by Martin Ash
Without hesitation Kol replied, 'I would consider it the greatest honour.'
Phisusandra stepped forward and bowed. 'You pay me a great compliment, Majesty. I will be proud to remain here and serve you.'
'Excellent!,' declared Issul, smiling broadly at each of them. 'Excellent! Already I feel that my enemies have taken a step back!.'
'Perhaps we could--' Shenwolf began, then broke off, the smile leaving his face. He was looking upwards at something beyond Issul's shoulder.
Issul turned, following the direction of his gaze. At the balcony of the upper gallery a figure stood silent and motionless, clad in a loose black robe.
Issul stiffened. Her features grew cold. 'Lord Fectur.'
Fectur inclined his head slightly, his face impassive.
'What is it you want?' asked the Queen.
'I was passing, that is all, and found myself drawn to observe the activities here,' the Lord High Invigilate replied. 'It was a magnificent display, my lady. My congratulations to you.'
'I was not truly the victor,' Issul said.
'I meant for your choice of partner.'
She caught the inflection in his voice, and bristled. Fectur's eyes travelled briefly over Shenwolf, then back, expressionlessly, to the Queen. 'Ah yes, the emergency assembly you requested has been convened for three hours hence.'
'Very good.' Issul turned away, a dozen emotions warring in her head. Fectur glanced again at Shenwolf then, flickeringly, at Kol and Phisusandra, and withdrew.
II
In her apartment once more, Issul undressed as her maids filled a porcelain bath with warm water scented with crushed leaves of lemon verbena. She lathered herself all over with sandalwood soap, washing away the exertions of the morning, and rested for mere moments as the water soothed her tired muscles. Then she climbed from the bath and donned fresh garments. She chose a long, loose blouse of pale gold satin, sashed at the waist, and baggy blue pantaloons gathered at the ankles, with soft doeskin ankleboots on her feet. Such attire, like that which she had worn earlier, was better suited to present circumstances than the more formal and cumbersome vestments of office, which restricted movement and made every breath an effort.
Her thoughts went to Leth and the children. What perils were they facing in Orbelon's world? Leth's sword rested in its rack; during his confinement it and all other weapons had been removed, by Fectur's command, 'for his own protection'. Leth, almost certainly, was defenceless.
Issul almost choked. It was I who allowed the Legendary Child to live! I have brought all this about!
She shook her head, dispelling the thought. She had allowed her nephew to live. Could she have known?
She cast her mind back yet again to the terrible moments of Moscul's unnatural birth. Yes, she had known something. She had suspected, even though she did not wholly believe. She had hidden her nephew with Ohirbe's family at Lastmeadow, hoping against desperate hope that her fears were unfounded. How could she have been so foolish?
Beyond her window the roofs of Enchantment's Reach shone in a dazzling golden light. The earlier drizzle had ceased and the sun had burned through much of the mist. Enchantment's Reach presented an unworldly spectacle, cloaked as it was now in the defences erected at King Leth's orders to deter slooth attacks. Netting, rope, sheets of metal mesh, lines of cord, cloth, anything at all that could be slung from window to bastion, merlon to finial, were draped from roofs, towers, turrets. Pikes, spears and sharpened poles jutted skywards everywhere at bizarre angles - any device or contrivance that might conceivably hinder the slooths should they descend once more upon the capital.
The great city-castle appeared wrapped in a colossal web, ragged, bristling and spiny, cast by some unknown gigantean arachnid. And still so much remained unprotected. Labourers toiled day and night to produce more net, more rope, more mesh, but it was an impossible task. The vastness of Enchantment's Reach forebade any hope of covering it in its entirety.
Arbalestiers and bowmen were stationed at alert at battlements and windows, their eyes upon the skies. Great water-butts and pails had been installed at regular intervals on parapets and in the city streets, for use in the event of a repeat of the fire-bombing the slooths had brought against Giswel Holt. Far off, beyond the ocean of mist-wreathed forest far below, the rain and clouds still obscured the fiery peaks of Enchantment's mountains. Issul felt a strange conflict of emotion as she gazed there towards the unseen.
