Tayven laughed. ‘That is most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You might as well give the role to Queen Neferishu.’
‘Harsh,’ said Maycarpe, raising a hand to silence Merlan’s outraged response. ‘And somewhat prejudiced.’
‘Khaster is the only one who should take that role,’ Tayven said. ‘I began to prime him for it, years ago. I would have succeeded too, given more time. It is a farce to pass that responsibility to his younger brother. It would not work. The idea is as slapdash as any of Almorante’s schemes.’
‘But Khaster is dead,’ Maycarpe said, ‘or if he isn’t, he might as well be. We have no choice. The only other option is not to try at all, and that is unthinkable.’
Tayven shook his head. ‘No. I won’t co-operate. That is my final word. Shan is just a boy and Merlan Leckery is unsuitable. I would be embarrassed to join such a company.’
‘And I cannot stand the company of such a self-righteous, rude and opinionated prig,’ said Merlan, with some levity in his voice. ‘His insults are too outrageous to annoy me. I look at him and see someone whose present charisma is the result only of past privileges. Even now, he shares the bed of an exiled king to give himself kudos. Who will be the next rung on your ladder, Hirantel?’
Tayven gave Merlan a beatific smile. ‘Perhaps Neferishu. She has been patient. It should be rewarded.’
‘You disgust me!’ Merlan said.
‘Stop it!’ Maycarpe said. ‘You’re behaving like schoolboys. Look at Shan. He, of all you, has the most dignity.’
‘I was thinking,’ Shan said.
A tense silence came into the room. Shan looked about him. Maycarpe’s expression was guarded, Tayven’s bland, while Merlan looked alert and curious. Shan could see right through them all. He laughed softly. ‘I see. Was all this necessary? Why didn’t you just ask me outright?’
‘What do you mean?’ Merlan snapped.
‘They don’t want you to be part of this company, Merlan. There’s someone else they have in mind. They seek to trick me into helping them, because they believe they can play upon my own desires. They know the quest cannot take place without this person, and they think I’m eager to start on it, that I want to be king.’ He leaned forward in his seat. ‘All I want is what is best for everyone.’ He turned to Merlan. ‘You were right. Tayven told Maycarpe everything I said to him.’ He addressed Tayven. ‘You’ve disappointed me.’
Tayven shrugged and Maycarpe said, ‘You speak in ignorance. A true magus understands that he has to dance on both sides of the coin. Utter goodness is as bad as pure evil.’
‘I have my mentor as you have yours,’ Tayven said.
‘He taught you well, then.’
Tayven nodded. ‘Yes.’
Merlan expelled an incredulous snort. ‘All this time, I believed the act. You played it well, Tayven.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Khaster is alive,’ Shan said. ‘This is what I told Tayven last night, Merlan. I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t.’
The colour drained from Merlan’s face. ‘You knew this?’ He shook his head, apparently speechless. The others in the room watched him carefully, until Merlan punched one hand against the other. ‘You told him, not me? You’re as bad as he is.’
‘No,’ Shan said. ‘I was bidden to keep silent. I had to respect that, no matter how much grief it caused me.’
‘You knew it would come out some time while you were here,’ Maycarpe said. ‘Don’t deny it.’
‘Of course. I was considering speaking to Merlan about it, but not this way.’
‘Where is he?’ Merlan said. ‘How do you know about him?’
‘He is my mentor,’ Shan said. ‘He is now called Taropat. He lives in Breeland.’
‘Will he come here, if you send for him?’ Merlan asked.
‘Khaster wouldn’t,’ Shan said, ‘but I suspect that Taropat might.’
‘I must go to him,’ Merlan said. ‘At once.’
‘No, Tayven must go to him,’ Maycarpe said. ‘The past must be resolved before the future can take root in the present.’
‘I think that would be a great shock to Taropat,’ Shan said. ‘It might be better if I returned home and spoke to him. He might come back with me.’
‘We need that shock value,’ Maycarpe said.
