Heart of Valor - V1 Dec 2004

by Lisa Jane Smith

  *

  Alys, Janie, and Claudia were standing very wetly in the middle of a clearing when the elk appeared. Charles grinned at them in triumph and jumped down.

  Explanations were exchanged hastily. While this was happening Alys was eyeing Elwyn, which caused Charles to experience a sinking feeling of responsibility. He had brought her, and now it was up to him to make her be useful.

  “That elk,” said Alys. “Are there any like it?”

  “More elk?” Elwyn looked at Alys as if suspecting she had taken leave of her senses. Then her face cleared. “Oh! You’re hungry. I could—”

  “We are not hungry, ” said Alys. Things were not looking so good; she’d been reduced to yelling by the second sentence. “We are in need of transportation. “

  “To where?” said Elwyn, even more blankly than before.

  “To the Passage that leads to Weerien! To the place where Morgana is probably fighting for her life with Thia Pendriel and Merlin this minute!”

  Elwyn looked cautious, and Charles had a dreadful feeling that she was going to ask why. But “why?” was not a question that often occurred to Elwyn.

  “What’s wrong with the straightway?” was what she said, after a moment. She said it hesitantly, as if embarrassed about putting forward so obvious a solution.

  “The what? What is it? Where is it?”

  Elwyn looked at them doubtfully. She really was trying, Charles could tell. It occurred to him for the first time that these conversations were as difficult for Elwyn as for the rest of them.

  “Where is it?” she repeated, with exactly the same intonation Alys might have used if Janie had demanded Where’s my head? Then she suddenly looked both pleased and crafty. “It’s a riddle?”

  “Oh, God,” said Alys.

  “Look,” said Charles to Elwyn hastily. “Is it around here? Can you just point to it?”

  “Point to it.” Elwyn gave a small, wan smile, and pointed upward, her eyes still on them. Her expression now said that they were obviously dangerous lunatics who must be humored. (Where’s my head, dang it? It must be around here somewhere!) She said helplessly, “It’s those lines. You see the lines?”

  “No!” said Charles. In his frustration he grabbed her by one fragile shoulder. “I don’t—”

  He did.

  He let go of her, stared, and clutched her again. He stood still, gaping upward. “Alys. Touch her. Then look.”

  Alys gingerly laid a hand on Elwyn’s other shoulder. She gasped. Claudia grabbed Alys’s hand and gasped too.

  Janie walked quietly up to Charles and linked an arm through his, completing the chain. She looked up.

  It was a latticework of lines thin as spider webs, gleaming like gold or silver though they were neither of these colors. A delicate lace skein stretching from horizon to horizon and as far up as they could see. It was the cosmic cat’s cradle, the warp and woof of time and space.

  Alys tore her gaze down from it to look at Elwyn. “Are you saying that can take us to Weerien?”

  “Oh, no,” Elwyn said promptly.

  Before Alys could take a swing at her Charles broke in.

  “Can it take us anywhere? Like to the Passage?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Elwyn, just as promptly.

  “Okay, let’s go! Let’s go now!” he said gaily, taking a small shuffling step with his arm still linked through Elwyn’s. As he had hoped, Elwyn smiled blithesomely and stepped out with him, and the next moment she was actually leading the rest of them. She stepped onto one of the spider webs and Charles suddenly saw it change, not as if it were growing, but as if it were rotating in space, as if what he had seen at first was an edge-on plane. It was now a glimmering road like a moonpath on still water, and as he stepped on it he instantly had the sense of moving swiftly but very smoothly. Wind blew in his face, bringing a tang of salt to his lips.

  “The old straight track,” murmured Janie. He looked at her and smiled.

  SIXTEEN

  The Archon

  The straight path was curving downward toward earth.

  “Where are we?” shouted Alys. They took the last step at a jump and landed (except Elwyn) hard on hands and knees. When they’d picked themselves up the straightway had disappeared.

  “Somewhere at Point Reyes,” said Janie, looking around.

