by Frewin Jones
Almost immediately his acolytes surrounded him, facing outward, their staves held up, their faces oddly blank.
“What is the matter, Master Hollin?” asked Aldritch.
But by now the Healer’s face had cleared. “The sickness is too furious when many are brought together,” he said. “I would meet with but a single victim if I am to know this disease.”
“Cordelia is alone,” said Rathina. “She is close by; we can take you there.”
“So be it,” said Hollin. The protective ring of his followers opened and Rathina led them across the hallway and toward Cordelia’s chambers.
He used the word “disease,” Tania thought. He seemed quite familiar with it, even though few here had known the word before the illness had appeared. But then, he wasn’t a native of Faerie. And if the people of Alba understood disease and sickness, then there was a good chance he would be able to do something to cure them.
They came into Cordelia’s chambers. Bryn was sitting on the floor with his back to the door. He looked exhausted.
He got to his feet as Hollin approached. “You are the Healer?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You come from Alba, so they say. But save for our Queen, none have sailed to the shores of Faerie from that distant place for many thousands of years. Why came you to Weir?”
“Stand back, Master Bryn,” said Aldritch. “It is not for you to question this man.”
Bryn looked guardedly at the lord, as if debating whether to get into a dispute with him.
Edric stepped forward, placing a hand on Bryn’s arm. “Trust that Master Hollin means no harm, Bryn,” he said gently. “He may have a cure—for Princess Cordelia, for everyone.”
Bryn nodded briefly and stepped aside. “Beware,” he said. “Cordelia is not alone.”
Tania was puzzled by this remark—until Edric opened the door and she was able to see into the room beyond.
Cordelia’s bedchamber was full of birds.
They covered every surface, the sill of the open window, the furniture, the floor; they perched in rows on the high rails of the four-poster bed and on the headboard, and gathered darkly on the counterpane and even upon the pillows either side of Cordelia’s head.
A multitude of different species was there: from sparrows and wrens and finches to gulls and crows and ravens and jays and jackdaws and magpies to falcons and eagles and round-eyed owls. A hundred watchful, beady eyes peered down from the picture rails and from the lintel of the door and window, and all their uncanny, inhuman attention was focused on the golden lozenge that contained the sleeping princess.
“What sorcery is this?” asked Hollin.
“It isn’t sorcery,” Tania said. “It’s my sister’s gift; she has a strong bond with animals. She loves them and they love her. But it’s nothing to be afraid of; they won’t hurt you.”
Hollin turned to her. “Even so, I can do nothing while she is bound within yon crucible of golden light. I cannot perceive her aura. I cannot lay the divine stones upon her.”
“Oberon must release her,” said Lady Kernow. “Send to the King.”
“Is that safe?” asked Tania. “The Gildensleep is the only thing stopping her from getting worse.”
The Healer’s eyes flashed. “Would you prevent me from healing this woman?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” Tania said, disturbed by the furious look that had passed across his face. “I’ll go and speak to the King. I won’t be long.”
She ran from the chamber. She knew where Oberon would be—in the peace and seclusion of the Throne Room. So far as Tania knew, he had been alone there ever since the Conclave had ended.
A warden stood at the high door to the Throne Room.
“I have to see the King,” Tania said.
The warden thrust the doors open and Tania entered. She walked the long white carpet to the simple, white stone chair.
Oberon sat perfectly still, his hands gripping the arms of the throne, his back straight, his eyes open but unfocused. He seemed unaware as she approached him.
“Father?” she asked, reaching out a tentative hand to touch his knee.
His steady gaze did not stir. Even when she moved so that she was immediately in front of his face, his piercing blue eyes seemed to look through her.
“Yes, my daughter,” came the low voice, lips hardly moving.
“The Healer has arrived, Father,” Tania told him. “He wants you to take Cordelia out of the Gildensleep. Can you do that?”
“I can.” The eyelids flickered for a moment. “It is done. Daughter?”
