by Kate Jacoby
It was nicely done, but Robert was no fool and didn’t immediately take the bait. He paid no attention to the paper Finnlay held; instead watching his brother with a mixture of suspicion and cunning. “The Calyx? That’s quite a coincidence.”
Finnlay shrugged without rancour. “Coincidence or not, read it and tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.”
For a brief second, Micah thought he’d seen the barest shadow of a smile flash beneath Robert’s features. It was too quick to pinpoint and was immediately overwritten by a frown as Robert took the paper from Finnlay’s hand. “Fine, have it your own way.”
Micah tensed as the silence grew. He shot a questioning glance in Finnlay’s direction and received a steady look as confirmation. But was this all just a ruse or had Finnlay actually found some information as to the whereabouts of the Calyx? To his knowledge, there were only two other documents which told of the Calyx, its value and its relationship to the Key, but neither said anything about where it was. Micah knew: he’d read them both. He’d not understood them, but he had read them.
Finally Robert spoke. “You would do better spending the time practising your Saelic grammar, Finnlay. A more accurate translation of this would be, ‘from Kennis Town the Calyx was brought, in humble procession to lie within the walls of Thraxis’s home, in the shadow of Omaysis. There he wished it to lie safe until the day when man would know how to use it. The Great Marklord placed it well within safe keeping, locked from eyes who would abuse its power.’”
Robert glanced up. “Kennis Town is on the other side of Marsay, Finnlay. It didn’t go there, it came from there.”
A slow smile spread across Finnlay’s face. “Then all I need to do is find out what this Omaysis place is and I can find the Calyx.”
Robert shook his head, not taking his eyes from his brother. “You’re missing the point, Finn. Certainly this document mentions the Calyx—and I appreciate how your pulse must be pounding with enthusiasm—but it also mentions the Marklord having taken it. We know he lived long before the Calyx was created. This document must be a forgery.”
Micah’s heart sank as he heard those words, but strangely, Finnlay began to laugh quietly. Robert looked as if he would take offence but instead, his gaze narrowed and shifted back to the paper in his hand. He placed it down on the table and in the blink of an eye produced his ayarn and held it out. On touching the paper, the amazing little stone began to glow softly—and Robert gazed up at Finnlay with genuine amazement.
“Where in the name of the gods did you get this?”
“Actually, I didn’t—you did. In one of those books you brought back.”
“But I’ve never seen it before.”
“Not surprising. You see, I had a little accident this morning. I dropped that big heavy book from Semsay and split the binding. Rather than risk you wringing my neck, I took it upstairs and tried to mend it. As I peeled off the leather to get a better hold of it, I found a corner of this page stuck between the binding and the back. It was difficult, but eventually I freed it.”
Robert nodded. “Then worked out this ridiculous charade in order to get me to take a look at it?”
Finnlay shrugged. “Hell, you don’t need to tell me my Saelic grammar stinks.”
With a slow nod, Robert glanced at Micah. “Did you know about this?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then I guess you have yourself the genuine article—and a surprising one at that. It mentions both Amar Thraxis and the Marklord together with the Calyx. I suppose that throws most Enclave learning to the winds. We’d always believed Thraxis was of a later era. Of course, to my mind, the most amazing thing is the connection between the Marklord and the Calyx. It opens up a whole realm of possibilities.”
Micah took a careful look at the page on the table. “Forgive my ignorance but who is Amar Thraxis? And this Marklord? I think I have heard you mention him, but remind me.”
“Amar Thraxis was, we think, a member of the first order of the Guilde. He wasn’t very important as such, but he seems to have moved around a lot. His title suggests quite a low ranking, but since we have no access to Guilde records we really don’t know anything solid about him. He apparently wrote a few books, but I’ve never seen them. Popular belief has it that he had a hand in creating the Calyx.” Robert paused with his fingers gently touching the ancient parchment. “The Marklord, according to tradition, is the man who, by some process we know nothing about, created the House Marks. It has always been considered a remarkable achievement, but his original purpose has been lost along with his method. All we have left of him is the occasional literary mention and our persistent birthmarks. He was always understood to have achieved this work three hundred years before our earliest records of Thraxis.”
