The Heart of the mirage mm-1

by Glenda Larke

  'Those wearers of the gold under three years old didn't escape the massacres. They weren't old enough to be sent away, so they were all in the palace for the festivities. They were killed in the nurseries by the legionnaires. They slaughtered all the babies, Derya. Every one.' His rage whirled around him, unrestrained. 'Someone betrayed those who attended the Festival. We have never found out who. It has

  always seemed unbelievable, because the betrayer must have been one of the Magoroth. Only a Magoroth could have raised a ward around the feasting hall strong enough to hide the approach of legionnaires, only a Magoroth could have removed it to allow them entry.' He shook his head in a mix of distress and rage. T don't suppose we'll ever find out who now. By the time the legionnaires had finished, all the Magoroth in the Pavilions were dead.'

  'What's a ward?' I asked.

  'A kind of magical barrier. An invisible wall that can stop people, or even Magoroth power, from passing through.'

  He stopped, obviously wondering if he'd said too much, so I changed the subject.

  'Did any of the lower-ranking Magor – the Illusos and the Theuros – did they escape?'

  'Oh, yes. Most of them. Most weren't at the feast. But they don't have Magoroth powers. They tried to resist Tyrans, but they weren't powerful enough. Sporadic fighting occurred for years, but once the tradeways were built and the legions could ride from one end of the land to the other in a matter of days, there was little hope. Worse still, until Temellin grew up a bit, no newborn Magor children received their cabochons. Oh. Um, I guess I can't explain about that just now, though.

  'Gradually the lower-ranking Magor gave up the fight and came to the Mirage for safety and to offer their services to teach the Magoroth all they knew. We have been trying to strengthen ourselves ever since, to make our powers even greater than those of our parents, until the time when we are strong enough to sweep the legions into the sea. For some time there have been those who have thought we have sufficient

  power, but Temellin still won't allow a full-scale insurgency. He says we have to ensure the next generation first, in case we are killed.'

  'But it is beginning, isn't it, your rebellion?' I asked. 'Your aim is first to disrupt Tyranian society in Kardiastan. To make Tyranians uncertain, nervous.'

  'Exactly. Temellin says it is important to free slaves for just that reason.'

  Not to mention the murder of legionnaire officers, the terrorising of those who used the trade routes, the disappearance of caravans.

  He continued, 'It brings the common folk to our side. After all, there is a whole generation of Kardis who have grown up having no first-hand knowledge of the people of the Magor. They had a right to feel abandoned by us. We have to dispel that feeling. Nothing Temellin does is without reason,' he added, and there was no mistaking his pride in his Mirager.

  'But he hasn't done much towards ensuring the next Magoroth generation if he himself hasn't married,' I replied. 'Or has he been begetting bastards along the way?'

  He laughed. 'Perhaps. But not Magoroth ones. Although, to be honest, I don't think that's likely, either. Temellin takes his duties as Mirager too seriously to flaunt himself like that. Anyway, he was married at eighteen, like many of us. His wife was Miasa, one of the original Ten. She was, um, barren for many years. Then, when she did conceive, she had a difficult time. She died, with the baby unborn, just last year. It was an awful time for Temellin, but now it seems he will marry Pinar once the mourning period is up.' Garis the romantic sighed, his eyes troubled. 'He doesn't have all that much choice. As Mirager, he should marry a Magoria and Pinar is the only one of

  age who is not spoken for. I don't think he likes her that much, although she is his cousin. It is sad.'

  'And the others all have children?'

  'Oh yes. Korden and Gretha have ten! And another on the way.'

  'All Magoroth.'

  'Of course. And we have been lucky, too, in the number of such children born to Theuras and Illusas. Altogether there are forty-eight Magoroth children in the Mirage. And many more of the lower ranks. So now Temellin feels the time has come to move against the Tyranian presence in our land.' His tawny eyes danced at the prospect. 'Temellin says the break-up of the whole Exaltarchy will start here, in Kardiastan.'