“Yes, Father?”
“What make you of Lord Aldritch’s Healer?”
“I’m not sure.”
“He is not of Faerie, Tania. Let no harm come to our people.”
“No. Of course not.” She stepped back.
“Would you leave me, Tania?”
“I want to see what happens with Cordelia.”
“Nay, daughter. That was not my meaning.” A strange intensity came into the soft voice. “Would you leave me, Tania? Would you?”
A shiver ran down Tania’s spine. He was asking her whether she had decided to abandon Faerie and return to her home in the Mortal World. But he sounded so wounded—as if the very thought of it was more than he could bear.
“Father…” Her voice faded. She didn’t know what to say. She looked into the noble, weary face. “Can you do this for much longer, Father?” she asked.
“For a while…” came the whispered reply. “For my people…for a while…”
“I’d like to go back. Is there anything you need?”
“No. See how your sister fares.”
Her heart aching, Tania turned and ran from the Throne Room.
When Tania came back into Cordelia and Bryn’s chambers, she found most of the people gathered in the outer room, either sitting or standing in murmuring groups. The door to the bedchamber was open.
Cordelia was no longer in the protective shell of the Gildensleep. She lay on the bed, small and helpless in the rumpled wedding gown. Most of the birds had gone, but a few still remained, determined to keep watch over their beloved friend.
Rathina and Bryn stood just inside the doorway. Sancha was also close by. She looked drained and defeated, as if she was on the verge of collapse. Tania moved to her side.
Sancha looked at her with weary, red-rimmed eyes. “All my learning, all my lore, all my books,” she murmured. “So far they have availed me nothing. I come to see if this man from across the seas can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.”
“I hope he can,” Tania whispered.
“Indeed,” said Sancha. “For if not, what then of Faerie?”
Hollin’s followers were gathered around the bed, holding their wood staves high in both hands, bringing the ends together so that they formed a kind of canopy over Cordelia’s prone form.
The Healer stood at her head, leaning over her, his hand spread out above her, his eyes closed as though in deep concentration.
“Her aura is in confusion,” Hollin said at last, opening his arms and gesturing to the man who still held the fur bundle. “Prepare the stones, Brother Aum.”
The man opened the bundle on the bedspread and once again Tania saw the collection of glittering and shining gemstones.
“Do you know what those stones do?” Tania whispered to Sancha.
“I have read ancient texts that speak of people who use crystals and gems as divining tools,” Sancha whispered back. “But it was a practice I thought long abandoned. It is most remarkable to witness a Lithomancer at work.” Her voice lowered so that Tania could only just hear it. “But I cannot truly believe this will aid Cordelia.”
Tania looked sharply at her. “Why do you say that?”
“Hush!” murmured Sancha. “Watch!”
The Healer had picked a handful of stones from the hide and began to take them one by one from his palm and place them on Cordelia’s body.
“Quartz crystal for the he
ad, aventurine because she is a princess,” he intoned in a light, lilting voice, laying the first stone on her forehead and the second against her lips. “Garnet for strength and rose quartz for love.” A stone on her throat and above her heart. “Moonstone and tiger’s-eye for her mother and father; mobled marble for death and black onyx for the Dark One.” Four more stones were placed on her stomach. “Amethyst for temperance and carnelian for mercy. And thus are the metaphysical properties and attributes laid out that the healing may commence.”
A low humming arose from the Healer’s acolytes, and he stepped back, touching the fingers of his right hand against the blue jewel on his forehead.
The Healer’s voice rose in pitch and volume. “Show yourselves, spirits of malevolence and mischief, the symphonious stones compel your discord to depart!” he shouted. “Leave this woman. Get you gone. Trouble her no more.”
Tania felt a tugging at her sleeve. It was Sancha, her face disturbed, as she pulled Tania from the room. She brought her mouth close to Tania’s ear.
