‘Oh yes,’ Hella enthused.
Ember refused, and hoped that Bleyd would have the sense not to overdo it. ‘Perhaps I will bathe later,’ she murmured when they tried to persuade her. ‘For now, I should like to sit here and look at the falls.’
Bleyd smiled with as much pleasure as if he had invented them. ‘We will not be too long. There is a blanket to sit on in the top of the basket and a flask of cordial. Food, too, if you are too hungry to wait for us.’
Ember opened the flaps of the hamper as he and Hella headed off into the cave, and took out the blanket, which turned out to be backed in some sort of hide. Laying it out on the flattest of the rocks, she sat down. Far from feeling hunger, the scent of the food made her nauseated, but she told herself firmly that this might simply be hunger gone too far, rather than being a symptom that her tumour had begun to grow again. Yet she had no doubt that it was growing. The only question was how long before it began to incapacitate her.
She had poured herself some of the tart cordial in the flask when a shriek rent the air and she started to her feet in fright, heart pounding, but it was only Hella and Bleyd splashing one another. Standing, Ember could see their pale bodies as they cavorted like a pair of children in the cave pool. The sight made her feel lonely, for she could not imagine frolicking in such a way. Quite suddenly, she was aware of the presence of dark Ember like a stone on her heart. The combination of illness and another delay in the journey to Darkfall had dredged up her oppressive alter ego, of course. She had been stupid to imagine that the transcendent wonder of the performance on Vespi might have driven dark Ember out of her once and for all. Only on Darkfall would she find the means to extinguish her grim doppelganger.
Ember turned and her eyes were again caught by the stunning vision of the fire falls. After a moment, she realised that she was actually drawing strength from it, just as she had drawn strength from her rapport with the audience on Vespi or, more particularly, from the beauty that she had felt in their rapport. It seemed to her, standing there, that true beauty really did have almost magical properties. Impossible to look at these falls, she thought, and be unmoved by them. Uplifted. Hella and Bleyd were right. She could write a song about the fire lake, but it would never capture the potent essence of what she was seeing. Any such song would be, at its deepest level, a song about her response to the fire falls. Hearing it, a listener would not experience the fire falls. In this sense, perhaps music was only ever a reflection of the singer, no matter what the subject matter. And what did this mean on a world where all things were supposed to have arisen from a song?
And who, she wondered, following the fascinating thread of thought, had been the singer of the Song? No song or conversation she had heard had addressed that question. Was it possible for there to be a song without a singer? In her own world God was supposed to have created a word before anything else, but the bible also said that this word had been God and God had been the word. No one ever spoke of gods on Keltor but perhaps it could be said that the Song was God here and God was a song.
She was startled to find that her skin had risen to gooseflesh at the thought.
‘You ought to have come!’ Hella gasped. The only sign that she had been in the water was the clean pinkness of her skin. Her hair was so short and sleek and dark that it was impossible to tell that it was wet. Bleyd’s hair, on the other hand, hung about his face in blond rat tails, the side plaits dropping little rivulets onto his shirt.
‘I feel wonderful!’ he said. ‘Better than I have in ages.’ He reminded her so much of Anyi in that moment that she found herself smiling, but for once he did not return her smile. Instead he said, ‘You know they say these waters have healing powers because the Unykorn is supposed to have once stopped here to drink, touching his horn to the surface of the water. In this moment I could almost believe it. Perhaps you should go in.’
Hella laughed, dropping to sit on the edge of the blanket. ‘You sound so grave! As if your sister was dying of some terrible disease that the pool could …’ Her voice trailed off at the look on Bleyd’s face. ‘What … what is the matter?’
For once, his smooth ability to dissemble deserted him and he gave Ember a look of entreaty. ‘I am sorry, Ember, I …’
Praying that Hella had not picked up his use of her real name, she cut him off coldly. ‘I do not wish to speak of matters that are private and personal.’
Hella looked profoundly embarrassed. ‘Shall we eat?’ she asked awkwardly.
Bleyd said in a subdued voice that he would get some water first. Taking an empty jug from the hamper, he strode away into the darkness behind them, shoulders hunched.
