The Spirit Stone

by Katharine Kerr

  ‘Riddles that he knew might have three or four possible answers.’

  ‘Exactly. But that way he couldn’t be wrong and mislead those he told them to.’

  ‘And in a way, they were riddles, merely riddles to him as well as to the rest of us.’ Salamander sighed and shook his head. ‘When you consider it—’ He stopped in mid-sentence.

  In the obsidian pyramid an image was forming. When he returned his gaze to it, he thought at first that he was seeing his own reflection, because a pair of eyes looked straight back at him, but then he realized that the eyes were brown. Slowly the smoky image clarified until he saw the face in which the eyes were set, a sharp, slender man’s face half-covered in blue tattoos. Salamander yelped in surprise and heard, very distantly, an answering squawk, very much like a raven’s croak. The face disappeared. Salamander set the pyramid down.

  ‘I think I’ve just seen the raven mazrak,’ Salamander said, ‘and he’s as much human as he is Gel da’ Thae.’

  Dallandra grabbed the crystal and stared into it, then shook her head in frustration. She muttered an invocation under her breath, then revoked it and tried another, staring all the while into the black stone. Finally she set it down again with an oath so foul that she must have learned it from Calonderiel.

  ‘Lost him,’ she said, ‘or more likely, he’s covered his showstone with a bit of cloth. I’m assuming he’s got some sort of stone. It might be a mirror, of course, or some other object he can use for scrying.’

  ‘I think that’s a safe assumption,’ Salamander said. ‘He must be looking for me, or wait! He may be looking for this stone, if we’re right and Sidro’s with him. She knows what used to sit on the altar in the shrine.’

  ‘So she does. Now, didn’t you tell me that Valandario wanted the pyramid destroyed?’

  ‘Eventually, yes, but she also told me not to do so until I’d learned everything I could from it.’

  ‘That’s sensible.’ Dallandra weighed the crystal in her palm like a housewife judging a baker’s loaf. ‘If it really is a link to the raven mazrak, then it’s going to be useful. Here’s an idea! We’ll study it until we meet up with Val. Then we’ll hand it over to her and let her have the joy of smashing it to bits.’

  ‘Now that sounds like a splendid plan, oh princess of powers perilous! I’ve no doubt that joy is exactly what she’ll feel when she contemplates its shards.’

  When Dallandra returned it to him, Salamander wrapped the stone back up in his old shirt, then wound and tied it with a leather thong to keep the pyramid from slipping out. He tucked the entire bundle into one of his saddlebags. If the stone had an inkling of the evil fate awaiting it, it gave no sign.

  ‘They’re going to destroy it, the frothing rabid idiots!’ Laz looked up from the white crystal. ‘They’re planning on smashing the black twin to bits. They think it’s evil.’

  ‘If they do, it probably is,’ Sidro said. ‘They know as much wizardry as you do, and they have the pyramid in hand.’

  ‘Sisi, I want that crystal. I want it very badly.’

  Laz got to his feet and began to pace back and forth in what little space the cabin allowed him.

  ‘Why?’ Sidro said.

  ‘What do you mean why?’ He stopped pacing and glared at her. ‘It’s a gem of great and sorcerous powers, that’s why.’ The glare faded into confusion. ‘But there’s something more, even though I’m embarrassed to admit it. I’m suffering from the irrational conviction that it belongs to me. It doesn’t, of course. I know that. But somehow or other, in my soul I feel it’s mine. I gave over a small fortune for it, and I want it back. Don’t bother to tell me I’m being stupid.’

  Sidro slipped the white pyramid back into its multiple cloth bags and pulled the drawstrings tight.

  ‘But it’s also a very potent gem, and that’s a rational reason to lust after it,’ Laz went on. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Laz, it’s sitting in the middle of an army. What do you think we can do? Ride up and politely ask these sorcerers if we may have it since they’ve got no use for it? Sneak in past hundreds of armed men and steal it?’

  He sat down opposite her at the table and leaned forward onto his elbows to prop his chin up in his hands. ‘There’s got to be some way to save it,’ he said at last. ‘It’s so wretchedly unfair. I’m never going to be able to understand the white one if I don’t have the black. Yes, of course, you’re right. Stealing it’s out of the question.’ His eyes brightened, and he sat up straight to grin at her. ‘Out of the question for a man, certainly, but what about the raven? After they cross the ford, they’ll be close to the forest verge. I could build an astral tunnel, lurk there waiting for the right moment, and then swoop down.’

