"Now your nephew has gotten like notions of running off overland to become a bard! I haven't been able to keep his fingers off that little harp since we left the City of Crystalglass."
"Nephew?" cried Talb, starting forward to embrace the younger duarough. "Young one, well met! I thought you had a family look about you. Would you be a singer of tales, a bard? Best go with the Lady Syllva then and learn her craft."
"Sooth!" exclaimed Maruha. "Such talk simply encourages him."
What more they said, Aeriel did not catch, for Irrylath, kneeling still, had reached and taken her hands. His words were low, for her alone.
"Aeriel," he whispered. "What is this, all these others holding out to you crowns and inviting you to go with them? You mean to come with me, of course."
She met his eyes. They were full of misgiving. Heavily, she shook her head. "I cannot"
His gaze grew baffled. "But the war is over," he cried. "The Witch is dead."
"And the pearl of the world's soul broken," she answered. "Ravenna's sorcery scattered to the winds.
It was all that stood between us and the winding down of the world. That is the true war," she whispered, struggling. "Our victory at Winterock has only won a respite. We must use it wisely. Someone must regather the lost soul of the world."
Irrylath's grip on her hands tightened, his words, his look suddenly desperate. "But not you. Not you, Aeriel! You have already done far more than enough. Let another undertake the task."
"What other?" she asked. "There is none. Ravenna chose me."
The pearlstuff in her blood stirred uneasily. Stand firm, it murmured. You must not waver. Did you rescue the world only to abandon it now?
"I must return to the City of Crystalglass," Aeriel whispered. "I must learn to read the Ancient script…"
The pearl's vision loomed before her. Overwhelmed by the task's immensity, she made to turn away.
Almost roughly, the prince pulled her back to him.
"I will go with you," he started, and for a moment his eyes burned with hope.
"You cannot!" she cried. "Don't you see? You have sworn to obey the equustel's charge, to be king in Avaric…"
He stared at her, his face stricken, his breath grown short.
"Stay," Irrylath implored her. "Only stay with me, Aeriel. I will make you queen in Avaric."
Lifting her gaze, she looked past him to Sabr, dismounted now, near enough to overhear. She stood watching the two of them with astonishment and barely guarded joy.
Aeriel told Irrylath, "Avaric already has a queen."
He whirled to see to whom she looked, then turned back with a cry. " You are my wife. I married you
."
Shaking her head, she touched his cheek. "Two years were all we had, love," she whispered, "and we squandered them."
The pearlstuff in her blood was seething now. Make an end to it, quickly, Ravenna within her warned. If passion overrules you, all the world is lost.
"Be king in Avaric," Aeriel managed, "and think no more of me."
Fierce triumph lit the eyes of the bandit queen. Her gaze pounced on Irrylath.
"No!" he cried. "Don't leave me. Aeriel, you are my wife, the keeper of my heart..."
Grief had her by the throat. She could not speak. The pearl's radiance within her brightened dangerously. Her breast ached where there should have been no pain. Irrylath, too, seemed to feel some twinge. He frowned, wincing, laying one hand upon his breastbone. His gaze fell on the Edge Adamantine.
"What have you done?" he gasped, astonished, like one pinned through with a sword. She knew that she must pull away from him at once, lest the roiling sorcery within her scathe him. "Aeriel, what have you done?"
"Give your heart to Sabr," she managed. "Of course you are drawn to her." Fool! she cursed herself.
Fool not to have understood before. "For you see yourself in her—your very image—unbroken and unscarred. You as you might have been if the Witch had never touched you."
Sabr started eagerly forward, but her cousin warned her away with a savage look. "Never!"
Aeriel tried desperately to pull away, but he still held fiercely to her hands.
"I'll not wed Sabr."
The joy that lanced through Aeriel to hear him say it was almost too sweet to bear. She wanted to savor it, so tempted then—as she had been in the Witch's tower—to forget the world and go with him.
She wanted to weep, to fall into his arms, but her eyelids were marked with white stars from the Witch's touch, and she had no power of tears anymore.