I have been there, and returned!
She recalled the words of the strange tripartite child-god, Triune: 'Welcome to the true world, the many-named domain, where all things are possible.'
All things? Can you return my children to me? Can you save my husband and King? Are you able or willing to act to prevent your world claiming mine?
'The unstill air. Something always becomes. Or strives to become. This is Creation.'
Creation? Which you strive to suspend?
'The formed can be unformed, the unformed formed. Here is raw power. Here is dream. Here is magic.'
For what end?
'Here is Enchantment'.
She recalled her fear, her confusion as she faced those three identical children with their brilliant, peering blue eyes, as she floundered helplessly in their globe of blue vapour.
'Be aware when you dream, for you take something of the true world with you now. Something of Enchantment is yours.'
But what? What happened there? What does this all mean?
Issul grew conscious of someone knocking upon the door of her chamber. She smoothed her blouse, gathered her thoughts. 'Come.'
A high seneschal entered. 'My lady, I am informed by the captain of the guard upon the Palace Gate that someone wishes to see you.'
'Who?'
'A lady-- a woman. From the country.'
Ohirbe? With a pang Issul recalled that the last time she had seen Ohirbe, Moscul's foster-mother, had been on the road to Crosswood. Issul had been bringing Moscul to Enchantment's Reach; Ohirbe and her husband, Arrin, had been in the party. They had been ambushed by the Karai. Moscul escaped, Arrin was killed, Issul had been taken prisoner. To her shame she had barely given a thought to poor Ohirbe since. Her last sight had been of Ohirbe frantically climbing from the cart in pursuit of the fleeing Moscul. Had she survived? Returned to her home in Lastmeadow? Or come on as planned to Enchantment's Reach?
'Does she have a name?'
'The captain says she gives no name,' replied the seneschal. 'She has been in custody for some hours, apparently. She is insistent that she must speak to you, only you.'
It would not be Ohirbe, then. She would not have failed to give her name, or to have made her identity plain in some other manner. 'I don’t have time for this.'
'As we thought, my lady. However, the woman sends a message which she claims you will find meaningful. She says that you and she met in the forest near Crosswood, and that she comes to talk of the Vileborn. The captain says to mention that she bears a recent wound upon her left cheek.'
Issul's heart kicked. She recalled the moment, as she struggled through the undergrowth in search of Moscul, when she had emerged into a small clearing. Facing her was an old woman on hands and knees, bulky of build, clambering to her feet. Blood streamed down her cheek. There had been no sign of Moscul, but the woman had pointed a shaking finger at Issul and cried out in portentous tones, 'It has begun! It's too late now. I tried, but it is too late!'
There had been a blinding pain, and darkness. Issul's next memory had been of waking to find herself a prisoner of the Karai.
Is a crucial element in this great mystery about to be solved?
'I will be there immediately,' she told the seneschal. 'Tell the captain that on no account must anybody be allowed to speak to this woman until I get there. And summon Shenwolf. Have him attend me at the guardroom where this woman is held.'
III
The captain of the guard of the Palace Gate informed Issul that the woman had entered the city-castle the previous
evening. One among hundreds of refugees seeking sanctuary from the advancing Karai. Upon gaining access she had separated from her group and made for the gates of Orbia Palace where she had loudly demanded an audience with the Queen.
'The men thought her mad, a harridan in her cups, or a witch. They paid her little heed, other than as the butt of their coarse humour. In time they were on the verge of having her removed, were even considering tossing her back out through the city gates, so I understand.'
'So what changed their minds?'
'Her persistence, perhaps. It’s not clear. But apparently she had seated herself before the Palace Gate and refused to budge. She was crying out over and over again, something about a lost child in the woods and the Queen being taken by the Karai.'
