Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Amberdrake stared at it, his gorge rising and bile collecting at the back of his throat. He couldn't move; he couldn't even think. He could only stare at the nauseating thing, as the mage took in his shock and paralysis, and smiled, slightly. The light strengthened, and the mage moved the wand in front of him, holding it between his palms, and his smile deepened. The other man leaned back in his chair and chuckled. That was when Amberdrake realized that neither of these two had been fooled for an instant. His heart and courage plummeted. They knew he was alone.

  This mage was about to level a magical blow at him—and he didn't even have the defenses of a mouse.

  He tried to move, and discovered that he couldn't; the bar dropped from his numb fingers and clattered on the floor. This was no spell. It was nothing but pure, overwhelming fear.

  I am going to die.

  It wasn't even a guess. It was a fact.

  :BAD MANS!: Kechara screamed into his mind.

  He reeled and dropped to both knees beside his iron bar, momentarily "blinded" and "deafened" by her mental shout, so strong it was clear even to someone who was not a Mindspeaker. Both of the men facing him went stiff with surprise, as if they "heard" it too. Instinctively, he threw up his shields again—which was what she had been waiting for.

  :Bad, bad mans!: she screeched again, this time accompanying her angry scream with a building mental shriek, aimed at the two facing him. It came like a windstorm that would not stop building, filling his ears.

  The two conspirators were not expecting anything of the sort. Neither was Amberdrake, for that matter. He was so used to thinking of Kechara as a child, as a complete and total innocent, that he had underestimated her entirely. He had forgotten that she had more than enough experience to recognize a "bad man" when she saw one.

  Both of Amberdrake's opponents collapsed on the spot.

  :Ow,: said Kechara, with a mental wince—and her presence vanished from his mind.

  Ow, indeed. For one moment, he took the time to shiver in awe at her power—and to be very glad that she had the guidance of all of her friends who loved and cared for her. Now he understood why Urtho had kept her locked up in his Tower for so very long. Her range in Mindspeaking was impressive enough to have made her valuable, but this demonstration of her full potential had been considerably more than impressive. With that kind of mental power, she could have been so dangerous—

  Danger. He hadn't been mindblasted by Kechara, but he couldn't move either. He had just experienced, with certainty, imminent death, and he could only sit among the pieces of broken pottery and stare at the still bodies of the two conspirators.

  "Drake?" a voice called from above, after an indeterminate amount of time. All he could tell, when such matters came to mind through the shock, was that it was fully light again outside. "Drake? Are you all right? Where are you?"

  "Down here, at the bottom of the stairs!" he croaked back. A few moments later, Skan, Aubri, and Zhaneel came tumbling breathlessly down the staircase, following the sounds of a great many hard-shod feet from the presumed direction of the outer door.

  "Drake!" Skan bellowed, as soon as he caught sight of Amberdrake, making him wince and shake his head as his ears rang. The gryphon grabbed him with both foreclaws, seizing him and staring at him as if he was afraid that Amberdrake would vanish or crumble into dust in the next instant. "Drake—Kechara said you were in trouble, then she just—just blanked out on us. We thought something had happened to both of you! We thought you were—"

  "Kechara was right, I was in trouble," Amberdrake interrupted, before Skan could work himself up into hysterics.

  Not that he hasn't earned a few hysterics. For that matter, so have I!

  With a dazed look he was certain made him look very silly—as if vanity could matter at a moment like this—he peered around at the people filling the area. That was when he recognized King Shalaman.

  "This one—" he pointed at the larger man "—is your blood-mage. He was just about to level me with a magical attack, when—I broke their scrying-bowl and they fell down." Amberdrake shrugged. He and the gryphons exchanged hasty warning glances; they all knew Kechara was somehow involved, and they also knew about the prohibition on Mindspeaking. It would be a great deal better for all concerned if the Haighlei never learned about Kechara.

  Shalaman said nothing, staring unflinchingly through slitted eyes at one of the motionless—but still living—bodies.