  They were on a little spit of sand, a mini-peninsula bounded on three sides by water. The sky above them was quite an ordinary sky, filled with distant, winking stars. No auroral streamers and ribbons, no lightning. And the silence was formidable.

  Janie was peering toward the dark rise of the mainland. “This is probably the northernmost point of the Passage,” she said. “And of the fault. This particular bit of land isn’t really attached to that land at all. It’s an island riding the Pacific plate, and in a few million years it should reach Alaska.”

  Alys was impatient with the lecture. “Where are they?”

  “Gone through, I suspect. Elwyn. I need your help. Is the Passage that way? Is it open?”

  Elwyn’s jewel blue gaze fixed on something beyond Janie. “Just a crack,” she said.

  “Then that’s it. That last quake must have done it. They’ve gone through. Do we follow?”

  Alys nodded, peering into the direction Elwyn was looking, surprised. She’d expected the searing blue light of the mirrors or the golden turbulence of a portal. But the Passage showed as the merest distortion in the darkness, a rippling as if she were looking at objects beyond through a shimmer of hot air.

  “It’s not like the mirrors,” Janie explained. “It can’t be approached directly. We have to be at precisely the right angle to get through the ‘crack.’ “

  Elwyn, after some initial misunderstanding, was persuaded to help in this. But as they moved forward, hands linked again, she broke away.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “There?” Elwyn stared at Charles in amazement. “Why that will take you into Weerien, to the path which leads to the Council itself!”

  “Perfect,” said Alys, relieved. The Weerul Council, though stern, was just. They had sent a phalanx of Feathered Serpents to Morgana’s aid last year. Once they understood about Thia Pendriel they would be able to deal with her.

  Elwyn was still shaking her head wonderingly. “They are no fun, ” she said, and watched in pity as Janie led the others into the heat-shimmer. That was the last thing Alys saw as she stepped from darkness into light: Elwyn’s expression of sorrowful bewilderment.

  It was the same spit of land, the same ordinary night sky above. But the stars here were feeble candles dimmed by a wash of light from all directions. They stood between two pillars in a vast line of pillars which stretched west into the distance until they met a white building on a hill. A soft radiance shone from the pillars themselves, illuminating the marble pathway.

  No sign of Morgana. No sign of anyone. They were alone in this deserted colonnade of light.

  “Stand as you are.”

  Alys, with a prickling feeling raising the fine hairs on her neck, stood as she was, the others freezing beside her. Carefully, slowly, she turned her head to see the two armed and helmeted sorcerei behind them.

  *

  It was a long walk to the seat of the Council, the white building she had seen in the distance. The guards would not talk to them. Shortly after capturing the children one of the two had lifted her arm, and what had looked like a long, spiraling black bracelet set with coral gems had unwound itself and wheeled off into the sky. Alys’s breath caught as she watched it. Her serpent had been just about that size, had coiled around her arm in just that way. She wondered what had become of it. With Morgana’s house destroyed it would have had nothing left to guard. Perhaps, like this messenger, it had been employed by the Council.

  The white building turned out to be a walled citadel. As they got closer the colonnade curved up a slight gradient until they reached an enormous gate inlaid with what might have been ebony and ivory. It swung open soundless
ly for the guards and on the other side they could see terraced gardens, one above the other, with flights of broad steps ascending toward a central dome. There were no people, nothing moved except themselves. It was like a scene from a dream.

  At the top of the steps was another door, decorated like the first. Above it was a marble slab bearing an inscription Alys could not read. They went through it to find themselves in a long passage paved with marble.

  White. Everything was white. And silent. It was, Alys thought, gripping Claudia’s hand more tightly, like a giant carved-ice sculpture. Even the woman who approached them from the opposite end of the corridor was dressed in white, and there was a White Staff in her hand.

  Alys was glad to see someone other than the taciturn guards, and this woman’s face was kind. But as she reached them Alys’s attention focused on the staff she held. In her mind she saw a white staff, lying in two pieces on the forest floor… .

  She snapped her gaze up to the woman’s face. Smooth brown hair instead of copper. Steady hazel eyes instead of sea green. Not Viviane, then …

  “I am Terzian Logren.”