‘I am sorry if I have intruded,’ Hella said in contrition. ‘I had actually guessed that there was something wrong with you because of the way Bleyd seemed so solicitous of you, though he was the one who had been hurt.’
‘My brother does not always think before he acts or speaks.’ This came out more sharply than she intended and Hella frowned.
‘That is the nature of brothers, surely,’ she said with faint reproach. ‘But Bendi obviously cares for you. If he misspoke just now, I can not believe that there was any malice in it.’ She did not wait for Ember’s response but began to unpack the food.
Bleyd took his time about returning, and they did not speak any more in his absence but concentrated on setting out the meal. When he returned, Hella complimented him on the hamper, and Bleyd smiled wanly, but the business of eating gradually dispelled the constraint that had risen between the three of them. Hella began teasing Bleyd about his almost non-existent face make-up.
‘I have brought a little kit and I will restore my face before we leave,’ Bleyd said. Ember noticed that the bruising looked less sullen since he had bathed and a foolish little voice urged her to try the waters.
Finally declaring herself unable to eat another bite, Hella rose and excused herself, heading with intent towards the shadows behind them. As soon as she was out of earshot, Bleyd began to stammer an apology. Ember cut him off wearily. ‘You endanger both of us and maybe Hella, too, when you speak without thought. If only you would say less and think more.’
He swayed back as if she had struck him. ‘Is it the nearness of death that makes you so cruel?’ It was Ember’s turn to feel the blood drain from her face, though of course he could not see it because of the veil. ‘I know you think I am a fool,’ Bleyd continued in a low, sorrowful voice, ‘but fool or not I have taken care of Anyi for years in the viper pit that is the citadel. And I did not bring us here merely so that you could admire the fire falls.’
‘Then why are we here?’ Ember demanded.
‘I did not tell you before, because there was no opportunity, but someone followed us when we left the Stormsong.’
‘What! I saw no one.’
‘But I did. My confusion in finding the nightshelter was a deliberate testing. And I went out to get these clothes because I wanted to see if whoever had followed us would follow me. They did not, which suggests that it is not me alone that they watch.’
‘But … I still don’t understand why you brought us here? If we return to the nightshelter this watcher, and maybe his master as well, will be waiting for us,’ Ember said.
‘When I was not followed, I contacted a friend here. A myrmidon called Fridja who will find out who followed us and why.’
‘A myrmidon! Surely any myrmidon would be closely watched by the authorities here!’
‘Fridja is not known here as a myrmidon, nor even as a resident of Myrmidor. Her locks are not bound and her clothes … she … well you will see how she looks. And she has a group of myrmidons with her who operate here in the same way. They keep an eye on the olfactors and on Coralyn and Kalide when they are in residence in the palace here and they watch for anything that would be of interest to the soulweavers.’
‘If this spy mistress comes to the nightshelter asking for us and is seen by the watcher …’
‘That is not how Fridja oper
ates. She will find a way to transmit information to me without making obvious contact.’
‘But you went to see her.’
‘I left a coded chit at a pie-maker’s establishment when I was making an order. I did not speak with her.’ He hesitated. ‘There is another thing that I heard when I was out, which might reassure you, although it is an ugly thing to hear. A seller asked if I had heard the news that the visionweaver who saved Tarsin had been killed by the traitorous assassin, Bleyd of Fomhika.’
Soon death will come, one way or another, dark Ember whispered from the depths of her mind, with a sort of ferocious glee. Ember rejected the voice so strongly that the sense of dark Ember faded into exhausted confusion. Am I so divided against myself? she wondered in bewilderment.
‘You look pale. Are you in pain again?’ Bleyd asked anxiously.
‘If I am, it is because of the arduous journey here. Indeed I still do not see why you conceived of such a journey as this, especially since you are obviously unwell. You could have rested but instead you have taken drugs to keep going. If we had to be away from the nightshelter, need we have come so far?’
‘Coming here, we are decisively out of the way, and it is a thing that many visitors would do coming to this sept, so it will not be thought odd. If there is any danger back at the nightshelter, we will be intercepted before we reach it.’
