Babach nodded. ‘They write of it in their scrolls.’
Voron gave a steaming bowl of tea into Chakar’s small hands and resumed his seat at the table.
‘Baryet says that he saw a girl with silvered eyes just before he left. He immediately assumed that she was an Observer, but they denied it.’
Babach nodded again. ‘Their eyes do not apparently change as they progress through the Stages of Wisdom, but since the affliction has visited them, some have silver eyes and survived undamaged. They report that the number of cases whose eyes turn silver is far less than the red eyed ones.’
‘But they change completely, all at once,’ Ren put in. ‘Ours alter through the years of learning but their cases waken with fully silvered eyes. What could this imply?’
No one ventured an answer to Ren’s question.
‘In the scrolls, they tell us of one man who they think is in part responsible for the affliction. They warn very clearly that there must be another like him in our lands. I fear I know who that one could be.’ Babach stared across at Chakar. ‘It comes as no surprise, but it is still a shock to find our suspicions hardening so rapidly into certainties.’
‘They also ask if one of us could journey with Baryet to talk with them.’ Ren studied his hands. ‘They ask that if we do send someone, could they note whether there are islands enough between our lands to make stepping stones for their Dragons to use to reach us.’
Chakar held out her empty bowl to Voron with a beseeching smile. He returned the smile and obediently filled the bowl for her once more.
‘I confess I have flown on Baryet’s back many times,’ she said. ‘His mate Syecha, is also well used to me. I know Baryet can be,’ she paused. ‘Temperamental might be the kindest description. But he would behave perfectly with me though.’
‘You cannot risk such a journey,’ Babach objected. ‘You are the leader of Myata’s followers – you cannot be spared.’
‘What nonsense you talk old man. You told me long ago that no one is indispensable.’ Chakar retorted sharply. ‘You taught me everything if you remember, so who better than you to remain in charge here?’
To his utter horror, Ren heard his own voice speak, quite steadily, to Chakar.
‘I would be proud to accompany you to the Night Lands, Chakar.’
He was even more aghast when her silver eyes with their dark green pupils looked straight into his. She inclined her head slightly.
‘That would indeed be most satisfactory, Ren Salar.’
Just as suddenly as the affliction had begun in Vagrantia, so it ceased. Three days passed with no new cases reported and people began to hope. By the sixth day, even Thryssa managed a smile. There had been a total of fifty-three cases in all, of whom twelve survived with silvered eyes.
Thryssa secluded herself in her private rooms within the Cordiva as soon as Emla left for Gaharn with Maressa and Bagri. The fact that Emla had also taken Elyssa, after the loss of Alya, had driven Thryssa close to despair. Kwanzi was deeply worried by her state of mind. He had never seen her cast down so low and indeed, he would not have imagined her present state as a likely reaction to any difficulties she might face.
Thryssa sat, silently weeping for two days after Emla’s departure, refusing food, refusing healers, refusing to go to bed, refusing Kwanzi’s comfort. Finally, Lashek insisted on seeing her. He gently closed the door on Kwanzi’s unhappy face and remained with Thryssa for the rest of the afternoon. When he left, he merely told Kwanzi to take some broth to his wife and put her to bed, but he was not to question her.
Next morning, Thryssa appeared about the Cordiva once more: thinner, older, but ready to work for her people again. Gradually colour returned to her cheeks and on the day that no new cases had been found for six full days, Thryssa seemed nearly her old self. She held a meeting of Speakers and councillors the next day. She introduced Pajar as her own new councillor, with a warm smile. Pajar was a young man, obviously named for his fiery red hair, who had never expected to rise to this position at such speed. He had worked with and for Alya and he was all too aware of how he sadly lacked her experience.
Messages arrived daily through the circles from Gaharn and the Stronghold. The Speakers of Kedara, Fira and Segra had all decided to stay on in the Cordiva when the affliction first appeared. They mindspoke their deputies each evening and worked in their own quarters to discover what they might about the illness.
At today’s meeting, Thryssa knew that Lashek at least was going to suggest that more Vagrantians be sent north and west. She also knew that Kallema would oppose him. Bracing her shoulders and lifting her chin, Thryssa opened the discussion. She quickly found she had been correct.
