The following morning, Khaster rose early and went to stand in sunlight by the open window. This was not Caradore, but he had to admit it was a beautiful place. The air seemed to possess a supernatural clarity, sparkling before his eyes. Below the hill, Anterity’s surface shone like metal. Bent and wizened trees surrounded it, and there was an island in its centre, covered in what looked like ancient thorn. At its far end, a tier of weathered crags rose towards the sky, where feathery clouds hung motionless against the aching blue. It was not pretty in a traditional sense, being somehow stark and cold, but Khaster could sense its power. Pharinet would appreciate this place. He pushed the thought from his mind.
After breakfast, Tayven suggested they went for a walk. ‘There are waterfalls above Anterity,’ he said. ‘The next lake, Oolarn, is a few hours’ walk away, but there are lots of mountain pools and cascades nearby.’
Marien packed them some bread, cheese and a stone flagon of beer wrapped in damp cloths, which Tayven stowed in a back pack. They did not go down to the shore of Anterity, but took a narrow path up through the crags and the mountain meadows that lay above the retreat.
‘We should see a few of the lakes while we’re here,’ Tayven said. ‘You may not get the chance again.’
‘Have you visited all of them?’ Khaster asked.
‘Yes and no. I’ve been to all but one. Pancanara is inaccessible. It is supposed to be hidden high in the peaks. Some people doubt it even exists.’
‘You seem very at home here.’
Tayven smiled. ‘I am. I would live here forever if I could.’
‘Then ask Almorante if you can. He seems prepared to indulge your every whim.’
Tayven laughed. ‘A nice idea, but even if he agreed, the retreat would never totally be mine. He could throw me out at any time.’
‘As if that’s likely.’
‘Oh, it’s likely, Khas,’ Tayven said. ‘Don’t ever think otherwise. I’m just glad I’m here again now.’
Khaster sighed. Sometimes, there was sadness in Tayven, but never bitterness. How wonderful to feel that way, not to care.
They climbed a particularly steep slope, grasping at grass and rocks to keep from falling, but then they reached the top and through a frame of trees, they could see a waterfall rushing down through a series of fern-curtained channels into a small pool. Tayven put down his back pack. ‘This may not be one of the mystical lakes, but I love this spot.’
‘When did you first come here?’ Khaster asked.
Tayven would not look at him, stared ahead at the pool. ‘Some years ago.’
Khaster detected a tension. ‘How many?’
Tayven shrugged. ‘Three or four. I forget.’
Khaster knew that Tayven did remember, and sensed it had been a significant time. A surge of hot anger flowed through him. He walked quickly towards the falls, where the sound of his own thoughts might be drowned. At the water’s edge, where white foam scudded on the surface of the pool, he knelt down. The grass was damp and spongy beneath his knees.
Three or four years. It was unspeakable. Then Merlan’s voice was in his head. ‘We must be clever. If you want to go home, you must keep your silence, play the Magravandians’ game.’ He gazed into the pool, almost blinded by a fury he could not name. He blinked and saw a school of tiny bright blue fish twisting and turning in the hectic currents. Their scales flashed like fire beneath the foam. Beautiful. Then he saw they were clustered around a drowned water nymph fly, tearing it to pieces with minuscule teeth.
Tayven squatted beside him. There was a flush along his cheekbones. ‘Don’t judge me. I had no choice.’
Khaster nodded. ‘What do you feel about it, though? If you’d had the choice, what would you have done?’
‘I’ve never been forced into anything against my will, if that’s what you mean,’ he replied. ‘I’m not that much of a victim.’
‘You’re contradicting yourself.’ Khaster stood up. Why should he care? Because he wanted Tayven to become like him, scornful of Almorante and the rest? ‘You must have fond memories of this place,’ he said, wanting to wound, but when there was only silence and he turned round, Tayven wasn’t there. That must be his resolve now: to walk away from Khaster’s cruel words. Khaster slumped down again. He was fond of Tayven, but always wanted to hurt him with words, resenting his past, his secret life now. They were here for a reason. Almorante believed he could manipulate things that much. He couldn’t. Khaster wouldn’t let him.