Enough. The Ancient voice reproved her sternly. No more of this. You have sworn to renounce him for the sake of the world.
The pearlstuff rose in a white-hot, singeing flash. Aeriel cried out in surprise, heard Irrylath's echoing cry. He dropped her hands. She saw him gazing at his own as though they were numbed or burned.
"Take care!" she cried, bitterly aware her warning came too late. She should have broken from him long since, and yet, selfishly, she had lingered. Irrylath shook his head as if dizzy. He was able to flex his fingers a little, slowly. She remembered the white fire of the burning sword and hoped fervently that his hurt was not great, not permanent. He gazed at her, dumbstruck. The chain about her wrist had begun to glow.
"The Ravenna has enchanted you," he whispered.
Aeriel tugged at the chain, but it would not come free. "Some of her sorcery is in me now."
"Has she given you her sorcery to wield at your will, or does her sorcery wield you?" he demanded, staring at the chain. "Are you now become the Ravenna's creature as wholly as I once belonged to the Witch?"
The thought horrified her. She could not answer him.
You gave your oath to me voluntarily, the pearl-stuff within reminded insistently, but Aeriel took no comfort. The fine, interlocking links of Ancient silver glimmered, unbreakably strong.
"Be my husband if you must," she bade Irrylath, "in Avaric. I shall be far away in NuRavenna."
His eyes grew hard and bright, hands clenched into fists at his breast. "I'll win you back," he whispered. "On my life, I swear it! I'll find a way to break the Ancient's spell and bring you back to me."
Her heart leapt to hear him say it. But she feared he did not believe a word. How could such brave nonsense ever come to pass? Surely he must realize that Ravenna's sorcery—even scattered and diminished as it was—was far too mighty for any mortal to overcome. She had no doubt she would never see him again, and the taste was bitter, bitter on her tongue. He called her name.
"Aeriel. Aeriel!"
She could not bear the pain of gazing on him more and forced herself to turn away.
Someone was approaching over the black marsh flats, coming very slowly with a halting step. He must have been in view for some time, Aeriel realized, unnoticed by anyone. A heron, perfectly white, skimmed the air ahead of him and alighted on the ground before Aeriel.
"We missed the battle, I see," she remarked, cocking her head and looking about. "Just as well."
"Who comes?" Aeriel asked, though even as she said it, she knew. She would know his halt step anywhere. The heron fanned her crest.
"The Lighthousekeeper of Bern, of course. I was to fetch him at the proper hour. Ravenna's behest from long, long ago. We've been traveling for daymonths."
"Yes," the Lighthousekeeper panted, drawing near. "It seems an age. I feel quite spent. I was not made for such journeying. I have something for you, Lady Aeriel—for Ravenna's other daughter is, I see, no more."
He held out to her a hoop of white metal with twelve-and-one sharp, upright prongs.
"Is this what lay at the heart of your lighthouse flame?" she asked. The pearlstuff in her blood leapt, crackling at the sight, but she herself felt no anticipation or joy.
The Keeper nodded. "My task has always been to guard it for the world's heir."
Aeriel nodded and bowed her head. He placed the circlet upon her brow. The crown felt hollow, empty. Aeriel scarcely noticed its weight. Her e
nchanted blood shimmered, singing and alive. The darkness was suddenly full of light. Lifting her eyes, Aeriel saw the constellation called the Maidens'
Dance by some and by others the Crown wavering in heaven. Its stars drew nearer, descending, taking on the appearance of candle flames. In another moment, thirteen maidens stood about her, all made of golden light: those whose souls she had once rescued from the darkangel in Avaric. It seemed so long ago.
"Eoduin, Marrea…" She called them each by name.
"We understand at last," Marrea, the first and eldest, said, "how it was that you should come among us. We had thought you would join us in deep heaven, but we see now that it is we who must join you here below."
In the space of a moment, she dwindled, her tiny yellow flame floating in the air to alight on Crowns gw> one of the foremost prongs of the crown, burning brilliant upon its tip. Aeriel felt a new sensation kindling within her. One by one, the other maidens followed the first. The crown felt filled now, but still feather-light. Eoduin was the last.