“I do not think these spells and incantations will speak to the spirits,” she whispered. “Mayhap I am wrong, but to my mind this is no way to compel the spirits’ friendship.”
“Are you sure?” asked Tania.
“Nay, sister, I am not—or I would denounce him,” replied Sancha. “But I will not remain here and wait for the outcome. I will return to my books and continue to search their pages. I have more faith in the old texts than in this man’s pretty stones.”
Sancha swept from the room. Tania looked guardedly at the faces inside—all of them anxious, all of them tinged with hope and expectation.
What if Sancha is right? What if this so-called Healer is just a fake?
Tania went back into the bedchamber. The low, melodious humming of the Healer’s followers had not changed. But neither had anything else.
Tania stepped forward, quietly circling the bed and coming up close to Hollin.
“Can you tell me what’s going to happen now?” she asked softly.
“The power of the stones will call on the spirits to draw the malady out of this woman’s body,” murmured the Healer. “She will be cured.”
Tania looked uneasily at Cordelia. She had no control over the Mystic Arts, but she had been close by on many occasions when Oberon or Eden had wielded them. There was always a frisson in the air when the spirits were called on—a tingling that felt like nothing else.
Tania did not feel it now. “How quickly will it work?” she asked.
“The spirits gather apace.”
Tania looked into the Healer’s face. “Actually, I don’t think they do,” she said. “I don’t think anything’s happening at all.”
Hollin turned toward her like a wild thing, his eyes blazing with anger, his face twisting into a grimace. He drew back, spreading his hands out toward her. “Think you that I know you not?” he shouted. “Your aura is cracked; you are riven from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet. You hang upon a wheel of fire, and your soul is burned through to the quick!”
As he shouted this at her, the humming of his followers changed to a terrible wailing, and they pulled away from her, wielding their staves as if defending themselves from her.
“What is this coil?” roared Lord Aldritch’s voice. “What chaos reigns here?” He was standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing.
Hollin pointed at Tania. “She will ruin all!” he howled. There was terror now in his face, or something that looked very like terror. “Take her from this place. Take her to a high point and throw her into the sea. Cleanse us of her decay. The evil comes from her—I see it coiling through her veins; I see it staring at me through her eyes!” He cowered away from her, his hands up to cover his face. “See—it stares at me and I am undone! She is a cockatrice. Strike her down. Destroy the thing that feeds upon her sundered soul.”
“This is crazy!” shouted Tania. She glared at the Healer. “Stop it. Stop doing this. You know it’s not true!”
But the Healer stumbled backward, his voice rising to an uncontrolled shriek. “Take her from me; her words burn me. Her eyes! Her terrible eyes would eat my soul!”
“Wardens, ho,” shouted Aldritch above the wailing of the Healer’s followers. “Come to me. Make haste.”
Tania saw more faces at the door: the other lords and ladies come to discover what had happened.
The acolytes were all around Tania now, their staves pointing at her, their mouths gaping as they screamed.
“No!” shouted Rathina. “You shall not harm her!” She ran toward Tania, but three of the Acolytes turned and held her off with their staves.
Two wardens came into the room. Lord Aldritch pointed at Tania. “Escort the Princess Tania to her chambers. Keep close watch over her. She is not to leave her rooms.”
“What has she done wrong?” asked Lord Brython. “By the deep spirits of love, what has happened here?”
Aldritch gestured to where the Healer sat huddled in a corner, his arms covering his head. “See what she has done!” He turned to Tania. “I counseled your father to send you from this world, but he did not heed me!” His voice rose so that everyone could hear him. “See now what this half-thing has done! She seeks to destroy our one hope of salvation!”
“This is insane!” Tania shouted. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Take your poisoned fangs from out my throat!” moaned Hollin. He pointed a shaking finger at Tania. “She is the source of evil in this land; it is she who has brought this sickness down upon you.”
“What madness is this, my lord?” Cornelius demanded, shouldering his way into the bedchamber. “How does this man dare to speak so of the King’s daughter?”
