‘You can’ t help him?’
‘I’ ve tried. I can’ t reach him. It’ s not like mending Oron’ s leg, there’ s no wound to bind.’
Tonno gave her a shrewd look. ‘So you’ re a healer now, too?’ ‘Not exactly,’ said Calwyn uncomfortably. ‘I helped Halasaa heal Oron. I couldn’ t have done it alone.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Tonno sucked on his bottom lip. ‘Wish I’ d brought more pipe-leaf with me. The stuff they sell in Teril’ s not worth settin light to . . . So the little lass is an ironcrafter, is she? Darrow was right, it’ s not just a man’ s magic.’
Suddenly the burden of her secret was too heavy for her to bear alone. In a rush, Calwyn confessed, ‘I did it, too, Tonno. I sang a chantment of iron. When we were running out of the Palace, as it fell.’
‘Ah.’ Tonno shifted in the dust. ‘You told Darrow?’
‘No. Not yet.’ If he can keep his secrets, so can I. But she was ashamed to say it aloud.
Tonno uncurled his calloused sailor’ s fingers one by one. ‘Powers of Tongue, and Beasts, andWinds, and Ice, you had already. And now the Power of Becoming and the Power of Iron. Six of the nine? Keep it up, lass, and you’ ll be the Singer of all Songs yet.’
‘Don’ t be ridiculous,’ said Calwyn sharply. ‘I haven’ t mastered half those crafts. I used the Power of Becoming once, with Halasaa helping me. And I’ m sure I could only sing a chantment of iron that one time, because we were in such danger. And besides, I don’ t know anything about the Power of Seeming. Or the Power of Fire.’
‘Trout has the Clarion of the Flame safe on Ravamey, he can take care of that,’ said Tonno comfortably. ‘As for seeming, you haven’ t had a chance to learn that yet. When this is over, we’ ll go to Gellan and find one of them tricksters to teach you, like they taught Samis.’
‘Stop it, Tonno. It’ s not funny.’ Abruptly Calwyn stalked away into the dusk. Her angry feet sent up spurts of dust that whirled behind her like miniature tornadoes. Tonno wrapped his sturdy arms about his knees and stared after her. And Darrow, who had walked up behind them unnoticed and overheard their conversation, stood staring too, his face set like stone, brooding and watchful.
For a long time, Calwyn wandered about on her own. But the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to unclench itself. She didn’ t want to think about what Tonno had hinted – more than hinted. She wouldn’ t do it again. She wouldn’ t even try. She would simply forget. Then no one could accuse her of wanting to be the Singer of all Songs, of being like Samis –
But she found she couldn’ t banish the idea from her mind. Perhaps if she tried just one more time, to prove to herself that she couldn’ t do it, then she’ d never need to think about it again. She could tell Tonno to shut up, once and for all. . .
She turned and looked behind her. Everyone was in the camp, moving sluggishly if they had to move at all, staying close to the fires. No one was watching. Calwyn turned to face the flat plain of the Dish, and lifted her hand. She let the first low note of chantment, the base note, hum in her throat for a moment. Then, tentatively, she added the overnote, the harmony, and let it buzz on her lips and her tongue, just as Darrow had taught her.
A thin column of dust rose up at the tips of her fingers, and danced, swaying gently to and fro as she moved her hand. Calwyn cried out, and flung down her hand. A dry sob tore her throat: she had no moisture to spare for tears. Far above her head, the three full moons, the Lanterns of the Goddess, shone down, and bathed her face with silver light.
Keela unwound the delicate veil that shielded her face and hair, and shook it free of dust. Once she could have relied on her maidservant to spring forward and perform such a task, but since they’ d left the Palace, her servants had grown steadily lazier and more insolent. She would remember that, when she was Empress.
Nor would she forget the treachery of Lord Haigen and his fellow generals. They had tossed her aside like a used handkerchief. Those idiot men had pronounced the Fifth Prince, her half-witted half-brother, as the new Emperor. Then they had announced their intention to march on Hathara, to subdue the sorcerers who had destroyed the Palace of Cobwebs, and seize the sorcerers’ nest to take its place.
But Keela had come up with another plan. How surprised the Army would be to arrive at the Black Palace and find Keela already installed there with her followers, the nucleus of a new Imperial Court in place, and the sorcerers doing her bidding! The sorcerers were more powerful than the Army; far better to have them under her command than those thick-headed soldiers!