"Forgive me for having been so impatient to have you among us in Orm," she said. "Cold heaven has been very lonesome without you."
As she, too, assumed her place, opposite Marrea's flame, the white heron took wing and settled into the space between the two foremost prongs. Doing so, she shrank, becoming part of the crown, head bowed to her breast and her long, slender wings falling to flank the pale girl's cheeks.
Aeriel's blood answered the flame in the crown. The pearlstuff rose in her, magnified, seemed suddenly to catch fire. Aeriel felt once more a keen, farranging perception, very like the pearl's but immeasurably stronger. The interlocking pattern of the marsh flats unfolded before her. The stars above wheeled and circled one another like burning beads. She felt that she might see to the world's end if she tried, or even deeper into heaven.
Time enough for that, the voice of Ancient sorcery within her promised, in NuRavenna. There, by such means, you shall regather the soul of the world. But haste now. Time is short.
A cool, misty white fire ran along her skin. Aeriel turned back to the others standing before her. She felt utterly alone: they had all shrunk back, staring at her—the Lighthousekeeper, the Lady Syllva and the rest, even Talb—all save for Irrylath, whose head was bowed to his hands. Sabr stood by him, hands like hawks upon his shoulders. He seemed oblivious to her. Even her fierce look of victory had washed away in astonishment as she gazed at Aeriel.
It was not her eyes, though, that Aeriel sought. She found Erin among the crowd. The burning sword hung sheathed at her side, but even through the scabbard, Aeriel was aware of the blade's fire stirring and brightening, answering her own. "Without hesitation, the dark girl came forward.
"And what of you, Erin?" Aeriel asked. "All have told me their intentions but you. Will you go with the Mariners among whom you were born, back to their isles in the Sea-of-Dust?"
One hand resting on the pommel of her glaive, the dark girl shook her head. "I will not. Perhaps one day. Yes, I was born among the Mariners— of that I have no doubt. But I was raised in other lands and hardly feel at ease among my own people, whose tongue I do not even speak, or among the people of Zambul that once enslaved me, or anywhere. I have had but one true friend in all my life."
For a moment, Erin cast her gaze to the sword whispering at her side, then looked up, bold.
"I care not whether some now call you Ravenna's daughter or that you have no shadow and wear a burning crown. You are the only light I know. I want no other fellowship than yours. It seems that I alone of all this throng have it in my power to choose my road. Aeriel, I would go with you."
Aeriel closed her eyes. She would not be alone then, after all. Here at the beginning, at least, one companion would accompany her.
"The Flame in Orm robbed me of my shadow," she whispered, "but I am not without one, ever. If not for you, Erin, I would be lost."
Fearlessly, the dark girl put her arms around her.
"My darkness," breathed Aeriel.
Erin answered, "My light."
Aeriel turned and faced them all.
"Fare you well," she told them. No more remained to be said.
Palms together, Syllva and her Istern sons bowed to her. Talb, Roshka, and the duaroughs made reverence. The islanders, the bowwomen, even Sabr's dismounted cavalry knelt. Orrototo's desert folk gravely nodded. Even Pendarlon and Avarclon and the other Ions saluted her. All paid homage but the king of Avaric, who wept, and the bandit queen who could not console him.
Erin still had hold of her hand. The burning crown's fire seemed to affect her no more than the fire of the sword. Aeriel was glad of it, for someone bold enough not to let her go. It would be a long road to NuRavenna. The light of the crown blazed bright against the night. As she and Erin set out, she heard Brandl's bell-sweet harp behind them, his clear, young voice raised in song:
"On Avaric's white plain,
where an icarus now wings
To steeps of Terrain
from Tour-of-the-Kings,
And damozels twice-seven
his brides have all become:
A far cry from heaven,
a long road from home—
Then strong-hoof of a starhorse
must hallow him unguessed
If adamant's edge is to plunder
his breast.