Issul drew in a breath. How much had this woman revealed in the presence of so many?
'These things were reported to me, my lady,' the captain continued. 'Her words made little sense, but knowing of the ambush beyond Crosswood in which you were involved, I was intrigued. I elected to speak to the woman. She is a strange creature. A witch? Yes, perhaps she is that. She certainly has an unfathomable quality. But I got little out of her, other than her insistence upon an audience with you. I would have dismissed her, but when she told me that she had met with you at the site of the Karai ambush, I felt I must refer the matter directly to you.'
'You did well, captain. Does the Lord High Invigilate know of this woman?'
'I have not informed him. Her hubbub was loud and protracted, though. Someone may have thought it significant enough to bring to Lord Fectur's attention; I cannot say.'
'I prefer that he knows nothing of this. Should he turn up here refer him to me. He is not to be permitted to see or speak to this woman without my express permission.'
'Very good, my lady.'
'Now, show me to her.'
The old woman did not rise when Issul entered. She was seated on a rough pallet beside one wall, her legs stretched before her. 'Forgive me. I mean no disrespect, but I am old and my limbs ache, my joints are stiff. I’ve walked a long way to find you, and now my old body is admonishing me in no uncertain terms.'
Issul stared at her. She was the same woman she had come upon in the woods. The deep scratches on her cheek had darkened into unsightly scabs. Issul felt herself growing angry. 'What is it you want? Do you have a name? Who are you?'
The old woman did not rush to reply. 'I wondered,' she said at length, 'when we met in the forest, but I did not know it was you. Not that it would have made a difference. The Karai warriors took you. I did not think we would ever meet again.'
'But they did not take you?'
'What good was a hag like me? No, they pushed me to the ground and made off with a younger, more comely prize.'
'But they let you live.'
'I fully believe I am alive, yes. Had there not been fighting all around perhaps they would have killed me. But the element of surprise, which had been theirs, had now been taken from them. They were more interested in getting away.'
'My soldiers scoured the woods. There was no report of you.'
'Why would there be? The forest is dense, and I did not wish to be found. And who, in such a fray, would take notice of an old peasant woman in the woods?'
Issul weighed this. 'I say again, have you a name? And why have you come here?'
The old woman gave a gummy smile. 'Aye, I've a name, though it'll mean nothing to you. I am called Arene. As for what I want,' she sighed, and stared ruefully at an uncertain point low upon the opposite wall. 'I have come from afar. Initially, Queen Issul, I came to save you.'
A chill slid the length of Issul's spine. 'Save me? From what?'
Arene's eyes moved back to her. 'There is a destiny upon you, and your world. I could have prevented it. That is why I was sent. I could have done it so easily, but it is too late now. I have been foiled. Twice. Twice the Vileborn has been in my grasp, and twice he has escaped. Fate played a hand, I’m sure of it. Now all I can hope to do is instruct you.'
'Vileborn?' Issul shuddered.
'The Child who came from Death.'
She knows! 'How-- what do you know about him?'
Arene raised her arm and lightly touched her wounded cheek with the back of her hand. 'He is strong, that little boy. I had him in my hands. He tore half my cheek away. I’d not expected such furious zest.'
'What did you want with him?'
'To kill him.' A harsh edge of emotion tinged Arene's voice. 'To end his brief life before . . .' she waved her heavy hands, '. . . all this and everything that will now ensue.'
'It was you beside the pond, was it not?'
'You know of that? Of course, you would. Aye, that was I.'
'Were you planning to kill him then?'
'His guardian slept. It could have been an accident. An infant left alone beside a pool. . . . Who would have thought anything?'
'Then what stopped you?'
'The presence of another person. A young man who came unexpectedly out of the forest - ' she paused, her eyes narrowing. 'Almost as if he were sent.'
She laid a peculiar inflection upon these last words. Issul reflected uneasily for a moment, then said, 'Did you not know the young man?'