Finnlay took a few steps away from the table, deep in thought. Quietly he said, “There must be a reference somewhere about this place called Omaysis. The name doesn’t sound familiar but if we could just track it down . ..”
Robert struck the table with the flat of his hand, making the inkwell jump. “By all that’s holy, Finn, will you please stop leaping from one point to the other and pay attention! Very few things in life are achieved by perpetually taking short cuts.”
“But Robert. ..”
“Look!” Robert almost shouted, but his anger was more noisy than real. “The answer is right under your nose.”
He thrust the page at Finnlay and waited for his brother to scan its contents again. When Finnlay looked up, obviously mystified, Robert reached over and tapped his finger on the left hand side. “The illumination, Finn. Look at the pictures. They’re not there just for decoration, you know. Look at the top, a horse caravan travelling over flat land. Below that a man with a trium held towards the heavens, and at the bottom of the page, two mountains, one with a strangely familiar peak.”
“By the gods!” Finnlay breathed. “It can’t possibly have been right in front of us all along.”
Micah couldn’t stand the suspense. “What mountains? Where?”
“Nanmoor,” Finnlay said.
“It’s that small mountain range we skirted on our way to Elita, Micah. Remember I tried to point it out, but there was a low mist and the peaks were virtually invisible.”
“But...” Finnlay almost trembled, “I never really thought this was ... This was just,” he paused, glancing at his brother, “oh, never mind. I’ll get packing. Thanks, Robert.”
Finnlay started for the door, but his brother stopped him. “I don’t think so.”
“What?” Finnlay turned around. “What’s wrong now? You’re always complaining you never get any peace when I’m around. I’m doing you a favour. I’ll only be gone a couple of days.”
“Peace?” Robert murmured as though it were a private joke. To lighten it he added, “How much peace do you think I would get with Mother here day after day, telling me off for letting you go out alone in these troubled times? It was bad enough when you went to Marsay.”
“What was bad enough?” Lady Margaret stood in the doorway and glanced at both of her sons.
With a subtle movement, Robert slid the important page under a pile of innocuous ones. “Finnlay was just complaining of being bored, Mother. It seems I don’t give him enough work. He wants to travel north for a few days.”
“Oh really? Where to?”
“Not Marsay, Mother,” Finnlay smiled to hide his sudden discomfort. With a warning glance towards Robert, he added, “I’ll be back before you know.”
“I’m sorry, Finn,” Margaret placed a hand on his arm, “but I don’t find that at all comforting. I can only think of what happened the last time Robert allowed you to leave Dunlorn alone.”
“Oh,” Robert said casually, coming towards them, “did I imply he was going alone? No, sorry, I don’t trust him, Mother. I will be accompanying him—so you can worry about both of us at the same time. Concentrate your efforts, as it were. However, Micah will stay and look after you, so you won’t have to worry about him, t
oo.”
Lady Margaret looked as if she was about to hit him.
However, she had obviously noticed the sudden change in her eldest son, so she just lifted her chin, shooting a glance in Micah’s direction as though for confirmation. “I suppose I had better postpone my visit to Saint Hilary’s, then. Somebody should stay here and look after things. By the way, I just came up to tell you Daniel sent a message over to say he wouldn’t be coming tomorrow after all. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
As she disappeared down the steps, Finnlay shut the door behind her. With a wave of his hand, he put a warning on it, then turned slowly back to his brother.
However, Micah spoke before Finnlay could say another word. “I don’t think I should stay behind, my lord.” No, definitely not. Especially after the way Robert had behaved since his uncle’s death. This was hardly the time for Micah to let him go off on his own.