  Goddess, the man had the gall of a gnat biting a gorclak! He didn't really think it was possible to bring about the downfall of the greatest empire ever conceived, did he? The Exaltarchy stretched over half the known world… I decided to keep that thought to myself, and changed the subject. 'What is the Mirage like, Garis?'

  He looked uncomfortable. 'Temellin says I shouldn't tell you that.'

  I hid a sigh. I thought perhaps I was going to become quite tired of hearing Garis say, Temellin says…

  He went on, 'He'll have time for you soon. The last of the other groups leaves us today. Then there will just be you and me and him and Brand. I think he wants to know you better before you see the secrets of the Shiver Barrens and the Mirage. We risk much to show you, if you are a traitor. Anyway, you'll see for yourself soon.'

  I gave an involuntary look at Temellin where he sat on his shleth at the head of a group of Kardi ex-slaves. He was smiling and I felt my throat tighten just at the

  thought of him turning that smile on me. I forced my attention back to Garis, who was asking, 'But won't you tell me a little about Tyr? Does water really travel from the mountains along bridges? Do they really have public games where everyone is naked? Is it true the Exaltarch has orgies every night and has an insatiable appetite for slave women?'

  'Well, I know he has an appetite for women, yes,' I said gravely, answering the last. 'And wine too. But he made the Exaltarchy what it is; he extended it from a few tributary neighbours to all the nations bordering the Sea of Iss. He couldn't have done that if he spent his time indulging in drunken orgies. The Exaltarch is an ex-soldier and he has a soldier's discipline.'

  He gave me a puzzled glance. 'You sound almost admiring.'

  'I am. Only a fool would not respect what the Exaltarch has achieved. Approving of it is another matter.'

  'She's right, Garis,' a voice behind me said. I turned in the saddle to see Korden had ridden up. 'But what we have to decide,' he continued, addressing me, 'is whether you are one of those who approves, as well as admires.'

  'Slaves do not usually approve of those who run the system that makes them slaves in the first place.'

  'One would think it illogical, wouldn't one?' Korden was nothing if not urbane. 'And yet I have seen it happen with slaves who were raised in slavery. They know no other life. They are brought up to believe it is a just state of affairs. They may even love those who enslave them, giving up their lives for their owners if the situation arises.' He considered me thoughtfully. 'Sometimes people are irrational beings. I do not

  distrust you exactly, Derya, but you will have to prove

  ¦ j. ¦ -.if -

  your loyalty before I give you my trust. I do not have Temellin's faith in the blood running in your veins. Temellin is our Mirager, but he is not an absolute monarch. He rules by covenant and must listen to others of his kind. Be warned: there will be those who watch you and who will turn the power of the Magor on you if you prove faithless.' With that, he switched his attention to Garis. 'I came to say goodbye. This is where I leave with my group; I will see you on the other side of the Barrens.' He stretched forth his left hand and Garis touched palms with him. He made no such gesture to me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  We slept at night wrapped in woollen blankets, under the shelter of waxed sheeting strung up on poles to keep the dew off. After Pinar had left on the second day, I kept wondering if Temellin would come to me at night, but he never did. During the day, if anything, he avoided me. He didn't have to try hard: there were always people claiming his attention, always problems to be solved concerning the ex-slaves. After Korden left on the fourth day, he didn't have that excuse. There were only four of us left – Brand and Garis being the othe
r two – but he only came to me the next morning.

  He woke me just at first light. 'Come,' he whispered, 'I have something to show you. A wild shleth.'

  I rose and followed him, brushing the sleep from my eyes as I went. He led me out into the desert, using his sword for light, but keeping the glow of it subdued. 'I thought you might like to have a look at this,' he said, pointing to where a lone shleth was using its feeding arms and feet to excavate a deep hole in the sand. 'It's about to give birth.'

  The beast finished its digging, and knelt down in the hole. Almost immediately it began to strain, and

  within minutes it had passed a blood-streaked, leathery sac about the size of a cat, oval in shape, into

  the hole. The shleth proceeded to cover up its newborn with sand.

  "What is it doing?' I asked in astonishment.

