Darksong

by Isobelle Carmody

  This reminded her of Wind’s belief that one must surrender oneself to what one wished to understand and she wondered what interest a creature such as this could have in understanding something as insignificant as a human being?

  ‘You are paradox,’ she whispered. ‘How could such a thing as you be yielded up?’

  Glynn had found images of the Keltan Unykorn far more compelling than the over-commercialised horse-like unicorn of her world. But this mural offered the most striking portrayal of the Keltan Unykorn that she had so far seen. Certainly it was the grandest. If she had doubted the Unykorn’s existence before, this mural made disbelief impossible because seeing the Unykorn like this made you understand that no human could have imagined such impossible perfection.

  Then it came to her that if all of the Keltan legends and stories were true, this indescribably radiant creature had been trapped for aeons in darkness. The thought caused her a wrenching anguish that sliced through the thorny question of belief. ‘I will help your Unraveller, if I can,’ she found herself promising, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

  The spell holding her motionless was broken by the scream of a flyt in one of the trees, and Glynn shivered, wondering how it would feel to face the real Unykorn, if a mere representation of it could so affect her. Perhaps it would take a hero as much courage to face that unsurpassable, unbearable beauty as to rescue it.

  With a little electric shock of excitement, it struck her that the resemblance between the Keltan Unykorn and that of her own world would be explained if soulweavers had a way of returning strangers to their own world. The unicorn from her world might easily have been derived from the one here. Certainly there were more than enough correlations between the legend of the unicorn and the tale of the Unykorn on Keltor to make it feasible that one had spawned the other. Glynn didn’t know a lot about the history of the myth on her world, but the famous Lady and Unicorn tapestries that she had once seen in a Paris museum had been woven in the fourteenth century and the unicorn had surely appeared in tales before that. Strangers had been arriving on Keltor for at least that long. Of course, it might be argued that if she was right, there ought also to be myths about the journeying of people from the Earth to Keltor. But there were numerous legends of travel between worlds and dimensions, which could have absorbed and homogenised the tales of the returned strangers. It was quite likely that returned travellers would not have dared recount their adventures as fact for fear of being judged heretical, insane or evil, depending on the era and area of the world in which they had lived, but they would surely have related their strange adventures as dreams, which had long been considered a source of creativity on her world.

  A hand descended on Glynn’s shoulder and she gave a yelp of fright and sprang into a defensive position. Only to find herself facing a pleasantly nondescript young man with a flat thatch of muddy hair and concerned brown eyes.

  11

  Lanalor sought a way to break the binding

  that held the Unykorn.

  By force, did he try, and by subtle

  necromancing, but without success.

  Then did he weave yet again into the

  Void, but this time he blinded himself,

  for Chaos enters the soul

  through the eyes.

  LEGENDSONG OF THE UNYKORN

  ‘Are you well, Lady?’ the young man asked, his expression genuinely concerned.

  Glynn lowered her hands and straightened up. She felt faintly ridiculous, but she realised she had also behaved dangerously like someone prepared to defend themselves physically. Not the reaction of a timid and traumatised servitor.

  ‘Of course she is well, Kerd, and do not call her Lady when she is so obviously something else altogether.’

  The cool, haughty voice belonged to a girl coming slowly towards them around the fountain. Clad in heavy, elaborate gown and over-dress which nevertheless managed to reveal more of her body than they concealed, she was obviously a noble. The ornate headdress she wore was so huge it might be the reason for the pained and peevish note in her voice. She was also wearing the formal face paint which Keltans affected most often for evening halls.

  ‘Do you dare to stare at me so?’ the girl demanded icily.

  ‘I … I have never seen such an attire,’ Glynn said truthfully, hoping the girl was conceited enough to take these words as an expression of awe.

  She was. She preened and gave the young man a malicious look. ‘You see, Kerd. Even a stupid novice myrmidon admires my new gown, while you suggest that I might change into something suitable.’