‘You don’t know him,’ Shan said. ‘You don’t realise how much the past still hurts him. I’ve learned his ways. I think I know how to handle him.’ He risked an invention. ‘Also, if Tayven set foot in the Forest of Bree, Taropat would know about it. He’d hide. Tayven would never find him. The other magi would probably play with Tayven, send him in circles or into strange worlds. I just know it wouldn’t work.’
‘Then we must improve the odds,’ Maycarpe said. ‘Use our magic.’
‘No magic would work in Breeland,’ Shan said. ‘The magi are too strong. They aren’t fools.’
‘It depends on the nature of the magic,’ Maycarpe said. ‘Glamours and efforts of the mind would not be effective, I agree. I would advocate manipulating fate, improving the odds of chance in our favour.’ He gestured at Tayven. ‘What do you think? Will you go to Breeland if the conditions are right?’
‘Yes,’ said Tayven. ‘It is my fault Khaster ended up the way he did.’
‘He thinks that of you,’ Shan said.
‘No. I was always more than he believed I was,’ Tayven said sadly. ‘Bayard had my measure far more accurately than Khaster ever did.’
‘Were you really working with the Cossics to get Bayard murdered?’ Shan asked.
‘Of course. Why else would I go to that godforsaken place?’
‘Then I can’t let you back into Taropat’s life. I will die before I reveal his exact whereabouts to you.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Shan,’ Maycarpe said. ‘Despite appearances, Tayven was fond of Khaster Leckery. He had two reasons to be in Cos. He can’t admit to it, because such emotion doesn’t conform to his current image. As I said, he danced on both sides of the coin; master of intrigue and cunning and devoted lover to a damaged man.’
‘Almorante should have kept him out of Cos,’ Tayven said. ‘He could have done so, easily. Khaster was there as my companion, my cover, rather than the other way around. I could have done more. I could have persuaded Almorante to keep Khaster by him in Magrast. That is where my guilt lies.’
‘Do you intend to unburden yourself to him?’ Shan said. ‘Make your guilt his pain?’
‘No. I will show him I am alive, that’s all. I will show him I bear no grudge. I will persuade him to come to Akahana.’ Tayven turned to Maycarpe. ‘How do we improve the odds of this happening?’
Maycarpe said nothing but picked something up from the table beside him. He held out his hand to reveal a die. ‘We use the weapons of chance,’ he said. ‘We will invoke the cosmic joker, the fool. Taropat, or Khaster, is already in Breeland, and the way he will react to Tayven’s appearance is already set. It exists, if you like, as if it is a single card in a pack of reactions that have been previously shuffled. We cannot read his mind, even if we can make good guesses. The top card has already been chosen by fate and lies face down before us, so the random factor lies within ourselves. Our chances of guessing the top card of a shuffled deck are not very good, so we must build up the random force to make fate work in our favour.’
‘That is how Taropat found me,’ Shan said. ‘He used a die at every cross-road until he came to Holme.’
‘Then you understand what we’re doing,’ said Maycarpe.
‘You’re losing me,’ Merlan said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Tayven will be guided by the fool,’ Maycarpe said. ‘This die will be his compass and his map. By the time he reaches Khaster, he will know the top card, trust me. And fate will ensure he reaches his goal. It will start here, now. We will decide upon six options for what Tayven must do next today.’
‘I’m going to have dinner with Queen Neferishu,’ Tayven said. ‘That is already decided.’
&n
bsp; ‘Not exactly,’ Maycarpe said. ‘I choose that if you roll the number one, you will neglect your appointment and face whatever consequences arise. Shan, you choose for number two.’
‘I choose that you will be half an hour late.’
‘Merlan?’ Maycarpe said. ‘Number three?’
Merlan shrugged. ‘I choose that he must insult the queen in some way.’
‘Be more specific,’ Maycarpe said.
Merlan smiled. ‘He must tell her she is ugly.’
Shan laughed. ‘He can’t do that! That’s cruel – and patently untrue.’
‘This is the game of chance,’ Maycarpe said. ‘The option has been chosen.’ He frowned. ‘I choose that number four means he will do nothing but enjoy a pleasant evening with a delightful lady.’
‘Number five,’ said Shan, ‘means he must go to the palace barefoot.’