Robert’s reply was short, but the hard glint in his eyes had vanished. “I need you here, Micah, I’m sorry. Go and spend more time with your father, my friend. Finnlay will keep an eye out for me, won’t you, brother?”
Finnlay swallowed, hardly moving, “You’re serious about this?”
“I am.” Robert nodded. “I meant what I said—I don’t trust you.”
Finnlay’s face creased in a broad smile, “For once, dear brother, I can honestly say I’m glad to hear it.”
It had felt too easy, Finnlay acknowledged. For just a few minutes there, he’d thought Robert had finally come out of his shell, but after three hard days in the saddle, Robert had hardly spoken. Sure, he mentioned the weather, their path and where they might obtain bread and firewood, but his tone was always eerily cold and empty. By dusk as they reached the edge of a small forest, Finnlay was ready to scream.
“We’ll go in to the wood,” Robert spoke suddenly. “It’ll be easier to find shelter unobserved than out here in the fields.”
Once he got over the shock of hearing another voice, Finnlay turned his horse to follow Robert, replying, “I don’t see that it makes a difference if we’re seen. What harm can it do?”
“Surely you can’t be serious, Finn.” Robert glanced at him. “Do you really think Selar would be happy if he thought I was wandering the countryside?”
“But you’re not doing anything wrong.”
“You mean apart from trying to find a sorcerer’s symbol of enormous power? Believe me, it wouldn’t take even that much to make them alarmed.”
Finnlay thought for a moment then glanced sideways at Robert. “Do you think Mother knows?”
This brought a sharp answering look from his brother. “I don’t know.”
“We can’t keep it hidden from her for ever, you know. I mean, it was all right while she was at Saint Hilary’s, but now she’s returned for good?”
Robert kept his eyes firmly fixed on the path ahead. “Hell, Finn, I don’t know. You know how she feels about the Church and everything. How am I supposed to tell her that not only one, but both of her sons are mixed up in sorcery. She’d never understand. We’ll just have to be more careful. I’ll see what I can do about fixing a permanent warning on the door to my study, then make sure we never discuss anything dangerous outside of there. Apart from that, we can only hope.”
They stopped and set up camp in the shelter of an ancient oak, lighting a modest fire to ward off the cool night air and the wolves they could hear howling in the distance. After they’d eaten, Finnlay settled down with his back against his saddle and watched his brother solemnly. This apparent change seemed to last for only short periods. Outside that, Robert continued to withdraw into himself, unwilling to talk about anything. Finnlay decided to take a gamble.
“I don’t think you should go on blaming yourself over Oliver.”
Robert started and glanced up. “What?”
“It wasn’t your fault. He would have known the danger, but that’s what he chose. You can’t blame yourself for ever.”
“You think that’s what this is? Guilt?” Robert laughed, but with a bitter edge. “I can assure you, brother, that this has nothing to do with guilt.”
“But you...”
“You’ve changed your tune, Finn. A few months ago you were trying to convince me to join Oliver and support him, that it would be my fault if he failed. Well, now he’s dead, do you think I’m going to believe that the blame doesn’t lie with me? Please, brother, try and be consistent, if nothing else. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it further. Here, let me have another look at that page. I suppose you actually believe we’ll find the Calyx at Omaysis?”
Finnlay sighed and shook his head. Another change of mood. “We might. I think it’s worth trying, don’t you? After all, this is the first time we’ve found any trace of where the Calyx was hidden. I’d be a fool if I didn’t make the attempt.”
“And is that all this was?”
“No.” There was no point in denying the truth. Robert had obviously suspected all along. “But I didn’t really think we’d be able to find this place—I had no idea where Omaysis was. I just thought it would be another obscure reference we’d never be able to understand. However, I do believe we’ll find the Calyx one day.”
Robert shook his head, reached forward and stirred up the fire. “Do you? I don’t.”
“Oh?” Finnlay asked, startled. “Why not?”
“I think it was lost deliberately.” Robert replied, his eyes going dull once more. “I think we’ll never find it—because we were never meant to have it.”
