by Andre Norton
Ison moved. The sound of his hand striking the other’s mouth was near as loud as the vomit of word-filth ended by that blow.
Father stood over the king, shouldering Ison to one side.
“King or not, youngling, you will keep a clean tongue in your head. I shall forget this, since it would seem you have been a victim of another’s Power. Your advisor is Chosen, yes, but by the Dark. With some foul intent he has sent you hither. If you know that purpose, you would do very well to state it now.”
His face twisted in rage, Arvor spat, and the moisture spattered on Father’s buff coat. Ison’s hand lifted to strike a second time, but Father shook his head.
Now Duty came into the full light and stooped a little to stare into the king’s hot eyes. Before he could pull away, she laid fingers on his forehead. He was instantly still, his gaze caught and held by her.
After what seemed a very long pause, his face relaxed. The Wisewife’s fingers moved back and forth, and I realized what she did. Just so had she brought all of us at times to calm and peace when something had gone very wrong with our lives. I remembered sitting once under a wind-twisted tree as a child, holding in my hands a fallen nest with three dead baby birds, my eyes painful from crying. It had been Duty who had comforted me then by the same gentle use of Power.
I was not surprised to see the king’s eyes close, his body slump back to the floor; Duty had given him the Dreamless Sleep. Now she spoke to our mother.
“This one has been possessed without his consent.”
She stated what was the greatest of crimes to those with Talent: the seizure of another’s soul, the very atrocity that had set the woman of the Jugged Ones against the lord of her own kind.
But the Wisewife was continuing. “Even though this was done against his will, a channel has been opened, and at any moment he can again be invaded.”
Zolan moved for the first time. “This body housed its own spirit before Tharn came,” he informed us grimly. “The true Arvor was held captive by those who would use him as a tool—”
“—But when you seized him here in the tower, the hold of the Gray Robe was broken!” I burst in.
“Yes,” our companion nodded. “It was then that the evil Power that had banished the king’s soul was broken; but Arvor’s body had already given house-room to the Dark One, and taken the taint of his nature, and so the king appeared to change.
“Even now, though the Jugged One’s gateway has been closed”—the man from the Dismals sighed as though from the depths of great weariness—“we still face great trouble. We cannot keep the king as prisoner—the clansmen will come over from the other tower sooner or later.”
Mother spoke then, not to our father but as if she were voicing some thoughts aloud the better to study them.
“Shall we work the memory change?”
Alteration of the mind of any man or woman, even an enemy, was another act that was dubious in the eyes of the Talented; however, it was not totally forbidden, though it was only undertaken when no other choice was left.
Duty did not look away from the sleeper, but she answered, “We may be too drained. It would be better to wait—”
A rousing cry from without interrupted her, followed by other sounds that reached us even through the tower’s thick walls and shutters.
“By the Waning Moon!” Father pushed aside Ison and reopened the window. Leaning a little over the sill, he looked down at the courtyard. Then he whirled about.
“How long will this one sleep, dame?”
“I cannot say. He has been weakened by”—she paused, and her mouth twisted as though she would spit forth as foulness her next words—what he has undergone.”
“So be it.” Father’s face was grim. “Listen well, all of you. This shall be our tale: Those we drove from this watchtower were not in truth Arvor’s men—the greater part of them served the One we now hunt. We found the king here, bound, a prisoner, reserved for some hideous fate by the Chosen and his followers. He had also been kept under control by means of some potion. He has now been freed by us, and we shall guard him on his way to return to Kingsburke. If you”—he spoke now to Mother—“can implant at least a portion of false memory, let the story run as I have said.”
Father then gestured to Ison and, after a pause, to Zolan. “Now we go to see what manner of trouble lies below.”
He did not leave at the close of this speech, for he also had orders for the three of us. “All know that you gave strength to summon the shadow army. Tam, hide that talisman of yours. Bina, Cilla, get you below with your sister and appear very weak. It shall be given out that you and Zolan protected the king with your Talent or the Chosen leader would have struck him dead rather than let it be known that that false priest deals in soul-rape that is far worse than murder. Let us to this wreaking straightway. It may be that we shall have to bring the clan chief and some of his leaders here to see the king. If you continue to hold him as he is now, all the better, Duty.”
During this speech, he had approached the stairwell. Now, without any addition to his last orders, he was over its edge and gone, both Ison and Zolan close behind him. We were left guardians of the Gurly king.
Thirty
Sabina
We did not move out of the watchtower for Kingsburke. King Arvor was carried to the lower floor, still limp in deep sleep, to be bedded next to Rogher.
Within a very short time clansmen came to view their ruler, filling by the chamber. We had made ourselves very visible as concerned attendants, although we ourselves would have liked to share the king’s slumbers. With Duty I had sought out the quarters of the healer to make inroads on the supplies stored there, providing support for us all.
Sitting down at last I crushed a palm full of leaves and drew deep breaths of the invigorating scent. While I was thus employed, Tam and Cilla busied themselves putting our own gear in order.
There were many measuring glances cast in our direction as the Gurlys came to view King Arvor, some I thought too searching. Though the story Father had so swiftly crafted did hold together, a number of questions obviously remained.