  ‘You’ve gone mad! What about the dragons?’

  ‘The dragons, my dearest love, are off scouting for the would-be avengers of Zakh Gral.’

  ‘Have they taken all the archers with them?’

  Laz’s good cheer vanished. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘The archers.’

  ‘Indeed. The archers.’

  ‘I’ll have to think about this.’ Laz stood up and resumed his pacing. ‘Surely I can come up with some way to get my claws on that spirit stone.’

  That evening Gwerbret Ridvar issued his orders to those men directly under his command. His grace had decided that, since he himself would remain with the two princes, Tieryn Cadryc would take command of all the Red Wolf vassals and allies, including the Falcon clan and Salamander, to guard the wounded while they pulled back across the ford. With Clae trailing behind him, Gerran stalked through the camp until he found the tieryn.

  ‘Why am I being sent off?’ Gerran said. ‘Doesn’t his grace think I can fight as well as the next man?’

  ‘Naught of the sort,’ Cadryc said. ‘It’s because you’re the only lord the Falcon has. There’s no use in bringing a clan to life only to kill it off straightaway.’

  ‘Just so.’ Calonderiel came striding up to join them. He was carrying a wooden box in one hand. ‘A hundred of my archers will be riding back with you, by the by, and all of the Mountain Folk. None of them are insulted.’

  ‘Besides—’ Cadryc paused for a quick look around, then lowered his voice. ‘If anyone should be insulted, it’s doubtless me, and I’m not. No doubt the gwerbret’s tired of looking at me. Hah! We’ll be out of his grasp by Samaen.’

  ‘And a grand thing that is!’ Gerran suddenly remembered Solla, waiting for him at home. While he never would have admitted it to another man, thinking of her made him see some good in the gwerbret’s decision. ‘My apologies for the outburst, your grace.’

  ‘Accepted,’ Cadryc said. ‘Now, banadar, what’s that you’re carrying?’

  ‘Somewhat for Gerro,’ Calonderiel held out the wooden box. ‘A bit of booty if you want it. Dalla thought you might, but she doesn’t mean to insult you, either, if you don’t.’

  ‘Why would she think I’d be insulted?’ Gerran took the box and flipped the hinged lid open. ‘A silver dagger! Now I understand, but no insult taken, tell her. Salamander mentioned somewhat about seeing a silver dagger on that piss-poor excuse for an altar.’

  ‘This is the very one.’ Calonderiel paused to spit on the ground. ‘One of their not so holy relics.’

  ‘May I see, my lord?’ Clae said.

  When Gerran handed his page the open box, Clae stared at the dagger for a long moment, then reached out a gentle finger and stroked the wyvern device engraved on the blade. Gerran could have sworn that the lad was near to tears, but Clae closed the box and forced out a smile.

  ‘What’s all this?’ Cadryc said to him.

  ‘I don’t know, your grace,’ Clae said. ‘Seeing that dagger, it gave me the strangest feeling. I just don’t know why.’

  ‘Do you want it, lad?’ Gerran said. ‘The metal won’t buy our clan much, and I’m certainly not minded to carry it.’

  ‘I should think not, my lord!’ Clae hesitated. ‘You know, it’s stranger and stranger, but I do want
it. May I truly have it?’

  ‘You may. Keep it as a reminder of the first war you ever saw. And if it ever looks like I’m going embroil the Falcons in a feud or suchlike, you bring that out and remind me of the cost.’

  With a shy smile, Clae clutched the box to his chest and trotted off to stow it with his gear. Tieryn Cadryc shook his head in amazement.

  ‘He’s an odd lad, our Clae,’ Cadryc said. ‘Especially when you consider that his father was a scribe.’

  ‘Well, he may come from a family of letter-writers, your grace, but he’ll grow into the captain of the Falcon’s warband, I think me, if the gods let both of us live long enough. There’s iron in his soul.’

  ‘And that’s what a man needs these days, sure enough. Now, on the morrow, I’ll be sending messengers home ahead of us. Where’s that blasted gerthddyn? He might as well write the news down, since Neb’s back in the dun to read it.’

