asked. ‘What is my role to be?’

  ‘Simply this. You are a personable young man, if I say so myself, and of very high rank among the Wizards. I want you to charm Tiolani, Hellorin’s daughter. Do your best to win her confidence.’

  ‘What? Father, surely you don’t mean you want me to court this girl?’

  No. He can’t! With difficulty, Iriana stifled the words before they came out of her mouth. Her thoughts, however, seemed to have run away with her. What if Avithan really did fall in love with this Phaerie woman? And why was it suddenly so important to her that he did not?

  Cyran looked from one of them to the other, his face unreadable. ‘I want you to do whatever you must to get her on our side. Though she would hardly be allowed to wed a Wizard, an outsider—’

  ‘It’s just as well.’ Avithan’s eyes sparked with anger. ‘Because it doesn’t matter what you’re hatching, that isn’t going to happen.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Cyran said smoothly. ‘But as for the rest, she has considerable influence over her father and brother. If you could somehow persuade her into convincing Hellorin to renew our friendship—’

  ‘Father, you go too far,’ Avithan said angrily. ‘This is wrong, to deceive a lonely and vulnerable young girl. How can you expect it of me?’

  Cyran shook his head wearily. ‘Because I have no choice, my son. And neither have you.’

  12

  TOWARDS THE FAR HORIZON

  'Merciful Creation.’ Iriana stepped back, hands on hips. Through the eyes of the eagle that sat patiently on top of the wardrobe, she regarded the superabundance of belongings piled all over her bed. Tomorrow at dawn she’d be setting out on her first real journey beyond the bounds of the city, but how could she possibly manage to take everything she might need? All she’d have would be her own bedroll and saddlebags, and there would be a single packhorse that she would share with her companions.

  Her mouth twisted in a wry combination of dismay and amusement. ‘I think we may need another packhorse,’ she said aloud.

  ‘It looks as though you’ll need a whole herd of them.’ Thara stood grinning in the open doorway, with Melisanda at her side.

  Melisanda, tall and willowy, with a narrow face and tumbled waves of pale-blonde hair, shook her head reprovingly, but she too had a sparkle of humour in her hazel eyes.

  ‘You’re no help,’ Iriana said plaintively. ‘How can I fit it all in? We’re going north, and Esmon warned us it would be cold. He made me buy all this new stuff today when we were getting outfitted for the journey.’

  It was true. Much earlier that day, the day after their meeting with Cyran, just as the sky was beginning to grow light, the Warrior Wizard had hauled two very bleary young people, neither of whom had closed their eyes all night, from their beds. Avithan had spent a restless, sleepless night worrying about the responsibilities his father had heaped on his head, and Iriana had lain awake through the hours of darkness, too excited about seeing the world at last to close her eyes. So it proved that the first precept of adventuring - early starts - had come as something of a shock.

  When visiting the market, Iriana usually took Star, her sparrowhawk, for vision, and Bear for protection. She was disadvantaged in a crowd, for it inevitably took a second or two to get an animal’s eyes to focus where she wanted. Folk tended to barge into her a lot because she couldn’t move aside in time, but when the huge dog was with her, people got out of her way. Bear was also a defence against any thieves or pickpockets who thought a blind girl might be easy prey.

  The morning air was cool and fragrant. The sun, peering over the hills behind the city, lit the colours of the flowers on vines and in window boxes. Esmon led the way, walking so fast that Iriana and Avithan found themselves scrambling to keep up. The dawn-still streets were empty of people, the silence so intense that Iriana could hear Avithan’s footfalls and her own ringing out sharply, and even the clicking of Bear’s claws against the paving stones was quite distinct. Only the Warrior made no sound, moving soft-footed as a leopard in his worn old boots.