Then, only, may the Warhorse
and Warrior arise
To rally the warhosts, and thunder
the skies.
But first there must assemble
those the icari would claim.
A bride in the temple
must enter the flame,
With steeds found for six brothers, beyond
a dust deepsea,
And new arrows reckoned, a wand
given wings—
That when a princess-royal's
to have tasted of the tree,
Then far from Esternesse's
city, these things:
A gathering of gargoyles,
a feasting on the stone,
The Witch of Westernesse's
hag overthrown.
Whereafter shall commence
such a cruel Sorceress War,
To wrest recompense
for a land leaguered sore.
With her broadsword Bright Burning,
the shadow Black-as-Night,
From exile returning,
shall dare dragons' might
For love of one above who, flag unfurled,
lone must stand,
The pearl of the soul of the world
in her hand.
When Winterock to water
falls flooding, foes to drown,
Ravenna's own daughter
shall kindle the crown."
_________________________________________
Pronunciation Guide
[paedanwnt]
adamant
ADD-uh-munt (accent first syllable)
[fa'daemsntin]
Adamantine nh-DAMM-unn-teen (accent second syllable, i as in "machine")
[fasriEl]
Aeriel
AIR-ee-ell (short a as in "arrogant")
[faidsrlan]
[Aiderlan
EYE-dur-lann (at as in "nazad," final a-sound midway between "land" and "swan") Arat
AIR-ratt
[arl]
Arl
AHRL
[farlis]
Arlish
[AHR-lish faevarclon]
Avarclon
AV-ur-clawn (short first a as in "avenue," short a as in "cloth")
[fasvaRik]
Avaric
AV-uh-rick (short first a as in "average," may roll r)
[bArn]
Bern
BURN
['bArnalon]
Bernalon
BURN-uh-lawn
[pbArnian]
Bernean
BURN-ee-unn
['bsmba]
Bomba
BAWM-buh
[bRasndsl]
Brandl
BRAND-ull (two syllables, rhymes with "candle," may rollr)
[Pkolam]
Collum
CALL-umm
(short o as in "cost")
[krAndsm]
corundum core-RUN-dumm (accent second syllable)
pdArna]
Dirna
DUR-nuh (rhymes with
"Smyrna")
[daunwEndü]
Downwen-down-WENN-ding (accent ding second syllable)
[dnegk]
dracg
DRA(g)CK (midway between "drag" and "rack")
[diTaüaf]
duarough doo-AH-ruff (accent second of three syllables, several pronunciations possible, may rollr)
[dtfaRux]
doo-AHR-ookh
[NElvar]
Elver
ELL-vur
[Elvorlon]
Elverlon
ELL-vur-lawn
['Eodu in]
Eoduin
EH-oh-doo-inn (major accent on first and minor accent on last of four syllables)
[pEkwsstEl]
equustel
ECK-wuss-tell (two short e's)
[j^Erm]
Erin
EH-rinn
[Ester* nEssce]
Esternesse ess-tur-NESS-suh (accent third of four syllables)
["gaelnor]
Gahor
GAL-nor (short a as in "pallid")
[Tgokm]
golam
GOLL-umm (like "golem")
[rxadin]
Hadin
(k)HAH-deen (accent first syllable, h is strongly aspirate, broad a as in "father," i as in "machine")
[lkarE]
icare
ICK-uh-reh (short e, as in "red")
[fikarai]
ICK-uh-rye Qong final i as in "npe")
[pkares]
icaras
ICK-uh-russ
[mylae]
Irrylath
IH-rrew-lahth (r is rolled; pronounce y by pursing lips to say "ooh," but say "ee" instead; last syllable rhymes with "swath")
[pistsrn]
Istern
ISS-turn (pronounced like "eastern," but with short i) fisternsr]
Isterner
ISS-turn-ur (pronounced like "easterner," but with short i)
[ister'nEs]
Esternesse iss-tur-NESS (accent last syllable, rhymes with "sister Bess")
[Paiu]
Lern
The Pearl of the Soul of the World Page 18