‘And finally, number six means he must sleep with the queen and tell her he loves her,’ Merlan decreed.
Tayven glared at Merlan. ‘You have a one in six chance of finding my hands round your neck.’
‘But this is the game,’ Maycarpe said, clearly enjoying himself. ‘Now, throw the die, Tayven. Give yourself to chance.’
Tayven took the die from Maycarpe. ‘I must be mad,’ he said, and blew into his clenched fist, where the die lay concealed. Then he threw and everyone leaned forward to see the result.
Tayven closed his eyes. ‘Dear gods.’
‘You played,’ said Maycarpe, ‘you must go with it. Build up the random force in your favour.’
Merlan shrugged again. ‘It was a one in six chance.’
‘Can you do it?’ Shan asked.
Tayven stared at him without speaking.
‘Of course he can,’ Maycarpe said. ‘Despite his preferences, he is still a man. Of all the options, six was destined to be the most difficult. But the prize is great, and will not come easily. Learn this lesson well. It will be your guide in Magravandias when the time comes.’
Chapter Nineteen: Return of the Ghost
Tayven met the travelling fortune teller in the forecourt of an inn at the Bree port of Fishpaw, where he had paid for a room for the night. Her colourful clothes had attracted his attention, and also the fact that she was playing idly with a pair of dice, sitting alone at a table, with a grey cat coiled around her neck. Tayven, always alert for signs, asked if he might join her for dinner. She agreed, told him her name was Serena, and at once tried to get him to give her money for a reading. Amused, Tayven did so. As the landlord of the inn served their evening meal, Serena set out a tattered set of divining cards upon the beer-stained table.
‘You are on a momentous journey,’ she told him.
Tayven smiled, said nothing. Anybody staying at this inn would probably be on a journey.
‘You play with fate,’ Serena said. The cat on her shoulder appeared to study the cards with great concentration.
‘Who doesn’t?’ Tayven responded and began to eat.
‘No, you really do,’ Serena said sternly. She had a robust build and looked as if she could break a man’s neck with ease.
‘Yes, I really do,’ Tayven said, enjoying himself.
Serena laid out more cards. ‘So many broken hearts,’ she said, shaking her head.
Tayven sighed, raised his hands expressively, fork waving. ‘Such is my curse.’
‘One day it might catch up with you,’ said Serena darkly. ‘I think your trouble is you don’t know how deeply other people feel. Is this because you can’t feel that deeply yourself, or because you are conditioned to think that others are interested only in your beauty? I can see that you doubt others’ feelings. You believe yourself to be unloved. In effect, you hate the very people who want to love you.’
Tayven fought with rising discomfort at these words. ‘So what is my future?’
Serena laid out three more cards. ‘You will meet a tall dark man and come into money.’
Tayven laughed. ‘That bad? Tell me what you really saw.’
‘That is what I really saw,’ said Serena scooping up the cards. The cat jumped from her shoulder and began to help itself to her dinner.
Serena had hired a wagon, which she was going to drive across Breeland to a fair further west. Her journey would take her through the Forest of Bree. Tayven offered her more money for a ride, which she accepted.
Two days later, they were deep in the watchful forest, where summer was a humid breath between the ancient trunks. Serena had uncovered the wagon so that her clothes and bedding could be aired. Tayven lay among the blankets, throwing his die onto an upturned saucepan, watched by the inscrutable grey cat, who seemed to regard him with derision. He was throwing an unusual amount of sixes, which to him now signified not only the most powerful of actions, but also the most difficult. He laughed and joked with Serena, but inside he was numb. Each moment brought him closer to Taropat. How would he face this stranger he’d once known? What, really, was there to say? Khaster had been potentially useful to Almorante, but when that usefulness disappeared, Almorante simply started looking elsewhere. Now, someone had use for Khaster again. Lord Maycarpe. And to coax Khaster into co-operating required a deception, for both Tayven and Maycarpe knew that the truth would send Khaster further into hiding. Am I any better than Pharinet? Tayven wondered, but he still knew he’d do what he’d set out to do. He remembered Valraven Palindrake telling him he would remember their conversation in Cos, and he did. It replayed itself through his mind to the rhythm of the falling die.