  Startled, Alys glanced at Janie. Terzian Logren was the cousin of Cadal Forge, the one who had begged Morgana to help him long ago. Morgana’s friend. An ally. It was all Alys could do to keep from leaping forward and hugging her.

  “We’ve come after Morgana. Have you seen her? And Thia Pendriel. Did they catch her?” She realized she was babbling. She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. “We are humans, from the Stillworld,” she said very carefully. “My name is Alys—”

  “I know you full well. The Council has had report of your doings last winter. You are Alys; you, Charles; you, Janie; and you, Claudia.”

  Alys was even more startled. After the solstice she’d had daydreams about being famous in Weerien, with epic poems and ballads written about her. The daydreams had been pleasant. The reality, however, was disconcerting.

  “You know all about us?”

  “Not all. Enough. And, as for your other questions, yes, I have seen both Morgana and Magistress Thia. They are even now with the Council. I have been dispatched to bring you to them.”

  The adrenaline rush that had kept Alys alert and focused since finding Morgana faded in a wave of relief. All at once she could feel her weariness, and she was glad this would soon be over. Thia Pendriel and Merlin were now the Council’s problem.

  “Lead on,” she said, with a tired but triumphant smile. As they continued down the corridor she noted through the pleasant fuzziness that had descended on her that Janie looked tense and not at all triumphant. Trust Janie to throw a damper on a celebratory occasion… . No.

  She pulled up short. “What is it, Janie? What’s wrong?”

  “I hope I am.” Janie’s violet eyes were fixed on the third pair of great doors, which was now before them. “We’ll find out soon enough. There’s nothing to do about it anyway. We’ve got to go through with it.”

  “Janie …” And that was all she said. The doors opened silently and they went through.

  *

  Another room of ice white, smelling like clean snow. Alys’s stomach had begun to sink at Janie’s words; as she stepped into the room it was as if a cold wind slapped her in the face, leaving her nervy and wide-awake.

  The floor was so decorated with polished marble and pearls that she could almost imagine it was made of running water. The domed ceiling was the same. Around the circular walls ran a gently ascending spiral of niches, and in every niche was a sinuous shape. Feathered Serpents of various sizes, Alys realized. The Guardians of the Council. Against the alabaster of the walls they stood out in startling detail, down to the last scale and clawed wingtip.

  As they drew nearer to the far side of the room Alys could see twelve chairs, or thrones, on a dais. The sorcerei ensconced there stood out against the white background, too, in colored robes which had the transparent shimmer of milky glass. Other sorcerei, most of them younger, were stationed here and there between the chairs, and there were even a few animals: a panther with a gold collar, a peacock, several hawklike birds. Four of the chairs were empty, three on one side and one just to the right of the central seat. Three for the three ancient councillors who went mad, thought Alys, and one for …

  Thia Pendriel. She stood quietly before the dais, as stately and beautiful as Alys remembered her. Her hair, so dark a red that it was almost purple, was coiled in braids on her head, her silver circlet still glittered. And she still wore her favorite colors, midnight blue shot with silver. A slender chain, thin as a necklace, bound her hands together in front of her. It looked symbolic, but Alys would have bet money it wasn’t. Most likely it was magical, for without her staff or other implements a sorceress was as helpless as anyone against magic. And Thia Pendriel’s Silver Staff lay on the ground before the central seat.

  But so did a Gold. Not Merlin’s. A Gold which, away from the hand of its mistress, lost its life and shimmer and looked like nothing so much as an old brass fireplace poker.

  “Morgana!” said Claudia, and Alys clamped a hand on her arm to shut her up. Morgana was standing just opposite Thia Pendriel, looking rather small and unimportant among these stern and majestic figures, her hands also bound in front of her with that light chain. At Claudia’s cry she glanced over her shoulder at them, and stiffened. The attention of the whole room was on them now.

  Alys could feel her heart pounding in her throat. It was horrible to have all those dark, keen eyes on her, horrible to have to keep walking toward them in the dead silence. She wished, desperately, for something to hide behind.

