The Eyes of God

by John Marco

  “It’s not to you,” Gilwyn explained. “Cassandra wrote it for someone else.”

  Figgis looked up in surprise. “Who?”

  “I’ll tell you, but not just yet. First, I want to know if what she told me is true. She said you knew everything, Figgis. She said you could explain it to me, and that you could prove her story and identity.” Gilwyn sat down on the edge of the desk. “But I don’t need you to prove it, do I? I can tell it’s all true just by looking at you.”

  “It was a secret, Gilwyn. I swore to Akeela I would never tell anyone.” Figgis’ voice was softer than the candlelight, as though he was speaking the most profound confession. “If I had told you—if I had told anyone—Cassandra would have been at risk.”

  “So you just let the ruse go on?” asked Gilwyn. “You let the king shut her away like a prisoner? Let everyone in Koth think she was a crone?”

  “Don’t judge me,” said Figgis sharply. “There was no other way. None of us thought it would go on this long. We thought—”

  Figgis abruptly stopped himself. Gilwyn knew what he’d almost said.

  “I know all about the amulets, Figgis. Queen Cassandra showed me the one she wears. She told me you’ve been looking for the other one for sixteen years.”

  The old man chuckled. “She’s been busy with her stories, hasn’t she? Well, I might as well confess. It’s all true, every word of it. She’s not lying to you, Gilwyn. She is the queen. And now that you know she’s probably told others, as well.”

  “No, she hasn’t. I’m the only one who’s even seen her. She contacted me because she needs my help.”

  “I’m sure,” said Figgis. He leaned back miserably. “She needs your help to escape, right? This note—I’m supposed to give it to someone to help her?”

  Gilwyn smiled. “Figgis, it’s not what you think.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is. You see, I know everything about Cassandra, too. I’ve waited for this day for sixteen years. I don’t even have to read this note to know what it says. It’s for Lukien, isn’t it?”

  Gilwyn was amazed by the man’s seeming clairvoyance. “How did you know?”

  “Hmm, I wonder how much the queen actually entrusted to you, Gilwyn. Did she tell you about Lukien?”

  “She did. She told me that he was banished, but I already knew that. And she told me that you had gone to Jador with him to find the amulet. She called it the Eye of God. Is that true, Figgis? Did you really go to Jador with Lukien?”

  “Yes, believe it or not,” said Figgis with a grin. “I was a lot younger then, and in far better shape. But what else did she tell you? Did she tell you that she and Lukien were lovers?”

  Gilwyn’s eyebrows went up. “Lovers? She said they were friends.”

  “That’s why Lukien was banished,” explained Figgis. “He had fallen in love with Cassandra, and she with him. It broke Akeela’s heart when he discovered the truth. And it changed him.” The old man fiddled with the inkwell on the desk, studying it with undue care. “He’s never been the same, Gilwyn. Some people think it was the pressures of kingship that drove him mad, but that’s not it. He could have handled anything if Lukien and Cassandra had stayed loyal to him. He loved them both, and they betrayed him. That’s why he’s the way he is. That’s why everyone debates his sanity.”

  There was real sadness in Figgis tone. Gilwyn slid closer to him.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” he asked. “You could have trusted me. All those times I asked you about the king, you never once told me the truth. You lied to me.”

  “I had to. I had to protect you. You don’t know what Akeela is like, Gilwyn. He’s not Akeela the Good anymore. If you knew the truth, you’d be in danger. I’m only safe because Akeela needs me. But you, well, who knows. I would never risk that. You don’t know the lengths Akeela would go to.” He shook his head regretfully, but then suddenly brightened. “You say there’s no curse anymore?”

  Gilwyn shrugged. “That’s what the queen said. I first saw her days ago, and she’s perfectly fine. The amulet is still keeping her safe. She said her illness hasn’t troubled her.”

  “Remarkable. And she’s still young?”

  “Oh, yes. Young enough to fool me into thinking she was a housekeeper!” joked Gilwyn.

  “She was very beautiful,” Figgis remarked. “Still is, I’m sure.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed on Gilwyn. “Is she the one you’ve been heartsick over?”

  Gilwyn felt his face flush. “Yes,” he said. The admission set Figgis into hysterics. “I don’t think it’s that funny!” snapped Gilwyn. “She looked my age! How was I suppose to know she was the queen?”