‘We should send some of our people through the circles Thryssa,’ Lashek began at once. ‘Five only are at present working with the people of our old lands of Valsheba.’
Brows lifted around the table at Lashek’s use of the all but forgotten name of Valsheba.
‘Two of my councillors have already gone, including my daughter,’ Orsim objected.
‘I volunteer none of my people,’ Kallema murmured.
‘And I ask for no water mages.’ Lashek managed a seated bow in Kallema’s direction. ‘I do not mean that we should send great numbers, but we must not miss this opportunity of acquiring much useful knowledge such as has been barred to us since the catastrophe.’ He nodded to his councillor, Shema.
Shema cleared her throat. ‘Imshish is still within the Stronghold, studying their crop growing system and learning a great deal about the small people called Delvers. Several Assessors and researchers have already approached Segra’s own Assembly, asking permission to travel outside Vagrantia.’
Orsim sighed. ‘There have been a few similar requests to Kedara’s Assembly,’ he admitted. ‘If we send another six of our people, for instance, surely the outsiders would expect to be permitted to come here – that is of some concern to me.’
‘And to me,’ Kallema’s voice rippled across the table. ‘If we send no one out, we would want none to come into our Circle.’
The talk was going much as Thryssa had anticipated and now she gave the faintest nod to Pajar at her side.
‘Perhaps if any of the outsiders wished to visit us, we could suggest they stay within Parima Circle only, until a further judgement could be made?’
Lashek smiled at the young man. ‘That is agreeable to me, although I have to tell you that Segra would welcome any visitors.’ He ignored Kallema’s glare. ‘You mentioned six people, Orsim – shall we choose two from each Circle, excepting Fira?’
Orsim grinned, well aware that Lashek had manoeuvred the conversation so as to gain exactly what he had intended. He nodded. ‘I will tell my Assembly to choose two they consider steady enough to deal with the outside.’
‘I agree,’ said Thryssa. ‘There have been several here in the Cordiva who have said they would like the chance to see beyond Vagrantia’s walls.’
‘One thing before we end this meeting.’ Lashek’s tone caught everyone’s attention. ‘It strikes me as more than coincidental that each of our Circles now has three silver eyed people. More, in Segra at least, those three were among the first to ask to travel through the circles.’ He glanced enquiringly at the other Speakers.
‘My Assembly commented on the same thing,’ Orsim agreed.
Thryssa nodded. ‘The same here in Parima.’
They looked to Kallema.
‘I will ask when I mindspeak my Assembly later if you wish.’ The water mage’s voice hissed like an overfilled streamlet.
‘Kallema,’ Thryssa spoke quietly. ‘The three silvered ones in your Circle, they are – safe – are they not?’
Suddenly there was a tension around the council table as everyone waited for Kallema’s reply.
‘They are being kept apart,’ she said finally,
‘No.’ Thryssa stood up. ‘I will send an escort now, which will be accompanied either by you or by your councillor here. The three of Fi
ra will be brought here at once.’
‘You have no right!’ Kallema spat.
‘As High Speaker I do have every right Kallema, and if I fear for the safety of any of my people – any of my people Kallema – I will take what action I deem necessary to protect them.’ She turned to Pajar. ‘Make the arrangements at once Pajar.’
Kallema and Prilla moved from their places at the council table and followed Pajar like a pair of storm clouds.
‘Did you know of this?’ Thryssa demanded.
Lashek shrugged. ‘Odd bits of news come to my attention. I had heard that Fira was close to disposing of the three silver eyed ones.’
Orsim frowned. ‘I cannot pretend that I am not concerned at Vagrantia’s sudden exposure to the outside world, but there is a wrongness in Kallema’s attitude which worries me more.’
Orsim’s councillor Dashka added: ‘We heard of some disturbances within Fira, but we were not aware that it was over those three. Firans can be over turbulent at times, as we all know.’
‘What should we do?’ Thryssa asked Lashek. ‘Each Circle governs itself more or less.’