  Instead, she pushed Claudia behind her. The four of them, followed by Terzian, kept close together until they stood in the space between Morgana and Thia Pendriel, directly before the central seat.

  The man enthroned there was white-haired, with compassionate, far-seeing eyes. And he was old. Though his face was not lined, his skin was thin and translucent as mica, so that the blue veins showed through. He wore a heavy band across his forehead, not a crown but a circle of metal encrusted with jewels.

  “Archon, these are the ones who came through the Passage.” Terzian’s voice came from behind Alys, and the regret in it; and in the old man’s face, caused another chill to sweep over Alys.

  “Let them come forward one by one and lay down their weapons.” His voice was surprisingly deep, measured and resonant.

  I can’t, thought Alys, I can’t. She looked helplessly at Janie and saw that Janie understood and was bracing herself to step forward first.

  “No,” whispered Alys. She managed two stiff paces toward the Archon and bent to place Caliborn on the ground. “I—” she began, croaking.

  “Alys Lawschildes of Irenahl, did you enter this world of your own will?”

  How do they know my middle name, she thought, irrelevantly and with indignation. Irenahl meant the Stillworld. “Yes,” she said, finally, feeling at a loss. Then, uncertainly, she stepped back. She was beginning to get an idea of what kind of trouble they were in.

  One by one, the others went forward.

  “Jane Eleanore of Irenahl, did you enter this world of your own will?”

  “Yes.” There was a murmur of recognition and disapproval at the sight of Janie’s virtue wand.

  “Charles Edward of Irenahl, did you enter this world of your own will?”

  “Yes.” Charles lifted empty—and somewhat grimy— hands to show the room he was unarmed, then raked those hands through his hair and shrugged. He walked back to his sisters, looking tense and grim.

  “Claudia Diana of Irenahl, did you enter this world of your own will?”

  Claudia moved forward perhaps an inch and nodded, mouth drawn into a button, chin wobbling. Then, following the gaze of the Archon, she clutched Benjamin even more tightly.

  “Claudia, you have to,” breathed Janie, exerting gentle pressure on her back. “Claudia, it’s a familiar, and under their law it’s technically a weapon.”

&nbs
p; “No,” said Claudia flatly, blue eyes swimming. She looked up at the Archon and said it again. There was a heavy silence. Alys, casting a pleading glance at Morgana, was startled to see the little sorceress biting her lip. She might have been envisioning the tall Archon or one of his guards trying to wrestle the bunny from an eight-year-old’s arms. Apparently several of the other councillors had the same picture, for there were repressed smiles here and there. The old man nodded slightly and Benjamin stayed where he was.

  But those were the last smiles. Alys and her group were allowed to move back and watch some procedure that had clearly been underway when they entered. Alys could understand very little of it. Janie, her purple eyes flashing back and forth between speakers, seemed to be getting more.

  “What is it? What’s happening?”

  “You haven’t guessed yet? It’s a trial.”

  Alys blinked and shook her head. “But where’s Merlin?”

  “Merlin?”

  said Terzian Logren from behind them. “Where should he be? And he dead these many hundreds of years.” “He isn’t dead; Morgana trapped him. And Thia Pendriel let him. out. Isn’t that what she’s on trial for?”

  It was Terzian’s turn to stare. “This is a trial of Morgana Shee, for crimes committed against the Council both last winter and tonight. Magistress Thia is a chief witness against her, but she also stands accused of derelicting her duties and causing a disturbance in Weerien by battling with Morgana in the streets tonight.”

  “Causing a disturbance? Causing a disturbance?” Alys’s stomach lurched in disbelief. She was truly afraid, now. How could everything have gone so wrong?

  “Know this.” The Archon’s voice rang out in tones which stopped the whispered conference at once. “The Council will now pronounce judgment. Four children of Irenahl have entered Findahl of their own will and in defiance of the laws of the Council. The penalty for this was set long ago. However, one of the children is a Stillworlder by birth only. He has been claimed by the Quislai and may abide by that kinship. Charles Edward, step forward.”