  Figgis swiped tears away with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he managed between chortles. “You’re right. It’s not funny.”

  But he wouldn’t stop laughing. “Ah, forgive me, boy,” he said at last. “But it’s the first time I’ve laughed in days. You’re right, though, it isn’t a joke. The truth is, you still don’t know everything.”

  “Oh, but I do,” said Gilwyn. “You’re going back to Jador to find the other amulet. You think it’s somewhere in Grimhold.”

  Figgis frowned. “My, you have learned a lot. Did Cassandra tell you that?”

  “Yes, but she didn’t have to, not really. I knew something was going on when I heard you arguing with General Trager. That’s why Cassandra wants to find Lukien. She wants him to come back and rescue her from Lionkeep. She plans on leaving with him to warn the Jadori before Akeela’s army leaves.”

  “Great Fate,” groaned Figgis. “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”

  “Well someone has to do something,” said Gilwyn. “Otherwise the Jadori will be slaughtered.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? What do you think I’ve been telling Akeela?” Frustrated, Figgis pushed his books aside, sending them tumbling off the desk. “The Jadori are peaceful. Akeela knows that, he just doesn’t care. He wants that other amulet, and he’ll stop at nothing to find it.”

  “Well, maybe he’s looking in the wrong place.” Gilwyn shifted nervously. “I mean, are you really sure it’s in Grimhold?”

  Figgis fixed him in an insistent glare. “What do you mean?”

  “Figgis, I have something to tell you. Promise me you won’t get mad.”

  “I’m already mad, Gilwyn. What is it?”

  Gilwyn grimaced. “I think I know where the other amulet is. I think I saw it.”

  The little color in Figgis’ face drained away instantaneously. “What?” He rose from his chair, his gangly shadow falling on Gilwyn like a hawk’s. “You saw the other Eye of God? Where?”

  “Figgis, calm down,” said Gilwyn, putting up his hands. “I’m not even sure it’s the same amulet. . . .”

  “Where?” Figgis insisted.

  “In Koth, about a week ago. When I went missing, remember?”

  “I remember. Go on.”

  “Well, it’s hard to say exactly,” said Gilwyn. “I’m having trouble recalling everything. But I know there was a woman. And a man, a big fellow. And a lot of light.”

  “Whoa, slow down. You’re not making sense,” said Figgis. He guided Gilwyn toward the chair he had vacated. “Now sit down and tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Gilwyn sat down, composing his thoughts. It was all such a jumble now. Every time he tried to recall the events in the alley, the memory became more and more clouded.

  “It’s difficult,” he said, shaking his head. “It slips away from me. It won’t let me get my hands around it.”

  “What won’t?” asked Figgis.

  “My memory. Sometimes I see it clearly, but when I try to talk about it. . . .” Gilwyn snorted in frustration. “Something’s wrong with me, I don’t know. . . .”

  “Gilwyn, I want you to relax,” said Figgis gently, “and tell me everything you can remember, all right?” He knelt down before the boy in the soft candlelight. “Where did you see the amulet?”

  “In Koth,” Gilw
yn repeated.

  “With a woman and a man?”

  Gilwyn nodded.

  “Who were they, do you know?”

  “I don’t know,” said Gilwyn. He closed his eyes, trying to summon a picture of the strangers. All he could remember was that they were very odd looking. “Figgis, I think they may have enchanted me. I can’t remember!”

  “Easy,” bade Figgis. “Try again.”

  “I can’t. Every time I try it gets worse.” Gilwyn balled his good hand into a fist, struggling to summon an image of the two in his mind, but the harder he tried the more distorted the images became. He knew he had seen the woman do magic, and he knew that she had helped him. But he felt like an old, senile man suddenly, unable to find his way home. “She’s done something to my mind,” he said angrily. “She’s made me forget.”

  “You’re sure it was a woman?”

  “Yes,” said Gilwyn. He looked at Figgis pleadingly. “I think it was the Witch, Figgis. The Witch of Grimhold. She was the one with the amulet. But that’s all I can remember.”

  Figgis smiled ever so slightly. “The Witch of Grimhold. Not just a legend after all.”

  “I saw her, Figgis. I know I did. But I can’t remember anything else about her.” Gilwyn cursed and covered his face with his hands. “She’s bewitched me.”