‘Who do you think followed us from the ship?’ Ember asked.
Bleyd shrugged. ‘He or she was hooded and kept to the shadows. I did not wish them to know that I had seen them, so I made no attempt to get a clear sight.’
Hella chose that moment to return and they fell awkwardly silent. Suddenly sick of all the secrets and pretences, Ember rose, excusing herself abruptly and going back into the shadows beyond the light. After she had relieved herself, she walked a little way then sat on a rock with a sigh, wondering if they really were being followed. She had to suppose so. For all of Bleyd’s flamboyance and irritating mannerisms, he had been dealing with the poisonous subtleties of the citadel palace for years as part of keeping his younger brother safe. That gave him better credentials than her for seeing what was not intended to be seen. She, who had never been particularly observant and who was, after all, half blind and veiled; she tugged the veil from her head.
Bleyd had done well to act so decisively, she admitted to herself. She ought to feel grateful, but somehow all she felt was violent irritation. It was unfair because her impatience with the handsome Fomhikan arose not from anything he had done, but from the look of adoration in his eyes whenever they rested on her.
When she returned to the picnic site, Hella and Bleyd were both standing and gazing at the fire falls. Bleyd said diffidently that they were going to walk to the bottom of the falls. ‘Will you go with us?’
Ember was able to smile because of the relief she felt that she would be alone for a time. ‘I will sleep a little,’ she said. ‘Enjoy your walk.’
‘Yes,’ Bleyd said gently. ‘Rest.’
Ember stifled a renewed surge of annoyance at his tone. As she watched them go, she noticed Bleyd’s blond head dip towards Hella’s neat dark head and hoped he would hold his tongue where she was concerned. Then she sighed and rubbed at her eyes, feeling sticky and ill-tempered as well as ill. Suddenly the idea of a swim seemed very pleasant. At a guess, it would take them at least an hour to reach the foot of the falls and return, which meant there was plenty of time for her to bathe and renew her face paint. Bleyd had nodded at the basket when he had spoken of the kit he had purchased, so he had almost certainly left it behind.
The pool was small and icy cold, but deeper out Ember found there were lukewarm currents and, near a lump of rock rising flatly from the surface, the water was almost hot. The alternation of temperatures was very relaxing, as was the faint effervescence of the water which seemed to bubble constantly and deliciously against her skin.
When she finally emerged from the water, Ember felt wonderful. She did not know whether it was because of the rare period of much needed solitude in which she did not have to pretend to be anything to anyone, or the swim in a subterranean pool reputed to possess healing properties, but the pain that had fizzed under her skin seemed to have receded.
There was no sign of the others so, slightly startled at her daring, she walked naked to where the picnic hamper lay, and stood in the sunlight which had now deepened to a golden red. The baking heat of Kalinda’s rays dried her in seconds and her hair was beginning to coil into long reddish ringlets as she dressed. Much refreshed, she drank a mug of tart cordial before combing out her hair. A slight breeze had begun to blow into the cave by the time she had finished and Ember closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of it on her bare cheeks and the mass of silken unrestrained hair. But at length, she found the face-paint kit and began to apply colour.
By the time she was patting setting powder onto her face, she could see that the shadows of the trees had grown long and Kalinda had sunk low enough that the light in the cave had begun to narrow and deepen to orange. There was no sign that the heat of the day was abating, yet Ember found that the thought of the return journey did not oppress her. She felt tranquil and relaxed. Perhaps the Unykorn really had flown here in the beginning of time, she thought dreamily, and had dipped its horn into the water as it slaked its thirst, unaware that it had bestowed on the hidden pool the power to heal or at least revitalise. Ember thought of the visionweaving that hung in the soulweaver’s apartment of the citadel palace which had so enthralled her that Alene had eventually commanded Feyt to shift it. To Ember’s astonishment, merely visualising the tapestry brought on the same swooning sensation of wonder that had assailed her whenever she had looked at it. A footfall distracted her and she turned, expecting to see Bleyd and Hella returning. But it was not they who had entered the cave.
