The Golden Key
Page 1
Praise for:
THE GOLDEN KEY
“This three-way collaboration is original in concept and superior in execution. Characterizations and world-building are finely realized; Rawn and company have done their homework on art, and overall, the romance justifies every one of its nearly 900 pages and demands its place in most fantasy collections.”
—Booklist
“Using prose, the authors gloriously illustrate this concept—that pictures are more valuable than words. The world the authors create is entertaining. … what makes this massive tome interesting are its detailed descriptions of the making, and uses of, painting, and the creative way the authors play with the magic.”
—Locus
“To define (The Golden Key) within one genre is impossible. Suffice it to say this nominee for the World Fantasy Award is a remarkable book. … one of the most absorbing books I've read in some time. I give it my highest recommendation.”
—Catherine Asaro for the SF Site
“Another fabulous fantasy collaboration ... an impressive bit of world-building. As one would expect, the fascinating background is meticulously brought to life ... we are held spellbound by this dark fantasy all the way through its mesmerizing conclusion.”
—Romantic Times
Also Available from the writers of The Golden Key:
MELANIE RAWN
The Dragon Prince Trilogy
DRAGON PRINCE
THE STAR SCROLL
SUNRUNNER’S FIRE
The Dragon Star Trilogy
STRONGHOLD
THE DRAGON TOKEN
SKYBOWL
Exiles:
THE RUINS OF AMBRAI
THE MAGEBORN TRAITOR
JENNIFER ROBERSON
The Sword-Dancer Saga
SWORD-MAKER
SWORD-DANCER
SWORD-SINGER
SWORD-BREAKER
SWORD-BORN
SWORD-SWORN
Chronicles of the Cheysuli
Omnibus Editions:
SHAPECHANGER’S SONG
LEGACY OF THE WOLF
CHILDREN OF THE LION
THE LION THRONE
Karavans
KARAVANS
DEEPWOOD
KATE ELLIOTT
The Novels of the Jaran
JARAN
AN EARTHLY CROWN
HIS CONQUERING SWORD
THE LAW OF BECOMING
Crown of Stars
KING’S DRAGON
PRINCE OF DOGS
THE BURNING STONE
CHILD OF FLAME
THE GATHERING STORM IN THE RUINS
CROWN OF STARS
And Coming in August 2011, the Sequel to The Golden Key:
THE DIVINER
by Melanie Rawn
THE
GOLDEN
KEY
MELANIE RAWN
JENNIFER ROBERSON
KATE ELLIOTT
DAW BOOKS, INC.
DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, FOUNDER
375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014
ELIZABETH R. WOLLHEIM
SHEILA E. GILBERT
PUBLISHERS
http://www.dawbooks.com
Copyright © 1996 by Melanie Rawn, Jennifer Roberson and Kate Elliott
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Art by Michael Whelan.
www.michaelwhelan.com
Cover Design by G-Force Designs
Book designed by Stanley S. Drate/Folio Graphics Co., Inc.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1031.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
First Printing, August 1997
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DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
In Memory of
Elsie Baiter Wollheim
June 26, 1910–February 9, 1996
Since the 18th century, many painters have been obsessed with the idea of a Golden Key—that is, a piece of knowledge, a formula or technical trick that would unravel the mysteries of the art of painting. … The answer is, of course, that there is no such thing.
—JONATHAN STEPHENSON,
The Materials and Techniques of Painting
PEINTRADDOS HISTORRICOS
GALERRIA
943
CHIEVA do’SANGUA
943–950
GALERRIA
1261
CHIEVA do’SIHIRRO
1262–1286
GALERRIA
1304
CHIEVA do’ORRO
1315–1316
GALERRIA
1347
PEINTRADDOS DEI TIRA VIRTE
SELECTIVE LEXICON
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
(from History in Art by Fernandal Grijalva, privately printed, 940)
Death of the Tza’ab, 716 by Grimaldo Serrano, 916. Oil on wood. Serrano Family Collection.
This is a typical Serrano painting: a scene from history—romanticized, politicized, and lacking all symbolism—commemorating the death in battle of the Tza’ab “Diviner of the Golden Wind.” Yet the placement of his figure, far to the left of the action, indicates that he is anything but the central focus of the piece. Serrano is more interested in painting the fierce expressions on Tza’ab faces even as they flee the battlefield, foreshadowing the coming century of vengeful raids by the Riders on the Golden Wind.
Two other faces are of note. The Shagarra captain who slew the “Diviner” bears a striking resemblance to Serrano’s Duke Alessio II, an obvious flattery; the dying Tza’ab himself is strongly reminiscent of the self-portrait of Bartollin Grijalva, Serrano’s bitter rival.
Battle of Rio Sanguo, 818 by Bartollin Grijalva, 918. Oil on wood. Galerria Verrada.
Another commemorative painting, this one carefully researched for accuracy of position, clothing, and detail. Alesso do’Verrada’s likeness was taken from contemporary drawings; eyewitness accounts were consulted for placement of armies as well as individual figures. The angle of sunlight is precisely what it was at the season, day, and hour of the battle.