  “She doesn’t want you to remember her,” Figgis surmised. “She wants you to forget so that you can’t tell anyone about her.”

  “Yes,” said Gilwyn, nodding. “I think I promised her I wouldn’t. I’m not sure. But when I try to speak about it. . . .”

  “Gilwyn, look at me.”

  Gilwyn lowered his hands. Figgis was staring at him, his old eyes blazing in the darkness.

  “Watch me closely. Don’t look away. Don’t even blink.”

  “What is it?” asked Gilwyn.

  “Shhh, don’t talk. Just look at me.” Figgis’ voice took on the regularity of a clock. It was soft, firm, and as clear as a breeze. “Now, relax. Relax and don’t think about anything but my voice.”

  “All right,” said Gilwyn. “Yes. . . .”

  “Yes,” repeated Figgis. “Good. Now close your eyes.”

  Gilwyn’s eyelids shut before he could even control them. He felt light suddenly, as though he were drifting off to sleep. The humming of the catalog filled his brain, but it did not disturb him. All was tranquil. Figgis’ gentle voice reached him through the darkness.

  “Be calm, Gilwyn. Breathe deeply. Nice and regular. Let everything else but my voice fall away. You’re in another place. Nothing can touch you.”

  “Nothing can touch me,” said Gilwyn. The sound of his own voice seemed strange to him. He was exhausted from all that had happened, and the darkness around him felt good. The soft warmth of Figgis’ breath caressed his face. A great and pressing desire for sleep washed over him.

  Figgis was talking, repeating his calming words. Gilwyn didn’t know what was happening, and he didn’t care. It felt wonderfully good to be like this, all alone and perfectly relaxed. He listened to Figgis’ voice as if it was music from heaven.

  When Gilwyn awoke he felt amazingly refreshed. He was still in the catalog room, but the great machine had ceased its whirring and now stood silent, stretching out into the dark recesses of the chamber. The single candle had burned to a nub. Alarmed, Gilwyn lifted his head and glanced around. Figgis was on the other side of the desk, kneeling next to it and quickly writing in a tablet.

  “Figgis?” asked Gilwyn. “What happened? Did I fall asleep?”

  Figgis kept writing. “In a manner of speaking. You told me the most remarkable tale. Do you remember any of it?”

  Gilwyn thought for a moment, and suddenly a perfect picture of the little woman from the alley popped into his mind. “Yes! I can see her now. The woman.”

  “It’s all right here,” said Figgis. He stood up and held the tablet out for Gilwyn to see. “I wrote it all down, Gilwyn, every word of it. Remarkable!”

  The alley, the midget woman with her bodyguard Trog, the glowing amulet and the spirits she had summoned; everything was written in Figgis’ tablet.

  “It’s incredible, Gilwyn,” said Figgis. “You saw the Witch of Grimhold!”

  “Did I?” Gilwyn wasn’t so certain. “How can you be sure?”

  “I’ve been reading about Grimhold, everything I could find. Your story matches much of what I’ve read. You said she was tiny, like a midget, and that she had striking white hair. That’s what the stories say!”

  “And she wore a coat,” Gilwyn remembered suddenly. “With lots of colors.”

  “Like a rainbow,” said Figgis excitedly. “The legends talk of that too, and how she controls spirits, like the ones you spoke of.”

  Gilwyn couldn’t believe his ears. “All the stories say this?”

  “No, not all of them,” Figgis admitted. “That would be impossible. There’s a lot of conjecture about Grimhold, a lot of nonsense and hearsay. But enough of the stories tell the same tale, enough to make me believe we’ve discovered something.” Figgis sighed with deep satisfaction. “Amazing. I can hardly believe it’s all true.”

  It was a night for miracles, no doubt about it. Gilwyn’s head was reeling. “Figgis, she helped me. That’s all I know for sure. We don’t know that she’s the Witch of Grimhold. We don’t know anything!”

  “I know,” said Figgis. “I feel it in my bones.”

  “But why?” Gilwyn got up from the chair. “Even if she is from Grimhold, what’s she doing in Koth?”

  “I don’t know, but she has the amulet,” said Figgis. “You saw it, and it’s exactly like Cassandra’s. It’s the one I’ve been searching for, the other Eye of God.” Still shaking with excitement, Figgis took his turn in the chair again. His watery eyes narrowed on the nubby candle. “So many questions,” he whispered. “I was wrong about Kadar’s wife having the other Eye.”