It was a day of heavy clouds; the ravishing colors seemed to have burnt all the heavens, leaving only ashes. Just before day the warn fires at the top of each defense tower had been lit and remained unthreatened by wind or rain.
Also messengers had ridden out and we caught enough snatches of the visitors’ words to realize that now a full clan call had gone forth in the king’s name. Our own troop took no part in this. Nor did we see Father again soon. It was plain that he was very willing to allow the Gurlys to handle this business.
At length Mother summoned Tam and Duty. Together they left the hall for one of the small rooms, which provided privacy for the officers. They had not been in that small chamber long before a faint glow, pulsating with limited Power, suggested that Tam was calling upon her talisman.
Tamara
MOTHER PULLED A flat pillow from a bunk to the floor where she had already seated herself, motioning us to join her. With the pillow as a lessthan-firm base, she flattened it further with the force of both hands, setting upon it a large disk of finely burnished silver.
I recognized a tool she used but seldom—a seeing mirror. It had in the past been exposed to several baths of Power. However, as far as I knew, it had never been taken out of Mother’s most private workroom before. To call upon such aid would alert any Power source within leagues of its use. Still, our presence here now had been well established by the events of the night. Why hide now?
“Let the light of the talisman be the sun above,” she said. Her hands were on either side of the disk. Energy would flow from flesh and bone to activate the seeing.
I steadied the gem above. The glow did not give off heat this time, only the light. Duty was singsonging words of summoning.
The disk came alight. Even the plate grew larger until we looked through what might be a window taller and wider than any in the walls about us. What we clear
ly saw now was a section of cobbled street. Stone buildings loomed high on one side but on the other side there was a stretch of open ground. A more intent study told me that this was the very heart of Kingsburke and facing us some distance across the open ground was the palace of the Gurly kings.
I had seen that only once before when we, as the family of the Lord Warden, had gathered there to be presented to the king. That had been a number of years ago when we sisters were children, the king hardly any older, and most of our attention had been for the dignitaries participating in the ceremony. The court was so unlike that of our own land, so lacking in rich furnishings, brightly garbed courtiers, that we had spent most of the time exchanging Sends of opinion. So far had my thoughts delved into the past that I was sharply snatched into the present by movement on the seeing disk.
Men, some still wearing uniforms and helmets, women, and children, some in their mothers’ arms, were retreating backward into the open space. It was as if they were being helplessly herded by some implacable enemy.
Then that which had so cowed them appeared, not only from the direction from which they had come but crawling, hopping, striding also from the opposite side. I gasped, but my hand did not shake. The gem continued to provide steady light.
There were Gurlys among the newcomers, yes. But we saw only a sprinkling of such normality. The rest—
The monsters of the Dismals were nothing compared to those gathering under our gaze. There appeared to be no winged killers, but reptilian ones abounded. And leading them, things that were neither beasts nor men, for which I could find no name.
“Wild Ones!” Duty identified the company.
The group of city people tightened into a smaller and smaller space. Again those threatening them began to move, now neither forward nor backward but circling the humans, until little space remained between prey and predators.
One of the horrors whipped out a tentacle whose tip wrapped about an infant at its mother’s breast and jerked the child loose, flipping it into the air. The baby fell among the creatures and disappeared. Her mouth torn wide in what must have been a racking scream, the mother flung herself forward. Monsters and half-men opened ranks, and the maddened woman plunged on, not to be seen again.
I cried out in horror and rage, but I also felt a whiplash of fear. Duty’s hand shot out to steady my wrist, which had begun to shake. Another of those to be seen in the mirror was taken, to serve as—amusement? food?
“We must aid them!” I broke the silence with that cry. “What more will chance—”
Duty opened her wrist grip into a flat hand and struck hard fingers bruisingly across my lips. I stiffened and tried to master my shivering, while she, with a glance at me of solemn warning, drew herself closer to the disc.
Now the Wisewife lowered an object over the mirror: a short pendant of crystal, pointed at both ends, and dangling from a silver chain. Deep inside the jewel, colors swirled swiftly to birth and as quickly died. Slowly the pointer began to descend towards the plate, swaying so that first one end, then the other, pointed at the disc.
During the gradual lowering of the talisman, another of the Kingsburke folk was seized by the tentacled member of the Wild army. One tip of the crystal was pointed down now, and it remained in that position until it touched the surface of the disc—precisely where the attacking horror tightened its coils.
The jewel produced a distinct sound as its tip touched the disc. Instantly, we were engulfed in roaring as of a storm-wind and heat fourfold greater than the hottest midsummer day. We cowered, even as the people of the city had cringed before the monsters, deafened, blinded, and burning as if our skin was being seared from our bones.
I could hear Duty’s voice shrilling higher and higher. My hand holding the jewel dropped nerveless to my knee; I felt but I could not see. Then, though unconscious of doing so, I forced my hand up again until the gem touched my forehead between my closed eyes. Once more it was hot with energy, hotter even than the air about us.
“Evo! Evo!”
“Old Ones, loose hold!”