Khaster stayed out on the mountainside until dusk and the sun sank in a sea of blood behind the jutting pines. Birds mourned in low voices and the grasses rustled with nocturnal life. He walked back to the retreat, noticing the single light burning in the attic room. There Tayven lay awake, he was completely sure. He would be lying on his back, with his hair spread out on the pillow, looking like a saint or an effigy. Khaster went into the house and directly to his own room, which was lit only by the owl-light of the moon.
The following morning, Tayven was out by the time Khaster awoke. His sleep had been disturbed by nightmares of Pharinet. All he could remember of them on waking was her cruel laughter. She had always despised him, seen him as weak in comparison to Valraven. She was right. He was weak in every sense. What was it Almorante thought he saw in him? Whatever it was, the man must be deluded. Filled with these self-hating thoughts, Khaster gloomily ate breakfast, watched over by Marien who seemed to observe him with knowing eyes. Tayven’s absence obviously meant he was angry with Khaster, and that was unlike him. He was such a serene creature; fits of temper or melancholy on Khaster’s part barely touched him. Tayven was a being of light, and Khaster craved those healing rays. He could see how it might be easy to become addicted to Tayven’s presence. It was all that Almorante had promised.
He found Tayven high above the retreat at the waterfall they had visited the day before. It had been easy to follow his trail, for he had left a path through the dew-soaked grass. No one else would be walking here. Khaster called Tayven’s name and it echoed from hill to hill. There was no response. He walked past the water, and imagined a ghost of himself there, squatting down, staring at the fish.
The trail led to a hole in the rock, where Khaster ducked down and walked along a narrow tunnel. What was Tayven doing here? For a moment he feared finding the boy dead. Died for love, they would say, of a broken heart. What kind of person did that make him, to think such a thing? He emerged into a cave, where light streamed down through a wide chimney in the stone. Tayven stood there, bathing in its rays. The scene looked utterly contrived. Tayven had heard him coming.
‘The artist will be along later,’ Khaster said.
Tayven glanced at him, frowning. ‘What?’
Khaster shook his head. ‘Nothing. Are you angry with me?’
Tayven’s frown deepened. ‘No. Should I be?’
‘You weren’t at breakfast. I haven’t seen you since yesterday.’
Tayven shrugged. ‘You needed time alone.’
‘You lured me here.’
‘No. I was looking at that.’ He pointed towards the wall. A ball of spiralling water nymphs hung there, like living jewels.
‘They’re beautiful.’
‘They’re eating an owl.’
Khaster looked closer. The bird was dead, its body a hollow shell, the wings drooping. Nymphs were pulled beneath the waters of the pool to be devoured by fish, but they killed too. Everything beautiful had a core of evil. Nature itself.
‘This place isn’t affecting me the way you and Almorante wanted it to,’ Khaster said.
Tayven laughed. ‘You are so conceited, Khas. You think everybody spends their time worrying about you and your problems. They don’t. Almorante has you now. He’s passed you to me for rehabilitation, haven’t you noticed? But that job’s not full time for me. I have my own concerns.’
Khaster nearly responded heatedly, then changed his mind. ‘I feel I’ve been asleep all my life and have only just woken to a horrible reality.’
>
Tayven nodded. ‘I can see that.’ He beckoned. ‘Come here, Khas. Consider this.’
Khaster stood next to him in the fan of light that came down through the roof. ‘Here we are in darkness,’ Tayven said, ‘and for us, if we did not know better, this light would be all that existed. But we do know better. We know that outside the cave the world is bathed in light.’
Khaster swallowed with difficulty. He knew that at one time Almorante had stood here and said that to Tayven. Was the image therefore spoiled or a secret to be passed on? He imagined himself in years to come, in this very spot, and there was a nebulous presence beside him, waiting for the words to be spoken. He shivered. Time had stopped.
‘You are mistaken about me,’ Tayven said. ‘I don’t want you to want me, but only to want yourself. We won’t know each other for long.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘A feeling came to me here.’
Khaster made a sound of annoyance. ‘This is too melodramatic,’ he said. ‘Let’s go outside.’