'I had never sen him before, nor since.'
Issul nodded to herself. It was as Moscul had told her. The assumption, from Ohirbe's and Julion's accounts, had been that Arene and the mysterious stranger were together. Issul reached into the sash at her waist and drew forth a small pouch of blue leather, gathered at the neck with a slim thong. She untied it and emptied the contents into the palm of her hand. 'Have you seen this before?'
After a moment Arene nodded. 'I think it is the gift given to the Vileborn by that young man beside the pool. May I examine it?'
Issul hesitated, then nodded. Arene took the small ivory carving which Julion had illicitly taken from Moscul, and which Fectur's man, Gordallith, had subsequently brought back to Orbia. She inspected it closely, holding it circumspectly between finger and thumb. 'Often I have wondered about this thing.' She closed her hands around it and shut her eyes in concentration. When she opened them she said, 'There is magic here. This thing - what is it, a tooth, a tusk? - it has come out of Enchantment or its environs, almost certainly.'
The hairs prickled at the nape of Issul's neck. Pader Luminis had said as much. What can it contain? She took the carving back. 'Can you tell me anything more?
'Of that? No. How did you come by it?'
Issul ignored the question. 'The young man - he prevented you committing murder? Did he see what you were doing?'
'If so, he gave no indication. And I would use the word 'murder' with caution, lady. I hesitated, for I had no heart to kill an innocent babe. But that babe is no innocent, as you surely know. Now he is free, with who can say what consequences?'
'Do you think the young man knew the Child?'
'He seemed not to, but it was a strange meeting. I don’t know.'
'Did he speak his name?'
'He did. But understand, the moment was filled with tension. I was discomposed, caught almost in the act of infanticide, as it would have been viewed. He spoke with the Child's guardian at the same time. His name. . . it was not a common name. At the time that marked it, so I thought. Ah, but I am old. I curse my failing powers. So much was on my mind. By the following day, in my confusion, the name had escaped my recall. He was coming here, though. I know that.'
'Here?'
'To enlist in the King's army and vanquish the Karai, so he said.'
'If he spoke the truth.'
'Aye, if he spoke the truth.'
Issul rolled the ivory carving pensively between her fingers, her brow knitted in perplexity. 'You were sent, you say, to kill this child you call Vileborn? Who by? And how do you know of him?'
'Be seated, young Queen,' Arene replied, and nodded towards a chair in the corner of the cell. 'I will tell you what I know. And when I’ve done, well, you will perhaps be a little better i
nformed, even a little more prepared for what you must face, maybe even a touch wiser. But the world, alas, will not have changed.'
She waited while Issul lowered herself onto the chair, then resumed, 'I am of the Hir'n Esh, a term which you will not have heard before. An approximate translation into your tongue renders it as 'Witnesses of the Unfolding'. We are a community, few in number, united by a common experience, a common activity. Our home is a secret location hard upon the border of Enchantment, but at a great distance from here, upon the other side. In that location there manifests an unusual concentration of energy, a magical coalescence, known to us as the Well of Immaculate Vision. Ages past our forebears constructed a protective fortress about the Well, and we have
devoted our existence to its study. We are able to attune with its extraordinary energy, and in so doing the events that have befallen this world are revealed to us, as, in many cases, are events which have still to occur.'
'You see the future?' asked Issul.
'Futures among possible futures would be a more accurate summation. We see what has been, what is, what is predicted or intended to be, and then some of the many possible futures that such events may engender. Hence we foresaw the coming of the Vileborn and all that its birth might entail. We didn’t know exactly where or even when its coming would fall. That’s why I was sent here, to search him out and end his existence before he could bring catastrophe upon the world. But I failed. Perhaps Fate - one possible, unforeseen future - intervened to prevent me carrying out my task. I know only that I did not accomplish it, hence another train of events has been set in motion, and you, beautiful Queen Issul, are at its centre.'