For all its exactitude, this painting is steeped in symbolism. Alesso’s military genius is evident in the arrayment of his troops but also in the designs embroidered on his cloak (leaves of oak and mint for Bravery and Virtue, lupine flowers for Imagination, and so on). The wealth he gained by marriage to an Anthalussan heiress is plainly displayed in the gold of his sword and spurs, and more subtly in the patterns of corn and wheat in the tooling of his saddle. His nommo do’guererro, “Shadow on the Golden Wind,” is shown in the darkness falling on the barbarian about to die beneath his sword—yet his eyes are not on his victim but on the Rider nearby, who will be the one to kill him. The malevolent spirit of the Empress of Tza’ab Rih, instigator of the war, is seen in the fallen larch tree nearby (Arrogance) and the flowers trampled beneath the hooves of Alesso’s horse: columbine for Folly.
The river where Alesso won his great triumph was renamed Rio Sanguo for the blood that flowed that day. His son Renayo consolidated the victory by establishing Tira Virte’s southern borders; the contemporary Serrano painting commemorating Renayo’s acclamation as Duke and
the founding of Tira Virte as a nation has been lost, but a partial sketch of it exists in the Galerria Verrada Archives.
Death of Verro Grijalva by Cabrallo Grijalva, 892. Oil on wood. Galerria Verrada.
In 823, Duke Renayo chose as his bride Jesminia, sole heiress to Shagarra after her brother’s death at Rio Sanguo. After their marriage at her father’s castello, they journeyed home to Meya Suerta—where a small caza was slowly becoming Palasso Verrada—but along the way disaster struck. The company was attacked by a band of renegade Tza’ab, and though the Duke and Duchess escaped harm, many courtiers were killed—including Renayo’s dearest friend and cleverest captain, Verro Grijalva.
This is the scene depicted here: violent in composition and color, vibrant with motion. Duke Renayo cradles his dying friend’s head in one arm while the other hand gestures frantically for a physician; the Duchess kneels nearby, her hands covering her face, her jewels rendered so blurrily that one can almost see her trembling as she weeps. In the background, soldiers ride in pursuit of the Tza’ab, who carried off Verro’s twin sisters and a dozen other ladies-in-waiting. The wind whips tree branches, cloaks, and the Duchess’ unbound hair. Only Verro Grijalva is still; though his gaze is cloudy with death, his fingers are locked on the sword lying beside him, as if he tries to will himself back to strength in order to rescue his sisters.
Compare this rendering with the smaller Death of Verro Grijalva in the family’s Galerria, painted in the year 832 by Piedro Grijalva.
Rescue of the Captives, by Miquellan Serrano, 828. Oil on wood. Serrano Family Collection.
The high degree of artistic competence of this most talented of the Serranos is evident in this painting, his technical brilliance used to vicious effect. Commissioned by Duke Renayo as a companion painting to the above, this piece was rejected for its insulting portrayal of the unfortunate women captured and raped by the Tza’ab.
All fourteen ladies are in various stages of undress, their expressions as they emerge from the tents ranging from the startled to the horrified—except for the Grijalvas (identified by the azulejo rosette pattern of the shawls clutched around them). Larissa and Margatta are portrayed as angry and annoyed, as if the rescue party interrupted them in the midst of willing bedsport.
Duke Renayo and all his soldiers show nothing of their weariness at having chased down the renegades for twenty long days; all appear as fresh as if they had just emerged from their own chambers at home. But the Tza’ab are shown half-clothed (and filthy besides), and in their faces is craven terror. The twenty small children fleeing into the hills are naked, dirty, wild-eyed; close examination reveals they have not the features of children but of grown men and women, darkly and ominously Tza’ab.
As for the history behind the painting—all fourteen ladies were recovered, all the bandits were killed, and all the treasure (piled in a tent to the right) taken back to Meya Suerta. Duchess Jesminia ordered this wealth divided amongst the women to provide for their support, for all had been unwed virgins and no man would marry them now—especially after each bore a child within the year. These chi’patros (“Who is the father?”) were, like their mothers, shunned and despised—as were the half-breeds also rescued from the Tza’ab camp. In fact, several of the women took their own lives shortly after giving birth.
It was surmised that women had been abducted before to bear Tza’ab’s bastards, only to be killed once the children were weaned; one of the rescued boys innocently stated that his mama had been sent away because his patro wanted him to grow up Tza’ab. Possibly the renegades planned to father and raise a band of half-breed children to infiltrate Tira Virteian towns and cities.
But none of the children grew up Tza’ab. They grew up as Grijalvas, for that family adopted them all. In 859, Meya Suerta was scandalized when Duke Renayo’s will deeded a palasso and its surrounding city block to the Grijalvas in thanks for their generosity. But all the chi’patros remained a despised reminder of Tza’ab outrages, and the Grijalvas were thereafter painted with the same brush.
Allegory of Maternal Love, attributed to Natan Grijalva, 834. Watercolor on paper. Galerria Grijalva.