  The vast, open-air market was down by the harbour; a village of brightly coloured canopies and laden counters stretching along the side of the bay behind the busy area of jetties, piers and docks. A good half-mile on each side, it sold everything from fish fresh off the incoming boats to jewellery and artefacts brought by traders from afar. At one end there was a bandstand where, later in the day, music would be played to entertain those who browsed among the stalls, but at this time of the morning, the market belonged to the people with serious business.

  The stalls were still setting up their wares for the day. Crustaceans, beady-eyed and wrathful, were scrabbling around in boxes as trays of silvery fish were sorted and placed on beds of ice. As Esmon purchased leathery strips of jerked salmon, Iriana examined with interest the shimmering spell that had been laid over the fish to keep them fresh and safe, while Star, on her shoulder, screamed abuse at the gulls that swooped hopefully overhead.

  A man walked past, his back bent beneath the carcass of a deer. Other butchers displayed joints, hams and sausages fragrant with herbs. While the warrior was buying beef jerky and bacon, Iriana fought to keep her animals away from the nearby stalls that sold crates of live rabbits and chickens. Though she had trained Star and Bear to obedience, such a collection of live prey was irresistible. Today, however, she could allow no leniency. In a crowded place such as this she needed to be in control; able to look where she wanted. ‘Star! Bear!’ she scolded sharply. Bear sidled guiltily back to her side immediately, letting her guide his vision once more. Star, however, asserting his independence as raptors sometimes will, flew up and perched defiantly on the top of the stall.

  Through Bear’s eyes, she was aware that both Avithan and Esmon had turned to watch her, and knew what they were thinking. That familiar worried frown was on Avithan’s face, and the warrior was watching speculatively, one eyebrow slightly raised. Out of the blue, buying supplies on a pleasant morning had become a test. If she could not control the creatures she depended upon in a simple market, how would she manage if a crisis should occur when they were out in the wilderness?

  Today of all days - they would go and let her down. Iriana forced back mounting annoyance, because she never allowed herself to become angry with her animals. They were her helpers, her constant companions and her friends, and she loved them. Her face hot with mortification, she put her vision through the hawk’s eyes and made him look at her as she stood below. Firmly and quickly, she distracted him from the temptations all around, and called him again. This time he obeyed, and Iriana was gratified to see Esmon’s almost imperceptible nod of approval. Avithan, however, still had that faint line between his brows. Plague on him! Would she never prove herself to him? Would he ever come to believe in her? She turned away from him, vexed and disappointed.

  The companions walked on until the smells of fish and raw meat were replaced by the sweet fragrance of brightly coloured fruits and the sharp, green tang of vegetables. In turn, this area gave way to the dairy section with its milk, butter and cheeses, then to general foodstuffs. Esmon bought dried provisions: beans, oats and a small bag of grain for the horses. Dried fruit, flour, sugar, salt and taillin.

  A couple of small coins secured one of the boys who worked in the market as porters. He trotted along behind them, carrying the packages and giving the enormous Bear a wide berth as the Warrior led Avithan and Iriana away into the adjacent area of the
market, where he proceeded to outfit them for their journey. A delighted Iriana found herself with a new coat of soft, flexible leather, breeches of the same material and another pair in a sturdy, hard-wearing weave, plus a thick woollen tunic, a cotton shirt and two others made, to her joy, from silken, cobweb-light moonmoth fabric.

  Esmon grinned at her delight. ‘Since we’re visiting the Phaerie, you should be wearing one of their major exports.’

  ‘But it costs a king’s ransom.’ Iriana’s protest was half-hearted as she stroked the peacock-blue fabric of one of her new purchases.

  ‘Prices have gone sky-high since supplies from Eliorand dried up,’ Esmon told her. Then he chuckled. ‘But Avithan’s father is kindly footing the bill for this little lot, so you should make the most of it. These shirts are extremely practical - not that you care about that right now. They pack light, and you’ll be thankful for an extra layer of clothing next to your skin as we head north.’

  Avithan picked up one of the shirts, distaste written all over his face. ‘They’re all very well for Iriana, but isn’t this stuff, well, a bit effeminate?’