  'They bury the sac in sand and promptly forget about it. It's like a large, half-developed egg. When the young is fully developed, it uses its feeding arms to dig out to the surface where it can fend for itself.'

  'Shleths don't feed their young?'

  'Kardis speak of shleth's milk the same way Tyranians refer to hen's teeth or Assorians talk about snake feathers. The young will grow up on the edges of the lake here, feeding on the grasses.'

  He turned towards me. 'We have tried to raise the young from the time they dig themselves out, but we've never had success. They survive best by themselves for a year or two. Which has a disadvantage for us – we have to catch and tame them later on.' He reached out and drew me to him, kissing me gently on the lips. It wasn't the kind of kiss I wanted from him. 'It has been hard not to…' he said, and made a vague gesture with his hand. T want you so badly. Yet I shouldn't be here with you now. It has no future.'

  'It doesn't have to have a future, Tern. In fact, I am not in the habit of considering a future for my relationships.'

  'No, I don't suppose slaves can. I find it hard to imagine what it must be like to be enslaved. But now? You can have a future, Derya. You can plan to have a husband, a family, lots of children…'

  T can't say children have figured much in my plans either.' That was certainly true. I'd never considered having any, and had taken good care I wouldn't. 'What's the matter with just here and now?' At least

  this time I was well fortified with gameez to prevent conception.

  He didn't need more of an invitation. The shleth had wandered away, but we stayed there on the sands and found something in each other's arms as magical as the sword he carried.

  And yet, later, lying in my blankets back in the camp, I wondered if it hadn't been a mistake. When he clasped his palm to mine and we joined for that moment in time, we gave something to each other and gained something from each other that changed us both. We forged connections – in Magor magic, in physical loving. We fashioned bonds that lingered on afterwards in a way I'd never experienced before in any lustful coupling.

  We forgot bonds could also be fetters.

  'That's it?' I asked Temellin. 'That's the Shiver Barrens?'

  'That's it.'

  The two of us pulled up our mounts on the top of a stony rise. A red-rock slope of a few hundred paces led down to an expanse of sand that appeared to stretch on forever. Beside us Garis and Brand also halted, and all conversation ceased.

  After the initial question, I was speechless. Any words would have been too mundane to express the cascade of overwhelming emotions swamping me at that moment. Whatever I had expected, it wasn't what I saw then – there had never been a place in my logical world for anything like this.

  From a sky of unforgiving blue, unblemished by cloud, the sun screamed full-voiced down on the desert sands, relentless, scorching – and the sands responded. The grains rose up to greet the heat of the

  day and gyrated for the sun god, as sensual as a semi-naked dancing girl discarding her veils.

  The Shiver Barrens danced…

  They moved in patterns that wove and unravelled, formed and disintegrated in shimmers of light and dark, and as they danced they sang a whispering song of seduction. The whorls and streams of sand grains reached twice the height of a man, pouring through the air from the ground and back again like wraiths of mist in a wind. But there was no wind. The sand moved of its own volition, every particle self-propelled, yet each obeying some cosmic law that orchestrated its movement into this tidal dance.

  I watched in wonderment, and remembered being a child at our cliffside holiday villa on the Sea of Iss, watching schools of fish swimming in the ocean far below – the annual run of sardines along the coast. Sometimes the sharks would pierce the shoals in vicious thrusting stabs, and the fish would whirl away, turning and twisting in skeins of light and dark, each with a mind of its own, yet performing its part in perfect unison as the swarming mass split and rejoined.

  Such were the dancing sands-of the Shiver Barrens.

  And as they flowed and re-formed, clustered and seethed, they sang. Not in words, but in soft sound just out of range of my understanding, half heard, like the far-off tinkle of wind chimes, the patter of raindrops on water, the soughing of a breeze through pine needles, the soft licking of a cat's tongue on kitten fur.

  In a dream, I urged my mount down to the edge of the Barrens, where rock gave way to dancing sand. I dismounted and leant forward to hold my hand out and catch up some of the grains bouncing in the air – but they couldn't be captured. They jiggled away from me, teasing.