The ground rose steeply along the path they’d chosen. It was not the easiest road but it was the quickest. They skirted a ridge which brought them eventually to the foot of what they now called Omaysis. The peak rose to a stately height above them, mighty, although not as mighty as many in the Goleth range. Around the base of the mountain were rocky cliffs separated by burgeoning streams which tumbled down the slope to the valley below. A long blanket of forest wrapped itself around the base of the mountain and followed the streams down, growing stronger and more dense as it gained a hold on the lush valley.
They traversed the mountainside heading for the cliffs. It was tough going and they soon gave up riding the horses, leading them in single file instead.
“This is ridiculous, you know,” Robert called over his shoulder. “We have no idea what we’re looking for.”
“Well, you might not,” Finnlay called back, “but I remember hearing something once about caves under those cliffs. Maybe somebody once built a house in there?”
“Why build a house in a cave?” Robert threw back with a little of his old humour.
They paused on a rocky outcrop about halfway up the first line of cliffs. Robert frowned up at the massif above, then down at the drop below. In the distance was a small village which lay beside the water course as it hooked and twined its way between the hills.
“All right then, a dwelling of some kind,” Finnlay replied.
“That’s all very well and good, but we’re assuming this house or whatever is still standing. Who’s to say it wasn’t destroyed by later generations? Or swept away in a flood, or burned down—or merely crumbled away over the centuries?”
“Then why are you here if you think this is so hopeless?” Finnlay led the way down to where he could see an easy ledge into the cliffs.
“It doesn’t matter why I’m here. Be content that I am. Careful there.”
They reached the ledge and tied up the horses. Then, with Finnlay leading the way, they edged along the cliff wall, making use of any handhold they would find, even those as little as a stringy root or a fist of clay. Finnlay made his way to a cluster of bushes which clung tenaciously to the side of the cliff. Water came out below them, but its source was not the cliff above. There must be a cave of some sort behind it.
He pressed the branches away from the stone. There, barely wide enough for a man to get through sideways, was a narrow fissure, seven, maybe eight feet tall.
“Can you sense anyth
ing on the other side?” Finnlay murmured, barely able to contain his excitement.
“Yes. It opens out and goes back quite a way.” Robert glanced at him with a sardonic smile. “Not much of a front door, though.”
Taking a careful hold of the bush, Finnlay squeezed himself into the fissure. Rocks and stones pressed hard against his face, but he continued on until with a gasp, he stumbled through and down a short slope. Robert followed behind, almost immediately lighting up his ayarn. The cave was just high enough to stand in and sloped down on the left into the darkness. Before them were two more fissures, one which was almost horizontal and barely big enough for a rabbit to squeeze through. The other was quite big enough for a man.
Robert led the way this time, keeping his ayarn held out in front of him. Finnlay followed, scraping both hands and knees in his haste to move on. At the end of the second fissure was another cave, this one smaller than the last.
Finnlay looked around for any signs of human passage, but the rocks were swept clean. “An old water course,” he murmured then stopped. “Robert, do you think it’s possible, since this place is so close to Elita—could there be any references to it in Jacob’s library?”
Robert continued along the walls, running his hand down the smooth surface in search of the next opening. “You should have thought of that before we climbed in here.”
“But if we don’t find anything it would be a good place to look next. Do you think if we ask him? If we made some plausible excuse...” Robert stopped in front of another fissure running at an angle away from the sandy floor. He reached up and pulled himself into the opening, taking the light with him. In the sudden darkness, Finnlay caught his answer. “You try asking him, Finn. I can’t go near the place. Look, do you think we can complete one step on this ladder before we leap to the next?”
“Right, coming,” Finnlay called and climbed in after him. He continued, “Are you sure Jacob won’t receive you? Surely he’s softened a bit since you took Jenn back.”
“She’s not there, remember? She’s in Marsay,” Robert’s voice echoed around the next cave, “visiting Selar.”