Hastily Keela had convened her faction among the ruins of the Palace of Cobwebs, and ordered them to accompany her at once to Hathara. But the lazy wretches were so slow in preparing for the journey, and had grumbled so loudly and so long at the lack of servants to help them, that she’ d decided to set off before them, with just a few servants to accompany her.
Keela had only the vaguest idea of what she would do when she reached the sorcerers’ nest, but she was supremely confident that she could make those sorcerers obey her. They were only men! Amagis had been an easy conquest. He’ d told her that the sorcerers lived without women; they would be utterly defenceless before her charms. And as soon as the new Court was established, she would send word to Gellan, to tell her master it was time. Then there would be the joint coronation, Emperor and Empress, side by side –
Complacently, the princess patted her smooth blonde hair. Despite all the privations and discomforts of this journey, she had surprised herself by almost enjoying it. After all, the First Empress must be able to bear hardship as well as enjoy luxury.
The tall, dusty figure of Immel was returning at last, trudging alongside the curved wall.
‘Well?’ Keela’ s ice-blue gaze was as frosty as ever, even in the desert heat.
‘There is good news, Princess.’ Immel’ s bows grew lower every day, as though he were mocking her. ‘My clansfolk met a band of chanters some days past, travelling south, toward Hathara. There were children among them.’
Keela smiled. She had been right. It had been a plot of the sorcerers, working through that little nadu. No one else would have even noticed her. It takes one extraordinary woman to recognise another, she thought complacently, forgetting that it was Amagis who had first suspected Calwyn.
‘My clansfolk believe the chanters opened a way through the Dish’ s lip.’ Immel pointed to the towering wave of rock, which their straggling party had followed for two days now. ‘See here, my lady, where the fault lines run? The lines appear whenever the sorcerers come and go from Hathara, though they usually vanish again at once. But these lines have remained. The way still lies open.’
‘Then why are we standing about here, you dolt?’ Impatiently Keela threw herself onto her hegesu, and urged it into a gallop, following the lines in the rock that pointed southward, to the doorway into Hathara.
It was several days before Calwyn and the others glimpsed the imposing cube of the Black Palace, squat and blind on its raised plateau, a dark speck against the unrelieved expanse of red. The hegesi were more excited by the scent of the arbec plants that fed the chanters’ flocks.
‘Will the sorcerers see us?’ asked Fenn.
Darrow shook his head. ‘They don’ t expect guests. They keep no watch. They won’ t know we’ re among them until we are inside the Palace, and perhaps not even then.’
Still, Calwyn felt a sense of foreboding when they’ d climbed onto the plateau and stood at last at the foot of the towering black monolith. She could see their reflections in the wall as clearly as a mirror. Tentatively she reached out a hand to the surface: it was as smooth as polished marble, and hot to touch. She sprang back, singing up a swift chantment to soothe her burnt hand.
‘I’ m sorry,’ said Darrow. ‘I should have warned you.’
‘It’ s all right,’ said Calwyn coolly, though her hand was red and smarting.
The rebels had their weapons at the ready, arrows to bowstrings, daggers drawn, spears poised.
Heben stood with them, knife in hand, his whole body tense and strained. The children were nervous. Shada’ s cheeks were flushed, and Haid waited with the hegesi, his eyes fixed apprehensively on the blank black wall. Tonno gripped his short fishing-knife. Mica was beside him, eyes shining, with a spear on her shoulder. Calwyn andVin stood by Halasaa’ s litter. Slowly Darrow lifted his hands, and sang.
A doorway appeared in the shining wall. But this was no rough, jagged crack. It was a high, imposing gateway, framed with grooved pillars. Overhead, two immense stone ravens stretched their wings to form the top of the Sorcerers’ Door. Their savage beaks were open, and their blind, pitiless eyes glared down at the intruders.
With a confident gesture, Fenn motioned the rebels inside. The others followed. Haid gave one of the hegesi a farewell pat on the rump as they left the animals to graze outside. Calwyn andVin went in last of all, behind Halasaa’ s litter.