  "Gods save us!" one of Shalaman's bodyguards stammered. "That is the Disgraced One. The Nameless One."

  "Who?" Skan said, "What? What are you talking about?"

  "This is the One With No Honor," Shalaman said levelly. "My brother."

  The "Nameless One" was bundled up like so much trash, put under as many magical bindings and coercions as the priests could get to work, and then hustled off to some unknown destination. His compatriot was not even treated with the respect one gives sewage. Somehow, Amberdrake had the feeling that this was going to be the most pleasant portion of their experiences with the priests....

  Neither Amberdrake nor Skandranon were permitted to leave, although Aubri and Zhaneel were told politely to return to the main part of the Palace with Shalaman and his bodyguard, and wait for them. Amberdrake wasn't particularly worried; actually, he was wearied, not worried. In many ways, he and Skan were the heroes of the moment; you don't mistreat your heroes, not even when they've learned something politically delicate, so he didn't have any fear that the "escort" was a thinly veiled guard. In the meantime, he leaned against Skandranon, resting in the glossy black feathers.

  Eventually, Leyuet himself arrived, and with him, Palisar.

  Skan pulled himself up to his full height as they came through the door, and leveled a stern eye on both of them. "All right," he said. "I assume that we are still here because we now know something that is delicate. So you wanted to speak to us in relative privacy, with no other ears about but those of the Spears. So—speak. You can start with this so-called Nameless One, and what he did to get that way. The sooner we know, the sooner we can eat and bathe and sleep and climb our mates, in whatever order feels right at the time."

  "I understand. I would rather not speak of this one," Palisar said with distaste as he took a seat. "Hadanelith has already revealed to us that this piece of trash called himself Noyoki, which means No One, and we would all wish he had been no one." Palisar's brows knitted together as he frowned. "He is a blot upon the honor of his family. Still, you have earned the right to know all, and Shalaman has ordered us to reveal it to you. I will not swear you to an oath, but I would ask that what we tell you goes no farther than your respective mates. The fewer who know the whole of this, the better."

  He looked pointedly at the two Spears still in the room. They took the hint, and left, closing the door behind him firmly. Amberdrake leaned forward, expectantly.

  "The 'Nameless One' is Shalaman's brother," Leyuet began, but Palisar interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

  "Half-brother," the priest corrected. "Shalaman's mother was King Ibram's First Consort, and—let us continue to call him Noyoki—this man Noyoki was the last son of the Third Consort, who would be ashamed to have given birth to him were she still alive."

  "She was a good woman," Leyuet agreed. He rubbed his temples wearily; by now he must have a headache that matched Amberdrake's. "There is no blame to her for giving birth to a creature without honor. Perhaps if others had the rearing of him—well, it may be that we shall never know. Perhaps he was without honor from the beginning. Perhaps he was born with some lack of understanding of honor."

  Palisar raised a skeptical eyebrow but did not comment upon that observation. "Noyoki was selected as a child as one who had many powers," Palisar continued. "He was sent to the priest-school, just as others of his kind have been and will be. He then misused his magical powers and supposedly was rendered magically impotent. Somehow this did not take place, and you may be certain we will find out what it was that prevented the removal
of his powers, and why it was not discovered that he had been left potent."

  "I should warn you, out of my experience with northern-style magic," Skan rumbled, "Even if your priests had done their job, it is still possible that with enough will and focus, Noyoki might have been able to use the power released by blood-magic to work some kinds of spells."

  Palisar sat up in alarm. "Tell me that this is not true!" he exclaimed.

  Amberdrake shook his head. "I wish I could, but that is something that is well known in the north. Even with minimal talent or none, some people can focus their will enough to make use of powers that they cannot now or could never sense, or could sense only dimly. With more refugees coming down from the north, eventually this knowledge will come to the Haighlei. This is one of the many things we would have told you, if circumstances had not gotten so tangled. Sooner or later, an unTalented blood-mage will enter your Empires, and he will teach others."