  “Who’s Kadar?” asked Gilwyn.

  “Kahan Kadar of Jador. He’s like their king. He was the one that had the first Eye of God. The legend said that his zirhah—his wife—had the other one. But I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things. You see, there’s an old book I have from Jador. That’s where I first learned about the amulets. It told me that the master of the hidden place wears one Eye, and that his wife wears the Eye’s twin. But I was wrong about the hidden place, Gilwyn. It wasn’t Jador at all. It was Grimhold all along.”

  “And the master of the hidden place?”

  “The Witch,” surmised Figgis. “She’s the master of the hidden place, not Kadar.”

  “That would mean that Kadar is her wife,” said Gilwyn. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “You’re right,” Figgis admitted. “It doesn’t. But at least we know where the second Eye is now.”

  Gilwyn nodded. “Right. Now you can tell Akeela to call off his invasion.”

  Figgis shook his head sadly. “No, I can’t.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Think for a moment, Gilwyn. What do you think Akeela would do if I told him the amulet was here in Koth?”

  Gilwyn didn’t have to think very hard. “He’d tear the city apart looking for it.”

  “Exactly. And worse, he would know for certain that Grimhold exists. People like Trager would never rest until they found it. They’d all be in peril. Not just the Jadori anymore, but the people of Grimhold.”

  “What people?” asked Gilwyn, almost laughing at the notion. “The stories say Grimhold is full of monsters!”

  “Monsters? Like that giant you saw?”

  “Well, yes, I guess so.”

  “People, Gilwyn,” corrected Figgis. “They must be people. Magic, odd people, maybe, but still people. They’d all be in danger if Akeela and Trager discovered them. And that’s not all.” Figgis grew pensive. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” asked Gilwyn.

  “You’d be in danger, too. If I told Akeela your story, he’d pick you apart for information.”

 
“No,” chuckled Gilwyn. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Wouldn’t he? What makes you so sure? I told you, you don’t know anything about Akeela. You don’t know what he’s become. You want to talk about monsters, start with Akeela.”

  A nervous dither began in Gilwyn’s stomach. He had never imagined that his encounter in the alley could lead him to danger, but now Figgis’ logic seemed terribly sound.

  “So what do we do?” he asked. “If we can’t tell the king, and we can’t warn the Jadori ourselves, what then?”

  The note Cassandra had given Gilwyn still lay on the desk. Figgis picked it up. “You’ve got a message to deliver, boy.”

  “Figgis, are you mad? After all you told me you actually want to me to do the queen’s bidding?”

  “It’s the only way,” said Figgis. “Someone has to get Cassandra out of Lionkeep, and someone has to warn the Jadori. I can’t do it. I’m too old, and if I left the library I’d be missed. Akeela would start asking questions, then everyone would be in danger. But if you leave, well . . .”

  “I’d never be missed,” said Gilwyn sourly.

  “Sorry, but that’s right. We need Lukien, Gilwyn. If anyone can get Cassandra to safety and warn the Jadori, he can.”

  “But how? Do you even know where he is? Cassandra thinks you might.”

  “The queen flatters me,” said Figgis. “I haven’t the slightest clue where the Bronze Knight has been for the last sixteen years. But there is someone else who might know. A man named Breck. He was a lieutenant under Lukien, a close friend. When Lukien was banished, Breck resigned his commission in protest.”

  “Oh? And where is this Breck now?”

  “Still in Liiria, living on the outskirts of Koth. The last time I spoke to him was five years ago. He made a promise to Lukien to stay close to Cassandra, to keep an eye on her for him.” Figgis smiled sadly. “There was nothing Breck could ever do for her, of course, but that’s the way Lukien wanted it. Breck told me to come looking for him if I ever needed him, or if Cassandra was in danger.”

  “Well, looks like that day has finally come,” said Gilwyn.

  “Indeed.” Figgis once more got out of the chair. He stood before Gilwyn and put his thin, bony hands on his shoulders. “I can’t do this alone, Gilwyn. It has to be you. But I won’t order it. If you agree, I’ll stay behind and try to stall Akeela. Maybe I can throw him off track somehow. But it’s up to you. You’ll have the hard part.”