As she crossed the threshold, Calwyn shuddered. The air inside the Palace was dank and cold, but that was not the reason for her unease. She sensed a dark power in this place that wreathed in the shadows like a poisonous mist. She had the strongest feeling that if everyone stopped shuffling their feet, and murmuring, she would hear something, something important . . .But the feeling passed.
After the glare of the sunlight, it was impossible to see anything at first. His face closed and grim, Darrow led them through stark rooms and up wide stone staircases, dimly lit by lamps high on the walls. Calwyn thought that there could not have been a place more different from the Palace of Cobwebs, where every wall had been curved, every nook and alcove cunningly decorated, the overall effect light and frothy. This place was all straight lines and stark angles; it could not have been more simple, or more bleak.
Fenn walked beside Darrow, tense and alert. ‘Where are you taking us?’
‘Further in,’ said Darrow.
But they did not get much further. They entered a vast, vaulted chamber with another huge staircase at one end, and an immense iron grille rattled down and clanged to the floor behind them, cutting off their escape. ‘Scatter!’ shouted Fenn, but a swarm of black-clad figures came streaming from doorways and pouring down the staircase, until a wall of sorcerers circled them, ten deep, each with a glittering handful of sharp blades.
Without a sound, Oron dropped and squirmed through the grille; he was small enough to squeeze through. Then he was gone, vanished into the shadowy bowels of the Palace. Shada and Haid spun round to wriggle after him, but a swift note of chantment and a flash of steel pinned them both to the stone floor. With a cry, Calwyn sank down beside the children. They were not hurt, but the short, sharp, steel blades had plunged through their tunics, deep into the polished stone. Already Shada was yanking herself free, ripping her ragged clothes, but there was a harsh growl, and another strong blade flew through the air. Shada screamed as it knocked her to the ground and pinned her down by the hair.
Calwyn couldn’ t see clearly what happened next, but she had an impression of rushing figures, whirling black robes, shrieks and growls of chantment, and the terrifying rush and lunge of spears and knives. Shada screamed again, tugging at her pinioned hair. Calwyn struggled to free her, to shield Halasaa, and to sing. ‘Mica!’ she yelled. ‘A wind, a wind!’ She sang up a wind, a strong indiscriminate blast that knocked all the wrestling figures off their feet, rebels and sorcerers alike. She heard Mica’ s high clear voice join hers. At last the girls staggered to their feet, with their backs against a wall, and Calwyn saw the floor covered with breathless bodies, dozens of black-robed sorcerers writhing like upended cockroaches, and the rebels on their stomachs, flattened by the force of the wind.
‘Enough!’ cried Darrow in a ringing voice. Calwyn and Mica exchanged a glance, and shifted the tone of their song to make the wind flow around him, so he could stand. He stood with his hands upraised, and swung around to show them all what he held in his hand.
It looked like a burning ember. It drew the faint light of the vast room toward it, and the gaze of every person there. The dull red glow throbbed slowly, radiating a dense and irresistible power. With a sickening thump of her heart, Calwyn recognised the ruby ring, Samis’ s ring.
Only the murmur of the girls’ song and the eerie whisper of their spellwind disturbed the cold silence of the huge room. The hairs on the back of Calwyn’ s neck stood up.
Darrow cried, ‘I have returned to claim what is mine!’
His voice echoed around the polished walls.
From the far end of the chamber, at the foot of the staircase, one of the sorcerers called in a strangled voice, ‘What do you claim? Your punishment?’
‘You have no right, nor any power to punish me.’
‘You left us! You broke the covenant of the Black Palace.’
Darrow threw back his head. ‘I recognise no covenant. What worth has a covenant that is not entered freely?What worth has a covenant imposed on children, stolen from their homes? Every one of you was taken from your family, most of you even lost your names in this place, as I did, and yet you dare to take homes and names and families from other children in their turn! Your covenant is void, and I repudiate it!’
His words rang through the chamber, and died away into the hiss of the spellwind. Behind him,Vin cheered, and Shada and Haid whooped and clapped their hands. And high in a gallery above, where they had been watching everything, the chanter children who still lived in the Black Palace cheered and drummed their fists against the stone. Some of the younger sorcerers cheered too. Without turning around, Darrow held up a hand, and they all fell quiet.
A sorcerer shouted, ‘Where is your friend, Samis?’