  "We cannot stop it." Palisar nodded grimly. "Very well. Then we must work to deal with it when it comes. Together. That will be one of the first items on our agenda."

  "Noyoki," Skan prompted. "I want to hear all of this."

  "What made this man all the more dangerous was that he had not only possessed the ability to work magic, he also had one other, even rarer ability," Leyuet said gravely. "One we had not seen in decades, even centuries, in this city."

  "Which the priests were supposed to have blocked before they took away his magic," Palisar continued. "I recall the day that I saw him demonstrate this very clearly. He was able to move things from one end of the city to the other with the power of his will alone."

  Amberdrake nodded; now he had the whole picture. "I heard something about Noyoki's story, although my informant would not tell me anything about him, when we were warned that the Haighlei do not permit the use of magic by anyone but the priests. But I would never have guessed this other ability of his. Was that what he had been using to cheat with?"

  Palisar nodded grimly. "That was why we priests were so terrified of the idea of a dishonorable man loose with that kind of power. That was why we were to have burnt out that ability first, before we ever blocked away his magic."

  "And of course, that was how he got Hadanelith in and out of at least one locked room without a trace, not even a trace of magic," Skan put in, with a decisive nod of his own. "And of course, how he was to put Hadanelith in place to kill Shalaman, and get him away again. It begins to make sense, now."

  "We didn't know at the time that he could move anything larger than—say—a water jug, not for any real distance," Palisar replied, grimacing with chagrin, as Leyuet toyed with the carving on the arm of his chair. "He didn't openly use it often, of course. We didn't know such an ability could be strengthened with practice."

  Amberdrake looked at Skan. "You and Urtho talked about such things, do you remember talking about anything like this ability?"

  Skan flexed his talons and flared his nostrils as he thought. "Such things can be strengthened up to a point. I suspect he couldn't move an object the size of a human very often or for a great distance. That would be why he needed to bring his confederates here, and why he only used it when there was no other way to get at a chosen victim. If it's any comfort to you, it's as rare among our people as it is among yours."

  Palisar shrugged. "We'll find it all out for certain in short order," he replied, his eyes focused on some point beyond Amberdrake. "We do not lightly use those whose abilities grant them the means to see the thoughts of others, but when we do call upon them, they are dealing with those whose guilt is known, and they employ their skills without mercy or regard for the consequences."

  Amberdrake blinked. Was the priest saying what he thought? Are they prepared to use coercive force to strip their minds away?

  "Their minds will be broken like eggs before we meet with Shalaman again," Leyuet confirmed grimly. "And like eggs, the contents will be extracted, and the empty shells left behind. We will not slay them. We will not need to. They will, all three, live out their lives in a public place as examples of what the ultimate penalties may be. And in sifting through their minds, we may, perhaps, learn what made them what they are and prevent such a monster from appearing among us again."

  Amberdrake shuddered at the ruthlessness in the slender Advisor's words. He knew what a powerful Mindspeaker could do to someone just by accident, having been on the receiving end of Kechara's first "shout," and the edge of the second. He could only imagine the sensation of having one's mind scraped away, layer by layer, until there was nothing left. On the whole—death might have been more merciful.

  Did they warrant mercy? Especially after the way they tortured and murdered people? I—I don't know, and I'm glad I'm not the one making the decision. The sounds of birds singing in the gardens outside seemed unnaturally loud and cheerful.

  "That, I think is all that needs be said for now." Palisar stood up, then, and gestured to them, a wordless invitation to leave this room and return to the main section of the Palace. Amberdrake was not loath to leave.

  I think the strength of fear is wearing off. His joints hurt, his muscles ached with the need to lie down. His mind was in a fog. Later, he would have the strength to think about all of this, but right now—

  Right now, he just wanted to fall into Winterhart's arms and rest.

  It's over. It's finally over.

  The walk back was a long one, and it was accomplished mainly in silence. Both Palisar and Leyuet brooded over their own thoughts, Amberdrake was too tired at the moment to really think of anything to say, and Skan moved haltingly, in no mood to talk. It was only when they reached the door of the Emperor's portion of the Palace that Palisar stopped them all with a lifted hand.