Serena clucked to the oxen that drew the wagon and began to sing in an out of tune voice. Occasionally, she’d turn and flash her unnaturally white teeth at her passenger. Tayven found it increasingly difficult to return her smiles. He could no longer quantify his feelings, perhaps because they were focused entirely on the throw of the die. One, I am afraid; two, I am excited; three, I am nervousc In truth he could feel none of those things. He was aware only of a serpent biting its own tail; a circle completed
Serena halted the wagon at a cross-road, where five paths divided like the arms of a star and disappeared into a gloom, speared by rays of sunlight. ‘I go this way,’ she said, pointing to the path ahead. ‘Which way you are you going?’
‘Give me a moment,’ Tayven said. Five paths, six choices. One of them would mean staying where he was, sitting at the centre of the cross-road. He could not contemplate going back. The die roll was two; a path to the right. ‘I get off here,’ Tayven said, and jumped down from the wagon, pulling his back pack after him.
‘Be careful,’ Serena said and clucked to the oxen once more.
Tayven watched the wagon trundle away into gold-shot shadow. He hoisted his back pack higher onto his shoulder. Down this path, if fortune was truly on his side, he would find the man he’d known as Khaster Leckery. He could throw the die now to determine how Khaster might react to their reunion, but ultimately, at this final stage, Tayven wanted to leave some aspects to true chance. Neferishu had advised him to do that. Tayven smiled. He had judged the queen wrongly. When he’d gone to dine with her that night, he’d got drunk too quickly, able to think only about what the die had predicted. He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, and had crudely groped for the queen’s hand across the table, while uttering inane yet lascivious remarks. Neferishu guessed what was on his mind, but fortunately did not divine the true reason. She believed he was only trying to please her. ‘You know I love you, Tayven,’ she had said. ‘But I don’t want your pity. If you can’t come to me with equal feeling, then you mustn’t come at all.’
He’d felt humbled by her honesty. ‘I have forgotten how to be human,’ he had said, and drunk more wine. He realised he felt nauseous.
Neferishu shook her head at him, bemused. She led him from the table to a couch and there held him close against her body. ‘I have dreamed of this so often,’ she murmured.
Tayven, to his horror, had found he was weeping. Neferishu soothed him, stroked his hair. She didn’t press him
to speak, but somehow the words came tumbling out. It was like vomiting. He would speak until he was retching on dry words. Even in his stupor, he retained enough control not to say anything Maycarpe would want kept back, but he could talk about Khaster, about Cos, about his journey to come. He said that he would use a die to find the man he’d once known.
‘There must come a time,’ Neferishu had said, kissing his forehead, ‘when the die stays in your pocket. Remember that. If you find him.’
Tayven had felt completely comfortable nestled against her. This was what love must be like, to feel so safe. Had he ever really known that? Before he fell asleep in her arms, Tayven had said, ‘I love you, Neferishu.’
The glade was exactly as Tayven had imagined it from Shan’s detailed description. There was the water wheel, turning slowly, and the great oaks that surrounded the crooked narrow house like a fortress. There was the yellow horse, tethered by a long rope, cropping the startling emerald lawn around the mill pool. Skeins of perfumed smoke drifted in the still hot air. A few birds called, but their songs were languid, as if everything drowsed in the summer afternoon. Tayven paused at the edge of the glade. He felt like an interloper, someone who would shatter the peace of this idyll, bring the past, and all its traumas, crashing back. It was the only time he’d felt tempted to turn around, return to Akahana, and tell the others his journey had been unsuccessful. What right had he to be here, like some black-winged, doom-bearing angel? Khaster had found a life; it had been given to him. He had found some kind of peace.
A man came out of the house, and before Tayven could melt back into the greenery, he knew he’d been seen. He froze. This was undeniably Khaster before him, older, yes, and his hair had receded somewhat, but other than that there appeared to be little change. The expression on his face was not that of shock, nor even recognition. He seemed faintly puzzled, irritated. Tayven did not, could not, move. This was not Khaster, he told himself. This was Taropat. He must remember that.
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