  The Warrior’s mouth quirked. ‘I wear them,’ was all he said.

  Avithan shut up abruptly.

  ‘They come in dark colours too.’ Iriana could barely suppress her laughter. ‘I’m sure we can find something suited to your - er - masculine state.’ She herself was covetously eyeing the beautiful gowns hanging at the rear of the stall. ‘Esmon,’ she wheedled, ‘don’t you think that since we’re visiting the Phaerie Court as Cyran’s emissaries, I ought to look the part? I mean—’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ The Warrior shrugged. ‘Go ahead and pick a couple, but don’t take too long choosing. We haven’t got all day.’

  By this time the sun was high in the sky, throwing gleams and sparkles from the tops of the blue waves. ‘By the Light,’ Avithan said, ‘I’m hungry as a wolf.’ Esmon and Iriana were quick to agree. At the far end of the market was an abundance of stalls that sold all sorts of hot food, and they wandered through a medley of delectable aromas, trying to reach a consensus. At Avithan’s suggestion, they finally decided on freshly grilled fish that had been caught that day, held between the halves of a substantial bread roll. Horn cups of tart lemonade completed their meal.

  By this time everyone was laden with packages but, by a miracle, they managed to get all the food and their purchases to the harbour wall without dropping or spilling anything. On a generous impulse, Iriana had brought an extra roll and a drink for their young porter, and his face lit up like a beacon when she put it into his hands.

  Freed from their burdens, their parcels piled in a heap in the shade of the wall, the Wizards sat on the rough, sun-warmed stone, resting hot, tired feet and enjoying their food. As they ate, they watched the boats with their bright sails gliding in and out of the harbour, conversing idly in mindspeech to be heard over the shrill cries of the gulls, the calling of the market hawkers and the cursing of the stevedores on the docks.

  Once they had refreshed themselves, it was time to make their final purchases. The two younger wizards completed their new outfits with thick green cloaks made from the greasy wool of mountain sheep, which was renowned for its water-repellent qualities. In addition, Iriana needed a knife of her own, a practical blade that would do for anything from skinning and butchering a rabbit to shaving bark for kindling. Esmon picked one out for her, and won her everlasting gratitude for his unhesitating confidence that, blind or not, she could handle such a keen blade.

  Iriana only hoped that she could prove worthy of his trust. She wasn’t at her best with sharp knives. Generally the idea of adopting her animals to be her eyes had always worked well for her, but as she had seen today, their attention could be diverted at any moment by a sudden noise, a movement, the scent of another beast close by. Normally, she could cope well enough with their distraction. Today, for instance, when Star had been uncooperative, she’d had Bear to provide an alternative. It was the same when she was reading or writing, or doing any number of other tasks. But if an animal looked away, even for an instant, when she had a sharp blade in her hand, the result was usually disastrous.

  At a young age, Wizards were taught such useful spells as stopping the bloodflow from a cut, closing the wound and healing it quickly, without scarring. By now, Iriana had the process off to perfection, because she’d had so much practice. Over the years, she had persuaded herself that it didn’t matter. She hated cooking anyway, so what difference did it make? But in her heart, it burned her. She managed her blindness so well that she hated having to admit to any limitations.

  One aspect hurt her more than any other. She hadn’t been able to carve herself a beautiful staff, as all wizards should do when they grew into their magic. Some of her compatriots’ staffs, finished, polished and glowing from the magic with which they were imbued, were works of art indeed. Others bore simpler designs. But because they had been made with love and care and magic, all of them were beautiful. Iriana, on the other hand, had something that might well have been a broomshank. It was ugly, plain and clumsy, she was deeply ashamed of it, and therefore used it as little as possible. For that reason, her powers had gained an unusual depth and focus of their own, but she knew that might not be enough if she and her companions ran into some sort of trouble on their journey. No, she would have to take the embarrassing thing with her, and make the best of it.