  ‘I last saw him with Lady Dallandra,’ Gerran said. ‘I’ll go look for him.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Calonderiel said. ‘I like to know where she is, especially if she’s been off with that babbling fool.’

  Gerran shot him a questioning glance.

  ‘It’s the danger we’re in,’ Calonderiel snapped. ‘I can see it even if she can’t.’

  Gerran made a non-committal noise, but as he followed the banadar, he was wondering how Calonderiel could be jealous of the gerthddyn—and how anyone could think him a fool.

  When Salamander and Dallandra returned to camp, servants took their horses, but he kept his pair of saddlebags with him. While he couldn’t put the reason into words, he had the distinct feeling that the black pyramid needed guarding. With the bags slung over one arm, he escorted Dallandra back to the tents set up for the wounded. Grallezar joined them there. She’d been carrying Dallandra’s medical supplies over from the wagons, an armload at a time.

  ‘I’ve put them all in this tent here,’ Grallezar said in Elvish. ‘I’ve got one more load, so I’ll just go fetch it now.’

  Grallezar hurried off in the direction of the supply train. Before Dallandra could go inside, Calonderiel and Gerran walked up to join them. The banadar shot Salamander such a cold glance that he stepped back and arranged a foolish smile.

  ‘There you are!’ Calonderiel said to Dallandra. With Gerran standing beside him, he spoke in Deverrian. ‘Will you be working with the wounded, my love?’

  ‘I will.’ Dallandra answered in the same. ‘Some of the men might be able to ride tomorrow. They’ll be far better off on horseback than jouncing around in the carts.’

  ‘True spoken. Here, I’ve got to go talk with Prince Dar. It shouldn’t take me long. Ebañy, Tieryn Cadryc wants you to write messages for him.’

  ‘I’ll go join him presently.’ Salamander patted his saddlebags. ‘I’ve got to put these away first.’

  Calonderiel grunted an acknowledgement, then, much to Salamander’s relief, strode off without looking his way again. Gerran bowed to Dallandra.

  ‘I h1ear, my lady,’ Gerran said, ‘that you’ll be staying with the main body of the army. I won’t be, and so I wanted to thank you now for the care you’ve given the Red Wolf men, and for sending me that silver dagger, too.’

  ‘You’re most welcome,’ Dallandra said. ‘It gladdens my heart that you took no insult from the gift.’

  ‘I didn’t. I hope you think no less of me because I’ll be guarding the wounded.’

  ‘What? Why would I ever do that? I can’t imagine why you’d want to stay here.’

  Gerran looked utterly taken aback. ‘Well,’ he said after a moment, ‘I wouldn’t mind another strike on the savage bastards. I’ll never forget that prisoner they staked out, back near Samyc’s dun. We should wipe them all out, the men, the females, the cubs, the lot.’

  ‘Alas,’ Salamander said, ‘I fear me that a lot of my people would agree with that. I know Calonderiel does.’

  ‘Oh, so they’re the savages, are they?’ Dallandra said. ‘How do you dare say that, after what our men did to Zakh Gral’s garrison?’

  ‘That’s war,’ Gerran said. ‘They’d have done the same to us.’

  ‘Of course. That wasn’t my point. You burned their fort and forced them into your lines like a forester smoking out badgers. Then you slaughtered every one of them. How is that more savage than what they’ve done?’

  Gerran started to answer, then held his tongue.

  ‘Besides,’ Dallandra continued, ‘you don’t understand them. Do you know what the greatest fear of every Gel da’ Thae is?’

  ‘I don’t,’ Gerran said. ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because they’re your enemies, and you need to know them.’

  ‘Well, true spoken. My apologies.’

  ‘Accepted. They’re terrified that they’ll somehow slip back, lose the civilized life they’ve worked so hard for, and turn into those savages again.’

  ‘They’re not far from it. What about the way they stake out prisoners, and the long spear, and all of that? I can’t call it anything but savage.’

  ‘The priests claim that the gods demand it. Didn’t your priests used to demand heads and sacrifices?’