  He flushed and his obvious awkwardness made him seem younger than the girl, even though he looked several years older. Or perhaps he was a simpleton, which might also explain the girl’s high-handed manner to him, for although he did not look like a noble, he was clearly no servitor. But Glynn was more concerned to undo the harm she had done than to figure out the relationship of the pair before her.

  ‘I am not a myrmidon,’ she said, trying to emanate meekness. ‘I am from Fomhika.’

  Before the girl could express the sneer of disbelief in her eyes, the young man said diplomatically, ‘Perhaps we might introduce ourselves informally. I am Kerd of Vespi, and this Lady is Unys of Iridom.’ He offered his hands, palms up as nobles greet equals and Glynn hesitated only a moment before laying her hands under his, palms down, to indicate her recognition of his far superior rank. She realised that she had no choice but to give her real name.

  ‘I am Glynn,’ she said quietly.

  ‘You have not been here long, I warrant,’ Kerd observed. This was not a question and, meeting his gaze squarely, Glynn decided that she had been mistaken in thinking him a simpleton. It was lack of malice or slyness that made his face look young.

  ‘Is my ignorance of palace custom so obvious?’ she countered at last.

  He smiled kindly. ‘It is only that you do not affect the cultivated boredom of experienced courtiers.’

  ‘Well you are right, for my ship only docked yesterday,’ Glynn said, and could not resist adding a hook to see what it caught, ‘We had to wait a long time before that was permitted.’

  He looked faintly troubled but he only said, ‘You are fortunate that you did not arrive today or you would not be permitted to land at all now that the Edict bell has rung.’

  ‘It will not ring again until the Fomhikan poisoner has been recaptured,’ Unys said with spiteful triumph that seemed to be aimed at her Vespian companion. Glynn wondered why she bothered to walk with someone she so clearly disliked.

  ‘Is it certain that he escaped?’ she asked, curious to see how they would react to her question. ‘I heard that he might have been kidnapped.’

  ‘A myrmidon would prefer to think that of one of Darkfall’s favourites,’ Unys sneered. ‘Do not think that you fool me with your hair either. I know that one who has offered herself to the myrmidons may take however long she needs to complete rhiad, and only then will bind her hair.’

  ‘Unys!’ Kerd said with a note of gentle protest. ‘She would have said, I am sure, if she was a myrmidon novice. There is no shame in it. And it is reasonable that a Fomhikan would find it hard to believe that the son of her chieftain is a poisoner. Especially since none of the charges against Bleyd have been judged true. Indeed it would be unjust to name him poisoner until he has been so judged.’

  Unys glared at him. ‘Do you accuse me of being unjust?’

  ‘I accuse you of nothing, My Lady. But I think it best if we do not speak of matters which are in such dire and unhappy balance. We must keep our minds open …’

  ‘You keep an open mind,’ Unys snarled, ‘so that all manner of stupidities may enter and have play. Can you have forgotten that the visionweaver saw that Alene was Bleyd’s accomplice …’

  ‘The visionweaver wove of a person with blue forehead markings but even if she had seen Alene, the weaving of a visionweaver cannot be taken as evidence in a judging.’

  ‘Do you claim the v
isionweaver lied? Why, it was Alene who brought her to the palace!’

  ‘I did not say that she lied. I merely sought to remind you that soulweavers alone can vision true.’

  ‘Yet again you presume to lecture me,’ Unys said icily. ‘But I think you will find Tarsin hard to convince that the visionweaver saw false when he is alive solely because of her vision.’

  ‘I do not doubt his gratitude to her is deserved. I am only saying that one who is not a soulweaver may vision true and then false. Tarsin …’

  ‘I am sure you know Tarsin better than I,’ Unys said mockingly.

  Kerd flushed. ‘I believe as Holder, he must know what any child knows.’

  ‘Well, any child also knows that each weaving has as much chance of being true, as false. But of course you do not wish to admit anything that may tell against your precious soulweaver!’

  ‘I do not think Alene a murderess, if that is what you mean,’ Kerd said stiffly.