Lord Aldritch turned to him. “Think you he speaks falsehoods, my lord earl?” He gestured to Hollin. “Look you upon him: The man is in the very throes of terror.”
Cornelius looked searchingly at Tania. “Are you the cause of this man’s distress, my lady?” he asked.
“No, of course not!” Tania said.
“And yet behold—he is prostrate,” said Marchioness Lucina, standing alongside her husband, the earl marshal. “Why should he behave so if nothing assails him?”
“Could it be she puts her evil upon him without intent?” asked Fleance. “I have heard of such things! They say there are monsters in the far north: basilisks that can turn a man’s wits with the power of their eyes alone!”
“I’m not standing here listening to this!” Tania shouted. “Can’t you see what’s happening? I told him I didn’t think his mumbo jumbo was working, and he freaked out. He’s faking it!”
Lord Aldritch looked at the earl marshal. “Will you have her taken from here, or will you risk the death of this man who has come to help us?” He pointed toward Cordelia, still lying unmoving on the bed. “And would you have this half-thing cause the death of our fair princess?”
Tania could see the uncertainty in the earl marshal’s eyes. She turned from face to face: The same uneasy look was reflected over and over.
“You can’t be serious!” she cried.
Rathina stepped close to her. “Sister dearest,” she said, “I think you should go with the wardens. No good can be done by your staying here.”
Tania glared at Rathina.
“Can you put your hand on your heart and give your oath that you did not bring the plague into Faerie?” Rathina asked, looking deep into Tania’s eyes, sending her a message.
The angry retort faded on Tania’s lips as she realized that her sister was only trying to calm the dangerous situation. “No,” she said, “I can’t.” She looked at Aldritch. “Okay, I’ll go—but you’re wrong. You’re all wrong. That man and his troop of performing monkeys aren’t going to help us at all!”
As Tania allowed the wardens to lead her from the bedchamber, she cast a final look back at Cordelia. Her pale sister was slumbering still, the Healer’s stones lying uselessly on her face and body. Doing nothing. Nothing!
&n
bsp; Anxious, fearful faces watched her as she left.
But could they be right to fear her?
Aldritch’s words rang in her head. See now what this half-thing has done! She seeks to destroy our one hope of salvation!
X
“Step aside. I would speak with my sister.”
It was Eden, outside the closed doors of Tania’s apartments.
“The Lord Aldritch instructed that none may pass,” came the muffled voice of one of the wardens. Tania got to her feet and walked to the doors.
“Since when is the Lord of Weir master in this place?” demanded Eden. “When last I heard, Oberon Aurealis ruled in this Realm. Get out of my way, or it will be the worst for you.”
The voice now was deferential. “Aye, my lady.”
The doors opened and Eden stepped inside. Tania opened her mouth to speak, but Eden hushed her with a gesture and turned to firmly close the doors at her back. Her face was anxious and disturbed.
“How is the earl?” Tania asked quietly. “Why aren’t you with him?”
“He is neither worse nor better,” Eden replied. “I have now had the time to bind about him such glamours as I am able. Wherever I go, my soul will remain to watch over him and protect him from further harm.” She frowned. “And so he rests in Gildensleep until a cure may be found. Or until our Father’s power fails. But I have come here to speak of other things, Tania.”
Eden strode to where Tania was standing and drew her out through the open doors onto the balcony. “Things do not go well,” she said in an urgent undertone. “Aldritch called the Conclave of Earls to debate your immediate banishment.”
“What? Because of what happened in Cordelia’s room?” Tania shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t do anything, Eden.”
“I do not doubt that,” Eden replied. “But not all are convinced of your innocence. Aldritch is spinning a cunning web. He says that he does not believe you harm us with a purpose of malice. He says the very fabric of your being exudes the poison of plague as a toad produces venom.”
“Oh, charming! So I’m a toad now, am I? What is it with him? Why does he hate me so much?”