The words hung in the quiet for the space of a breath.
‘Samis is dead,’ said Darrow in a low voice. ‘And I have returned to claim what is mine by right of this ring, the Ring of Hathara, the ring that once was Lyonssar’ s.’
At once the sorcerers erupted into agitated murmurs. Calwyn looked at Mica, and gestured with her hand. Mica nodded, and they altered their song to lighten the wind. They sent a soft breeze through the chamber, as a reminder of what they could do if they chose, but the sorcerers and the rebels found they could sit up without having the breath snatched from their lungs.
Darrow held up the ring. Then, for the first time, he pushed it onto his finger, and raised his clenched fist in the air. Calwyn’ s breath caught in a disbelieving sob.
Darrow cried, ‘I claim dominion of this place and all who dwell herein! In the name of Lyonssar, and by the token of Lyonssar!’
His voice rang back from the vaulted roof. Three sorcerers, marked out from the rest by the black cowls they wore, climbed to their feet. The other sorcerers were watching to see what they would do. Calwyn’ s heart beat hard. Slowly the three cowled heads bent low. Then, soft as the hiss of wavelets running up a beach, soft as sand settling after a windstorm, the sorcerers responded. ‘In the name of Lyonssar, you are Lord of the Black Palace and all who dwell herein.’ And one by one, they staggered to their knees, and bowed their heads before Darrow.
For a moment he stood motionless, his fist raised high, blood-light glinting off the red stone. His back was to Calwyn. Then he turned to look at her and Mica, and said in his dry voice, ‘You may stop singing.’
The first order of the Lord of the Black Palace was to have Halasaa carried to a quiet room; the next, that food and drink be provided for the rebels and the crew of Fledgewing, and that they be given suitable accommodation.
‘And the children, my lord?’ asked one of the stiff-backed sorcerers appointed to carry out the wishes of the wearer of the Ring of Lyonssar.
Darrow looked at him coolly. ‘Treat them as honoured guests.’
Calwyn said, ‘Oron must be hiding somewhere. He should be told that he won’ t be harmed.’
‘See to it,’ said Darrow, and the sorcerer bowed stiffly.
Fenn stood nearby, fingering the hilt of his knife, waiting to speak with Darrow. One side of his mouth curled
in a half-smile. He knew, thought Calwyn with a stab of resentment. He knew what she had not known.
Cautiously Heben cleared his throat. ‘Er – Lord Darrow –’ ‘Address him as my lord,’ said the haughty sorcerer disdainfully. Calwyn almost laughed. Were they back in the Palace of Cobwebs, with its ridiculous layers of protocol and etiquette? Could it really be Darrow, her Darrow, at the centre of this bowing and scraping?
‘My lord,’ repeated Heben obediently. ‘Shada’ s brother, my brother-in-land, Gada –’
‘Of course.’ Darrow turned to his minion. ‘Have the boy, Gada, brought to this man’ s quarters.’
‘What about all the other children?’ Calwyn burst out, unable to contain herself any longer. Darrow turned his cool, appraising look on her.
‘I will deal with the children in good time,’ he said. ‘There is much to be done. Please, Calwyn, enjoy the hospitality of the Black Palace.’
It was an order, not an invitation. Her face burning hot, Calwyn opened her mouth, but Tonno laid a restraining hand on her sleeve.
‘Steady, lass,’ he murmured. ‘He’ s up to something. Give him some room to cast his line out.’
Stiffly, Calwyn inclined her head and allowed Tonno to lead her away. But as soon as they reached the sparsely furnished rooms that had been assigned to them, her feelings exploded.
‘Is this what he came here for?’ she demanded. ‘I can’ t believe it! No wonder he wouldn’ t tell me what he was planning! Lord of the Black Palace! Does he think he’ s Samis, come back to life?’ She flung herself into a chair, but the next moment she sprang up again and began to pace furiously.
Mica helped herself to the platters of food that had been brought to them. ‘He’ s had that ring all the time, you know,’ she said. ‘That were Samis’ s ring, weren’ t it? Does that mean Samis were the Lord of the Black Palace, too? He never said nothin about that.’
‘Samis was set on becoming Emperor of all Tremaris,’ said Calwyn. ‘Perhaps he didn’ t think a petty lordship like this was worth mentioning!’
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