  Hot, brilliant white sunlight beat down on them all, but Palisar seemed immune to its effects. "I have some things I must say. I do not favor change," he said, still frowning, "And I did not want you foreigners here among us. I was certain when the murders began that you had brought the contamination of your people here, and that you were the cause, witting or unwitting, of all our current troubles. But I am not a fool, or blind; the cause was already here, and your people merely gave birth to the tool. Sooner or later, Noyoki would have found another way to reach for his brother—a man does not recruit a notorious thief to his cause if he is planning to build temples. You tried to be rid of Hadanelith without making the punishment greater than the crimes he committed called for. It was not your fault that he fell into the hands of one who readily used him."

  Amberdrake nodded, and waited for Palisar to continue. He's about to make a concession. I wonder just how large a concession it will be?

  "I said that I do not favor change," Palisar went on. "That is my role, my purpose as the Emperor's Advisor. I do not intend to alter that. But I do not oppose change when it is obvious that it is inevitable. And I do not place blame where there is none." He held out his hand to Amberdrake; not grudgingly, but not with warmth, either. It was very obvious that he was not ready to be the friend of the Kaled'a'in, but at least he was no longer their enemy.

  Amberdrake clasped his hand with the same reserve. Palisar nodded, with brusque satisfaction, and they all resumed the walk to the Audience Chamber, the one place where all their answers—or at least, the answers they would get for now—would be waiting.

  Two weeks later, Skandranon and Amberdrake watched as Makke packed up the last of the myriad of gifts that the Haighlei had presented to Skan and Zhaneel. The Black Gryphon would never again lack for personal ornaments; he had enough jewelry especially crafted for gryphons to allow him to deck himself like a veritable kestra'chern!

  "They're going to make me vain," Skan remarked, as yet another casket of jeweled collars and ear-tuft cuffs went into the packing crate. The curtains at the window and the doors of the balcony billowed in a soft, soporific breeze.

  Amberdrake laughed, as he reclined on the only couch in this room. "No they won't. You already are."

  Ska
ndranon stared at him with mock effrontery. "I am not vain," he protested. "I am merely aware of my considerable attributes and talents. There is such a thing as false modesty, you know."

  Amberdrake snorted with derision, and took another sip from the cool drink he held. Skan was pleased to see that the dark circles under his eyes, and the gray cast to his skin were both gone. The first week after the Ceremony had been rather bad for his friend; all the horrors of what might have been came home to him as soon as he got a little rest. According to Winterhart, he'd had four solid nights of nightmares from which he would wake up screaming.

  "I'll be glad to see you back at White Gryphon," Skan continued wistfully. "It's going to be very quiet there without you around."

  Amberdrake gazed thoughtfully out the balcony door for a moment before replying. "I don't want to go home for a while," he said, very quietly. "There are things I need to think about before I get back, and this is a good place to be working while I do that." He returned his gaze to meet Skandranon's eyes. "Snowstar sent word that he doesn't want to run White Gryphon."

  "Then what I told you a few days ago still applies," Skan told him, wondering tensely if he was going to have to return only to shoulder responsibilities that he now knew he was ill-suited to handle. "I had to give him the first chance, since he's been handling everything for me since we arrived here, but—"

  "But that's one of the things I need to think about." Amberdrake turned the cup in his hands. "Being the leader of White Gryphon is not something I'd take on without thinking about it."

  "I wouldn't want you to," Skan said hastily. "But you'd be good at it, Drake! Listen, I'm already a symbol, and I can't get away from that. I'm an example, and I can't avoid that, either. But if I've learned one thing, it's that I'm not a leader—or at least, I'm not the kind of leader that Urtho was."

  "You're a different kind of leader," Amberdrake said, nodding. "When people need a focus and someone to make a quick decision, you're good at that. I've seen you act in that capacity far too often for you to deny it, Skan. You have a knack for making people want to follow you, and the instinct for making the right choices."