‘No,’ Lashek interrupted sternly. ‘All the Circles are first and foremost Vagrantian: we see ourselves as the survivors of Valsheba. The fact that those who are called to use earth powers congregate within Segra, those who work with air likewise prefer to live close to each other, does not negate the fact that all of us are descended from Valshebans: we are one people.’ Lashek looked to the High Speaker.
‘Fira Circle has withdrawn from the belief in our unity more and more. Much more since Kallema became Speaker for their Circle. Fira is connected to both Parima and Kedara, but Fira has made it increasingly uncomfortable for any to enter their Circle.’
Orsim chewed his lip. ‘We of Kedara had begun to prepare a report Thryssa, on this very matter. At first, we thought some of our air mages had met with small accidents, encountered minor obstacles when they requested access to Fira’s library for example. But it was becoming too frequent.’ He shrugged. ‘Since the Chimes sounded, such apparently trivial reports were set aside.’
Pajar returned from overseeing the departure of an armed escort to retrieve the three young people whose eyes had become silvered from Fira Circle. He smiled ruefully at the remaining council members.
‘I had no idea that a water mage would know such language, let alone that she would use it!’
Far across Parima Circle, the gateway was closed but, as ever, unlocked. It served only as a warning to all that they should go no further. The narrow tunnel led to Talvo, Circle of Fire, Gremara’s Circle.
The Dragon reclined on her favourite ledge, moonlight winking on her silver scales. She was disturbed, restless, unable and unwilling to sleep. She had waited for so very long for a Dragon Lord to make himself known to her. Her mind had nearly disintegrated at that wondrous moment when she became aware of him. But Gremara’s joy had turned to rage when her Lord had refused not only to let her join him, but had also restricted their mind speech. Over the days, Gremara’s mind tilted towards a destructive madness without quite succumbing to that tempting fury. The small part of her that held tight to sanity, to her memories, to her purpose, slowly grew larger, pushing the madness to the edge of her mind.
The moon crept higher over Talvo’s rim and Gremara’s tail lashed against the black rock wall beside her. She watched the moon climb across the star patterns, then suddenly she lifted into the night sky herself, circling over Talvo, climbing ever higher. Her sinuous form – far longer and more supple than was usual for a Great Dragon, spiralled upward until she could see all five of the craters that formed Vagrantia. She turned her head away from the ground and looked up at the moon and the countless stars above her.
Gremara’s eyes glittered like the stars themselves and she pushed herself higher, away from the heaviness below to the lightness above. Faintly, from a great distance she almost believed she heard music. Gremara laughed, forcing her body upwards until the air felt less of a resisting barrier to her even as it was more difficult to breathe. The silver Dragon floated at that height, facing now the land far below her, now the stars still so far overhead. Something whispered across her mind as she drifted.
She was trying to decide whether she should close her wings and plummet, rock like, back to shatter herself on the earth, or to fly higher to reach – what? Twisting her head up again, she thought she saw faint shadows pass between her and the stars. She sifted rapidly through her inherited memories and considered the possibility that she had already flown too far, that the lessening of the air was affecting her vision and her mind.
Having been so close to insanity for so many, many cycles, this clarity of thought was a comfort to the silver Dragon. The faint music she had thought she heard was suddenly inside her head, but it was not a music such as she had ever heard. It was voices, countless voices calling her, praising her, filling her with the visions of what she must do.
She screamed triumphantly, twisting faster: one more push higher before she obeyed and spiralled back to the world beneath her. Gremara’s voice sounded thin and faint to herself but she knew the others heard her triumph and joy. Her prismed eyes glittered, each facet reflecting the endless stars, then she turned back towards the earth and extended her wings to their fullest extent, grasping the nearly too thin air.
She forced herself to fly slowly down, as slowly as she had risen, when what she most wanted to do was to swoop and dive, play in the air as all Dragon hatchlings loved to do. The moon was sinking again when Gremara at last returned to her high ledge in Talvo Circle. Her whole body shivered with exhaustion but her eyes still shone and her heart was still full of the love and determination all those voices had sung into her.