  In the evening, as she was telling Thara and Melisanda about her day, the detested staff lay on the bed with the rest of the paraphernalia waiting to be packed. ‘How will I fit it all in?’ Iriana said again.

  Thara, who often made trips beyond the city in search of rare plants and herbs, put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I can show you how to fit the maximum amount of equipment into the minimum of space. You see, it’s not about taking what you might need. You only have to take what you can’t do without.’

  ‘I’ve brought something to help the work along.’ Melisanda produced a bottle of sparkling golden starwine from behind her back.

  ‘Did someone say starwine?’ Zybina, Iriana’s foster mother, appeared in the doorway.

  Iriana hugged the tall, stately woman whose flame-red hair was twisted around her head in a coronal of braids. ‘I’m really glad you came. I’ve been so busy getting ready, I was afraid I wouldn’t have time to come over and say goodbye.’ And I was worried that you’d make a fuss about the whole business, she added in her most private thoughts.

  Zybina, however, always had a way of knowing. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t come over to give you a lecture - I’ve already talked to Cyran.’ She sighed. ‘First Yinze going off into the blue yonder, and now you. By all Creation, I’ll hate having both my chicks so far away.’

  ‘It won’t be for long,’ Iriana assured her. ‘I’ll probably only be away for a month or two, and Yinze is due back very soon.’

  ‘Iriana . . .’ Zybina hesitated, glancing uncomfortably at the other two Wizards. Melisanda took the hint. ‘Come on, Thara. Let’s see what we can scrounge from the kitchen.’

  When they were gone, Zybina turned away and looked out of the window. Iriana waited. She knew what this would be about.

  ‘Iriana, I don’t want to ask this, but . . . I know you’ll be passing through Nexis on your way north, and I was wondering—’

  ‘If I intend to visit Challan,’ Iriana finished for her. She joined her foster-mother at the window and laid a hand on her arm.

  Challan. Once, he had been her foster-father, Yinze’s father and Zybina’s soulmate. Gentle, studious and more than a little absent-minded, he had given every appearance of loving his family. But when Iriana had still been no more than a young girl, he had abandoned them with little explanation save that he could no longer stay. While Yinze had been bitter and angry, Zybina had been utterly bereft - and Iriana had felt guilty. Her own parents clearly hadn’t wanted a blind child. What if Challan had thought the same way? Maybe it
was her fault he had left, because he couldn’t stand to be around her. She had never told a living soul this dark secret; not her friends, not even Avithan. All these years it had been festering deep within her soul. If she had ruined the lives of her beloved mother and brother, how could she ever live with herself?

  Challan had moved to Nexis - that much they knew, though every attempt by Zybina to see or contact him had been firmly rebuffed. She was far too proud to ask anyone who had visited the frontier town, and for some reason, no one who had been there ever wanted to bring the subject up. Now, after all these years, Iriana was headed in that direction herself - and, once and for all, she had to learn the truth.

  Zybina sighed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘There’s no need. Challan is part of our past now, Iriana, and we should leave him there. Leave him alone. No good will come of tearing open old wounds.’

  Iriana took a deep breath - and came to a decision. She had another reason for going. For a long time, Yinze had been waiting to distinguish himself in some way, before confronting his father. Now that the Archwizard had entrusted such an important mission to him, he had achieved his goal - and when he returned, she knew he intended to head straight to Nexis. She wanted to spare him that; spare him the trouble it would cause if their confrontation turned to violence, as well it might. Yinze’s temper tended to burn hot, especially where Challan was concerned. If she could obtain the necessary answers, maybe she could talk him out of going in person - but Zybina didn’t need to know any of this. If she was concerned about the possibility of Iriana seeking out Challan, she would be far more worried about Yinze doing the same thing. To Iriana’s way of thinking, her foster-father had caused quite enough worry to the woman she loved as a mother. She was determined to spare her more - and so she lied.