Duty’s voice rose ever stronger and louder. I opened my eyes. My head must have been bowed, for the first thing I saw clearly was the disc. No longer did it shine—across it spattered a black stain, a blot which, the longer I regarded it, looked more and more like the outline of one of the monsters.
Mother straightened. She spread open her hands, and I could now see that some of the Dark taint also discolored her palms. Not knowing whether my action would prove an answer, I speedily drew the gem across her blackened flesh.
I saw her bite her lip as if to stifle a cry, but the stain vanished, and her skin showed unmarked and clean again. Duty, meanwhile, had snatched the crystal pointer away from the seeing disc. What she held now was only a shriveled cord dangling a lump of foggy slag in place of the clear pendant.
“So—be—it!” Mother intoned slowly. “We must fight on their chosen ground, not ours.”
Duty stood up. Dropping the chain and its blob of melted crystal to the floor, she set her booted foot firmly upon it to grind what remained into a powder.
“I was a fool.” The Wisewife’s lips curved downward in a sour droop.
Mother shook her head. “No,” she countered, “it is best to know what strength stands against us. But an end must be made, and soon. We are those best fitted to oppose the Dark—and its weapons. That truth cannot be denied.”
Drucilla
MOTHER, DUTY, AND Tam came out of the small chamber to which they had earlier withdrawn. It was obvious to our eyes that they had undergone some arduous ordeal. However, before we could discover what had happened, the king stirred on his improvised bed and sat up. His blue eyes no longer showed any mental dullness, nor did any physical weakness linger to impair him. He looked towards Mother and spoke.
“Lady Sorceress, you dabble in a potent Power!”
His voice, curt and commanding, was as different from that we had heard earlier as were those now-piercing eyes. To the implied challenge, however, Mother made quiet and calm reply.
“I and mine do not ‘dabble,’ Your Majesty. Within this land, however, dwell other wielders of Talent who are doing so. The Powers of the Wild Earth such as have never been put under restraint are now manifesting themselves, seizing whom they will of your people—the folk to whom you owe protection and succor. You have opened a door to the Dark, and all will be lost if that is not again closed fast.”
Arvor’s lips were pulled tightly across his teeth as he stared back at her, and now his voice sounded like a beast’s growl.
“Woman, you forget yourself—”
If he would have delivered a further rebuke, he had no chance, for Tam interrupted.
“We have forgotten nothing, Your Majesty. Scarcely a day ago we saved your body for you!”
“You speak nonsense,” he retorted angrily. Rising swiftly to his feet, he gestured at himself. “This is my body, right enough—how have you saved it? Body and spirit are one and the same!”
“Are they?” Tam demanded. “How came you to this defense tower? Did you ride hither with your men? If so, then”—she gestured to the hall about us—“where stand your guards, your close clan chieftains? Do you see them?”
He frowned, his thick brows almost meeting above his nose. “I was—” he began, then hesitated. “Yes!” His tone became more forceful. “I was in my chamber in the palace. The Chosen came to me that we might find a way to fight the monsters, and—” Arvor fell suddenly silent, and the shadow of fear crossed his face.
“He took my hand,” the young ruler continued laboriously, as if pulling word after stubborn word from his memory, “and then I was on the floor, and I was fighting.”
“But you remember nothing that happened between,” Tam persisted.
Mother and Duty stood silent, withdrawing a little, shrewdly leaving Tam in command.
The king’s scowl was heavy, and his face was growing increasingly flushed. Suddenly he turned away. Yet
he could not win free of us, for I stepped before him and barred his retreat, as would a guard.
“Your Majesty”—I spoke with little respect in my tone—”you have been ensorcelled, and you are at present free only by our efforts. The Dark has taken you once. If you do not face that fact and ready yourself to do battle, why, then—” I raised my hands and shrugged in a gesture of defeat.
“Witches—all of you!” Arvor was nearly shouting now, his wrath once more heated to the boil it had reached the night before.
But we had forgotten Duty. The Wisewife who now stepped before the raging youth was implacable, a personification of her name, prepared to list his shortcomings aloud, shame him before all the company.
Suddenly I caught a scent I knew well. So sharp was it that I swallowed hurriedly as my eyes began to water. With no fear of reprisal, Duty hurled a lump of herbs that had the appearance of a well-chewed cud into the king’s face.
His head snapped back; then he stood blinking as the small wad slipped down his chin to the floor. When he spoke to Duty, he might have been a small boy longing to appease a stern guardian.
“I have done nothing wrong, Feemie. Truly I have not!”
Duty nodded. “No, you have not, Arvor. But if you do not listen, you may. Do you wish the Evil Ones to hide beneath your bed tonight?”
He actually looked stricken. “No-ooo!” he cried in a rising wail.
She nodded again. “Very well. You are king now, Arvor—remember that well. You must lead the clansmen, but you must also listen to those who know what you truly face and are able to guide you.” She paused, then snapped her fingers in his face.
The bewildered youth raised his hand uncertainly to brush it across his eyes. A moment later, he shook his head and blinked at our old nurse, whom he had thought his own.
“Feemie—you are not Feemie!”