  ‘So the bards tell us, but—’

  ‘But what?’ Dallandra snapped. ‘And how long has it been since your folk stopped taking heads? I gather that it still happens now and then. And what about drawing and hanging, like Ridvar wanted to do to the prisoners from Honelg’s dun? And he would have killed Cadryc’s little grandson in cold blood if you and Neb hadn’t stopped him.’

  Gerran was staring at her open-mouthed. Dallandra caught his gaze and stared him down. With a shake of his head, Gerran looked away.

  ‘Point taken.’ Gerran’s voice was perfectly calm. ‘Ten of one, half-a-twenty of the other.’

  ‘Well and good, then,’ Dallandra said.

  Salamander let out his breath in a long sigh of relief, then wondered why he’d been holding it. Had he really thought they might come to blows?

  ‘I knew one of their bards once; he was a truly learned man,’ Dallandra went on. ‘And don’t forget, I’ve visited Braemel. Most of their people live peacefully enough. They have craft shops and traders, they have law courts and temples.’

  ‘I see.’ Gerran paused briefly. ‘Well, it’s too easy, mayhap, to see your enemies as fiends from hell. Here, Salamander, what was it that scribe called them? The name your people have for them.’

  ‘Meradan,’ Salamander said, ‘demons, that would be, in the Deverry tongue. The Gel da’ Thae in turn call your people the Red Reivers, just by the by.’

  Gerran looked honestly startled.

  ‘Think on that,’ Dallandra said. ‘But I can’t deny that the warriors can act like savages. They live for death, and they cling to their old ways. Horrible blood-thirsty ways, they are, too, including that awful ritual of the long spear.’ Dallandra paused for a shudder.

  ‘A question for you, Wise One,’ Gerran said. ‘If these ordinary townsfolk interfere with the Horsekin warbands, what then?’

  ‘That’s what Grallezar and her people tried to do.’

  Gerran smiled, a brief twitch of cold lips. ‘So I thought. We’ll just kill as many of their warriors as we can.’ He bowed to Dallandra. ‘That’ll be enough for me.’

  With a cheerful little wave he strode off, leaving Dallandra staring after him with stricken eyes.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, oh mistress of mighty magicks,’ Salamander said in Elvish. ‘But he’s a good man in his way.’

  ‘So’s Cal in his.’ Dallandra answered in the same. ‘And he’d agree with Gerran down to the last word.’

  When Dallandra went inside the tent, Salamander followed to leave his saddlebags and the black stone inside them in a safe place while he attended upon the tieryn. A heap of sacks and pack saddles waited, neatly arranged in a useful order, blankets and bandages to one side, herbs to the other, and in between such few tools as Dallandra had. When she’d done looking them over
, she sat down with a long sigh. Salamander knelt down on one knee nearby and stowed his saddlebags behind the mule packs.

  ‘It was good of Grallezar to do all this,’ Dallandra said.

  ‘Indeed,’ Salamander said. ‘I’m surprised that a person of her high position would, though, alas, she lacks any sort of position at the moment.’

  ‘Do you know why the women are the leaders among the Gel da’ Thae?’

  ‘No, but I’ve often wondered.’

  ‘It was after the Great Burning and the plague. When they realized what they’d destroyed by destroying us, the remnant left decided that from then on, the women would be their chieftains—their raz-kairen, as they called their leaders back then—because the men among them had failed their people.’

  ‘I suppose they figured that women would be more naturally peaceful, more inclined to civilized things.’

  ‘No, they weren’t that stupid.’ She softened the words with a smile. ‘It was simply a question of replacing a group that had made horrible decisions with a group that hadn’t. Besides, since the women wouldn’t be riding to war, they’d live longer than the male leaders had.’

  ‘Good reasons, then.’

  ‘But it’s true that when war comes, women have more to lose than the men.’

  ‘Indeed? What?’

  ‘Our children, of course. Who else does the fighting, but our children?’ Dallandra’s little smile suddenly froze, then disappeared. She flung up her hands to cover her face and wept.

  Salamander sat stunned, then hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Dalla?’ he said. ‘Should I go get Cal?’

  ‘No.’ She was fighting back her tears. ‘He’ll only make things worse.’ She turned away and pulled over a saddlebag, brought out a linen bandage, and used it to wipe her face. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.’

  ‘The times call for it, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked down at the bandage in her hands. ‘Yes, I suppose they do.’