  'Try your left hand,' Temellin said at my elbow. This time I caught them and they nestled in my cupped palm, twinkling at me, purple and silver and gold and grey… slivers of colour. They tickled my skin until I released them and they flew away, humming their song of joy.

  'What do you think?' Temellin asked softly. But I refused to be drawn; I still had no words. He stood close behind and put his arms around me. 'Can you hear it?'

  'Oh yes.'

  'Only the Magor can hear the song…'

  'Does it mean anything? I keep thinking that if only I could listen a bit better, I'd be able to understand what it is saying.'

  He was dismissive. 'There's nothing to understand. It's just a meaningless melody.'

  He believed what he said, but I couldn't shake the feeling. I was also painfully aware of his body against mine. Remember, Ligea, you are a compeer. "Why can't the legions cross?'

  'They don't know the secret. They ride out, not knowing the further you ride, the deeper the dance becomes. At the edge, where we are now, the firm ground is just a pace down; the pain of the grains brushing your skin would be bearable.' He waved a hand towards the horizon. 'Out there the sand dances above your head. You breathe it into your nostrils, you gasp and it dances into your mouth. It fills your ears and abrades your skin. You start to bleed; just pinpricks to start with, then your mouth and nose and ears trickle blood and your skin is rasped raw and the pain maddens you and your mount. You try to return, but you cannot see which way safety lies. Your clothing is shredded and you yourself are flayed to a mass of

  …. – ¦¦¦..-¦ – -. ¦¦'.' ¦ '•.' A. ¦

  bleeding, skinless flesh. When the sand finally chokes you and you cease to breathe, it is the mercy you have prayed for. The Barrens are cruel to those who trespass in ignorance. Even to us, the Magor. For some reason, our – our abilities are limited here. The sands do not obey our magic.'

  'But there is a secret -'

  'Yes, and tonight you will discover it.' His cheek rested against mine; his voice caressed, although his words were gravid with warning. 'The Shiver Barrens are the Mirage's protection from Kardiastan, just as the Alps are its protection on the western side, from Tyrans. And after today, you and Brand will both know the secret…'

  He trailed fingers down the side of my neck to my breast, then swung me to face him. 'Don't betray us, Derya. Pinar and Korden think the legionnaires who were all around the safe house in Madrinya had something to do with either you or Brand.' His hand still cupped my breast, tantalising me through the cloth. 'I
cannot believe that. Not when I have lain in your arms and felt your trueness, but I am not foolish enough to think I am always right. We all have the ability to hide our emotions from one another, although not our lies.' He looked back to the top of the slope, where Brand stood staring at us both with an expressionless face.

  'I asked Brand about those legionnaries, and he refused to answer. He said if I doubt you, then I should talk to you, not him. He gave the same answer to Pinar. I wish he had been more… straightforward in his replies. Pinar and Korden are now convinced he won't answer such questions plainly because he knows we'll' catch him out in a lie.'

  'It was Legata Ligea who ordered the legionnaires out in force,' I said, with perfect truth. 'She wants to

  catch the Mirager. You. What else can either of us say? Ligea is not in the habit of talking to her handmaidens about the details of her plans. And as for Brand, he cares for me. He doesn't like to see others distrust me, or treat me like some kind of criminal. He is angry with Pinar.'

  He looked up at Brand again.

  'Is he your lover, Derya?'

  'He is a brother to me.'

  'That does not make any difference to a Magor.'

  'So I've been told. It does to me. A wealth of difference.'

  'He does not think of himself as your brother.'

  'No.'

  He put his left palm to mine, reinforcing his words with his flow of emotions. 'I have not had a woman other than you since the death of my wife. After she died, I desired no one until I put my arms around you and felt something so powerful it could not be resisted. I loved my wife, Derya. It hurts even now to think of her. And yet, she never made me feel the way you do. I wanted her, yet it never made me ache just to look at her, as I do when I look at you.' He released me and stood back a little. 'You have had time to think, Derya. Do you still want me on your pallet, knowing that's all we'll ever have?'