A big woman wearing a queer, bulging headdress and rough green trousers cut off at the calf was climbing easily over the teeth of the cave. She came over to where Ember sat dumbfounded and lifted her fists to her wide hips. ‘Where are your companions?’
‘I … My brother and my friend went for a walk,’ Ember said.
‘Then it seems I must wait for your brother,’ she placed the faintest emphasis on the last word.
Ember’s heart began to pound. ‘Did the carriage driver tell you we were here?’
‘Your carriage driver was very co-operative,’ the woman answered ambiguously, baring white even teeth in a smile. She nodded at the a’luwtha case. ‘You are a songmaker?’
Ember shook her head and tried to gather her reeling wits. ‘My mother was a songmaker.’ That was true enough. ‘My name is Gola.’
The big woman sat on one of the little stone tables and reached for the flask of cirul in the picnic hamper. ‘I hope you will not mind if I help myself. That was a long thirsty ride. Oh, by the way, my name is Virat.’
Ember nodded stiffly, though the woman had already lifted the bottle to her mouth and was drinking the undiluted cirul. She then turned her attention to the picnic, building herself a sort of sloppy sandwich, without this time bothering to ask. As she ate, her eyes went back to the a’luwtha case. She nodded enthusiastically at it and mumbled around a mouthful of food that Ember must be a fine balladeer to have been given it. Then she commanded Ember to play. With faint hysteria, Ember decided to comply. At the best, her music would carry out into the valley to summon the others back, and at the least, it would prevent the woman asking her any questions. She reached for the a’luwtha bag and drew the instrument carefully from it.
The woman’s eyes fastened on the a’luwtha with stunned incredulity. ‘That is the a’luwtha of Alene soulweaver! How did you get it?’
‘It was given to me,’ Ember said, dry-mouthed with dismay.
‘You lie!’ the woman snarled, throwing aside the remains of her sandwich and rising to her feet. ‘That is said to be the very a’luwtha played by Shenavyre, when she won the heart of the Unykorn. Alene would never give such a precious thin
g into the hands of anyone, and certainly not to a mere balladeer.’
Her words calmed Ember for all their ferocity, because they were not the words of an enemy of Darkfall. ‘Nevertheless she gave it to me to … to take to Myrmidor, and if you will wait, my … my brother will …’
‘Do not lie with that in your arms,’ the woman barked, reaching for a knife in a holster at her belt. ‘Bleyd is no brother to you. Now where is he? What have you done to him?’
Ember rose slowly. ‘How do you know who … my companion is?’ But even as she asked, she realised what she ought to have guessed at once. This woman had to be connected to the myrmidon spy mistress that Bleyd had contacted. She had been a fool not to think of it at once for the woman was clearly a myrmidon. The lumpy hat probably concealed the dreadlocks of her sisterhood.
‘It is not your companion that troubles me, but you,’ the amazon said purposefully. ‘Your name, or I will cut it out of you.’ The knife was drawn with a soft hiss that made the hair stand up on Ember’s neck.
‘Virat! What are you doing?!’
The amazon swung round and Ember moved more slowly, her limbs still stiff from fright. Bleyd was climbing into the cave, his chest rising and falling from exertion. He must have seen the woman from a distance, Ember thought. Hella was close behind, but seeing the big woman, she slowed to a stop. The amazon took two long strides towards Bleyd, whom she enveloped in a bearish embrace that made him wince.
‘It is good to see you, my friend!’ she said in a different tone. ‘After all the rumours I had heard I did not know whether to think you dead, kidnapped, turned brigand or captured by the draakan demon worshippers!’ She stared into his face and grimaced. ‘By the Horn you are a mess!’
‘I am glad to see you, too, Virat, but what are you doing here?’ Bleyd asked evenly.
The amazon’s eyes took on a flinty look as she turned to Ember. ‘Before I answer your questions, my friend, answer one for me. Who is this woman who travels with you bearing Alene soulweaver’s a’luwtha, claiming it as her own, and calling you her brother.’
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