Tayven studied him for a moment. ‘I wonder whether you can,’ he said at last.
They strolled beside the river, up the mountain path towards the next lake. Tayven had a satchel with him, in which Marien had again placed a packed lunch. The sun had warmed the chill air by the time they emerged through a grove of trees to face another body of water. It was small and secretive, barely more than a pool, surrounded by sheer cliffs from which spindly trees depended.
‘Is this Oolarn?’ Khaster asked.
‘No, it’s another minor site. I don’t even know its name. You shouldn’t visit Oolarn until you’ve properly experienced Anterity.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It’s a tradition. The lakes are a kind of mystical quest.’
‘And how do I experience Anterity, exactly?’
‘By meditating at the site, of course.’ Tayven laughed. ‘Don’t you know anything?’
‘I’m not really impressed by that kind of thing,’ Khaster said stiffly. ‘Bayard is interested in ritual and mysticism, isn’t he?’
‘He might think he is,’ Tayven said. ‘You’d find that the reality is quite different.’
‘I’m a tourist, not a mystic,’ Khaster said. ‘And I like to think I can appreciate the lakes just as well, if not better, from that perspective.’
Tayven said nothing, but concentrated on spreading out their lunch on a rock. They ate in silence for a while. Khaster felt disorientated. He wondered why he was there. It felt contrived, yet unreal.
‘So, what are your concerns?’ he said. ‘You mentioned you had them.’
Tayven sighed. ‘Bayard is my main concern,’ he said.
Khaster was slightly surprised this information had been offered so willingly. ‘You’re afraid of him? What about Almorante’s patronage? Surely you’re safe?’
Tayven observed him speculatively. ‘You’re completely unaware of how much Bayard resents you, aren’t you?’
‘We have never been allies. I was beneath his notice at one time.’
‘Bayard is wounded, and unable to heal himself. He strikes out in bewilderment and disappointment. What happened in Caradore?’
‘I told you.’
‘Some of it, yes. What happened?’
‘What I said. Bayard, Valraven, Pharinet and Ellony performed a kind of ceremony on the beach. As far as I can gather, it sent Ellony mad and she ran into the sea. She was so strong in her madness that she took a grown man with her, who was trying to restrain her. He died too.’
‘Magic,’ Tayven said. ‘This war will be won or lost through magic.’
‘What war?’
‘The personal one, between the royal brothers and their allies. Bayard will kill me.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Tay. Why should he? He wouldn’t want to risk upsetting Almorante and I don’t believe you mean that much to Bayard. He had a slight fancy for you, that’s all. We both know it’s Valraven he worships.’
‘I’m a symbol,’ Tayven said. ‘You won’t understand or accept this, I know, but if I am sacrificed, power will come from the act. Almorante himself would kill me if the moment was right, and I would sacrifice myself willingly, if it would do any good.’
‘I can’t believe you’d countenance such rubbish,’ Khaster said. ‘You tell me to wake up and live my life, and now you say this. It’s insane. The Malagashes are insane, Almorante especially, if he’s filled your head with these things.’
Tayven smiled sadly. ‘I knew you wouldn’t understand, but you asked, and I told you. One day, you’ll discover, painfully, how right I am. It’s inevitable. What will happen will happen, regardless of what we think or do.’
I won’t let myself believe this, Khaster thought, and yet the strange ambience of the environment, the imminence shivering in the air, made him think that here was a moment of destiny. If he looked up, there would be a star in the daytime sky, a messenger of the gods. But when he did look up, there was only Tayven. ‘I won’t let you die,’ Khaster said. ‘Not because of Bayard.’
Tayven stared into the water. ‘Almorante will send me to Cos with you.’
‘You mustn’t come. It’s a terrible place.’
‘It’s a beautiful place,’ Tayven said, ‘but filled with enemies. I’ll have to come. I can’t let you go there alone. I don’t trust you.’
‘Bayard will be with us, and Valraven Palindrake. Almorante will not. If only a little of what you fear is correct, it would be too dangerous for you to come. I would welcome your company, of course, but I think you should stay here.’