  ‘Think then. Why would Alene have the Shadowman kidnap the visionweaver if not to prevent a weaving that would incriminate her?’ Unys demanded.

  Glynn remained very still, not wanting to interrupt an argument that might possibly reveal the whereabouts of the soul-weaver, though this was the first time she had heard it said that the soulweaver might have been involved in the disappearance of the visionweaver, as well as of the Fomhikan.

  ‘There is no proof that the Shadowman had anything to do with Bleyd getting out of the cells,’ Kerd said in his gentle, rather pedantic way. ‘Nor is there any evidence that the visionweaver’s disappearance is connected to Bleyd’s.’

  ‘Oh of course,’ Unys spat. ‘It was sheer coincidence that Bleyd was spirited away precisely when the visionweaver had been sent to the cells to seek a clearer vision of his accomplice, and that she happened to vanish at the same time. Coincidence that both disappearances serve the hags.’ She gave a peel of malicious laughter. ‘I keep imagining that I have plumbed your stupidity, Kerd, only to discover that it is bottomless.’

  The nastiness of the girl’s words made Glynn draw in a breath. Yet Unys had a point in saying the two disappearances at the same time and from the same place were surely connected.

  Red-faced, Kerd said, ‘It may be that the real poisoner had Bleyd kidnapped to prevent him proving his innocence, and took the visionweaver lest she see more clearly, and know it, too.’

  ‘Or perhaps the visionweaver is both the poisoner and the saviour of Tarsin, and she kidnapped Bleyd,’ Unys jeered.

  To Glynn’s bemusement, and Unys’s as well from the look on her face, Kerd bowed to her. When he turned to Glynn, there was only a wistful sadness in his eyes. She thought in wonder that she had never seen anyone so untouched by anger or meanness. ‘You must forgive us for interrupting your reflections,’ Kerd murmured. ‘I saw you standing here and could not resist finding out who seemed so thralled by my favourite of all representations of the Firstmade.’ He glanced at the mural as he said this, and Glynn noticed Unys’s painted lips curl derisively.

  ‘It is truly beautiful,’ Glynn said warmly.

  Kerd smiled. ‘I am sure that we will have the opportunity to speak further after you have been presented to the Lord Holder, Glynn of Fomhika. You must be prepared for questions about your journey, though. I have not taken the run from Fomhika to Ramidan for some time. Indeed, sometimes I find myself dreaming of the feel of the waves under a deck …’

  Again Unys sneered, but it seemed to Glynn that, this time, there was a touch of fear in her eyes. ‘Perhaps you will not wish to speak to a servitor in court,’ Glynn said diffidently, in case they had not realised her status.

  Unys laughed. ‘You do not think that Kerd of Vespi would be put off by the idea of speaking to servitors? No one is too insignificant to interest him. He addresses all he meets as Sirrah or Lady for he does not know the difference between nevvish and nobility.’

  ‘I did not use the word Lady as a title but as a courtesy, Unys. My mother taught me that all women may be ladies and all men lords, if their hearts are true and their minds noble. She did not use the word nevvish either, for she said that no person may be called nothing.’

  Unys gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I am weary to death of hearing about your precious mother, Kerd. I think you will love no woman so much as you loved her. Except perhaps Alene soulweaver.’

  Kerd merely said gravely that he was sorry if his words seemed to be lectures, or if he spoke too much of subjects that did not interest her. Unys tossed her head as best she could in the massive headdress, and said imperiously to Glynn, ‘Tell me which sept bonded you, nevvish. Since you wear the grey, I presume it is not Fomhikan.’ The question was too direct to be evaded.

  ‘I am servitor to the Draaka of Acantha,’ Glynn said quietly.

  Kerd looked shattered and Unys’s pretty petulant mouth fell open in astonishment. ‘Then you are not a myrmidon. But I did not know the Draaka had servitors, let alone bonded ones. Perhaps you are only pretending to be a servitor and are truly a spy …’ Her tone was provocative.