This charming portrait of two women and their ten-year-old sons—one handing her child a basket of symbolic flowers, the other teaching her offspring to read from a devotional—is said to be of Larissa and Margatta Grijalva and their chi’patro sons. Few artists of any period work in miniature—this oval painting is only three inches long—and of the eight examples in the Grijalva collection, six are by this artist, youngest brother of Larissa, Margatta, and Verro Grijalva. So it is mostly likely his work, depicting his twin sisters and his nephews.
There is defiance in this picture, for all its tranquil domesticity. The boys’ Tza’ab features and coloring are deliberately contrasted with the gray eyes and lighter skins of the women. For their Tza’ab blood the chi’patros were shunned, despised, and suspected of every evil; Ecclesial arguments raged over whether they even possessed souls. By showing the mothers giving their sons religious faith, literacy, sincerity, honesty, generosity, loyalty, and industry, the artist lays claim for the chi’patros to personal and societal virtues that few were willing to grant them.
Duchess Jesminia at the Ressolvo, by Liranzo Grijalva, 881. Oil on canvas; unfinished. Galerria Verrada.
This painting, a straightforward documentary rendering of an event witnessed by the artist, records the last official act of Duchess Jesminia’s life. Though already ill from Nerro Lingua and only three days from death, no trace of disease is evident in her radiant face, which the artist has delicately haloed with sunlight through the windows behind her. She watches with a gentle smile as the chi’patros are reconfirmed in the Faith. The expressions of the Premia Sancta and Premio Sancto are not so benign, even as they give their blessing. The religious leaders of Tira Virte felt as the rest of the city did, that even though the Grijalvas suffered more deaths than any other family, the chi’patros were to blame for Nerro Lingua (“Black Tongue,” named for its most ominous symptom), from which one in four persons died. It was whispered that this was retribution from the Mother and Son for having taken in the chi’patros.
The day after his mother’s death, Alessio I issued an Edict proclaiming all Grijalvas to be under perpetual protection of the Dukes of Tira Virte. But this law did not defend them against the hysterical mob—originally assembled to mourn their beloved Duchess—that attacked Palasso Grijalva. Many, including Margatta Grijalva, died before the Shagarra Regiment restored order. It is said that Liranzo was interrupted in the middle of this painting that night, and injuries taken in the fighting prevented him from finishing it.
The artist was the chi’patro son of Larissa Grijalva, the same child probably portrayed in the miniature above. He is seen in the shadows of the Cathedral Imagos Brilliantos, identifiable by the paintbrush half-tucked into his pocket and the Chieva do’Orro around his neck.
Self-Portrait of Garza Serrano, Lord Limner, 906. Oil on wood. Galerria Verrada.
The intensifying rivalry between the Serranos and the Grijalvas is the motivation behind this arrogant self-portrait: the artist shows himself in the full ceremonial regalia of Lord Limner, but with robes of Serrano brown embroidered in the family’s feather sigil and boots planted firmly on broken tiles bearing the Grijalva azulejo rosette.
Skeptics assert that talent cannot manifest in successive generations, that simple proximity to great genius produces pallid copies in progeny. Evidence to the contrary is found in music (the Bacas, to whom brilliant musicians were born for two centuries), medicine (the do’Maio line), and literature (the Doumas—father, two sons, and five granddaughters). The Serrano artistic tradition has lasted for over a hundred years. Yet the Grijalvas are unique, for few are their males who evidence no talent for art.
Intermarriage between Grijalvas and chi’patros—for no others would consider the girls as brides or the men as husbands—produced another curious result: by the second generation, approximately half the m
ales were discovered to be sterile. This has been attributed to inbreeding and some strange lingering effect of Nerro Lingua, but no one knows for certain.
Marriage of Alessio II and Elseva do’Elleon, by Saabasto Grijalva, 894. Oil on wood. Galerria Verrada.
Betrothal of Joao and Miari do’Varriyva, by Yberro Grijalva, 921. Oil on wood. Galerria Verrada.
Death of Joao, by Yberro Grijalva, 924. Oil on canvas. Galerria Grijalva.
Until 875, it was traditional to gift a bride with a painting of her marriage. This custom was the foundation of the Serrano reputation and fortune. It was Liranzo Grijalva who first suggested that paintings also act as legal certification. Combined with universally understood iconography, a picture would be a certificate of public record.
In these three paintings, separated by a mere thirty years, can be seen the evolution of documentary painting and the rich symbolism it demands. Though the Marriage is delightful in its simplicity, only the bride’s flowers show the traditional good wishes (roses for Love, ivy for Fidelity, thistles for Sons). The union of Elleon to Tira Virte is sealed by the union of these two handsome people, documented in the painting only by the straw motif delicately embroidered in gold on the curtain behind the couple.
Contrast this lack of embellishment with the Betrothal of their son Joao. The bride’s family sigil, the white chrysanthemum (a pun on verro, “truth,” and Varriyva), figures prominently in the embroidery of her gown; she approaches Joao across a vast lawn of green grass that signifies Submission; golden roses symbolizing Perfection bloom near lemon blossoms for Fidelity in Love. Joao, standing on the Palasso Verrada garden steps, holds out a nosegay of both as he smiles at his betrothed. But this painting also records a trade treaty—thus the distant background of Castello Varriyva with a merchant’s caravan traveling the road below amid a field of corn that signals Riches.