‘Khasterc’ Tayven began. ‘This is difficult.’ He pushed back his hair. ‘I feel I’m bound to you. We were meant to meet and everything that will happen from this moment on is also meant.’
Khaster laughed softly. ‘You’re talking about feelings,’ he said, ‘not a greater destiny.’
‘I think they’re the same. All my life I’ve been groomed for something. I was sent to Almorante’s court when I was ten years old.’ He raised a hand to silence Khaster’s outraged remarks. ‘No, not for that. Almorante has always respected me. He’s taught me many things, not least that we are all small parts of a great design. Formless powers compete for control around us, and we are their pawns. We did not choose to be born Magravandian, but that is our fate. The emperor creates change in the world. There are always emperors.’ He reached out and took Khaster’s hand. ‘A few years ago, Almorante brought me to Recolletine. He told me I was light, and took me to each of the lakes in turn, except for the last. At every place, we evoked the spirit of the mountains in a different way. Almorante called light down into me. He set me on a path.’
‘You slept with him then. Was that the first time?’
Tayven nodded. ‘Yes. But it was not what you think. He cosseted me. It was almost innocent.’
‘And when did it stop being so innocent?’
Tayven looked away. ‘I wish it wasn’t important to you.’
‘I can’t help it. To me, what Almorante did to you was abuse. You’re so young.’
‘Is that it? My age? Only that?’
‘Mostly, I suppose, yes.’
Tayven dropped Khaster’s hand and stood up. ‘By Madragore, you’re so blind. I’m as old as these mountains! Can’t you feel that?’
‘I believe your soul is old,’ Khaster said, ‘but that is not an excuse for a man to violate so young a body. Nothing can make me change my mind about that.’
‘I’m here for my birthday,’ Tayven said, ‘Almorante’s gift to me was to send you here, to let me come with you.’
‘His mother suggested it, actually.’
Tayven shook his head. ‘No, Almorante knew what I’d want. I’m seventeen tomorrow.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I wasn’t sure whether I would or not. Your patronising attitude makes me angry sometimes. Will you still see me as a child in the morning? It would have annoyed me if suddenly I was al
lowed to have feelings and lovers, due to the passing of one second before midnight to the next.’
‘I don’t mean to treat you badly.’
Tayven sighed. ‘You don’t. It’s just your way. I don’t have to be here now. It’s my choice.’
There was a long and significant pause, then Khaster said, ‘Did you bring wine with you?’
‘No, I did not!’ Tayven growled in his throat. ‘I’ll not give you that excuse.’ He jumped off the rock and began to run back the way they had come.
Khaster glanced at the remains of their meal and then went after him. Tayven hadn’t run very far. Khaster found him weeping on the path, his face in his hands. ‘Tay, I’m sorry,’ Khaster put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
Tayven pushed him away. ‘Don’t. Why do I let myself react like this? It’s futile. I must accept what is.’ He wiped his eyes fiercely. ‘I’m learning something new – that sometimes the love you send out receives nothing in return. I should never have let it happen. We spoke about it. Do you remember? Love makes you weak and vulnerable. It’s like a disease. I hate this feeling. It’s making me something I’m not.’
Khaster stood there helplessly. What could he say? Tayven was far wiser than he was. At seventeen, Khaster had known nothing about the ways of the world or of human feeling. He hadn’t been in love with Pharinet when he’d married her. His mother had told him he should do it. It had been expected, as it had been for Valraven to take Ellony as a wife. An alliance of houses. Only homesickness, once he’d come to Magrast, had made him feel that he loved Pharinet. Perhaps he never had. All the anger and hatred he felt was because he’d been betrayed by a woman he’d been led to believe would be faithful to him, in every sense. That’s what wives did. It was their role, and Pharinet was supposed to have adopted it. Why should she, though? It was simply tradition, and within that, no scope for individuality. Pharinet, more than anyone he knew, craved freedom. Why had they gone through with it? It seemed ridiculous now. ‘We expect so little from life,’ Khaster said. ‘We look at the ground when we should be looking at the sky.’
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