  ‘There are servitors in the havens,’ Glynn said, regretting the fact that Kerd must now regard her as an enemy.

  ‘Tell me of your mistress. Is she very beautiful?’ Unys demanded. She did not wait for an answer, but cast a look at Kerd. ‘It is a pity that Alene is not here to be presented to her. How amusing it would have been to observe that.’

  ‘Would it please you so much to witness Alene’s humiliation?’ he asked gently.

  For the first time, Unys looked discomfited. ‘I did not say it would please me. In fact I think it very clever of her to avoid a confrontation by retreating to the other side of the island.’

  Glynn struggled to keep her expression bland, but her mind raced. What did Unys mean by saying that the soulweaver had gone to the other side of the island? There were no other settlements on Ramidan except a few remote casting villages. Had Alene gone to one of these to escape the rumours that she had plotted with Bleyd of Fomhika? Glynn felt her spirits plummet at the thought that all she had done to get into the palace might be for nothing.

  ‘Alene did not leave the citadel to avoid the Draaka,’ Kerd answered Unys. ‘She went to find healing herbs to ease the sickness of the visionweaver.’

  ‘How convenient. The hag can pretend to be shocked at her patient’s convenient disappearance when she returns.’

  ‘I would not have you name any soulweavers so,’ Kerd said softly.

  ‘I will name her as I choose!’ Unys cried. Her eyes glittered with fury. ‘I say nothing that shames me. Nothing that is not said quite openly in the very palace halls.’

  Kerd said stiffly, ‘Unys, we should continue our walk …’

  She gave him a look of open loathing. ‘It was your idea to come to this hateful garden. The sooner this place and that abomination,’ she pointed a trembling finger at the mural, ‘are decently overgrown the better. I will tell my mother so, rather than begging that the plantsinger she employed come to undo his work as you asked. Now I shall return to my rooms.’

  ‘Unys …’ Kerd began, holding a hand out to her.

  ‘Unys. Urn-ys …’ the girl cruelly mimicked his pleading tone, pushing his hand away. ‘Do not presume to tell me what to do, Kerd. We are not handfasted yet, nor shall we be if you cannot bring yourself to make a fitting commitment to me.’ She turned and swept away at a pace that must have made her sweat in the heavy dresses.

  Glynn felt embarrassed for Kerd but, at the same time, she wondered at his relationship with the nasty little hellcat. Quite apart from the fact that she seemed to despise him, they were surely politically mismatched as well. Kerd turned to Glynn and said wearily, ‘I am sorry you were privy to our … disagreement.’

  Glynn bit her tongue to stop herself from saying that he was not the one who ought to be apologising. ‘I am afraid that I angered your friend,’ she murmured tactfully.

  ‘It is I who angered her. She finds it difficult to understand that a person ca
n have political duties which may have to come before personal desires. I am too rough and uncourtly for one so delicate and highly strung.’

  As delicate and highly strung as a Wimbledon tennis racket, Glynn thought, wondering why so many good kind people allied themselves to selfishness and cruelty. Kerd had to be in love to be so blind to the fact that Unys of Iridom was a spoilt, over-dressed and over-painted brat in need of a good spanking. But love was a powerful if ambiguous emotion, she thought, remembering her own reactions to Solen in the beginning. ‘Perhaps you ought to go after her,’ she said.

  Kerd shrugged ruefully. ‘It would not help my cause. But let us not speak of what cannot be helped. I hope you are not offended if I tell you that you are not the sort of person that I would have expected to find in the company of the Draaka. It makes me wonder if the reports about her are biased.’

  Glynn said, ‘Don’t judge her by me or me by the cult. I am a servitor, not a devotee of the cult.’

  Kerd frowned. ‘Why would a Draaka with devoted followers employ a servitor who did not share her allegiances? Is it because of your appearance? I can imagine it would afford subtle amusement to one who hates Darkfall to have a seeming myrmidon in attendance upon her. And there might even be times when such a look could well serve the draakan cause.’