All those Dragon voices, from Beyond.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The small body infuriated Rhaki. He walked round and round the bare room in his tower, tripping, stumbling and cursing. As soon as he had completed the transfer of his mind to the Delver’s body, he had probed outwards, checking for other mind signatures.
He recognised several Great Dragons but dismissed them as being of no threat to him. He felt a Gaharnian mind, recognising Senior Kemti before Kemti slammed his mental shields into place. Three others he felt: two puzzled him but he could not waste time investigating them now. The other was Hargon’s son, Bartos. The boy was close to the tower and Rhaki ordered him to remain where he was: he did not want even such as insignificant creature to witness his clumsy attempts to use this body.
Rhaki felt a sense of urgency tugging him away from his tower. He was unsure whether to heed it or to stay where he was. This uncertainty he felt irritated him further and he put such indecision down to this confounded new form he found himself in. At last he knew he must hesitate no longer and made his way to the door and thus to the outer stair leading to the ground.
The boy leaned against the tower, his eyes a red glow in the shadows. Rhaki’s hand clamped onto the boy’s shoulder and he jerked him forward.
‘I need your support boy.’ Rhaki’s voice emerged from the unfamiliar body and Bartos straightened obediently. ‘That mound over there, help me reach it.’
Bartos stared with interest around the small hollow within the low hillside while Rhaki lit the lamp he had left there. The fact that he had had to lift the boy to reach the lamp on its high shelf fuelled his simmering rage still further. But he controlled it, for now.
‘Where are we going? You promised I could have the girl.’ Bartos whined as he followed Rhaki deeper into the hill.
Rhaki whirled, knocking the boy to the floor.
‘You will have much more than your puny sister if you obey without question,’ Rhaki hissed, turning away and hurrying on through the passage.
Bartos climbed back to his feet, wiping the blood from his face with his shirt sleeve. Rhaki’s lamp was already some distance ahead and Bartos had no wish to stay here in the dark. Rhaki had opened the chest he’d left in the circle cave wh
en Bartos reached him. He watched as the small man with the Lord Rhaki’s voice placed certain objects within the mosaic circle inlaid on the cave floor.
‘Come.’ Rhaki stepped into the centre of the circle, beckoning impatiently to Bartos.
Bartos joined him. ‘But where - ’ he began, then clamped his lips shut, flinching as Rhaki turned to him.
A distorted smile twisted Rhaki’s face. ‘Gaharn boy. That’s where we are going. To Gaharn.’
In the days following the strange change to Tika’s eyes, tension had risen in Hargon’s compound. Far from being horrified though, the visiting Lords of Tagria, Far and Andla had only been intrigued. With Tika’s consent, Kija and Kemti had both investigated the girl’s mind carefully. Both concluded that there was a change in the glowing network of power inside her head. Both also agreed that it did not appear harmful, in fact the reverse.
Hargon was the cause of the feeling of strain in the atmosphere. He alone appeared suspicious of Tika’s changed eyes, and he was also still searching for any sign of his younger son Bartos. Tika and Kemti explained to the other Lords that Bartos was with Rhaki and both of them were gone from Sapphrea. Seboth accepted their explanation at once, while Raben and Zalom did so after further discussion with Gan. In their view, Gan was a superior Armschief – he freely admitted that although he was of the People, he had minimal use of the power.
Hargon made no mention of his daughter Mena since Bartos’s disappearance, for which Tika was grateful. Kija had told her that Kadi had vanished, with the child, the same night that Bartos had gone. Kija and Brin were both worried and angered that Kadi had shielded herself so they were unable to find a trace of the pair. Brin flew in search of them, to no avail.
To everyone’s astonishment except Farn’s, the Lords took a tremendous liking to the silver blue Dragon. In spite of Tika’s reservations, they insisted on taking him out, first to the courtyard and then into the main market place of the town itself. Tika’s reservations were banished when she saw how the people gathered to see Farn, to touch his satin smooth scales. The koninas were not so sanguine and had nervous fits when confronted too unexpectedly with a Great Dragon, albeit a baby one. Kija was disgusted with the feting of her son but Brin was full of admiration at Farn’s popularity.
Vagrants: Book 2 Circles of Light series Page 36